Anna decided not to pursue a subject that was obviously an embarrassment to Will. Instead, she asked, "So, what's the plan?" She grinned. "I mean, I think I know what the plan should be, but I still have some holes in my memory right now."
Will seemed on firmer footing now, talking about something clinical. "Your neuro signs are stable, so we-I mean, Dr. Simpson-will let up on the frequency of checking those. You're scheduled for an MRI this afternoon. If things go well, we can get rid of that IV this evening and start letting you eat and move around."
"And how long before Mike lets me go home?"
"Maybe another day or two. And I'm pretty sure he'll want you on limited activity for a week or so."
Something that had been gnawing at the back of Anna's mind began to burrow forward into her conscious thoughts. She had gone to that laboratory for a reason. All the pieces of the puzzle hadn't put themselves together in her addled brain, but she had the sense that she needed to get back to whatever she was doing. Soon.
Will hesitated for a moment before reaching down and touching her hand, carefully avoiding the IV snaking into the vein just above her wrist. "I've got to go back on duty in the ER, but if you need anything, just have the nurses page me."
"Thanks, Will."
Anna appreciated Will's obvious concern for her. She was independent enough to think she didn't need his help, but it was nice to know it was there. Then she realized that there were a couple of men in her life who'd already shown her that they cared. And she should probably contact both of them.
That led to another thought. Her cell phone. Where was it? The answer came back quickly, and with it another set of problems reared its head. Her cell phone was in her purse. And her purse? The last she'd seen of it, a derelict was tugging it away from her. Purse. Cell phone. Wallet. Identification. Cash. Credit cards. All gone. And her car? What were the chances it was still parked where she had left it? There was so much to deal with. But not now. Not yet. Instead, she closed her eyes and began to do the only thing she felt well enough to do. She prayed.
Nick Valentine frowned at the ringing phone. What now? He wasn't on call, so this couldn't be a frozen section or an autopsy. He was current on all his dictation, not just the pathology reports-he was scrupulous in keeping current with those-but even the academic and administrative material. The long-delayed curriculum vitae was on Dr. Wetherington's desk, putting an end to almost daily phone calls asking for that piece of material. No, Nick's desk was clean, and his conscience was clear. So why couldn't he have a moment's peace to finish this journal article he'd been trying to read for the past month?
"Dr. Valentine." Nick noticed that he hadn't been completely successful in keeping the annoyance out of his tone, and a glimmer of guilt flitted across his mind.
"Nick?" The voice was a little weak but he recognized it immediately.
"Anna! Where are you? Are you all right? I've been trying to reach you since noon yesterday."
"It's sort of a long story. Right now I'm at University Hospital. They've just moved me out of the ICU and into a room. If you want to come by, I'll-"
"I'm on my way. What room?"
Nick rushed down the warren of corridors from his office at the medical school to the University Hospital, his mind churning. ICU? What had happened? Was Anna going to be okay? He arrived at the elevators but decided they were too slow. He took the stairs two at a time. He paused at the door to her room long enough to slow his breathing, wondering if his pounding heart was a consequence of the stairs or a signal of the emotion he felt. He tapped on the door.
"Come in."
The response was faint, the voice almost unrecognizable. Nick opened the door. What he saw brought the same feeling as his first- and last-roller-coaster ride. His stomach dropped, his pulse raced, and he wanted to turn back the clock and start over. Anna lay with eyes half-closed, lifting her hand a few inches in greeting before letting it fall back on the covers. The bruise on her jaw was a palette of green and blue, a stark contrast with the pallor of her skin. Her red hair was tousled, and her green eyes had none of their usual snap and sparkle.
Nick scanned the monitors recording Anna's vital signs, and he relaxed a bit when he saw the values. He covered the distance to the bed in three long strides. "I've been so worried about you."
"I'm sorry. I guess-" She swallowed with visible effort."Could I have a sip of water?"
Nick wondered if it was okay to let her drink. She still had an IV in, but there was a Styrofoam pitcher of water on the bedside table, and a flexible straw sat in a half-full glass beside it. He held the water for her, supporting her head with his other hand. She managed three small sips.
"Thanks," she said. "You must be wondering why I didn't call sooner."
"That's not important. I'm just glad you're okay. At least, if they've moved you out of ICU, I guess you are. What happened? What can I do?" Nick had to stop the questions from pouring out. It appeared that Anna was all right now. That was all that mattered.
"I couldn't call you," she said. "I didn't even know my own name for a while."
He sank into the chair at her bedside and covered her hand with his. He felt her flinch and pulled back. "Sorry."
"No, that's okay. Actually, it's nice. Just watch the IV."
He took her hand once more, this time more gently. "I think you'd better tell me about it."
It took a while for Anna to relate the story. Several times she paused, apparently searching to recapture events. "My memory's coming back now," she concluded. "I don't remember exactly how I got hit on the head, but we've sort of pieced together that I was mugged. And there are still a few areas that are sort of fuzzy around the edges."
"So you're going to be okay?"
"Mike Simpson says I'll be fine, although he wants me to take it easy for at least the next week." She grimaced. "I think I'm probably going to push that, though. As soon as he turns me loose, I want to pick up where I left off… if I can figure out exactly where that was."
A shadow passed across Anna's face and she turned her head away. She freed her hand from Nick's and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"I just thought of all the things I have to do. The mugger got my purse, with my phone, my wallet, driver's license and credit cards, everything. I can't do anything until I take care of that."
"Let me help," Nick said. "I can-"
There was a light tap on the door and it swung open. Nick turned to see a heavy-set black woman, a sweater thrown over her dark blue scrub suit, tiptoe into the room. "Dr. McIntyre?"
Anna looked puzzled for a moment. Then Nick saw her expression change, and she said, "Miss… Miss Brown? Have I got it right?"
"That's right, Rhonda Brown. You've got a good memory for names and faces."
"Not recently, but that seems to be getting better." Anna indicated Nick. "This is Dr. Nick Valentine."
Nick exchanged handshakes with the woman and offered her his chair.
"Can't stay. I sneaked away from the lab and whenever I'm gone, everything turns to- Well, it gets bad. Got to get back and keep things running." She hesitated, and Nick could tell she was nervous about something. "Look, you need to know something. I'm the one who called the medics. I sneaked out for a smoke just in time to see a wino struggling to get your purse away from you. He decked you, I screamed, and he dropped your purse and ran. I stuck my head in the door and yelled for the receptionist to put down her magazine and call for an ambulance. Then I went back outside to wait with you until the paramedics rolled up. That's when I decided to disappear. Didn't want to be involved, you know?"
"Thank you for calling for help," Anna said.
"Well, that was the least I could do. I kept thinking about that story I learned in Sunday school. You know, the Good Samaritan? All I could think of was 'They passed by on the other side.' I couldn't do that."
"I'm glad you gave me the chance to thank you in person," Anna said. "I know it was
hard for you to come."
"You don't know the half of it." Rhonda reached into the shopping bag that dangled from her hand and pulled out a purse. "I didn't trust that gang that's always hanging around in the parking lot. So I grabbed this before they could snatch it and run. Everything's still there: your cell phone, credit cards, driver's license, cash. I even scooped up your car keys and put them in here." She held out the purse.
Anna took it with trembling fingers. "You don't know how much this means to me. Thank you."
Rhonda shrugged. "At first, I figured the money in this would buy me a new pair of Reeboks, with enough left over for lunches next week. But that's the other half of that Good Samaritan story. That guy not only helped out the man who'd been robbed. He paid the innkeeper to take care of him. Besides, I don't need new sneakers, and I'm on a diet."
12
"That's such a relief," Anna told nick after Rhonda left. "At least I don't have to worry about canceling my credit cards and getting a new driver's license. And my house key is on that ring along with my car keys. I don't like to think about what someone could have done with that."
Nick frowned. "Anna, I wish you'd let this drop. Sure, somebody stole your identity. We can see that. But trying to find out whose behind it can only get you hurt. You-"
"Hold on." Anna held up one hand, careful to choose the one without an IV. "According to Miss Brown, the reason I'm here in this bed is because I was mugged by a derelict who wanted my purse so he could buy another bottle of Thunderbird. It could just as easily have happened on my way to work or the grocery store."
"All right. I guess I can accept that. But I still worry about you. So would you be careful? And would you let me help?"
Maybe Nick's expression of concern and offer of help came from a sense of duty. But there seemed to be genuine affection there as well. And that brought up the question of how she felt about Nick. Were her feelings for him platonic? Or was something more developing? No, there was too much to think about and her brain wasn't up to it. Not yet, at least.
She realized Nick was still waiting for an answer. It seemed easier to acquiesce than argue. "I'll be careful. And once I'm out of here, I promise we'll talk about what I… what we need to do next."
Once Nick was gone, Anna dumped the contents of her purse onto the bedside table and began to go through them. She opened her wallet and held her breath, letting it out when she saw both her new credit cards still in place, along with her driver's license and two very special cards: a wallet-sized ID card confirming her Texas medical license and another with her DEA permit number on it. She would need to be extra careful with those in the future, although short of putting them in a vault she wasn't sure how to protect them.
Anna thumbed through the bills in the wallet, wishing that Rhonda Brown had taken the reward she'd offered. "Nope," the technician said. "I did it because it was the right thing to do, not for money. You just do something good for somebody someday. That'll be enough."
Her cell phone was clipped to an inside pocket of the purse, and Anna was surprised to see that it still held a charge. The display also showed twelve missed calls and eight voicemail messages. She scrolled through the log and saw that, along with six messages from Nick, she had two from Ross Donovan.
She listened to Nick's messages first. There was a definite progression in their tone. The first was a casual invitation to lunch, the next call expressed regret that they hadn't been able to get together, and a third asked if he could see her that evening. The fourth, fifth, and sixth demonstrated his worry when he was unable to contact her at her office, at home, or via her cell phone. Yes, no doubt about it. Nick cared for her. But she wasn't ready to answer the question of how deep her feelings for him ran. Not now. Not with all this hanging over her.
She moved to the messages from Ross Donovan, wondering if her reluctance to think about a commitment to Nick had something to do with this other man who'd come into her life. The first was fairly businesslike: "Anna, this is Ross Donovan. I enjoyed lunch with you. I think our meeting with the DEA went fairly well. I suggest you call your chairman tomorrow to make sure Hale notifies him that you're in the clear with the agency. I'll see what I can do to get the Dallas police offyour back now. Keep in touch."
So much had happened in the past twenty-four hours; Anna had almost forgotten her meeting with the DEA agents. A new permit and a call from Hale to her chairman should pave the way for her return to work. She wasn't sure how ready she was physically, but she certainly was itching to be back doing what she loved best-practicing medicine and teaching residents.
The next message from Donovan put an end to Anna's improved mood. "Anna, call me as soon as you get this message. Detective Green phoned. He and Dowling want to talk with you. They've agreed to do the interview at my office, but they say if you don't follow up with them tomorrow, they'll issue a warrant to pick you up as a material witness. I don't know what they have, but apparently something new has come up. Call me ASAP."
Anna hadn't yet entered Donovan's number on her cell phone directory, so she had to scroll back and find it in her call log. Her stomach churned as she waited for him to answer the call.
"Ross Donovan." His voice carried a smile, and she could picture his dimples deepening as he spoke.
"Mr. Donovan… Ross, this is Anna McIntyre. I won't be able to meet with the detectives today. It's-"
There was no smile in Donovan's voice this time. "Anna, I think they were serious about picking you up as a material witness. You'd better make time for this."
"Ross, a lot has happened since I left you yesterday. You'd better come by my hospital room and let me explain."
Ross Donovan looked up from the yellow legal pad balanced on his knee. It was almost filled with scribbling in the personal shorthand he'd developed over the years. Only he could read it, sometimes only after a second and third effort, but he figured that represented another level of security and privacy for his clients.
"So, Anna, you don't think this attack on you had anything to do with the identity theft?"
Anna didn't answer, just shook her head. She leaned back against her pillows and closed her eyes, obviously spent after filling him in on the events of the past twenty-four hours.
Ross tapped his fountain pen against his front teeth and looked at the ceiling. "You know, when you came to my office the first time, you started by telling me you had problems with the police and the DEA. I managed to pry the information out of you that someone had stolen your credit card numbers as well. But I get the sense that this problem is even broader than that. What aren't you telling me?"
Anna reached toward the pitcher and glass on her bedside table. Ross rose and poured water for her. He waited until she'd emptied the glass before resuming his seat.
"I guess I need to give you the whole story," she said.
"That usually helps your attorney. Just remember two things. First of all, what you tell me is in confidence. I can't be required to divulge it." He uncapped his pen and sat back.
"What's the second thing?" she asked.
"The other thing to remember is that I've been a liar, a cheat, and a drunk. So whatever you've done, I've probably done worse."
He grinned when that elicited a chuckle. He sensed that she was teetering on the brink of exhaustion, and he hated to put her through this, but if he was to help her he needed the full story.
A half hour later, he dropped the legal pad to the floor and leaned toward Anna's bed, his forearms on his thighs. "Okay, here's a summary of the problem, as I understand it. Correct me if I'm wrong anywhere." He began to tick offpoints on his fingers. "First, someone stole your credit card information and maxed out the accounts, temporarily damaging your credit in the process. Second, someone used your DEA number and name to float a bunch of narcotics prescriptions in the area, and although Agents Kramer and Hale are ready to ease up on you, the Dallas police-for whatever reason-are still intent on proving you're a criminal. And third, both you and one
of your patients had your insurance information used by someone else to obtain care. That maneuver cost your patient his life and made you a target for a malpractice suit. It also resulted in your name being associated with a positive test for HIV." He leaned back and spread his hands like a magician showing the rabbit."Right?"
Anna seemed to sink deeper into the bed, as though she were deflating. "Right."
"So here's what we do. And notice, I said, 'we.' The credit repair isn't rocket science, but it takes a bit of work. As soon as you're discharged, get me the paperwork you've already started. I'll look at it and try to help. But that may have to go on the back burner, because it's not our immediate problem. Our first priority is to keep you out of jail and clear you with the Dallas police. I'll call Green or Dowling as soon as I leave here and explain to them that you've been hospitalized for a serious head injury. If they insist on interviewing you anyway, I'll start claiming police brutality, infringement of your constitutional rights, and anything else I can think of. After all, you're not competent to answer questions because of your hazy mental condition."
"But-"
"Hey, your mental status may be fine. But we've been given a perfect excuse to delay this interview, and the longer we can put it off, the more information we'll have when it comes time to talk with them. Let me take care of this."
Anna nodded her understanding. "And the malpractice suit?"
"I suppose you have malpractice insurance?"
"Yes, the medical school covers me. Actually, all of the state med schools self-insure through a trust. But I think I'd better talk about engaging you to represent me as well. The way Ms. Ernst has reacted so far, I don't get a warm and fuzzy feeling about her."
Ross was silent.
"Oh," Anna said, understanding lighting her eyes. "I forgot."
"Never mind. When we divorced, there weren't many warm and fuzzy feelings on either side."
"But if you represented me, you'd be working with your exwife," Anna said. "Is that going to present a problem?"
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