He thought she was worried about herself, she realized incredulously. “My daughter …”
His smile vanished. “Mr. Tanek’s outside. He asked me to call him when you woke.”
Tanek’s expression when she had asked about Jill came flooding back to her. Her heart was beating so hard, she thought it would choke her as Tanek walked into the room.
“How do you feel?”
“Scared.” She hadn’t known she was going to blurt out the word. “Where is my daughter?”
He sat down in the chair by the bed. “Do you remember what happened to you?”
The knife, the pain, Jill standing in the doorway, the tinkle of the music box, falling. She began to tremble. “Where is my daughter?”
His hand closed on hers. “She was killed the same night you were attacked.”
She jerked as the words struck her. Dead. Jill. “You’re lying. No one could kill Jill.” Her words rushed out feverishly. “You saw her. You met her. No one would hurt Jill.”
“She’s dead.” He said roughly, “I wish to hell I were lying.”
She would not believe him. Richard would tell her the truth. “I want to see my husband. I want to see Richard.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
She stared at him in shock. “What are you saying?” she whispered. “Richard wasn’t even in the room.”
“There was an attack in the ballroom. Your husband and three others were killed. Kavinski was wounded.”
She didn’t care about Kavinski.
Jill. Richard. Jill.
Oh, God, Jill …
The room was whirling, darkening.
Up, up, up, we go, into the sky so blue …
Was that Jill singing? But he had said Jill was dead. Richard was dead. She was the only one alive.
Down, down, down we go …
Yes, go down into the darkness. Maybe there she could find Jill.
“Joel, get the hell in here,” Nicholas called out. “She’s fainted, dammit.”
Frowning, Joel strode into the room. “What did you do to her?”
“Not a thing but tell her she doesn’t have a life anymore. No reason why she should be upset.”
“In your usual tender, diplomatic manner, I assume.” Joel checked her pulse. “Well, it’s done now. I don’t think you’ve done too much damage.”
“She fainted, dammit. Do something.”
“It’s better if I let her come out of it on her own. You can go. She won’t want to see you when she comes out of this.”
“So you told me.” Nicholas didn’t move, his gaze on Nell’s bandaged face. Her eyes … “Don’t worry. I don’t want to see her either. She’s all yours, Joel.”
“Then let go of her hand and get out of here.”
He hadn’t known he was still holding it. He released her hand and stood up. “I’ll be in touch. Keep me informed.”
“And get Kabler off my back. He called again this morning.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. I didn’t talk to him. Why do you think I have a secretary?” Joel sat down in the chair Nicholas had vacated. “But I can’t have him questioning her. It would be too traumatic.”
Nicholas had been thinking about Kabler. He didn’t want him questioning Nell either, and Phil’s presence wasn’t a cast-iron guarantee she was safe from Gardeaux. “Can you move her to your clinic in Woodsdale?”
“You mean for her recovery?”
“No, now. You have operating facilities there.”
“I don’t use them often.”
Only when a famous movie star or head of state wanted complete privacy and anonymity. Woodsdale had all the amenities of a luxury hotel and the privacy of a confessional. “It would be difficult for Kabler to reach her there. Your security people are top notch.”
“You should know, you hired them all for me.” His brow wrinkled in thought. “It would be inconvenient. Woodsdale is over a hundred miles from here.”
“It would be more inconvenient having to deal with Joe Kabler.”
He sighed. “I may still have to deal with him.”
“And you may not. It depends on how much else he has on his plate and how badly he wants her. How soon can you move her?”
“I didn’t say I was going to.” He shrugged. “But it would probably be best. This afternoon, I suppose.”
“She’ll take the nurse I hired with her.” He thought about it. No, there was something else he needed Phil to do. “He’ll follow her to Woodsdale tomorrow.”
“He’s one of yours? He looks too young.”
Nicholas didn’t answer directly. “His qualifications are impeccable and he has excellent references.”
“If they’re authentic.”
Nicholas grinned. “The majority of them are. And your nurses seem to like him. You’ll find you do too.”
“Well, he’s better than that Junot you hired for Woodsdale. The man looks like a Renaissance assassin. I can’t let him near the patients when they first come out of anesthesia. They’d go into shock.” He frowned. “And he won’t let me fix him.”
“Poor Joel. How frustrating for you. Junot is no fool. Sometimes looking like what you are can be an advantage.”
He went still. “Is that what he is?”
“What difference does it make? He does his job and causes no trouble. Are there ever any disturbances when he’s around?”
“Not likely. But I don’t like the idea of harboring criminals.”
“He’s not a criminal.” He smiled. “Anymore. But you’ll find Phil much more reassuring.” He left the room and started toward the nurses’ station, where Phil was chatting with the head nurse.
Same room, another face.
Jill.
Jill wasn’t here. Nell quickly closed her eyes. Go back to the darkness.
“I’m Dr. Joel Lieber. I know you’ve had a great shock, but I have to talk to you,” he said gently. “I’m going to have to operate very soon in order to bring about the best results, and I can’t do that without your permission.”
Why wouldn’t he go away? He was holding back the darkness.
“You don’t want to talk? All right, just listen. Your face is badly shattered. I could try to put it back the way it was, but it would still not be quite the face you saw in the mirror every day. But I can give you a new face, probably a more attractive face. Since it’s the bones that are damaged, only one operation would be required. I’d go in through the upper mouth and push up and repair the—” He stopped. “No details. You don’t want to hear them right now.” His hand closed around hers. “But I’m good, very good. Trust me.”
She didn’t answer.
“Do you have any preference? Is there anyone you’d like to resemble? I can’t promise, but I might be able to manage a fleeting resemblance.”
He kept talking. Why wouldn’t he let her go back to the darkness?
“Nell, open your eyes and listen to me. This is important.”
No, it wasn’t important. Everything of importance had vanished. But his tone was so compelling, she opened her eyes and stared up at him. He had a nice face, she realized numbly. Square and strong with gray eyes that should have appeared cold but managed to be intelligent and compassionate instead.
“That’s better.” His hand tightened. “Did you understand?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t care. Whatever you want to do.”
“You want me to do what I think best? What if you don’t like what I do? Help me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. Why couldn’t he understand that?
“It does matter.” He shook his head wearily. “But evidently not now. I hope it does later.” He stood up. “I’m moving you to my clinic this afternoon. I want to operate the day after tomorrow. I’ll be out to see you tomorrow evening and I’ll show you the possibilities.”
He was troubled. He seemed like a nice man. It w
as too bad she couldn’t help him.
He was moving toward the door, she realized with relief. He had released her. Her eyes closed.
She was asleep again in minutes.
This wing of the hospital was almost deserted. Strictly nine to five, Phil Johnson thought as he strolled down the corridor.
A pretty LPN was coming toward him. She had a fresh face, dark, curly hair, freckles. He loved freckles.
He smiled.
She smiled back and stopped. “Are you lost? This is the administration wing.”
“I was told to drop off these insurance forms.”
“The record office closes at seven.”
He made a face. “Just my luck. Do you work here?”
She nodded. “I’m interning in records now.” She made a face. “I fainted in the emergency room. Personnel thinks I may be suited more to numbers than sutures.”
“Tough,” he said sympathetically. He looked down at the folder he was carrying. “I guess I’ll have to return these to pediatrics and bring them back tomorrow.”
She hesitated, then shrugged. “I’ll let you in. You can put the folder on Truda’s desk.”
“That would be great.” He smiled as he watched her pull a key ring out of her pocket and insert a key into the lock. “I’m Phil Johnson.”
“Pat Dobrey.” She flipped on the light and took the file from him. “I’ll put it in Truda’s in box.”
He watched her from the doorway as she moved across the room. Cute, definitely cute.
She came back toward him and turned out the light.
He took the keys from her. “I’ll do it.” He locked the door, rattled the knob. “That does it.” He handed the keys back to her. “Thanks a lot, Pat. Let me walk you to your car.”
“That’s not necessary.”
He smiled. “No, it’s a pleasure.”
Ten minutes later he was waving a regretful farewell as Pat roared off in her Honda. Sweet girl. Too bad he wouldn’t be here to follow up. He turned and jogged through the parking lot to the hospital.
A few minutes later he let himself into the record office and silently closed the door.
He didn’t bother to turn on the light but moved quickly to the desk and turned on the computer. The screen would furnish all the light he needed and wouldn’t be seen under the door.
The keyboard felt smooth and familiar under his fingers. Too familiar. It was like touching the body of a lover who was always new, always exciting. Get to the job, he told himself.
Since he didn’t have the password, it took him a few minutes to hack his way into the file. No challenge.
Nell Calder.
Her transfer to Woodsdale had already been entered.
Good. He deleted the entry, went to the file cabinet, and pulled the entire paper record on Nell Calder. Not that it would be necessary unless the records were subpoenaed. Computers ruled the world, and a clerk would more likely print out a record from the computer file than dig in the paper files and copy it. But Nicholas had said to be sure.
If the paper file turned up missing, it would only be thought to be misfiled. People made mistakes, not computers.
He returned to the computer, typed in the necessary lines, and exited the program. He sat there, staring at the blank green screen, more alluring than any woman to him. Hey, he was here, surely it wouldn’t hurt to pop into one of the databanks and see what was—
He sighed and turned off the computer. It would hurt. Why else had he gotten rid of the computer in his apartment and taken up nursing? Nicholas had given him a chance and he wouldn’t foul up by giving in to temptation.
He stood up, put the Calder file under his arm, and moved toward the door. He carefully removed the strong transparent tape he had slid over the lock while Pat was putting the file in the box. It had been a lucky break running into her. Otherwise he would have had to try the collection of master keys in his pocket and run the risk of someone noticing what he was doing.
He turned and took a last wistful look at the computer before he shut the door.
It wasn’t so bad. After all, it wasn’t as if he didn’t like his job. He liked people, and helping them gave him a good feeling. He hoped he could help Nell Calder. Poor lady. She must be in deep hot water, or Nicholas wouldn’t have ordered the entry he had typed into her record.
Patient succumbed to wounds 2:04 P.M. Body released to John Birnbaum Funeral Home.
Three
“Is this her picture?” Tania picked up the photograph on top of the open dossier on Joel’s desk. She studied it and then nodded. “I like her. I think she has heart.”
“And how do you come to that conclusion? Her eyes?”
Tania glanced at Nell Calder’s wide-set brown eyes before shaking her head. “Her mouth. It looks … sensitive. Don’t change the mouth.”
“It’s too big for perfect symmetry.”
“Symmetry is cold. If I were her, I would not like to look cold.”
No danger, Joel thought. “I thought I was going to create this Galatea?”
“Do you wish me to go away?” she asked, disappointed.
“No.” He smiled and pulled up a chair for her at the desk. “You might as well help me I’m not getting any input from her.”
“Poor lady. The first pain is the hardest. When my parents and little brother died, I wanted to die too.”
It was the first time she had talked about the death of her family. He turned to face her. “Did they die together?”
“No, my father was a soldier. My mother and brother were killed in the streets by snipers a year later. They were on their way to fetch water for us.” She looked down at the picture of Nell. “It’s the loneliness and helplessness that are worst. When everything is taken away, it’s hard to find a reason to live.”
“And what reason did you find?”
“Anger. I wouldn’t let them have the satisfaction of killing me too.” She smiled with an effort. “And then I found you, and my life had purpose again.”
He was too moved. He hastened to back away. “Saving me from the sins of caffeine?”
“Among other things.” She tapped the picture with her forefinger. “You must find a purpose for her.”
“First I have to find a face for her.” He pulled up the image program in the computer and Nell’s face appeared on the screen. He picked up the computer pen and bent over the computer drawing tablet beside the screen. “Cheekbones?”
“High.”
His pen stroked upward on the pad and on the screen Nell suddenly acquired higher cheekbones. “Enough?”
“A little more.”
He moved the cheekbones higher.
“Good.” She frowned. “That turned-up nose must go. Personally, I like it, but it doesn’t go with the cheekbones.”
He got rid of the nose and inserted a delicate Roman nose. “Okay?”
“Maybe, we’ll see.”
“The mouth …”
“I want to keep the mouth.”
“Then we’ll have to square the jaw.” He adjusted the line of the jaw. “The eyes?”
She tilted her head. “Can we slant them upward just a little. Like Sophia Loren?”
“It will require stitches.”
“But it would be very interesting, yes?”
His pen changed the shape of the wide-set eyes. The change was enormous. The face on the screen now appeared strong, cleanly molded, and vaguely exotic. Yet the wide, mobile mouth gave a look of vulnerability and sensuality. It was not a classically beautiful face, but it fascinated and arrested.
“A little Sophia Loren, a little Audrey Hepburn …” Tania murmured. “But I think we must work on the nose.”
“Because I did it without your input?” he asked dryly.
“Because it’s a little too delicate.” She leaned forward, her gaze on the computer screen. “We are doing well. This is a face to launch a thousand ships.”
“Helen of Troy? Our Nell doesn’t look like a Greek goddess to
me.”
“I never thought Helen of Troy looked like a goddess. I think she had a face that was unforgettable, that made people want to never look away from her. That’s what we must do here.”
“And what happens after we give her this face?” He turned to look at her. “A change that dramatic can traumatize.”
“From what you tell me, she’s already traumatized. I doubt if turning into Helen of Troy will do any more harm to her, and it may help her.” She said, “If she has no purpose, she will at least have a weapon. This is important.”
“Is that why you let me operate on you?”
She nodded. “The scars did not matter to me, but I knew it would matter to the people around me. I have my living to earn, and people shy away from ugliness.”
He smiled. “I suppose I could make her look like you. It’s not such a bad face.”
“It’s a very good face, but it would cause problems when I get you to admit that you cannot live without me. You’re confused enough as it is. No, we will give her this wonderful face to smooth her way.” She nodded at the pen. “Now, let’s see if we can make the nose just a little thicker.”
Nicholas met Joel as he was exiting Nell’s hospital room the next evening.
“Don’t talk to me,” Joel said curtly. He waved the clipboard. “The permission-to-operate authorization.”
“She didn’t sign it?”
“She signed it. I told her precisely what I was going to do. I showed her a computer readout of exactly what she would look like. I’m not sure she heard a word I said. I know she didn’t care.” He ran his hand through his hair. “You know that she may sue me when all this is over?”
Nicholas shook his head. “She won’t sue you.”
“How do you know? She’s a zombie, dammit.”
“I promise you. I’ll protect you from all ramifications, legal or personal.”
“Really? Kabler called again today.”
“Next time have your secretary refer him to the St. Joseph’s administration office.”
“Why?”
“Because Nell Calder died yesterday afternoon.”
Iris Johansen Page 6
