An echo. Ginny froze, her heart leaping into her throat, her ears stretched to catch the sound she wasn’t sure she had really heard. The sound that had stopped when she did. She turned, peering into the gloom. No one in sight. It must have been her imagination.
She started off again, scolding herself for being spooked by a sound. So what if she had heard footsteps? It was a public corridor. Even at two a.m. there would be people going about their legitimate business in the basement of a hospital this size. No reason to think they had anything to do with her.
But a minute later Ginny felt the hair on the back of her neck rise and froze again. She had definitely heard them that time. Footsteps. Coming closer. All right. So there was someone else down here with her. That was no cause for alarm. So why was her heart pounding?
She quickened her pace. The stairwell was just ahead. Only a few more steps to go. She could duck in there and be back in the main body of the hospital in the time it took her to mount one flight of stairs. She could detour into the E.R. for a moment. There would be people there, and one of the security guards. She could find out what the problem was and decide what to do about it from there. Ginny reached for the door to the stairwell and pulled it open, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure there was no one waiting to follow her in and suddenly he was there, looming out of the darkness right in front of her.
Ginny started and jumped back out of his grasp, stifling a cry. The bag of blood flew from her hands, spinning toward the stairs. Caught in the doorframe as the heavy door closed, it burst, splashing her shoes and pants.
“Ginny! What on earth—?” Jim looked down at the mess, then back at her.
Ginny stood with her back pressed to the wall, her mouth open, trying to gather her scattered wits. She swallowed her heart. “I’m sorry. You startled me.”
She pushed away from the wall, intending to rescue the requisition slip before the spreading pool of blood reached it, but found her knees buckling.
“Whoa!” Jim caught her and hauled her upright, sliding an arm around her waist and steering her to safety. “You’re shaking. What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. I just didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I came down to get a book out of the classroom.”
She took a deep breath. “I’d better call housekeeping, and I’ll have to get another unit of blood.”
“You can call from the lab. Come on. I’ll go with you.” He guided her back down the corridor to the lab. The lights in there were on.
“Hello? Anyone home?” he called. He steered Ginny over to a chair and pushed her down into it, then went in search of the lab tech.
Ginny closed her eyes and tried to steady her shattered nerves. If this was what came of sleuthing, she would have to give it up. Or learn how to defend herself. Or at least stay out of dark basements during power failures.
“Back so soon?” Pearl came in and stood looking down at Ginny’s white face. She folded her arms across her ample breast. “Honey, you don’t look so good.”
“Can I use the phone over here?” Jim asked.
“Sure, doc. Go ahead.”
Ginny licked her lips. “We need to have housekeeping come clean up a blood spill. I dropped that other unit on the floor and it burst.”
Pearl clucked sympathetically. “La, what a mess. You need some clean clothes?”
“I’ll change when I get back upstairs, but I need to call and let them know what’s going on.”
“Go ahead. I’ll get another unit of blood ready for you.”
Ginny got up and walked over to the desk, stiffening her spine as well as her knees. Jim watched her in silence. She reached for the second phone and contacted the ICU, explaining the delay.
“So when will you be back?”
“Half an hour, I should think. I have to get cleaned up and fill out an incident report. Can you hold down the fort that long?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks, June.” Ginny broke the connection, then made two other calls; one to housekeeping and one to the nursing supervisor.
“Tell her to meet you in the E.R.,” Jim said.
“What?”
“Tell her I’m taking you to the E.R.”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re off the phone.”
Ginny relayed the message and hung up. “So tell me.”
“Because you are the person who got the most exposure to Professor Craig’s mystery virus.”
Ginny blinked. “But I have no symptoms.”
“If I remember correctly, his first symptom was weakness in the knees.”
Ginny stared at Jim, biting her lip. She knew she didn’t have the virus, but she had no wish to admit her suspicions to him and she had sense enough to know that, even if she did confess, she could not talk him out of the examination.
“All right. Let’s get on with it. I have work to do.”
“Uhmm. We’ll see about that.”
Ginny collected the second unit of blood and slipped it into her pocket, then let Jim take her up to the emergency department and put her in one of the private rooms. She collared a nurse and arranged to have the blood delivered to the ICU, then, relieved of her immediate duties, turned her attention to her own predicament.
The exam he did was thorough and included a series of electrical stimulation tests on the neuro-muscular responses of her legs. He drew blood and did a punch tissue biopsy but, thankfully, decided against a spinal tap.
“If you continue to have symptoms, though, we’ll have to do that as well.”
Ginny protested. “But it can’t be the same virus. That one killed Professor Craig in less than twenty-four hours. It’s been more than a week and I didn’t have any blood to blood contact.”
Jim raised his eyebrows. “I can think of two possibilities. The first is you’ve been re-exposed in the last six hours, which implies here, at the hospital. The other is the virus has mutated.”
Ginny was silenced. He could be right and he was taking this threat seriously.
When he was done, he prescribed gamma globulins, to ward off any exposure she might have picked up from the ruptured blood bag and to help fight the mystery virus, just in case, then stood looking at her, his brow furrowed.
She’d been stripped of her uniform, socks, and shoes, all of which were sequestered in a patient belongings bag, and the blood transfer had been washed off before the needle tests began, leaving her legs and feet naked and cold. She felt remarkably exposed in only her underwear, a patient gown, and the thin blankets supplied for use in the short term care areas.
“We can get you some hospital scrubs,” he said, “but those shoes need to be put through the wash before you wear them again.”
“I’ve got an extra pair in the trunk of my car. I can go get them.”
He glanced down at her bare feet. “Where are you parked?”
“E.R. lot, fourth level, near the elevator.”
“Okay. Let me have your keys. I’ll get them.”
Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but couldn’t think of anything to say. If he didn’t go, someone else would have to. Neither the flimsy bed socks nor the paper shoe covers provided by the hospital would be sufficient protection for her feet against the miscellaneous debris that covered every E.R. parking lot. She nodded at the small pile of personal belongings that had come out of her pockets.
“They’re on the counter.”
He picked the car key out of the pile with no problem. “A white VW, if I remember correctly.”
She nodded.
“Okay. I’ll be back.” He strode out just as the nurse came in, carrying the syringes containing the gamma globulins, one for each hip.
Ginny didn’t like shots any more than anyone else, but she understood them and was grateful this nurse’s technique was flawless.
She was dressed in the borrowed scrubs and was distributing her tools among the pockets when Jim reappeared with the extra pai
r of shoes. He waited while Ginny pulled the socks out of their hiding place in the toes and slipped them and the shoes on, tying them snugly.
“This way.” He escorted her into his office and shut the door, indicating a pair of leather armchairs angled to allow the occupants to see one another as well as the person behind the desk. She took one, he settled into the other.
“Now tell me what happened down in the basement tonight.”
Ginny returned his gaze. “The lights went out and I got spooked. Why did we go on the back-up generators, anyway?”
“I asked that. There was a short in one of the relays. It took them a while to find and fix it.” He leaned towards her. “I also asked some of the nurses whether you were the skittish type. They all seemed to think not. So why did I find you shaking like a leaf?”
Ginny shrugged apologetically. “I guess this business with Professor Craig has me on edge.”
He nodded, still frowning. “I didn’t find anything wrong with you on exam and the lab work is all normal, so I don’t see any reason to send you home at this point, but you must promise to tell me if you start having symptoms, anything at all.”
Ginny nodded. “I will. May I go now? I have a lot of catching up to do.”
He nodded.
Ginny rose, crossed the small room, and reached for the door handle, but he was there before her. He looked down into her face.
“Ginny, whether it’s true or not, I think it would be a good idea if you told everyone you’ve given up the idea of investigating Professor Craig’s death.”
She looked up at him, her breath tight in her throat. “Anyone in particular?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have a favorite suspect. Do you?”
She shook her head, her eyes on the door handle.
“What is it you’re not telling me?” he asked.
She swallowed hard, then met his eyes. “You know everything I know.”
He studied her face for a moment, then sighed. “All right.” He opened the door and let her go.
Ginny hurried out and back to her own part of the hospital, thinking hard. There was really no reason to suspect him of anything. He was behaving exactly as she would, if their positions were reversed.
A small voice in her head corrected her. Except — he had been following her.
She frowned, pushing the thought aside. Even if everything Hal had told her turned out to be true, it was all circumstantial. Not proof.
True. The small voice again. Just one question, though, it said. And it probably meant nothing, it said. It was just, if he was telling the truth about his movements this evening, if he had truly been down to the classroom to get a book, then where was it? His hands had been empty.
* * *
Chapter 31
Monday
Ginny’s phone rang as she pulled out of the hospital parking garage.
“Ginny? It’s Hal again.”
Ginny squashed a twin surge of both fear and annoyance. “What can I do for you, Hal?”
“I need to borrow your car for the day, please.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve got to leave mine at the agency so they can figure out why it’s making that shearing metal sound. They can give me a ride to work, but they can’t give me a loaner and I’ve got four appointments this afternoon scattered all over the Metroplex. So I am throwing myself on your mercy.”
Ginny sighed. She didn’t want to, but he had done the same for her last year and she owed him. Besides, she wouldn’t be using her car. She planned to sleep all day.
“All right. Where are you?”
“At the agency.”
Ginny turned the nose of her car in the direction he indicated. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you.”
She pulled into the driveway on the Service side of the building and watched as he said something to the technician, then hurried over.
“God bless you, Ginny Forbes.” He planted a kiss on her cheek.
She handed him the key and let him take over the wheel. Even with his fairly aggressive style of driving, it took another twenty minutes to drive to her house, by which time she was yawning uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry to drag you out like this,” he said. “I owe you an especially nice dinner in payment.”
She smiled as she climbed out of the car, her soiled clothes in the patient belongings sack over one arm, her nursing bag and purse over the other. “Steak,” she said. “With all the trimmings.”
“It’s a deal.”
* * *
Ginny was getting tired of being waked up by the phone ringing. Didn’t anyone know she worked nights? She reached for her cell phone.
“’Lo?”
“May I please speak to Miss Virginia Forbes?”
The voice was French, cultured, and unknown to her. She sat up in bed.
“This is she.”
“Miss Forbes, my name is Pierre Michel. I am the investigator on the Craig house fire.”
“Yes, sir. What may I do for you?”
“I understand from the Craigs that there is a possible connection between the fire and the death of their uncle. I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions.”
“Of course.”
“Do you, in fact, have an informal investigation going on into this death?”
Ginny caught her breath, thinking furiously. What were the consequences if she confessed? Had she done anything wrong? Detective Tran hadn’t actually told her not to continue.
“What happens if I plead the fifth?”
The man on the other end of the line chuckled. “You’re not in trouble. I would just like to know what you’ve come up with.”
Ginny hesitated. “I’ve sort of promised to stay out of it.”
“Why is that?”
“My boyfriend seems to think I may be putting myself in danger.”
There was a slight pause. “I find that very interesting. Has anyone made threats against you?”
“No, but there was someone making threats against Professor Craig.”
“Oh?”
She described the incident with the disgruntled client.
“Where may I find this Mr. Adams?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know. Mrs. Larson is the acting head librarian at the genealogy library. She may be able to find a client contact list among Professor Craig’s materials.”
“I will follow up on that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, and now, if you will excuse me—”
He cut her off. “Miss Forbes, please, I would very much like to talk further. Perhaps we could meet?”
Ginny felt a tiny breath of cold air on the back of her neck. Which of her favorite murder mystery detectives had said you should always call back to check on the bona fides of an official investigator?
“Perhaps later.”
“Certainly. When would be convenient?”
“Officer Michel, I’m sure I cannot help you. All I have are suspicions without proof.”
“Would it change your mind if I told you we know this was arson?”
Ginny took a slow breath. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. We located the source. The perpetrator used a chemical fire starter made of potassium permanganate and glycerin.”
“Chemical?”
“Yes. Once the ingredients are combined, it takes a few minutes to ignite, then burns with an increasing intensity until all the flammable materials have been consumed. You could set it and leave. The materials are available at the local hardware store, but you would need to know what to buy and how to mix them.”
“Oh.” Ginny considered this for a moment. “And I’ll bet there were no fingerprints or DNA left at the scene.”
“That is correct. He cut a hole in the office window. We think he deposited his incendiary device and walked away. We do not know whether he knew there were people in the house. If so, he may face attempted homicide charges. If not, it will be just arson.”
“I have an hour I can give you. Where is your office located?”
“I can meet you wherever you wish.”
“Your office will do nicely.”
She could hear the amusement in his voice. “I admire your caution.” He gave her the address.
“I can be there in twenty minutes.”
“I will look forward to it. Thank you.”
Ginny hung up and climbed out of bed. She threw on sweats, grabbed her laptop, and headed for the door.
“Mother?”
“In here, dear.”
Ginny poked her head into the den.
“May I borrow your car, please?”
“Of course. Where are you going?”
Ginny explained about the fire investigation.
“And I have to take Hal back to the car agency. If he calls here, ask him to call me on my cell phone. Thank you.” She hurried out.
* * *
Chapter 32
Monday
Ginny pushed open the heavy door and let herself into the lobby of the Dallas City Hall. An architectural marvel designed by I.M. Pei, the inverted pyramid loomed over the park and fountains out front, the earth-colored concrete pierced by dark glass windows providing spectacular views of the city. She located the Dallas Fire Department’s main offices on the directory and stepped into the elevator.
Investigator Michel was waiting for her, his credentials out for her inspection. “After what you said, it occurred to me you might want to know I was genuine.”
Ginny blushed, but stood her ground. “Yes, thank you.”
He escorted her into his tiny office and offered her a chair.
Arson Investigator Michel was what is known in Texas as ‘a tall drink of water.’ He stood 6’4”, with a lean, chiseled physique that completely contradicted his salt and pepper beard and smile-crinkled eyes. His hair was black and he moved across the room effortlessly, avoiding the sharp edges of the furniture with feline precision.
He was wearing jeans, a blue cambric shirt, and work boots. A cap with Investigator embroidered on it hung on a peg in the corner of the room. He caught the look of surprise in her eye and smiled.
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