Josh rolled his eyes and retrieved his bag from the back of the Taurus while the man gingerly got into the driver’s seat, moving as if he didn’t quite know how to deal with a car that wasn’t a Maserati, or at least a Mercedes.
Josh doubted he’d need the defibrillator and other equipment in his trunk, but best keep it close at hand anyway. “I’m only going to be a few minutes,” Josh told him. “Don’t go far.”
He looked skeptical. A man of few words, but eloquent expressions.
“I will,” Josh insisted. “I have another appointment, so keep it nearby, um . . . What’s your name?”
“Butler.”
“I . . . Really?”
The man’s eyes narrowed.
“Sorry.” Josh choked on a laugh. “You’re sick of that, I’m sure.”
Butler glared at him.
“Okay, then. I’m Josh and we will never speak of this again.” Josh turned and headed for the steps leading up to the double-doored entryway. “Thanks,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Back in a few.”
Butler gave him a pitying look for his delusion.
On the other side of the double doors, Josh found no one to escort him to Mrs. Bollinger, so he wandered across the marble-floored foyer and into the living area. No one lounged on the scattered white leather seating arrangements, and there were no voices from the other areas of the house. “Hello?”
Floor-to-ceiling windows made up one wall on the far side of the living room. A set of French doors in the center led to a balcony overlooking an outdoor scene of water and sailboats. He stood admiring the view before a scan of the balcony revealed Mrs. Bollinger sitting at a patio table, her gaze fixed on the horizon. He put his hand on the door and then paused as he reviewed what he’d learned about her during his last visit.
He’d been a little surprised to discover from her chart that she was sixty-four years old—not as old as he’d expected, given the way Langdon and Burke had talked about her. Slightly overweight, she kept her mild hypothyroidism under control with a levothyroxine prescription. He’d confirmed this with the bloodwork he’d drawn during his previous visit. Well-manicured hands showed chips in her pink nail polish, and her gray roots were growing in, providing a startling contrast against the shoulder-length dark hair. She’d spoken of a scheduled salon visit but obviously hadn’t gone. Had she been out of the house at all?
But her hair was clean and brushed, and she wore a cheerful yellow sundress. He pushed open the door and stepped onto the shaded balcony. The overhang helped shield them from direct sunlight, but it was still warm and humid.
A smile transformed Mrs. Bollinger’s grave face and lightened her hazel eyes. “There you are.” She waved toward the chair across from her. “Sit, please.”
She poured lemonade from the untouched pitcher on the table into two tall glasses while he took a seat.
“Thank you.” Josh took a sip of cold lemonade. “This is kind of you.”
“No problem.” She beamed at him, so obviously happy to have company that he hesitated to ask why she’d called. “Did you have breakfast? I can get you something.”
But he was her doctor, not her friend, and he had other patients. “No, thank you. How can I help you today, Mrs. Bollinger?”
“Got a bit of a headache, I guess.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t want to call you for something this silly, but I took some Tylenol hours ago, and it’s still bothering me.”
He pushed down the surge of impatience. “Okay, let’s see.”
As he took her pulse and blood pressure, he asked, “So what have you been up to the last few days? You mentioned that you might be playing bridge on Saturday. Did you have people over?”
“Oh no, it was Alicia’s turn to host. She’s so good at it. Everything is always so perfect.” Then she looked away. “But I was tired on Saturday, so I called to let her know I couldn’t make it.”
He cocked his head, eyeing her. “I’m sure Alicia was disappointed.”
“Oh, I doubt it.”
“When do you host again?”
“I’m not sure. A couple of weeks, if I can get the house ready in time.”
“You have a beautiful home.” A beautiful mausoleum. The place was silent except for the lap of waves below the balcony and the crying of gulls. “What are you worried about?”
“There’s so much planning involved. The food and drink, the table setup . . .”
He stared at her. “You’ve raised three children. I doubt planning a bridge party is much of a challenge for you.”
She perked up. “And before that, I was an office manager, did you know?”
He shook his head and pulled out his penlight.
“That’s where I met my Gary. We had a torrid office romance.” A trace of the wicked girl she’d once been showed in her grin. “The secretary and the big boss. What a cliché.”
“But it all worked out, didn’t it?”
“Yes.” The glowing, happy expression made her look a dozen years younger. “Three children, two grandchildren, and our thirty-fifth anniversary is next month.”
“Congratulations.” He flashed the light doing a quick exam of her pupils. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to meet your husband.”
“He’s very busy. When he retired, and we moved here a couple of years ago, I thought . . . But he’s so smart. He has so much knowledge of the business; they’re forever calling him back to consult on various projects. He enjoys it so much.”
“I’ll bet.” He probably loved being the big man they called when they needed his expertise. Probably made them beg for it.
Josh’s hand tensed on his penlight as he bit back the words. He moved you away from your friends and family, bought this nice house so you could both enjoy your retirement and then . . . abandoned you. Not Josh’s business. “When will he be back?”
“Next weekend. I think. What’s the date?”
“September first.”
“Yes, soon.” She touched her hair. “I’d best get to the salon. Oh.” She brightened. “And then the children will be here for Thanksgiving. That’s not so far away is it?” She rubbed her eyes. “So what do you think?”
“I’ll give you something a little stronger than Tylenol.” Motrin was stronger, even if it was over the counter. “Take a short nap. Eat a well-balanced dinner. Then go for a thirty-minute walk along the beach this evening. It will be light for a while, and it should be cooler. Will you do that for me?”
She looked at him wide-eyed. “If you think it will help. Do you know what’s wrong with me, Dr. Parker?”
He smiled and patted her hand. He’d diagnosed her problem the first time they’d met: she was just as bored as he was.
The mansion this time was a white colonial style, like something from old Charleston or a South Georgia plantation. White colonnades supported a veranda at the top of the steps leading to the entryway. The same circular drive though, and a similar grimace from the ponytailed girl who reached for his keys with two fingers and a wrinkled nose.
But in this case, he held back the keys. She looked too young to drive anyway. “Can I leave it here? I won’t be long.”
She shrugged and turned toward the stairs. “Follow me, Doc. I’ll take you to my uncle.”
Not much different inside either. More paintings on the walls, and gray leather furniture to match the gray marble floors.
The girl even led him to the same place, but instead of a balcony, a covered porch wrapped around the back of the house, with a set of steep wooden steps leading down to the sugar-white sands. But the patio table on this porch was deserted. Josh stopped, puzzled.
“He went for his morning run.”
Josh gaped at her. “He . . . what now?”
“Morning. Run,” she repeated and then turned on her heel. “He wanted me to bring breakfast.”
“Wait,” he called after her. “Does he do this every morning? Go for a run?”
She shrugged again. “Far as I know.”
Well, hell. So either Shaw had already gotten help and there was no note of it in his file, or Josh had misdiagnosed the man’s heart condition as being much worse than it actually was. In this particular instance, Josh did not mind being wrong. Either explanation might also account for Shaw’s reluctance to make this appointment.
A bit cheered, he took a seat at the table and sat back to enjoy the beautiful morning. He was looking forward to talking to Shaw and picking his brain. The man had recommended him to Langdon and Burke, so he must know the two pretty well. After three weeks, Josh didn’t know them any better than on his first day, despite Burke’s friendliness whenever Langdon wasn’t around. Josh spent every Monday in the office, catching up on paperwork and attending a staff meeting presided over by Langdon. Things were amicable enough, as long as Josh kept his mouth shut.
While he was waiting, he pulled out his iPad and flipped through the patient files on Shaw one more time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and he’d received no new updates, but there was no sign of any medical appointments since Shaw’s New York visit. Josh’s good mood took a nosedive. He wouldn’t be able to leave here until he had a cardiology appointment booked for his stubborn patient.
A tall man in running shorts and a T-shirt rounded the curve in the beach, his strong arms and legs pumping, his close-cropped hair offering little protection from the sun. Skin cancer and the necessity of wearing a hat in Florida would be Josh’s first lecture to Shaw. Well, second. Right after the bit about taking care of his dicey heart.
Although only in his forties, Shaw had been a heavy smoker until five years previously, when he’d quit cold turkey after losing his brother to cancer. Too late to reverse some of the heart damage, but not too late to live a reasonably active life, if he took care of himself.
Going for a run every morning did not qualify as taking care of himself though. Exercise was necessary, yes. But not flat-out running on the sand in eighty-five-degree heat with no one around to watch him.
Josh stood, gearing himself up to deliver what he thought of as his Disapproving Doctor Scowl. Much to his dismay, a bit of Langdon had crept into it lately. He had to admit, the man did a good scowl.
Shaw slowed his approach and then gripped the stair railing leading up to the porch, bending with his other hand on his knee as he caught his breath.
So not a good sign. “See?” Josh hurried across the porch and down the stairs. “This is what I’m talking about. First, you jog around Central Park like you’re being chased by muggers, now it’s like a shark has sprouted legs and is after you or something.” He put a hand under Shaw’s elbow, urging him up. “Stand up and look at me, man.”
Shaw lifted his gaze and blinked at Josh with a fuzzy smile. “Hey, Doc.”
“Hey yourself.” Josh didn’t like that dazed look on Shaw’s face, or the quick, shallow breaths. “Come on; let’s get you up the stairs.”
“You have . . . amazing timing.”
“And you have a shitty sense of hearing.”
“I hear you, I just . . .” He gasped and bent over, pressing one hand to his chest.
“Just don’t listen. I know.” Josh staggered as more of Shaw’s weight shifted onto him. He could let the man rest on the steps, but if he went into arrest . . . No way Josh could do CPR on the stairs or on the soft sand of the beach. “We really need to get you up on the deck.”
“I’m okay. A little winded.”
“Are there any changes to your prescriptions?”
“Not since New York.”
“Then you never saw a cardiac specialist.”
“I felt better,” Shaw protested as he dragged himself up past the top step and staggered onto the deck, where he abruptly sat on the bare boards. His breath came in short, shallow gasps.
“And tell me how you’re feeling now.” Josh eased him back until he lay flat on the deck, then knelt beside him and pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing nine one one.
The ponytailed girl came onto the deck carrying a tray of covered dishes. “Oh.” She dropped the tray onto the table and rushed to them. “Uncle Carter! What’s wrong?”
“There’s my girl,” Shaw slurred. “Don’t worry, Mona, I’m just a little tired from running.”
Josh finished his initial report to the operator but left the line open. He retrieved his keys and held them out to Mona. “Get the red bag and the white case out of my trunk.”
She stared at him with huge, frightened eyes.
“Please, Mona. Go now, and hurry.”
A quick blink and then she gave a nod, grabbed the keys, and ran back into the house.
“Taking vitals now,” Josh told the operator, keeping up a running commentary as he pulled the blood pressure cuff from his bag. The more information the EMS workers had before they arrived, the better for the patient.
“Talk to me, Dr. Shaw . . . Carter. Tell me how you’re feeling.”
“Like an elephant is sitting on my chest.”
“EMS will be here any minute.”
Josh relayed his findings to the operator as Mona ran back with his equipment.
He took it from her. “Can you bring me some water?”
She seized a bottle from the breakfast tray and handed it to him.
After putting the phone on speaker, he gave it to her. “Hold this and let me know if they have questions.”
“Aspirin,” he told Shaw and held the bottle for him to wash it down. Next came the nasal cannula for oxygen, and then Josh took the automatic defibrillator from the pack.
After powering on the AED, he pulled off Shaw’s shirt and then positioned a paddle high on one side of the man’s chest and placed the other around his rib cage. Josh examined the screen. This model had a readout as well as the automated defibrillation and instructions. Leave it to Langdon to spring for the best equipment. Josh sure wasn’t complaining.
Without lifting his gaze, he asked, “Where else does it hurt, Carter?”
As long as Shaw could talk, his airway wasn’t compromised, and Josh could focus on observing the cardiac arrhythmia. If the AED detected the patient going into ventricular fibrillation, the machine would administer a shock with little help from him.
The readout took a second to pick up the rhythm. Josh gave a soft grunt as he watched the irregular flow of waves across his screen.
Sirens wailed, coming rapidly closer until they were right outside. He started to speak to Mona, but she was already moving. “I’ll meet them.”
“Thanks.” He turned back to his patient. “Talk to me, Carter.”
Shaw blinked at him slowly, his brow wrinkled in pain. “Chest . . .”
Respirations too fast, but steady and not labored. Josh looked at the readings again and then jumped up to drag over a barstool. He reached into his bag, pulling out an IV kit and the Ringer’s.
Ignoring the clatter of boots rushing across the marble floor, he draped the bag over the stool and started a line in Shaw’s left hand.
He felt the strong presence at his back before he heard the familiar drawl that he’d recognize anywhere despite only having heard it a couple of times.
“Whatcha got there, Doc?” Ian squatted beside him, scanned the readout, and then spoke to his partner. “Let’s get a board under him, Tommy.”
Tommy was on the other side of Shaw, recording vitals. He jumped up and grabbed the board, ready to slide it under Shaw.
The three of them got Shaw on the board and onto the stretcher, then the paramedics took over, hustling their patient out the door. Ian looked back at Josh, flashing him a grin over his shoulder.
Josh knew exactly what Ian was thinking: “You docs to the rich and famous always call us to clean up your messes.”
Well, damned if they were going to leave him behind this time.
“I need to go with him.” He took his phone back from Mona. “Are you going to be okay? Do you have someone to call?”
“My mom. She’ll get me and then we’ll be right there.”
>
He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You were awesome.”
She smiled at him gratefully.
He grabbed his remaining stuff and took after Shaw. He was going to make sure his patient saw a freakin’ cardiologist this time. Besides, they had his damn expensive combo AED monitor thing, and he wasn’t about to let that out of his sight.
He jumped in the back, dodging the doors as Ian slammed them shut.
“What the hell, Doc?”
“This time, he is my patient. I can ride.”
“You think we don’t know what we’re doing?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“That’s what—”
“You’re objecting to having an ER doc ride on the bus with us?” Tommy didn’t pause as he monitored Shaw’s vitals.
“He’s not an ER doc anymore, is he?”
The nasal cannula had been replaced by a full oxygen mask, but Shaw was conscious enough to push it to the side and mumble, “I want Parker here.”
And that clinched it.
“Looking ashy.” Josh brushed past Ian, taking a seat on the bench next to him, much too close in the cramped quarters.
Hard to ignore that solid thigh pressed against his, but Josh had other things to worry about as he talked to Shaw. Such as the fact that Shaw had stopped responding to him.
“Going into V-fib,” Josh said. “Clear.”
The AED delivered the shock. After that, it was a steady round of CPR; Ian delivered the compressions while Tommy handled the Ambu bag. The two worked together like a quiet, well-oiled machine, ignoring the jostle of the truck and the shriek of the siren. Josh didn’t want to get in the middle of that.
Instead, he watched the monitor and prepared to intubate, but after three rounds, Shaw gasped for breath and the cardiac rhythm reestablished.
The Doctor Takes a Detour Page 6