Fatal Reaction (10 page)

CHAPTER 23

Jared awoke the next morning, tangled in the sheets of the guest bedroom that had become his second home. His head ached from downing a fifth of vodka after the embarrassing night that had him wondering if he shouldn’t just call County and quit.

Colby’s fling with Simon had been bad, but this
thing
with Dorian was so much worse. Jared tried to block out the humiliation that resurfaced the minute he thought of the emcee calling Dorian’s name and Dorian stumbling out of the ladies’ room after Colby. Colby’s hair had come loose from its pins, and the back of her gown was tucked into her underwear. Dorian’s bow tie was crooked, and his pants were unzipped.

For as long as Jared lived, he’d never forgive her.

Finances aside, and there was a considerable amount of wealth and property to consider, Jared had been holding out hope that Colby would find the right thing to say to make him forgive her. There was no simple solution, but it was clear that he and Colby were through.

He opened the bedroom door and listened to the silence that had replaced the sound of repeated toilet flushing, most likely because the alcohol had made Colby sick.

Jared turned on his cell phone, which he had shut off after Mitchell’s tenth message, and checked the time. His shift started in a little over an hour, and as much as he wanted to be anywhere other than in the same house with Colby, the thought of facing the medical staff made him cringe.

He staggered down the hall toward the master bedroom and found an awaiting disaster.

“What the hell?” He reached across a mound of his belongings and wiggled the locked door handle. “Colby, open up.” He pounded the door with the heel of his hand, the jolting pressure sharpening his dull headache. “Colby, come on. I need my razor.”

“It’s out there,” she said. “Leave me alone.”

She didn’t unlock the door, didn’t apologize, or explain, and if there was an ounce of remorse in her, Jared couldn’t find it. He sifted through the stack and gathered the things he’d need sooner than later. She’d emptied his underwear and sock drawers into a laundry basket and shoved his shaving kit and toothbrush into the corner.

“My toothbrush, really? How long do you plan on staying in there?”

The rhetorical question, as expected, went unanswered.

He piled his clothes, most of which were still on hangers, on top of the basket and relocated the load to the guest room in two cumbersome trips. In the breast pocket of a jacket headed for the dry cleaner was the business card he swore he’d never use: Wendell G. Cobb, attorney-at-law.

Wilson had given it to him, partially as a gag, but more as a passive offering of help after Jared intimated that his most recent fight with Colby had become physical.

“It’s only a matter of time until you hit back,” Wilson had said.

Jared would have never considered it even a remote possibility, but after what had happened with Dorian, and with the pure disgust he had felt, Wilson’s was a fair warning.

Jared dialed the attorney’s number, relieved, and a bit sad, that things had gone so far.

CHAPTER 24

Dorian kept his head down as he walked into County Memorial, the previous night’s indiscretion radiating from him like a beacon as he hurried toward Emily Warren’s room. Two of the unit secretaries, a middle-aged blonde and an older woman with pure white hair, exchanged hushed conversation as he passed. The older one’s mouth fell open, and the younger one giggled, making Dorian self-conscious.

He’d gone too far this time, and he knew it.

He turned the corner into Emily’s room and breathed a sigh of relief. He closed the door behind him and quietly grabbed her chart from the bin on the wall.

Emily was sitting up in bed, sipping a cup of water.

Derrick slept, slumped over, in the chair at her bedside. His laptop and several notebooks covered the portable table.

Emily wasn’t what Dorian considered conventionally beautiful. Her nose was too pronounced and her lips a bit thin. A smattering of freckles, made obvious by her lack of makeup, dotted her fair skin and in some places blended together, making her appear much younger than her twenty-eight years. She pulled a brush through her unruly, light brown curls and tucked her frizzy hair behind her ears.

“Good morning,” Dorian said. “How are you doing?”

Emily shrugged. “You tell me.”

Derrick’s eyes rolled open and went immediately to the wall clock. “What time is it?” He fumbled for his glasses, askew in the breast pocket of his blue dress shirt.

“It’s six thirty.”

Derrick looked at Dorian. “You’re early. Is everything all right?” He pushed in the foot of the lounge chair and straightened himself up.

“Everything’s fine. I’m starting office hours at eight and wanted to make sure that Emily’s paperwork was in order for her discharge.”

“I get to go home?”

“On one condition,” Dorian said. “You have to agree to home care, which we will provide. We want to make sure you’re healing and taking the necessary medications.”

“Did you do that with your other patient?” Derrick said, now fully awake. “What was her name? Stephanie Martin?” The anxious pressure was like a half-ton weight on Dorian’s chest, and he was unsure of what to say next. “I heard you talking after Emily’s surgery and thought I should check into some things. You didn’t tell us the procedure failed.”

Emily’s pale face flushed with concern. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I wasn’t sure it was true. Is it, Dr. Carmichael?”

“Our patients’ treatments are confidential, Derrick. I’m afraid I can’t discuss that with you.”

“Then you should tell the nurses to be more careful when they talk. You can say I overheard it, though I won’t repeat what we talk about. I understand things happen, but I want what’s best for Emily. Perhaps that’s Dr. Davis?”

Dorian interpreted the mention of his rival as a passive-aggressive threat. Seeing no option but to come clean, he answered. “I’m sorry, but you heard correctly.” The words came out heavy and lifted the secret’s substantial weight. Despite what he had done to keep the patients separate, staff always talked. “There were unforeseeable complications with Mrs. Martin, but there’s no reason to expect the same will hold true for Emily. We’re taking extra precautions and will follow her closely.”

“You told us everything would be fine.”

Dorian peeled back Emily’s blanket and lifted her gown to examine her surgical wound. The wide cut, held closed by deep retention sutures, though fresh, appeared to be healing. He gently pressed around the distant margin. “Does that hurt?”

“No worse than usual,” Emily said.

“Everything
is
going to be fine, isn’t it?”

“Everything looks good.” Dorian tried to sound as encouraging as possible without making promises. He pulled a card from his wallet and wrote his cell phone number down on the back. “If you have any questions or problems, call me directly, day or night. I don’t want you to have to go through the office, or my answering service.” He handed the card to Derrick. “The discharge nurse will be in around nine o’clock, and I’ll have Noreen arrange your first home visit.”

If she hasn’t quit.

CHAPTER 25

“Thanks for letting me know.” Ana hung up the phone and pulled into the EMS station, eager for the distraction of work.

Mike had called twice in the past twenty-four hours, both times to tell her that Julian hadn’t found any new leads at Sydney’s house. She didn’t imagine he would, considering she’d taken the one thing worth having. She’d placed half a dozen calls to Dr. Sanders’s office, getting the same runaround from him as Sydney had gotten from Dr. Carmichael, and the same gut feeling of guilt. The edges of his card had started to peel, and a corner had been torn off. Ana dialed the number, which she’d nearly committed to memory. The receptionist answered on the second ring.

“Dr. Sanders’s office, how can I help you?”

“Good morning. This is Ana Ashmore calling to speak with Dr. Sanders, again, please.”

“I’ve given him your messages, Ms. Ashmore. I’m sure he will return your call at his earliest convenience.”

“And when do you think that’ll be? It’s urgent that I speak with him.”

“I’m sorry. He’s with patients and cannot be disturbed.”

“You say that every time I call.”

“Then maybe you should wait for him to call you,” the receptionist said, and hung up.

Ana let out a frustrated growl and caught sight of a shadow in her periphery.

Ethan shivered, breathing into his cupped hands. His blue eyes stared back at her from beneath a pulled-up hood and, without his even saying a word, Ana sensed increased tension between them.

She turned off the engine and opened the door, pocketing the card and her phone.

“Hey,” he said, “you’re still not answering my calls.”

“I’ve been busy looking into things. You know, stuff with Sydney.” She figured that was the one thing he wouldn’t give her crap for.

“I’m worried about you.” Ethan wrapped his arm around her, and she backed away.

“Don’t be,” she said. “I’m fine.” She locked the car and headed toward the front door with him at her heels.

Jim, with whom she’d briefly spoken only hours ago to get the all-clear to return to work, stood near the front door. “How’re you doing?” He ran his hand through his sandy blond hair and huffed out a breath.

She moved around him, headed for her locker. “I’m fine.” She was getting sick of answering that particular question. “And tell anyone else whose wondering.”

Mattie, the young dispatcher, offered a tight-lipped smile. “If there’s anything I can do.”

“You can
do
your job,” Ana said, cutting her off. “I’m not made of porcelain. If everyone wants to help”—she looked into the dining room where several others were nibbling at a group breakfast—“they can just act normal.”

She stuffed her things into her locker, kicked off her shoes, and stepped into her jumpsuit.

“Listen,” Ethan said quietly, “I was thinking, maybe I could stay at your place a few days. You’ve been through a lot, and I hate the idea of your being alone. I can make you those blueberry pancakes you like, bring you coffee in bed, you know, make sure you’re taken care of.”

“I’m all right, really. I just need time.”

“What if I’m asking because I miss you?”

She sighed, feeling terrible for having led him on. “Then I need space.”

He sat across from her at a table for two, and pushed a plate of breakfast and a cup of coffee in front of her. “How about one night, then? See where it goes? You said you wanted people to act normal. I want what we had before.”

Ana slammed the mug hard enough on the table that the steaming coffee splashed out over her hand. “What we
had
was a fling, Ethan. God, don’t you get it?”

Jim, who had been reading the paper a couple of tables away, got up from his chair, gestured for Ethan to take a walk, and handed Ana a wad of napkins.

“Listen, Jim, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. The damned coffee spilled, and Ethan, God, he’s relentless.”

“Just stop a minute, would you? Stop and listen. I took a lot of heat for what happened at the Aquarian. By all accounts, you should be suspended, at the very least. I know what you’re going through—at least I know it was hard enough to keep you from thinking clearly, which is out of character, and that’s what I told everyone. You weren’t yourself. The Ana I know would never risk an investigation or compromise a crime scene, especially at a call she wasn’t supposed to go to in the first place. I let you come back, but I can’t have you blowing up at people. Maybe it’s just too soon.”

“I’m good, really. I
need
to be here. If all I have to think about is Sydney in that room, if that’s all I have in my life, I’ll go crazy.”

Ethan, who had remained close enough to eavesdrop, brought a box of tissues from the supply closet. “It was my fault,” he said to Jim. “I overstepped my boundaries.”

Ana peeled back the perforated seal and was blowing her nose when dispatch radioed a call at an address she recognized as one of her regulars.

“I’m fine, Jim. Really. What’s it going to be?”

Jim sighed. “Go, both of you. Get out of here. But Ana, don’t make me regret this.”