The Police Doctor’s Secret

by Marion Lennox

  He made everything ready as Sarah did a careful examination and took a history. To give an anaesthetic without doing both was stupid.

  And that was where she found problems.

  The man was seriously overweight. She listened to his chest and then quietly signalled to Alistair that she wanted to see him outside.

  ‘I need advice,’ she told him. ‘That chest almost sounds asthmatic. It’s scaring me. My anaesthetics is basic. I don’t want him dying of a dislocated shoulder.’

  ‘Do you want to call it off?’ Alistair asked, but she shook her head and turned to the nurse.

  ‘Claire, can you set up a phone link with the duty anaesthetist in Cairns?’

  Two minutes later the anaesthetist from Cairns was on the line. He listened as she outlined the problem while Alistair watched on.

  ‘Okay.’ She asked him to repeat his instructions twice for good measure and then replaced the receiver. She thought it through. Finally she looked up at Alistair.

  ‘I can do this,’ she told them. ‘Now I can. I’ve gone over the dosage. It’s a really fast anaesthetic. We go in fast. Alistair, the advice is that if you have problems then we reverse the anaesthetic and give up-straight away-but we’ll give it this one shot. The anaesthetist says we should have no problems. Once the muscles are relaxed everything should fit in easily.’ Her eyes held Alistair, questioning. ‘If you’re okay with it?’

  ‘Believe it or not,’ he said, holding her gaze with a look that was disconcertingly direct, ‘I’m more confident now than I am before you conceded you had problems.’

  They started.

  She injected and started intubation. The theatre was hushed apart from the gentle whoosh-whoosh of the bagged air. The big man was unconscious, every muscle slumping.

  ‘Go,’ she muttered.

  Alistair gave her one last questioning look. She nodded. He took the man’s arm, pulled downward, outward, twisting…

  The shoulder clicked back into place.

  ‘Well done,’ Alistair said softly as she started the reversal, and she flushed.

  ‘You mean well done for not knowing what to do?’

  ‘No. I mean well done for admitting you were unsure before we ran into serious trouble.’ He glanced up at her and smiled. ‘I wouldn’t have thought it of you.’

  ‘Was I so arrogant when you knew me?’

  Her tone must have sounded…sad? Wistful? She bit her lip and turned back to her dials, but she was aware that Alistair’s eyes were on her.

  ‘No,’ he said softly, and his smile faded. ‘No. Grant was arrogant. I just…I always group you together.’

  ‘It must be nice to be so certain,’ she said shortly, and she felt rather than saw his brows come together in confusion. ‘Concentrate on your work,’ she snapped.

  ‘My work here is done,’ he told her, and the confusion on his face was mirrored in his voice. ‘Thanks to you.’

  Finally, with the publican recovering nicely, and his wife and three of his seven kids sitting round his bedside waiting for him to wake up properly and tell them all about it, Sarah decided they were free to part. Which was what she desperately wanted.

  ‘I need to sort these blood samples,’ Sarah told him. She was still feeling discomfited. Alistair’s presence-what he’d said-there was too much to ignore. She wanted him to go away so she could concentrate on her work.

  But it wasn’t going to happen.

  ‘I’ll help you.’

  ‘I don’t need help.’

  ‘If it’s a police case then you’re going to need an independent witness to verify your findings.’

  ‘You can look at the tarpaulin in the morning.’

  ‘Let’s do it now.’

  Which made it worse. Not only was he disconcerting and upsetting, he was far too close.

  Using the kit she’d brought with her, she worked with the scrapings and he was right at her shoulder. She found it so hard to concentrate it was almost impossible. But at least what she found was straightforward.

  ‘There’s been at least two bleeders,’ she told him. ‘I have an AB and an A blood group.’ She flicked through a few more slides. ‘There’s a lot more of the AB.’

  ‘So we have two people.’

  ‘We have two people who bled. We might well have half a dozen people.’

  Alistair stood back and looked down at the tarpaulin. They’d spread it out over the floor. The blood spatters were all over it.

  ‘This isn’t minor. Someone’s lost a huge amount of blood.’

  ‘So maybe they’re already dead.’ Sarah turned and looked down, too. It was a mute object. A tarpaulin. It should be able to speak, she thought. How had that blood appeared? Who did it belong to and where were they now?

  ‘You’d think they’d consider their lives more important than a few bags of heroin,’ Alistair said, and she knew he was thinking exactly the same thing as she was.

  ‘Our pilot swallowed condoms full of heroin,’ she whispered. ‘What a risk…’

  ‘And these people are risking everything as well. By smuggling drugs.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ She shook her head. She’d stayed in her theatre gown but had discarded her cap. The same with Alistair. They were robed all in green. It should have helped make this more of a professional relationship-and maybe it did-but there were still undercurrents she couldn’t do a thing about. ‘There’s something else.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why would they have flown right out here?’ she asked. ‘Dolphin Cove is hundreds of miles from anywhere. Let’s assume they’ve brought back a stash of heroin from Thailand. What would they want to do with it? The answer is easy. They’d want to sell it. Fast. They might want to keep it for a while and sell it in small lots, but even so…why bring it all the way to Dolphin Cove? And were they heading specifically for Dolphin Cove?’

  ‘No. At least, we don’t think so. They were south of the township. They must have passed almost over our runway and then flown further.’

  ‘But there wasn’t much fuel in the tank. Their destination must have been somewhere close by. Where?’

  ‘You’re asking me?’

  ‘I’m asking myself.’ She frowned. ‘We need serious police help here. I don’t think Barry’s going to be much use. I’ll contact headquarters and see if we can get some decent people sent up.’

  ‘There’s a problem with that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s the Commonwealth Heads Of State Conference in Brisbane starting tomorrow,’ Alistair told her. ‘When I was contacted to be told you were on your way, the detective who spoke to me said they’ve had terrorist threats. Every available policeman in the country is in Brisbane. Plus there’s been a bus crash south of Cairns, which is taking resources. I doubt you’ll get anyone here for at least two days. I’d imagine you would have been told that before you left.’

  She had. Of course she had. She bit her lip. ‘That’s right. I forgot. Then these people…’ She stared down at the tarpaulin, frowning in concentration. As if she could make some sort of sense of the blood patterns. She couldn’t. ‘If these people aren’t already dead then they may well soon be.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Dear heaven…’

  There was a long silence as they both thought through the implications. ‘There’s nothing we can do about it now,’ Alistair said at last, his voice heavy with foreboding. ‘We’ll go out to the plane ourselves tomorrow, but it’s no use beating ourselves about it now. It won’t help.’ He lifted his hand lightly to her cheek and touched her-a feather-touch. A touch of reassurance, nothing more. ‘You must be exhausted. You’ve done too much for one day, Dr Rose. It’s time you went to bed.’

  ‘Yes. I…’ She stared up at him, and before she could stop herself her hand lifted to trace the line where he’d touched her. As if he’d left some indelible mark.

  Their gazes locked and held.

  And stayed.

  What was happening? She didn’t know. Sarah found herself staring up into
the eyes of this big man who was so like the man she’d once thought she loved. He was so…close.

  He wasn’t Grant.

  And yet…and yet…

  She stared up at him and her world shifted. She felt that gut-wrenching shift-the change that told her she was no longer in control. She was spinning… spinning…

  And the last time that had happened to her it had ended in tragedy and death and regret for the rest of her life.

  He saw it. She knew the moment he registered the horror in her eyes. His brow snapped down in concern as she took an involuntary step backward.

  ‘Sarah…’

  ‘Y…You’re right. I need to go to bed.’ Damn, there were tears behind her eyes. Tears of weakness. Tears of stupidity. ‘If there’s nothing else…?’

  ‘There’s nothing else.’

  ‘Then I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘Goodnight, Sarah.’

  She blinked. She couldn’t believe the note she heard in his voice. Tenderness? Caring?

  Nonsense. The Benn boys didn’t do tenderness and caring. Had she learned nothing?

  ‘Goodnight, Dr Benn,’ she whispered, and it was as much as she could do to turn and walk with dignity down the corridor towards the doctor’s quarters.

  She wanted to run.

  She woke to kisses. Not just feather-light social greetings, but long, amorous declarations of absolute devotion. Sarah opened her eyes and Flotsam was two inches away, his whole body quivering in delight. His pink tongue came out again, he launched himself forward and Sarah hauled her sheet up over her face to protect herself.

  ‘Ugh. Horrible dog. Go away.’

  Flotsam did no such thing. He quivered and quivered, and when Sarah cautiously lifted an edge of the sheet to see, the little dog dived down, right under the bedclothes, with such practice that Sarah knew he’d done it many times before.

  ‘I’d have left you under the fish,’ she said. ‘Yikes! Do you mind? I happen to be ticklish.’

  ‘Flotsam’s a foot fetishist.’ She looked up and Alistair was smiling down at her. He was wearing casual jeans and an open-necked khaki shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His eyes were twinkling down at her and she looked up at him and thought, Uh-oh. Here I go again.

  Or did she need to go again? Had the pain ever gone away?

  The Benn brothers were stunning. Amazing.

  And one Benn brother was in her bedroom.

  Unconsciously she hauled her sheet up to her chin-which locked Flotsam in. Flotsam did a three-sixty turn under the covers, pushed with all his might, and his nose emerged from the end of the bed. Exposing Sarah’s toes.

  This wasn’t the most dignified position she’d ever been in, Sarah decided, and she could feel herself flushing.

  ‘Um…do you mind removing your dog?’

  ‘Shall I come in and get him?’

  ‘No! Call him from there.’ Flotsam’s tail was beating a tattoo against her legs. His delight was infectious and his fur was definitely tickling. Sarah was feeling so far out of control she might well be drowning. Alistair was grinning down at her, her toes were sticking unceremoniously out from the covers and Flotsam was deciding to lick again.

  ‘I’m calling you both,’ Alistair told her, but the twinkle behind those lazy brown eyes told her that he knew exactly how discomfited she was. ‘If you can be ready in thirty minutes we’re planning on going out to the wreck. The hospital’s quiet. The sickest person here is Don, and he’s awake and complaining that he’s only been given two rashers of bacon for breakfast so I’m not too worried. I’m releasing him forthwith. I thought I’d go out to the wreck with you. Maybe four eyes are better than two if we’re looking for clues.’

  She looked up at him and the twinkle had died.

  ‘You don’t trust Barry,’ she said on a note of discovery, and he gave a rueful smile.

  ‘Barry won’t break any rules.’

  ‘But he’s macho?’

  ‘If someone was running,’ Alistair said carefully, ‘then Barry might think any means of stopping him was okay.’

  ‘But you weren’t out there with him yesterday.’

  ‘I had a suspected heart attack on my hands here. Les Cartier had a severe angina attack the night before last, which was why I had to come back from the wreck so fast. I didn’t like to leave him yesterday, but today he’s looking good.’

  ‘But if you’re needed…’

  ‘I’m more likely to be needed out there.’ He hesitated. ‘To be honest, Don might look a bit of a wuss, and Barry’s scathing about him, but Barry’ll keep a rein on his temper when Don’s around. Don runs a decent pub and he’s more capable than anyone I know of calming tension. But Barry alone…’

  ‘You don’t think I could calm things down?’

  ‘I don’t think Barry would even notice you’re here,’ Alistair said honestly.

  ‘You really are worried.’

  ‘I think there are people out there who are wounded. I also agree that they must be hiding.’ He hesitated. ‘We were at the crash within half an hour of the plane going down. For people to be badly wounded yet wander so far they couldn’t be found doesn’t make sense. They should have stayed on the beach. And at night… It’s pitch dark out there, but it’s not so far from town that they couldn’t see the glow from the lights. No. There’s a problem. And I don’t want Barry to find what that problem is when there’s no one around to control the worst of his excesses. Jack Christy, our local mechanic, can come out mid-morning, and he’s tough enough to do the same as me, but he’s held up until then. Someone needs be there.’

  ‘So you’re coming with us?’

  ‘Just for a couple of hours until Jack arrives. Now, do you want to get dressed?’ He grinned suddenly. ‘I’m assuming you have panties and a bra on under that sheet, but…’

  She gasped. While she’d been concentrating on what Alistair was saying Flotsam had been tugging the sheet sideways. She was exposed almost to the thighs. Her legs were bare and…

  She clutched. Just in time.

  ‘Take your dog and leave,’ she said, with as much dignity as she could muster.

  ‘But you’ll come with us?’

  ‘Of course I’ll come. But get out. Both of you.’

  The trek to the wreck took over half an hour of rough climbing.

  The cove where the plane had crashed was surrounded by wild, rock-strewn hills and rough bushland. It was tough, inhospitable country. There were better beaches closer to the town, so no one ever felt the need to go there and so there was no established track. To reach the plane they needed to bush-bash through dense countryside, and by the time they’d walked for fifteen minutes Sarah’s face and arms were covered with a myriad of minor scratches.

  She’d been warned and she’d come prepared. Knowing there was a plane wreck in rough terrain before she’d left the city, she’d packed sensible bushwalking gear-baggy pants, loose shirt and sensible hiking boots-but no one could escape the scratches completely. The lawyer vine that lined the track, looping its way round trees and undergrowth, had savage prickles that couldn’t be avoided.

  If Alistair hadn’t been hiking right behind her she might have complained. But she didn’t. She trudged on, aware that Barry was being condescendingly slow on her behalf. And for some reason he was also being malicious. They trekked in silence, and only Flotsam’s cheerful antics as he dashed madly in front and then rushed back to ensure they were still following kept her spirits from being right down in her hiking boots.

  Their party was five in total-Alistair, Sarah, Barry, and two local women who were experienced bushwalkers and were here solely for the search. There was another team already out at the cove, already searching. A light plane had been organised to comb the area as well, and they could see it working its way methodically back and forth as they walked,

  ‘Fat lot of good that’ll do, though,’ Barry told them. ‘These guys don’t want to be found.’

  ‘Surely if they’re hurt they’ll c
ome searching for help,’ Sarah said mildly. She flinched as a rock Barry had just trodden on rolled backwards under her feet. Surely he hadn’t needed to dislodge it?

  ‘No way,’ Barry snapped, as if she was being thick.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘They’ll be hiding drugs.’

  ‘Okay,’ she conceded.

  Alistair was walking behind her and she was absurdly aware of his presence-and his silence-but she had to make her mind stay on the job. She was here as an investigative pathologist, and as such she had to think through every angle, even if it did come outside her specialist medical frame of reference.

  ‘Let’s assume they did have a load of drugs as cargo,’ she said thoughtfully, wincing as a branch Barry had pulled aside slapped back and hit her in the face. Barry was walking straight ahead of her and making no concessions to the fact that anyone was following. More and more she was starting to think his actions were deliberate. ‘Let’s assume they managed to get drugs out of the plane. Why don’t they hide the drugs and then come for help? There’s heaps of places here they could hide things. They can’t know they’ll be treated as criminals. They can’t have known the pilot had a gut full of drugs-they wouldn’t have been stupid enough to fly with him if they’d known.’

  ‘It makes sense to me,’ Alistair said mildly, but Barry obviously disagreed.

  ‘Criminals are stupid,’ Barry snapped, but Sarah frowned to herself as she trudged on. The jigsaw pieces weren’t fitting at all, and she didn’t like it.

  Another rock rolled back.

  Another branch hit her in the face.

  ‘They must be dead,’ Alistair said from behind her, and she knew he was thinking exactly what she was thinking. Drugs might be important, but no one would choose profit over life.

  ‘It’d make our work a lot easier if they are,’ Barry said, and Sarah winced. She really didn’t like this man.

  She didn’t like Alistair, but she didn’t like Barry more. And he was pulling another branch aside.

  The man was a git.

  Enough was enough. As a forensic pathologist Sarah moved in a world peopled by tough guys-criminals as well as cops-and she’d become used to holding her own. Barry might be tough, but so was she.