by Andrea Kane
She paused. “I have a funny feeling. As the operating surgeon, Conrad picked his team. Which is fine, except that everyone I talk to, including our client, seems to have been around when Lexington died.”
“I’ll be able to get you any information your heart desires in a few hours,” Ryan assured her. “Just hang in there while I work my magic.”
17
EMMA FOUND HER guy without much trouble.
Roger Lewis—or Loser, as Emma called him—was either locked in the IT section of the hospital or glued to her side, looking like a lovesick teenager.
This time he was on his way back to work, but taking a route that was out of his way to find her.
Perfect, she thought as she saw him coming. It was time for their tête-à-tête.
She’d already scouted out every floor of the hospital so she was ready when the opportunity presented itself. The third-floor bathrooms were right around the bend in a tiny, isolated alcove—ideal for what she had in mind. It was dead quiet.
Score.
Waiting until she was sure Roger had spotted her, Emma yanked on a pair of latex hospital gloves—as if she’d just come from seeing a patient—and strode across the hospital floor. She paused as she turned toward the bathroom.
“Hi.” There was that puppy-dog voice, coming up behind her. She couldn’t wait to never hear it again.
She turned around. “Roger.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “I haven’t seen you all day.”
He scowled. “I’ve been tied up working on this new database to help the data integration of both hospitals.” He proceeded to ramble on in computer-ese until Emma could barely keep her eyes open.
“I can’t get over how brilliant you are,” she said, choking back a gag. “It’s so cool how you handle software and computer programs I’ve never even heard of.”
Roger puffed up. “That’s my job.”
“Well, you’re awesome at it.” Emma leaned a little closer than usual and laid a light hand on his shirt. “I’m sure you’re amazing at everything you do.”
He looked as if he was going to pee his pants.
“I...” He turned beet-red. “Maybe we could have a drink sometime,” he blurted out.
“I’d like that.” Emma’s nod was eager. “But right now, I have to get to the ladies’ room ASAP. I’ve been waiting to go for a half hour.”
“Sure. Yeah. Of course.” Roger stepped aside. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Can’t wait.” Emma hurried into the ladies’ room, shut the door and shuddered. Remembering her end goal, she glanced down at her tightly fisted gloved hand. Good girl, she congratulated herself. You haven’t lost your touch.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Emma headed down to the basement. She had to be careful, since this was where the IT department was. But it was also the least bustling place in the hospital. So she stopped short of where Roger’s office was, made a quick left turn and, as planned, headed toward the custodial closet.
She surveyed the corridor as she approached. A thin flow of people. That was the best it would be.
She cleared her throat when she was two steps from the closet.
The door opened, and the man in the janitor’s uniform collided with Emma in the hallway.
“Oh, excuse me,” Ryan said, shifting the mop he was carrying to block the front of his uniform from view.
“No problem.”
Emma bent down as if to pick up something she’d dropped. Using her gloved hand, she adeptly reached into her candy-striper frock, retrieved the hospital ID badge she had just pickpocketed from poor, unsuspecting Roger and slipped it into Ryan’s jacket pocket.
“You look soooo hot,” she muttered in a teasing voice. “Good luck.”
With that, she continued down the hall.
Ryan rolled his eyes. Then he turned to do his job. He walked over to the locked door of the first office in the ramshackle hall. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Nothing.
Convinced that Emma was right about this office being virtually unoccupied, he held the ID card up to the proximity reader with a gloved hand and waited for the loud “clunk” as the bolt retracted, unlocking the door.
The office looked like a storage room, but it contained the one piece of equipment Ryan needed—a computer.
He shut the door behind him, heard the lock reengage and went straight to the desk. Seated behind the computer, Ryan removed the stolen badge carefully, pulled a special fingerprint kit from his other pocket and proceeded to “lift” the IT guy’s prints from the ID badge. He then transferred the index finger print to a flexible plastic strip and punched the button that woke up the computer.
Pressing Ctrl-Alt-Del, the screen whirred to life and waited for authentication. Ryan took the plastic strip, slid it carefully across the fingerprint reader and smiled as the system recognized him as Roger Lewis, Systems Administrator, with access to all resources.
Ryan navigated through the maze of drives and folders, until he came across one named “rlexington.” He expanded the menu to show file permissions and attributes and saw that one directory called “personal” had every file inside encrypted with a password.
Realizing this would take too long to break, he reached into his pocket for an empty USB drive, inserted it into the computer and initiated the replication of the entire contents of the “rlexington” folder.
But that wasn’t enough. The next order of business was to create a new administrative account for himself, with full remote access so he could obtain everything else he needed in the future. He worked quickly.
Done.
He then inserted a different USB drive and installed a spyware program of his own design that would allow him to access the hospital network via the internet, all without detection by antivirus and intrusion protection software—just in case the extra administrative account was found and expunged.
Eliminating any sign of his being here, Ryan packed up his gear and waited for the computer workstation to go back into sleep mode. He pocketed the ID badge to drop off just outside the IT offices. By now, the panicked Roger Lewis would be looking everywhere for his badge. Some pal of his would have let him in—but camaraderie like that wouldn’t last for long. Lewis would be frantic. Eventually he—or his irate boss—would find the badge in the niche between the door and the wall, and Roger would think it had accidentally unclipped from his belt and fallen off when he pushed through the door. Little did he know...
Ryan dumped his mop and uniform in the custodial closet and retraced his steps through the basement. As he walked, he removed the latex gloves he was wearing, and dropped them in the garbage just before he left the hospital.
* * *
Janet was entering some administrative data into her computer when her office door abruptly opened.
Nancy Lexington strode inside, her coat billowing out around her as she turned to shut the door. She whipped around, taking a few steps toward Janet’s desk. Her eyes were blazing, and anger emanated from her.
Clearly this wasn’t a friendly social visit.
“Hello, Nancy,” Janet said carefully. Ronald might be dead, but his wife still commanded some respect in this neck of the woods. “What can I do for you?”
“You can tell me why you were meeting with Casey Woods.”
Janet’s jaw dropped. That news had traveled fast, even for Manhattan Memorial.
“Who told you that?” she asked.
“Does it matter? It’s true, isn’t it?”
Janet rose from behind her desk. At least this way she could address Nancy on equal footing.
“Casey Woods and I had a quick lunch together,” she replied. “I wanted to learn more about Forensic Instincts. I find what they do fascinating. Is there a problem with that?”
“
There’s a problem with the assumptions people make when they see you lunching with a well-known private investigator.”
Janet was starting to get angry. “And what would those assumptions be?”
Nancy closed the distance between herself and the desk, placing her palms flat on top of it. “Don’t play stupid games with me,” Nancy replied. “You know damned well what I’m talking about. You knew everything about Ronald—including his extracurricular activities. I don’t want that smut reaching my children’s ears.”
Janet couldn’t keep herself from laughing. “You’re kidding, right? Everyone knew about Ronald’s ‘extracurricular activities.’ Half of the hospital’s female population gossiped about it, and the rest were eager participants. As for your children, they’re not kids anymore. I’m quite sure they know who—and what—their father was.”
Nancy’s face had reddened. “That doesn’t mean they should have their noses rubbed in it. So keep your mouth shut and make different friends.”
“Or what?” Janet’s control snapped. “You’ll have me disposed of? I’m not afraid of you, Nancy, even if you are one step away from insane. So stop strutting around like you own this place. You’re nothing but a pathetic widow who couldn’t hold on to her husband when she had him. Maybe if you’d been a better wife, Ronald wouldn’t have spent so much time in other women’s beds.”
Nancy slapped Janet across the face so hard that the impact propelled her back a few steps. “You bitch,” she grated.
Janet pressed her palm to her cheek, which was already swelling with Nancy’s finger marks.
“You really are crazy.” Janet’s voice trembled with suppressed rage. “Not only that, but you’re delusional. You’ve actually conjured up some distorted image of your husband—heroic and monogamous to the end, despite a hospital filled with sluts who were throwing themselves at him. A noble man who was killed by a conniving surgeon, aided by his wife. Pull your head out of the sand and get some professional help. Concentrate on dealing with your grief and stop lashing out. Or is it too late? Are you already way past the lashing-out stage?”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying. I’m stating facts. You blame Conrad, Madeline and God knows who else for Ronald’s death. Ronald’s heart condition was bad. He didn’t make it. Accept that.”
Now it was Janet’s turn to lean forward, gripping the edge of her desk with whitened knuckles. “And if you have any thoughts of broadening your retaliatory actions to include the rest of the surgical team—such as my daughter—forget them now. You think you love your children? You have no idea. If you so much as lay a finger on Diana, I’ll take a page right out of your book. I’ll kill you.”
Nancy had grown ashen long before Janet’s threat. “What retaliatory actions? What gossip are you spreading now?”
“I’m not spreading a goddamned thing. There are all kinds of rumors flying around this hospital about the extent to which you’ve gone to avenge Ronald’s death.”
“And you passed those rumors on to Casey Woods?”
“My, aren’t we paranoid for a woman who claims to know nothing of what I’m saying. As for Casey Woods, I asked her to lunch to discuss Forensic Instincts. Period. Any other conversations we had were superfluous—unless, of course, you have something to hide.”
Nancy looked positively ill. “Don’t invite Ms. Woods to this hospital again, or I’ll use my influence with the board to have you both thrown out.”
She stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind her.
Janet stared after her, a pensive expression on her face.
18
RYAN WAS IN his lair with the encrypted files he’d stolen. He was at his desk, about to start working on trying to crack the encryption process, when Claire knocked and walked in.
“Bad time?” she asked.
“Good time,” Ryan replied, swiveling his chair around to face her. “I was just about to get into these files I took from the hospital.” He waved the USB drive at her. “But I haven’t shoved this baby in yet, so I’m all yours.” He frowned, seeing the upset expression on Claire’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“I just spent fifteen minutes with Dr. Gilding—which was all she would grant me. Sort of like a follow-up visit for a patient with a cold.”
“What did Bitch Doctor say?” Ryan asked. He could see that Claire was more than upset. She was pissed.
“Bitch Doctor is right.” Claire folded her arms across her chest. “I’ve met more than my share of nonbelievers. It’s a downside of my talent, and I accept that. But Sharon Gilding wasn’t just a nonbeliever. She went out of her way to insult me. And not just me. She covered the gamut, tearing apart the very idea of claircognizance, clairvoyance, clairsentience, clairaudience, clair—”
“Okay, I get it,” Ryan interrupted. “She beat the shit out of every clair in existence. Does that really surprise you?”
“Actually, yes.” Claire inhaled deeply, and then blew out her breath to calm herself. “Not her disbelief, but her scathing comments. I’ve never met a professional who was quite so vicious and denigrating.”
“Yeah, that is kind of extreme. So I assume that all you got out of this meeting was that Bitch Doctor lives up to her nickname, and that she gave off tons of negative energy about your skills.”
“Untrue.” Claire shook her head. “I picked up on lots of things. I’m on my way upstairs to see if Casey is here so I can to talk to her. Sorry I interrupted your computer hacking. I just needed to blow off steam.”
Ryan stood up, and walked over to Claire. He tipped up her chin, lowered his head and kissed her. “Don’t let Sharon Gilding get to you. She probably needs to get laid.”
“Oh, no, she doesn’t. She’s getting plenty of that already. I just need to figure out by whom.”
“Wow.” A corner of Ryan’s mouth lifted. “Poor guy, whoever he is. Now you’ve really piqued my interest. I’d come up with you to see Casey and hear all the sordid details, but I’ve got to get started on these files. It could take a long time to crack.”
“Then get started.” Claire reached up and brushed her lips against Ryan’s. “I’ll fill you in later.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
* * *
Casey was in the conference room having a heated negotiation with Emma when Claire walked in.
“Oh, come on, Casey,” Emma was saying, sitting across from her boss at the conference table and leaning forward as she pled her case. “I did everything you asked me to do and more. I sucked up to that loser forever, and I got Ryan what he needs. Why can’t I come back here now?”
Casey crossed one leg over the other, looking as if she were lecturing a petulant teenager.
“First of all, it was a week, Emma, not forever. And yes, you did a great job. I’m proud of you.” Casey held up a palm to silence Emma’s next outburst. She shot a quick look at Claire. “Urgent?”
“It can wait a few minutes. Do you want me to leave?”
“No,” Emma said. “I could use some support.”
“You’re not getting any,” Casey replied. “Let’s clarify the situation. I didn’t say you couldn’t come back to FI. I said you can’t come back yet.”
“Why?”
Emma’s youth was showing, Claire thought. She had yet to learn patience and to sacrifice immediate gratification for the big picture. But she’d get there. Then she’d really shine. There was no doubt in Claire’s—or any of the other team members’ minds—that Emma was a natural addition to their team.
Two more months and it would be official.
“Because,” Casey was explaining, “it would be glaringly obvious that I’d put you there as a plant.”
Emma chewed her lip. She couldn’t argue with that one.
“Tha
t would undo everything the team did to work the hospital system,” Emma admitted grudgingly. “Yeah, I get it.” She gave Casey a measured look, and asked the dreaded question. “How long do I have to stay in that hellhole, changing bed pans and smiling as if I love doing it?”
Casey couldn’t stifle a smile. Neither could Claire, who was still hovering in the doorway. There was something very refreshing about Emma’s direct honesty.
“How about a business workweek—five days.” Casey wasn’t really asking. She was coming to a decision, one that would be nonnegotiable. “Five days would be long enough for me to come to the realization that our clerical system was getting out of hand and we needed our receptionist back without raising any red flags. I’ll explain the dilemma to Jacob Casper, and I’ll assure him that as soon as we get ourselves up to speed, you can resume candy striping.”
“What?” Emma shot up like a rocket.
“Calm down. You won’t be going back. I’ll work that angle when the time comes. Right now your job is to continue working at the hospital.”
“What about Loser? He asked me out for a drink.” Emma groaned. “And I said yes. What am I supposed to do about that?”
“Go.”
“You’re kidding,” Emma said.
“No, I’m not. You agreed to join him for a drink. If you blow him off now, he’ll have all kinds of questions. We can’t have that. Keep up the charm for another five days.” Casey grinned at Emma’s nauseated expression. “You don’t have to sleep with the guy. He’s too awkward to ask you to, anyway. So set the date for three days from now, and you’ll already have one foot out of the hospital door.”
“Fine. I’ll do it. But only because I want in on this team.” Emma pushed back her chair and rose. “When you said probation, you really meant it. Is there anything else? Want me to fall on a sword?”
“I want you to watch your mouth. I seem to remember mentioning respect when we first talked.”
