He couldn’t resist. “Let me guess? Three days?”
Sandy crossed her arms and looked like she was just going to leave him there without responding. He held up his hands in surrender. “Please, go ahead. Tell me.”
Nurse Walker snorted and shook her head, but Sandy gave a toss of her long ponytail. “It took a
few
days.”
“So what? Five nights of pictures and no more nightmares?”
“Oh, no.” Sandy cocked her head at him a fist on her hip. “You don’t understand. The nightmares happened every few hours. That kid was running on luck and air after the first several days. No sleep, pale, wouldn’t eat, bruising under her eyes. She would jump anytime someone came in her room.” She tapped her finger on the counter. “Dr. Hyden sat by her bed and every time Annie started to thrash with the bad dreams she would wake her up, have her look at the happy pictures she’d drawn, and wait for her to go back to sleep. For days she did that.”
He frowned at the woman. “She stayed in the girl’s room the whole time.”
“She didn’t sleep there if that’s what you’re asking—not in the girl’s room at any rate.” The comment came from Nurse Walker. She nodded her head down the hall to the doctor’s lounge. “Dr. Hyden would catch a little shut eye between shifts.”
Jason took a deep breath, not certain he wanted to hear the last story. Briet Hyden was turning into Mother Theresa. From the three pairs of eyes staring at him, the nursing staff expected him to join her fan club. Well, at least most of the staff. Vicki Groden wasn’t a club member.
“Hit me with the last one.”
Sandy grinned. “Davis Randall. Painfully shy. Barely talks to his parents. How they figured out enough to determine he even had cancer is beyond me.” She licked her lips. “Any rate, Doc figured something was wrong. She asked us to watch for trips to the bathroom, but some kids are just stealthy. Davis wouldn’t pee in the cup and the setup in the toilet caught nothing. We couldn’t tell what he was doing. He’d barely answer our questions.”
Jason would have laughed if the situation weren’t so serious. “Okay, so how did anyone confirm the problem?”
“We organized to keep an eye on him, very discrete. Two days and no sample. Hyden had us put a chemical in the toilet water and disconnect the flush mechanism.”
He shook his head. “But he goes and you can’t tell if it’s once or more often.”
“We could tell that he didn’t go at all.”
“For how long?” Jason was quickly trying to calculate the ramifications for a potential lawsuit in his head.
“Two days from the time she had us make the changes. Anyone’s guess before that. She had some tests run at the same time. We confirmed the problem before the tests came back.
He
was put on medication.”
Yes, he was. Jason remembered the reference in the status. Thank goodness, but not a surprise. Briet was nothing if not diligent with regard to her patients. Nurse Groden’s issues aside, he considered Briet’s support well deserved.
“Enough chit-chat. Don’t you have rounds or something to do?” Nurse Walker asked Sandy. Tasha ducked her head lower behind the nurse’s desk, trying to shrink into the furniture.
“They seem pretty impressed with her,” Jason said to the head nurse. She struck him as no-nonsense, not easily snowed by warm and fuzzy approaches. She’d been straightforward with him the several times he’d come down to the ward with questions.
“We have a lot of good doctors here. There’s a lot to respect about the woman. She’s not a one-stop-shop. She looks at each of her patients as individuals and puts in the time needed to resolve their problems.”
Nurse Groden chose that moment to pass by the station and paused at the comment. “She’s not a full-time doctor on staff so she has the luxury to pick and choose. Of course she has time to do nice by everyone.”
“That’s seriously infringing on inappropriate comments.” Nurse Walker gave her a formidable scowl, which sent Vicki on her way again.
“Seems to be some difference of opinion,” Jason noted.
“To each their own. Dr. Hyden treats her patients with respect as well as the nurses and staff. That’s all I expect of the professionals I work with.”
Jason bit back a smile at the woman’s staunch advocacy in the guise of professional demeanor and watched her walk away. He looked to Nurse Tasha. “Nothing to add?”
“Are you kidding? I’m the new kid. I just lay low.”
“Really. No Dr. Hyden stories.”
Tasha glanced down both directions of the hallway. “She’s just an all-round nice person. Most of these doctors are. But she’s even helping Mario Sanchez’s parents.”
He looked at her for a moment, assessing how far her endorsement of Briet would go. “The father who was laid off?”
“Yep, she’s trying to find them some free housing and a work situation for the dad.”
“She must have a lot of energy. I’m exhausted just hearing about her work.” Jason gave the young nurse an appraising look. “Would you do me a favor?” He took out a card and placed it below the counter on top of her charts.
Tasha looked skeptical.
“I’m not asking you to do anything that will get you in trouble. Promise.”
She raised an eyebrow. Okay, a little more astute than her age implied.
Good.
“I just would like you to call me if something happens with any of B—Dr. Hyden’s patients.”
“That’s against policy.”
“Not exactly, I don’t want names or specifics. I’m on the notification list anyway because of the trial. But my company has a lot of resources. If the Sanchez’s need help, or one of the kids has a problem, I want to be able to pull my resources to help them as fast as possible.
Before
it gets analyzed all the way up the chain and back down again. I don’t want info on the doctors or the nurses. I’m not a troublesome guy. Really.”
His bigger concern was what Dr. Sanyu would do with unfavorable information. A nagging suspicion told him Nurse Groden’s animosity spawned from Sanyu’s influence and Jason’s intuition was excellent. It was worth sticking his neck out a little to deflect focus from Briet’s efforts.
Her gaze flickered from his card to him and back but she tucked it in her pocket. “If anything happens
and
if it’s not a conflict of interest, I’ll see.”
“Thanks, Tasha.”
CHAPTER 8
Ansgar walked through the foyer of the busy restaurant and scrutinized the crowd of power suits and hundred-dollar highlights. He waived a hand to dismiss assistance from the maître d’ and pushed on through the closely nestled tables toward one in the far corner.
His sister was as easy to pick out as a thousand watt light bulb in this frenzy of humanity. She and a co-worker were in white tailored shirts, their ID tags hung about their necks. Medical schools must have classes on cloning the professional female doctor look.
He rounded the table, as Briet looked up, puzzled. A second later, she smiled. Two seconds after, she opened eyes wide and reached for her purse to shuffle through the meager contents.
“I’m so sorry. I meant to call.”
Reaching out a hand of welcome to the confused blonde sitting with Briet, he gave her a quick smile. “Hi, I’m Briet’s brother, Ansgar. The person she was supposed to return a call to three days ago.”
The woman retracted her hand with a quick glance to Briet, who looked more guilty than concerned.
Wonder what that’s about?
“Sheri, my brother. Ansgar, Sheri Arnault, one of the other doctors on the trial.”
“Would have figured as much.” He gestured to the ID tags and pulled a spare chair around to sit between the two women. “I promise I won’t interrupt your lunch for more than a minute.”
“You could join us.” Sheri’s smile held a possibility of something more than lunch, but Ansgar shook his head. The woman was attractive with her sleek hair, dark red lipstick, and professionally done nails, but he felt nothing. Not even a spark. He’d given up playing for entertainment value decades ago.
“Must have left my phone in the lab.” Briet was still patting through her tiny purse as if the phone would magically appear.
“Handy. Hard to get the message I left for you if you never have the phone with you.” He dug into his pocket and plunked a cell phone on the table by his sister’s hand with a look.
“I left it at home?”
Her question was more hopeful than it should have been. She knew damn well she hadn’t left it at home.
“No. A Good Samaritan found the phone on a table in the coffee shop in your lab building. They called the first number. Me.”
“Ah, hmm, well.” She slid the phone into her purse with a tiny tap and a quick smile.
Oh, no. Not that easy, sis
. Ansgar turned to Briet’s companion. “Sheri, I'll bet you have your phone with you?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t—” Sheri stopped, pursed her lips, and quickly slid her gaze away.
“No. You would probably worry about patients who needed to reach you, family members. Or heaven forbid, if you were in trouble it might come in handy?”
“Stop. I give up.” Briet put her hand on his arm. “I will keep better track of the phone. I will call you later today. I promise.”
“Thank you.” He leaned in, kissed Briet’s forehead, and stood up. “It was nice meeting you Sheri. I’ll leave you ladies to your lunch.”
Briet watched her brother cut a path through the crowd and disappear out the door.
“Your brother seems very concerned about you?”
“He’s protective. Our parents died when we were young. Sometimes he thinks he's my father.”
Sheri’s smile widened appreciatively. “He’s a young looking father.”
Briet bit her lip to keep from laughing. Now she knew why Ansgar had left so quickly.
***
“I don’t think Davis Randall’s up to an interview.” Sandy Rasmerson’s normally perky voice was subdued to a whisper. Jason gave a quick glance over his shoulder to gauge the reason for her concern.
“The shy one?”
She nodded and lifted one shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it and don’t let anyone pressure him. It’s not a big deal.” His words drifted off as he turned back to the crew of two people handling the taping and interview of Mario Sanchez. The questions and process had been smooth up until a second ago. Jason had missed the question, but whatever it was, Mario was upset. Not good.
“Hey, can we take a break for a few minutes?” Jason's look stopped Danielle Fry in mid-sentence. The public relations representative Welson had sent to interview the children gave a not-so-discrete glance toward the clock on the wall, but nodded. The cinematographer, Ed, started to move by and Jason tapped him on the arm. “Those last questions?”
The man faced away from the boy, pretending to fiddle with his video camera. “About the kid’s family, brothers, and sisters. Got him kind of homesick.”
Jason pursed his lips. He’d expected a little more compassion for these interviews, but everybody had pressures and deadlines. “You going out to the lobby with Dani?” He got a nod back. He guessed from the smell of their clothes and the look of the man’s fingers, they were both headed for smoke breaks. “Do you have time to finish up here?”
“I’m good for the rest of the afternoon.”
“Good, let Dani know I appreciate her coming here, but if she’s got another appointment, I’ll pick up the last two interviews.”
“Will do.”
Grabbing a rolling stool, Jason sat down by Mario. The kid had retracted like a turtle, his head down, shoulders hunched, fiddling with two wooden chess pieces clenched tight in his hands. Layers of blond and dark wood swirled in the carvings of the rook and knight. No amount of rubbing would stop this kid’s misery.
“You play chess, Mario?”
The boy nodded, not looking up.
“I have a set at home. My pieces aren’t nearly as nice as those.”
“My dad made these.” The words came out thick with the boy's tears.
“He did a really good job. Can I see one?”
Mario held out the knight and swiped at his cheek with the back of his other hand. A quick attempt to save face, Jason noted, scrutinizing the piece while the kid collected himself. The work was beautiful.
“Do you know how your dad made this?” Jason nudged a tissue box with his elbow to the side of Mario’s chair.
“He had left over pieces of wood, from projects, all different woods.” He sniffled a little and held out the other piece in his hand. “The white pieces have more of the lighter wood and he made the black pieces with more of the darker. He, like…makes the woods fit perfect together…” his palms pressed together. “Then he cuts the blocks for the pieces and carves them and sands them.”
The craftsmanship was incredible. There were no visible seams between the colors. Not even a rough patch. The layering was quality, the angle of color striations almost mathematically technical and the finish alone must have taken hours for each piece. Jason held the knight between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you have the whole set here?”
Mario finally looked at him, his eyes red but wide and alert, sadness gone for a second. “Yeah.”
“Would you mind if we played a game while we talked.” Jason waved a hand at the door. “Not the stuff Ms. Fry was asking, just stuff like if you’ve met the other kids here? Things you’d like to show your friends.”
One side of Mario’s mouth lifted.
Jason handed back the piece. “I know your mom and dad are going to like seeing you on tape. Did you know they receive a copy? I bet your dad would get a kick out of watching you play.” Mario’s smile widened.
There was no need to explain to the boy that the artistry of Mr. Sanchez’s work would make a good marketing tool for his skills. Or Jason’s intent to release a clip of the video to the local news station for a human-interest piece. The kid only wanted to connect with home.
A quick tap at the glass signaled Ed was back. The door opened and Sandy Rasmerson slid in. “How about we have Nurse Sandy get your set and we’ll try again?”
Sandy gave them a smile and thumbs-up. Briet Hyden’s expression through the large treatment window looked less than pleased. How long had she been standing there? That woman must have an alert for when her patients were having a hard time. Lucky for Mario. Not so much for him.