As she turned around and headed toward the stairs to take the tunnel over to the tower, Nora chuckled at her Scrooge-like thoughts—great way to get into the holiday spirit! Despite everything that had happened, she found herself actually looking forward to Christmas. Even New Year’s.
Taking her life back had a lot to do with that. So did Seth.
She wasn’t foolish enough to think that figuring out the sexual part of their relationship meant the rest would magically fall into place, but learning that he hadn’t lied to her—that was a huge step forward.
Her good mood continued as she remembered the things Seth had told her last night. She didn’t want to dive right into the same mistakes—and there was the little fact of a killer who might or might not be obsessed with her—but she felt hopeful.
Something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
In addition to the executive administration offices, the research tower also held the clinics and research labs and so, except for the rare lab assistant, should be deserted on a weekend. She was surprised Tillman was in today. Damn, she was hoping that when Carlene sent her up here for Narolie’s UR chart, the place would be deserted.
As she opened the door to his outer office, she realized it wasn’t only the CEO making an appearance on a Saturday. His receptionist was there, as was a secretary typing dictation. And through the window behind the receptionist desk she saw Tillman holding court with several hospital board members.
None of whom appeared very happy. Pete Sandusky’s story probably had something to do with that. If Lydia was right, they had Jim Lazarov to thank. She still couldn’t believe the emergency medicine intern would stoop so low as to steal a rape kit and auction it off to the press.
“I’m here to pick up Narolie Maxeke’s chart for utilization review,” Nora told the receptionist, avoiding giving her name. She still wore her street clothes, jeans, and a sweater, and her coat hid her hospital ID hanging from a belt loop.
“Right. I have it here.” The phone rang and the receptionist grabbed it and began speaking even as she handed Nora Narolie’s UR paperwork. Nora was about to leave when the receptionist covered the phone with her hand and called out, “Mr. Tillman wants that done ASAP!”
Nora merely nodded and left, feeling like a thief escaping into the night as the door shut behind her. Narolie’s information was spread throughout the hospital computer system, so it could be reproduced if need be, but usually the UR chart was the definitive collection of all the administrative information.
As vital as the actual medical record, the chart she held now contained the insurance and legal paper trail Tillman would need to deport Narolie. Maybe she could help Narolie after all. At least buy her some time.
Hugging the chart to her chest, she fled down the hall to the elevator bank. With practically no one in the building today, it arrived quickly. Getting to any patient care floor in the other tower meant crossing the eighth-floor skyway, going back down to the first floor, or using the tunnels again. Nora chose the aerial route and hit the button for the eighth floor.
She took her time crossing the skyway. Usually she avoided the eighth floor, which held the rehab units: long-term patients in vegetative states, patients with spinal cord and traumatic brain injuries, stroke victims. The place where a lot of her patients from the ER ended up. The professionals there did great work, but it was no place for anyone used to the instant gratification of emergency medicine.
The rehab floor kind of spooked her, in fact. Patients and medical staff working so hard to achieve so little. Depressing as hell.
When she was a kid, they used to drag the school choir around to all the area nursing homes to sing Christmas carols. She’d always try to find a way out of it, but her folks made her go. All those blank faces, lined up to see the carol ers, some tied to their chairs . . .
“Hey, bitch!” Halfway across the skyway, a man plowed into her from behind, sending Narolie’s file flying. Nora careened into the glass wall.
Fear stampeded through her. She bounced off the glass and spun to face her attacker, her arms raised in a primitive protective reflex, eyes half closed, anticipating pain.
“You think you can push me around and get away with it?” Jim Lazarov held her against the glass, his hands pushing against her shoulders. His face was an inch from hers, twisted with fury. “How do you like it, bitch?”
TWENTY-NINE
Saturday, 8:54 A.M.
NORA’S FEAR MIXED WITH ANGER—AND THEN THE fear returned, multiplied, as she realized that Jim could be the killer. He’d gone to medical school here in Pittsburgh, would be familiar with hospitals. Jim seemed shorter than her attacker, but she’d been blinded, so she wasn’t certain. He definitely had the anger and strength the killer had.
She forced herself to remain calm. That was what had saved her life last time.
“Let me go,” she told Jim, using a voice of command. Her tone was a little shrill, so she hauled in another breath and tried again. “Now, Jim.”
His chest heaved as he caught his breath—as if he were the one afraid for his life. More likely excited, she thought with disgust. But his expression cleared, and he released her. He didn’t move back, though, still blocking her.
“I’m tired of taking your shit,” he said, his words accompanied by spittle that sprayed her face. “Humiliating me in front of an attending yesterday.”
Nora didn’t wipe it off, but forced her hands to remain open at her sides. She fought for the calm she’d felt earlier today, for the control.
“Understood,” she said, keeping her tone level. “Now, let me pass.”
“I’d listen to the lady if I were you.” Glen Bakker appeared at the far end of the skyway. “Unless you’d like to spend the holidays in jail.”
“For what?” Jim said, but he stepped away, finally giving Nora room to breathe. Glen seemed in no hurry as he strode down the skyway to meet them, his hand resting on his gun. Jim puffed out his chest with bluster. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I guess we’ll let Ms. Halloran be the judge of that,” Glen said as he arrived beside Jim and clamped one large hand on the intern’s shoulder. Jim deflated beneath the larger man’s touch.
Nora thought for a moment. There really wasn’t anything Jim had done to her that she hadn’t done first to him yesterday, when she’d been so upset.
“It’s okay,” she told Glen. “You can let him go.”
Glen didn’t release his grip on Jim’s shoulder. “You sure?”
Adrenaline leached from her system, leaving her stomach quivering. As were her hands. Nora jammed them into her coat pockets before either man could notice. “I’m sure.”
“Get out of here, then,” Glen told Jim, who hastened to comply.
Once Jim had fled the skyway, Nora gathered up the scattered paperwork. Glen got down on his hands and knees and helped her.
“Thought you were going to be working in Carlene’s office,” he said. “You know, keeping a low profile.”
“I need to go down to the PICU, check out this patient in person,” Nora lied.
Glen didn’t fall for it. “Everything you need is on the computer.”
She shrugged and stood up again.
“You’re trying to pull a fast one on Tillman, aren’t you?”
Tillman signed Glen’s paycheck, too, so Nora said nothing as they strolled across the skyway to the patient care tower. “How’d you find me?”
Glen pulled out his PDA. “I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, remember? Besides, I told you me and my guys were going to keep an eye out for you.”
“Good timing. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” They rode the elevator down to the fourth floor, where the ICUs and operating rooms were. “I know you’re feeling like you can’t trust anyone around here right now, but you can trust me.” Glen walked her to the doors of the PICU. “Call me if you’re going anywhere, Nora. I don’t want you wandering around here alone. Okay?”
Nora blew her breath out. She hated the idea that she wasn’t free to do what she wanted. But he was right. “Okay. Thanks again, Glen.”
LUCAS WAS QUICKLY LOSING POINTS FOR FIANCÉ of the year, not to mention attending of the year. Amanda couldn’t understand why he wasn’t as excited by her theory as she was.
“Amanda, I have to do what’s best for my patient.” They were in the dictation area behind the nurses’ station, a small alcove that was quickly becoming too crowded between the two of them and their emotions.
“Why can’t you trust me? Lucas, I didn’t make this up.”
“We don’t have time for this. Narolie is deteriorating, Tillman could have her deported at any minute—”
“But the case report about an ovarian teratoma—”
“Abdominal masses don’t cause psychosis and encephalitis. We need to give the antivirals time to work.”
“We need to operate.” Amanda stared him down. Even if she did have to crane her neck and look up at him to do it.
“Do you even know if Narolie
has
a teratoma?”
“The clinic did an upper GI when she first began vomiting. It was normal except for a small calcification near her right ovary. I need a CT to confirm it.”
“If she’s too unstable for me to get an MRI to follow up on a disease process I do know about, what makes you think I’ll risk her life on a CT to try to validate something you have a hunch about?”
She hated when he used that officious tone with her. Hated even more that he was right. She looked beyond him to Narolie’s room, where Lydia, Gina, and Tank were sitting with her. “Lucas, please.”
“No. I’m sorry, but I’m trying to keep her alive.”
“So am I.”
“No, you’re chasing around, trying to find your silver lining. Medicine doesn’t always work that way, Amanda. I can’t work that way. I have to deal with the scientific facts.”
“It’s better than doing nothing.”
“Waiting for medication to have an effect is not doing nothing,” Lucas protested. “Besides, if it’s a teratoma, then she was born with it. Why would it start causing her problems now?”
“The case report didn’t have an explanation, but the patient got better when the tumor was removed.” She thrust her copy at him. He frowned, but took it and skimmed through it. It was only two pages long—hardly an authoritative research treatise.
“Coincidence.” He handed it back to her with a skeptical scowl.
“Lucas—”
“I have to go. I have a stat consult in the ER. Let me know if you find anything else.”
Amanda stared after him, fuming. She’d asked him not to give her any special treatment, but damn it, she knew she was right about this—even if the medical evidence was lacking. It was a strong feeling, too strong to shake off. And it might be Narolie’s only hope.
NORA WAS SURPRISED TO SEE AMANDA AND LUCAS arguing—especially in such a public place. It was totally unlike either of them. She glanced around the unit. Narolie was in the isolation room with Tank beside her. Along with Gina and Lydia.
Well, good. Between the four of them, they ought to be able to think of a plan to keep Narolie from being deported.
Before she could get Narolie’s chart from the nurses’ station, the PICU doors opened and Seth blew in like a small hurricane. His Penn State scrub cap was crooked, his surgical mask hung from his neck, and he wore his OR clogs. He raced over to her, ignoring the startled looks from the nurses and parents.
“Nora, are you okay?”
She stared at him, puzzled. “Of course I’m okay. Why shouldn’t I be?”
“I heard Jim Lazarov attacked you! Why didn’t you call me, let me know you were all right?”
“He didn’t attack me. It was just a misunderstanding. Who told you, anyway?”
“One of the security guards told an ER nurse who told one of the transporters who told—”
“Seth, I can take care of myself,” Nora interrupted him, irritated at the efficiency and inaccuracy of the hospital gossip machine. And that Seth believed she wouldn’t have let him know if something had happened. “Tell me you didn’t leave a patient.”
He didn’t meet her eyes. “Pancreatic pseudocyst. I lied, told them I got paged to check on a patient in the SICU.”
“Seth Cochran!” Now she was the angry one. “Get back in there and take care of your patient.”
“Maybe you should go home.” His expression clouded as he remembered why that wasn’t possible. Then he spotted Lydia and Gina walking from Narolie’s room to the break room. “Or go to Lydia’s. No one would look for you there.”
“No. I’ll be right here doing my job. You go do yours.” She remembered her thoughts from earlier this morning, that he might be safer without her nearby. He hadn’t listened to her when she tried to explain then; instead they’d ended up fighting. Just like now.
His eyes darkened as he scowled. “Why won’t you ever listen to me? I’ve been totally honest with you every step of the way, but you still don’t trust me, do you?”
“Of course I do.” She gestured for him to lower his voice. The parents nearby were obviously agitated by their argument. “This isn’t the time—”
“No time ever is.” His face filled with pain. “I’ve tried everything I know, Nora. Bared my soul to you. But I can’t keep doing it. Not alone.”
Before she could say anything, he strode out of the PICU, the doors swooshing closed behind him.
She took a step after him. Stopped. Maybe it was better this way. Safer. For everyone.
NO ONE QUESTIONED
LYDIA’S
PRESENCE HERE AT work, Gina noticed. Despite the fact that she wore jeans and a fleece pullover, Lydia didn’t look out of place. Instead she looked in command, ready for action. She led Gina into the PICU’s break room and pulled the curtains shut, giving them privacy.
“We need to figure out a way to help Narolie,” Lydia said.
“Ahh, so that’s why you’re here on your day off, instead of helping Trey decorate the Christmas tree or some other blissful domestic activity?”