She was Dying Anyway

by P. D. Workman

  “Is it what Robin would have wanted? I mean… she was dying anyway, would she really have wanted to make a big deal over it?”

  A flush started to creep up Bridget’s throat.

  “You don’t think it’s important?” she demanded. “You think that those few months aren’t worth anything? That they can just be written off? Our time here is important, whether it is years, or months, or days. No one has the right to take them away from us.”

  “Okay. I just want to make sure it’s really what you want. When someone starts poking around in a case like this, people can get pretty worked up. You might not think that anyone would care, you think that everyone else would just want to know the truth, but it can cause… really bad feelings… even threats of violence.”

  “I’m prepared to deal with that.” The rosy flush had risen all the way to Bridget’s ears. She was steamed, but she was holding back because she wanted Zachary to take the case. She knew that if she exploded, he could simply say he wouldn’t take the case. He wasn’t obligated.

  But he would take it, even if she did blow up at him. He would always do any favor she asked of him.

  “So, will you? Will you look into it for me?”

  “Yes. Email me all of the information you have on Robin and the hospital or treatment program and I’ll see what I can find out. I just wanted to be sure you knew what you were getting into.”

  Bridget’s shoulders dipped and her jaw relaxed. “Thank you, Zachary. You don’t know what this means to me.”

  He allowed himself only a fleeting vision of her expressing her gratitude to him in other ways. Of her softening toward him and realizing how good they were together, how important they were to each other.

  But that wasn’t why she was there. That wasn’t why she had come.

  There was a knock on the open door, and Zachary startled, jerking his head around to see who was there. For a split second, he worried that it would be the landlord, upset about the couch sitting in the hallway and the damage to the doorframe and wall. But it was Mario Bowman, smiling at them. He was balding, overweight, and always looked a little seedy when he wasn’t wearing his police uniform. But he was a devoted friend who had gone above and beyond the call of duty to help out a man who was hardly more than an acquaintance at the time. Zachary’s respect for the cop had only grown as they had gotten to know each other better. Bowman was one of the good guys. One of the best.

  “I thought I’d get a start on these boxes.” Bowman was leering as if he’d just caught the two of them in a heated embrace. “If you two don’t mind being interrupted.”

  Bridget was on her feet before Zachary, letting go of his hand and stepping over to greet Bowman with a peck on the cheek. “Mario! What a delight to see you again! I’ll bet you’re happy to be getting rid of this scoundrel.”

  Zachary made it belatedly to his feet, feeling off-balance for just a split second before he managed to gain his equilibrium. While it appeared to everyone but his physical therapist that he was fully recovered from his last couple of ‘accidents,’ Zachary was acutely aware of every movement or reaction that took a microsecond longer than it used to. Those instants frustrated him, and all the more when he was the only one who noticed them and everybody else thought he was overreacting or imagining things.

  Bowman looked at Zachary with an expression of affection. “Well, to tell the truth…” he trailed off, letting the phrase hang for a moment, “yes, nothing would make me happier than to see the back of him.”

  He gave Zachary a rough hug around the shoulders to show that he meant no ill will toward Zachary. And Zachary knew it was true, Bowman would be happy to see Zachary out of Bowman’s apartment, but even happier to know that Zachary was safely installed in a place of his own.

  “So, shall I start bringing things up?”

  “Yes, sure,” Zachary agreed. “There really isn’t much though.”

  “Not much.” Bowman rolled his eyes at Bridget. “It’s amazing how much one person can acquire in the space of a few weeks.”

  He slapped Zachary on the back and headed back out into the hallway to go get the things he’d brought over in the car.

  “It isn’t that much,” Zachary repeated to Bridget, his face warm. When he had moved in to sleep on Bowman’s couch, he’d had nothing but the clothes on his back, which weren’t even all his own. He hadn’t even had a wallet or any means to pay for anything else. But Bowman and others had chipped in to get him clothes, a suitcase, and what other little necessaries Zachary needed until he was able to access his bank account and credit card account, and then to get the settlement money from the insurer so that he’d be able to get established again. He had a new laptop and some photographic equipment, a few files for the cases that he’d worked on since losing everything, his clothing… but it really wasn’t more than would fit in a couple of suitcases.

  He followed Bowman down to the car and bent over to pick up a suitcase, looking into the car. “What’s all this?”

  Bowman picked up a couple of boxes, carefully stacked and balanced. “Just a few little things.”

  Zachary lugged his suitcases, trying to figure out what else Bowman had packed. There couldn’t have been that much more than would fit in his suitcases. Bowman had shooed him out of the apartment early that morning, telling him that he’d better be ready well before the first workers were scheduled to get there, and that Bowman would pack everything up and take it over.

  Bridget was still there when they got up to Zachary’s apartment. He hadn’t been sure whether she would stay around or if she would take the first opportunity to disappear. She took the box that Bowman had stacked on top of the one he was carrying and set it down on the kitchen table to look through the contents. Zachary looked down at an assortment of dishes, sheets, and towels. He looked over at Bowman. A bachelor himself, Bowman didn’t exactly have a lot to give away.

  “Just a few things I wanted to get rid of,” Bowman offered with a shrug. “I mean, you’re going to need all those sorts of odds and ends, and my place is getting cluttered.”

  “You didn’t need to do that.”

  Showing no hint of being self-conscious, Bridget started to remove the dishes and find the appropriate places for them in the kitchen. When Zachary looked at her with his mouth open, looking for a reason to object, she just shook her head.

  “Why don’t you go unpack your clothes?”

  “Uh… okay,” Zachary agreed, and took the suitcases into the bedroom to get a start on them.

  Zachary was exhausted at the end of the day when everyone was gone, and he was left in his new apartment all alone. He had furniture, other than a couch. The TV and internet were both working, and his various possessions and the donations from Bridget and Bowman were all neatly put away. The apartment felt sparse and empty, but it was a start. After years of being a foster kid barely able to hold on to the one possession that really mattered—the camera given to him by Mr. Peterson—he was used to starting over with nothing. And he knew that he would start to collect new possessions at a rate that would have alarmed Bridget had they still been living together. She never could understand his need to hold on to absolutely everything. Like a grandparent who had lived through the depression, Zachary knew what it was like to want. Parting with anything, no matter how small and insignificant, was difficult.

  It was probably a good thing he didn’t have a couch, so he couldn’t lie down and go to sleep in front of the TV in the living room like he had been doing at Bowman’s house. Doctors had always told him that was poor sleep hygiene and that he wouldn’t really get the REM sleep he needed to be alert and mentally healthy. It would be his first night sleeping in a bed in months, and he was looking forward to being able to stretch out and not worry about running into the ends of the couch or falling off the side as he had several times.

  It was no surprise that when he lay down to go to sleep, he was not the least bit sleepy. His brain whirled around and around, going over everything
that had happened during the day, analyzing it, thinking of all of the things he should have said and done instead of what he had. What kept returning to him over and over was the conversation with Bridget about Robin Salter. He probably should have said no. He should have at least been more resistant and given Bridget a day or two to think about it before agreeing to help. The more he looked at the problem, the more obvious it became that it was a minefield, with no safe way across. If he didn’t find any evidence that it was not a natural death, Bridget was going to be angry and think that he had not been trying hard enough and had not done a good job. If he did find evidence that the hospital had covered up a mistake or something else, she was going to be angry about Robin’s life being cut short before her time was up and she wouldn’t have anyone to vent to about it except for Zachary. There was no one else behind her on her mission to find out the truth, so that put Zachary directly in the crosshairs either way.

  What if she didn’t accept his findings? What if the police or the doctors didn’t? What if he had suspicions but couldn’t prove anything?

  Zachary got out of bed and wandered out to the living room. He turned the TV on and began to pace, trying to silence the arguments going around his head and to get into a rhythm. He checked out the fridge, but he wasn’t really hungry, and despite the fact that Bridget had filled it with food, nothing appealed to him. He would have to make a start on it the next day, because otherwise, a few days down the line, things were going to start going bad and he wouldn’t be able to keep up with them.

  His body was exhausted before he started, so it was no wonder that he quickly tired of the pacing and had to sit down. He had an easy chair, but he wanted to lie on his side rather than recline and was too antsy to stay in the chair.

  He ended up lying on the carpet where the couch should be, a throw pillow between his arm and his head, watching inane infomercials on TV until he fell asleep.

  Chapter Three

  B

  ridget had emailed Zachary all of the details she had on Robin Salter and her doctors and treatment. Having been in treatment together, she had some knowledge of when the doctors were likely to be reachable and some other helpful details. She also provided links to Robin’s various social media sites, and Zachary spent a few minutes browsing through them to get to know the woman he was trying to get some justice for.

  She was a black woman with a narrow face and small features. Attractive in her older pictures, but obviously sick and suffering in the more recent ones. Her hair had been shaved close for a few weeks, and then she only appeared in headscarfs and hats, obviously having lost her hair to her cancer treatments. She had a smile in the older pictures. Grim and determined in the more recent ones.

  There was a memorial page set up where her family and friends had posted pictures, memories, and tributes to her. Zachary tried to read them dispassionately, but he couldn’t help feeling for the people who had lost her. Her passing had, as Bridget had said, been sudden and unexpected, even though she had been given a terminal diagnosis. Zachary made a list of questions to ask the medical staff, trying to stay focused on the task at hand and not to get distracted by the badges showing that he had announcements to read in his own feed. That would wait; he was working.

  Zachary transferred whatever information he would need for the interviews to his phone, grabbed his keys, and headed out. He carefully locked his apartment door behind him and walked to the elevator. The elevator bell dinged, but he didn’t get on, instead retreating to his apartment door and double-checking the locks. He looked around for anyone suspicious. He needed to be aware of everyone around him, not allowing himself to be lulled into a sense of false security. There could be no more break-ins, no more fires, no more accidents. He checked the locks one final time and walked down the stairs instead of taking the elevator.

  The first person he asked for in the oncology department at the hospital was Dr. Aaron West. The nurse at the nursing station shook her head.

  “He’s in surgery at the moment. I’m not sure when he’ll be available.”

  “Could I set up an appointment? Or does he do rounds at a certain time? There must be some kind of arrangements I could make.”

  She looked up at the computer screen, and then down at her paperwork, though she must have had a pretty good idea what Dr. West’s regular schedule was if she’d worked there for any length of time. She was an older woman with round glasses and short, limp brown hair. She maintained an air of suspicion listening to him.

  “And you want to consult with him on which patient’s care?”

  Zachary licked his lips. “Robin Salter.”

  She looked up at him quickly. “Robin Salter? But she died.”

  “Yes. I still have questions for him with regard to her treatment and prognosis.”

  “Well, obviously she doesn’t have a prognosis at this point.”

  “No.” Zachary’s face warmed. “I mean what her prognosis was before she passed. What the expectations were for how she would be treated and… how long she had left.”

  The nurse still looked at him as if he were crazy. “Why would you want to know that? You’re not related to Ms. Salter.”

  She didn’t say it as a question. And he supposed she probably had a pretty good idea that he wasn’t blood related to her simply evidenced by his white skin.

  “I’ve been asked to look into any irregularities in Robin’s care.” He hoped by using her first name, he could humanize Robin Salter and make the nurse more sympathetic to his cause. And to distract her from what he was actually asking.

  “Look into…? What are you talking about? Ms. Salter had cancer and she died. There wasn’t anything irregular about that.”

  “There have been some questions…”

  She stared at him, not open to the direction of the conversation at all. Zachary tried to give her a warm smile to thaw her cool attitude.

  “Were you involved in Robin’s treatment? Were you close?”

  She scowled. “Patient care is confidential. Do you have some kind of release from the family consenting to this… investigation?”

  “No, at the moment I’m just exploring whether there is actually anything to investigate. I take it you don’t have any concerns.”

  “Of course not.”

  He nodded agreeably. “My wife was treated here. I don’t know if you remember… Bridget Downy…?”

  Her penciled eyebrows rose. “Your wife is Bridget Downy? I don’t remember seeing you before.”

  “My ex-wife,” Zachary amended. He let out a slow breath. “Cancer is very hard on families. She… withdrew from me… our marriage didn’t survive.”

  “But she did. She went into remission, didn’t she?”

  “Yes.” Zachary forced another smile, showing how pleased he was that she had survived her treatment and the horrible disease that had been growing inside her. How pleased he was with the excellent care she had received from the oncology center. People could read things like that in body language and facial expression. Much more clearly than anyone expected. He noticed a slight loosening of the nurse’s body muscles. A little more relaxation in her face and shoulders. “Bridget has always been very positive of the care that she received here.” That, at least, was true. “Look, I’m sure there is nothing to this business about Robin Salter. But… it is my job to look into it, so that’s what I’m doing. Once I’ve talked to Dr. West and anyone else who might have insight into her care and her death, then I can report to the family that there wasn’t anything unusual or unexpected about her death…”

  “I suppose.”

  “Should I make an appointment to see Dr. West? Or do you know when a good time to see him would be?”

  The nurse lowered her voice to a more confidential tone. “I don’t think it will be too long before he’s here for rounds. Unless something goes south with the surgery, it shouldn’t take long. He can talk to you then.”

  “Thank you, that’s great. You must have him well-trained.�
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  She gave a little chuckle. “These young doctors. Someone has to take them in hand.”

  “I can imagine. Were you… closely involved in Robin’s care?”

  The nurse nodded reluctantly. “Yes, I suppose so. But there wasn’t anything unusual about her case. Sometimes… people go before you expect them to. That’s just the nature of disease.”

  “Yes. I’m sure there isn’t anything to it.” He squinted at her name badge, difficult to make out with black text on a shiny gold background that reflected the light. “Nurse Betty?”

  “Betty Hoogner,” she agreed, wetting her pink lips and giving a curt nod.

  “I think I remember Bridget mentioning you.” He paused. “You always remember the good ones. Angels of mercy.” He was afraid that might be over the top, but Nurse Betty lapped it up. It didn’t matter that Zachary hadn’t supplied any details of what she had done to make Bridget so grateful.

  “Well, that’s so sweet. I remember Bridget being a lot… easier than Robin.”

  Zachary couldn’t imagine Bridget being particularly easy to nurse, given how strong-willed she was. But she was good at managing people and was very gracious when the situation demanded it. In situations that didn’t involve Zachary. When they had first met and started to see each other, he had thought she was the sweetest and loveliest women he’d ever met. Everybody had flaws, but finding out Bridget wasn’t so perfect after all had been a shock.

  “It must be hard being that sick,” he said. “I guess you deal with a lot of people who aren’t very grateful to be here.”

  Betty nodded her agreement. “And as nurses, we understand that. We know that nobody chose to get sick and to have to come here. And that we’re seeing people at their very worst. Some people… manage it better than others.”

  “Did you like Robin?”

  “Like her?” Betty said blankly. “Well, we do get attached to some of our patients, but mostly we try to maintain a professional distance. Otherwise, it can be very hard working somewhere like this where you lose so many people.”