by CJ Lyons
Glen didn’t release his grip on Jim’s shoulder. “You sure?”
Adrenaline leached from her system, leaving her stomach quivering. As were her hands. Nora jammed them into her coat pockets before either man could notice. “I’m sure.”
“Get out of here, then,” Glen told Jim, who hastened to comply.
Once Jim had fled the skyway, Nora gathered up the scattered paperwork. Glen got down on his hands and knees and helped her.
“Thought you were going to be working in Carlene’s office,” he said. “You know, keeping a low profile.”
“I need to go down to the PICU, check out this patient in person,” Nora lied.
Glen didn’t fall for it. “Everything you need is on the computer.”
She shrugged and stood up again.
“You’re trying to pull a fast one on Tillman, aren’t you?”
Tillman signed Glen’s paycheck, too, so Nora said nothing as they strolled across the skyway to the patient care tower. “How’d you find me?”
Glen pulled out his phone. “I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, remember? Besides, I told you me and my guys were going to keep an eye out for you.”
“Good timing. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” They rode the elevator down to the fourth floor, where the ICUs and operating rooms were. “I know you’re feeling like you can’t trust anyone around here right now, but you can trust me.” Glen walked her to the doors of the PICU. “Call me if you’re going anywhere, Nora. I don’t want you wandering around here alone. Okay?”
Nora blew her breath out. She hated the idea that she wasn’t free to do what she wanted. But he was right. “Okay. Thanks again, Glen.”
Lucas was quickly losing points for fiancé of the year, not to mention attending of the year. Amanda couldn’t understand why he wasn’t as excited by her theory as she was.
“Amanda, I have to do what’s best for my patient.” They were in the dictation area behind the nurses’ station, a small alcove that was quickly becoming too crowded between the two of them and their emotions.
“Why can’t you trust me? Lucas, I didn’t make this up.”
“We don’t have time for this. Narolie is deteriorating, Tillman could have her deported at any minute—”
“But the case report about an ovarian teratoma—”
“Abdominal masses don’t cause psychosis and encephalitis. We need to give the antivirals time to work.”
“We need to operate.” Amanda stared him down. Even if she did have to crane her neck and look up at him to do it.
“Do you even know if Narolie has a teratoma?”
“The clinic did an upper GI when she first began vomiting. It was normal except for a small calcification near her right ovary. I need a CT to confirm it.”
“If she’s too unstable for me to get an MRI to follow up on a disease process I do know about, what makes you think I’ll risk her life on a CT to try to validate something you have a hunch about?”
She hated when he used that officious tone with her. Hated even more that he was right. She looked beyond him to Narolie’s room, where Lydia, Gina, and Tank were sitting with her. “Lucas, please.”
“No. I’m sorry, but I’m trying to keep her alive.”
“So am I.”
“No, you’re chasing around, trying to find your silver lining. Medicine doesn’t always work that way, Amanda. I can’t work that way. I have to deal with the scientific facts.”
“It’s better than doing nothing.”
“Waiting for medication to have an effect is not doing nothing,” Lucas protested. “Besides, if it’s a teratoma, then she was born with it. Why would it start causing her problems now?”
“The case report didn’t have an explanation, but the patient got better when the tumor was removed.” She thrust her copy at him. He frowned, but took it and skimmed through it. It was only two pages long—hardly an authoritative research treatise.
“Coincidence.” He handed it back to her with a skeptical scowl.
“Lucas—”
“I have to go. I have a stat consult in the ER. Let me know if you find anything else.”
Amanda stared after him, fuming. She’d asked him not to give her any special treatment, but damn it, she knew she was right about this—even if the medical evidence was lacking. It was a strong feeling, too strong to shake off. And it might be Narolie’s only hope.
Nora was surprised to see Amanda and Lucas arguing—especially in such a public place. It was totally unlike either of them. She glanced around the unit. Narolie was in the isolation room with Tank beside her. Along with Gina and Lydia.
Well, good. Between the four of them, they ought to be able to think of a plan to keep Narolie from being deported.
Before she could get Narolie’s chart from the nurses’ station, the PICU doors opened and Seth blew in like a small hurricane. His Penn State scrub cap was crooked, his surgical mask hung from his neck, and he wore his OR clogs. He raced over to her, ignoring the startled looks from the nurses and parents.
“Nora, are you okay?”
She stared at him, puzzled. “Of course I’m okay. Why shouldn’t I be?”
“I heard Jim Lazarov attacked you! Why didn’t you call me, let me know you were all right?”
“He didn’t attack me. It was just a misunderstanding. Who told you, anyway?”
“One of the security guards told an ER nurse who told one of the transporters who told—”
“Seth, I can take care of myself,” Nora interrupted him, irritated at the efficiency and inaccuracy of the hospital gossip machine. And that Seth believed she wouldn’t have let him know if something had happened. “Tell me you didn’t leave a patient.”
He didn’t meet her eyes. “Pancreatic pseudocyst. I lied, told them I got paged to check on a patient in the SICU.”
“Seth Cochran!” Now she was the angry one. “Get back in there and take care of your patient.”
“Maybe you should go home.” His expression clouded as he remembered why that wasn’t possible. Then he spotted Lydia and Gina walking from Narolie’s room to the break room. “Or go to Lydia’s. No one would look for you there.”
“No. I’ll be right here doing my job. You go do yours.” She remembered her thoughts from earlier this morning, that he might be safer without her nearby. He hadn’t listened to her when she tried to explain then; instead they’d ended up fighting. Just like now.
His eyes darkened as he scowled. “Why won’t you ever listen to me? I’ve been totally honest with you every step of the way, but you still don’t trust me, do you?”
“Of course I do.” She gestured for him to lower his voice. The parents nearby were obviously agitated by their argument. “This isn’t the time—”
“No time ever is.” His face filled with pain. “I’ve tried everything I know, Nora. Bared my soul to you. But I can’t keep doing it. Not alone.”
Before she could say anything, he strode out of the PICU, the doors swooshing closed behind him.
She took a step after him. Stopped. Maybe it was better this way. Safer. For everyone.
42
No one questioned Lydia’s presence here at work, Gina noticed. Despite the fact that she wore jeans and a fleece pullover, Lydia didn’t look out of place. Instead she looked in command, ready for action. She led Gina into the PICU’s break room and pulled the curtains shut, giving them privacy.
“We need to figure out a way to help Narolie,” Lydia said.
“Ahh, so that’s why you’re here on your day off, instead of helping Trey decorate the Christmas tree or some other blissful domestic activity?”
Lydia frowned. “Trey is at his folks’ today. Thank God.”
“Really?” Gina asked, secretly thrilled to see St. Lydia the Perfect having a not-so-perfect day. “Something going on with you two?”
“Just normal stuff.” Typical Lydia, treating her private life as off-limits. Gina was surprised she’d said as muc
h as she had.
“Yeah, right.” Gina was fascinated to learn she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t mastered the art of cohabitation. “Trey’s like the perfect guy. You two are made for each other.”
“You’re one to talk--you have Jerry.”
Gina hid her expression. No sense letting the whole world knew she’d walked out on Jerry. Especially because she knew Jerry and Lydia were close—hell, he saw more of Lydia than Gina some weeks. She’d let everyone else know about her and Jerry when she was certain she knew how she felt about it. Right now, better just to avoid the issue altogether. “Yeah, well, at least Trey talks to you. When Jerry’s on a case, it swallows him whole. I’m lucky to get two words out of him.”
“It’s not Trey. Well, a little. Mainly it’s his family.” Lydia bounced to her feet. “Damn it, why does everything have to be so complicated?”
Before Gina could answer—not that she had an answer, but that wasn’t going to stop her from saying something; she was enjoying her unexpected role of confidante too much—the door banged open and Nora entered. “Men!”
Both Gina and Lydia swiveled to stare at her.
“What did Seth do now?” Gina asked. It wasn’t often that she was the sanest in the bunch. It was kind of nice for a change. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees in a serious pose, and nodded to Nora earnestly, borrowing a move from the shrinks. “It’s okay, go on.”
Nora flounced down onto the chair Lydia had vacated. “He thinks he can smother me, protect me from everything. He heard Jim Lazarov was giving me a hard time and even left a patient in the OR to see if I was okay. Like I couldn’t handle it myself. Argh!”
Lydia, to Gina’s surprise, took Seth’s side. “Hey, after what’s happened the last few days, I think he’s got every right to be a bit overprotective.”
That earned her a glare from Nora. “Like you’d ever let Trey coddle you. You had half of Pittsburgh gunning for you, and you didn’t back down and hide.”
Lydia sat down beside Nora and grabbed her hand. “I was going to run, was ready to run and hide, let everyone else deal with it.”
No way. Gina stared at Lydia, surprised by her confession. St. Lydia was human after all, as vulnerable as the rest of them? “What stopped you?”
There was a pause. Both Nora and Gina stared at Lydia, waiting for her answer. Lydia startled them both by shaking her head and laughing. “Believe it or not, it was Trey. He made me realize that there were some things worth fighting for after all.” She squeezed Nora’s hand. “So cut Seth some slack. He loves you and he can’t risk losing you to some psycho nutjob.”
Nora blew her breath out in an exaggerated sigh. “I’m so tired of not being able to live my own life. Everyone talking about me, about what I did, judging me. I want it all to go away, to stop being labeled a victim.”
Lydia squatted down to pull a package of coffee filters from the lower cupboard. As she did, her top rode up enough to expose a small pistol holstered at the small of her back.
“Where’d you get that?” Gina asked. Jerry had taught her the rudiments of gun safety—had insisted on it—but she’d never liked guns or seen their attraction. Especially after being shot at. “Put it away. This is a hospital.”
Both Nora and Lydia jerked their heads at her pious tone. Before they could say anything, the door shot open and Amanda stalked in. “Men!” She looked at them, her eyes widening at the sight of Lydia’s gun. “Is that a nine-millimeter? Perfect. Cuz I’m gonna kill him!”
“Amanda!” Nora snapped. “I can’t believe you said that.”
Amanda clapped her hand over her mouth, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
Lydia tugged her top down, hiding the gun from sight, and busied herself making coffee.
“I don’t think you should have that in the hospital,” Nora continued. “Especially not up here near children.”
Lydia bobbed her head in a nod, still turned away from them, while Gina sat there grinning.
“Yes, Mom,” Gina said, breaking the tension in the room.
“Oh, be quiet.” Nora slouched in her chair as the coffee maker gurgled and Lydia rejoined them.
“I’m sorry, Nora,” Amanda said again, pulling out a chair for herself. “I was just so upset. But after yesterday—”
“It’s okay.”
“What were you and Lucas arguing about?” Gina asked.
“I had an idea that might help Narolie. But he wouldn’t listen.”
“Doesn’t sound like Lucas,” Lydia said. “What kind of idea?”
Amanda slid a paper across the table to Lydia, who read it and passed it down the line.
“Teratoma causing encephalitis,” Gina mused. “Never heard of it.”
“No one has,” Amanda admitted. “This is the only case report I could find. And I’m not even sure if the abdominal calcification Narolie’s upper GI showed is from a teratoma. I need a CT of her belly to find out.”
“Lydia, what do you think?” Nora asked.
“I think you don’t need a CT to confirm an ovarian teratoma. Get OB-GYN up here to do an ultrasound. If their attending is convinced, they can handle Lucas. And in the meantime see if you can find some more case reports—make it easier to convince both of them.”
“A portable ultrasound?” Amanda thought for a moment. “I can do that without compromising her care, so Lucas can’t get upset.”
“Stop worrying about Lucas and worry about your patient.”
“You’re right. I was just so surprised when he didn’t agree with me.”
“Get used to it,” Nora put in. “I think I can help as well.”
“How?”
“By getting rid of this deportation nonsense. I’ll get Mickey on the case—she’ll have Tillman and his lawyers so tangled in knots that it will be the next millennium before they can think of trying to kick a patient out of the hospital.”
“Mickey!” Lydia smiled, rapping her knuckles on the table in approval. “Fighting lawyers with lawyers, it's perfect. I should have thought of her myself. Nora, you’re a genius.” She brushed her hands together. “Okay, so one problem solved. And Mickey working on the case should give you a reason to keep a low profile, stay out of trouble, right?”
Nora bristled. “I’m not hiding—”
“Never said you were. But you keep getting people pissed off, and it’s going to impact patient care.”
“Seth said Jim Lazarov tried to attack her,” Amanda put in.
Damn, it was like a conspiracy. They all turned to stare at Nora. “I told you, Seth exaggerated. It was nothing. Okay, I’ll hang out here, pretending to review Narolie’s chart, stall for time until Mickey can get here.” She rolled her eyes at Lydia. “Then maybe I’ll go walking alone through the cemetery after dark, since you guys obviously think I’m incapable of taking care of myself.”
Lydia flashed her a smile of understanding. It wasn’t easy trying to live your life under a threat. Lydia’s answer was to carry a gun. Nora’s was to focus on her patients. On controlling what she could control.
“Nah, you’ll come home with me. Run interference between me and Trey’s mom. I’m supposed to be at her place today. Baking cookies—some kind of holiday tradition.” Lydia made it sound like having a root canal without anesthesia.
“You could go to the gala and pick up my award for me, instead,” Gina suggested, but no one paid her any attention.
“Nora, could you keep an eye on Tank, too?” Amanda said, bringing them back to the problem at hand. “Maybe talk to him—poor kid has no idea about anything. If things go badly, I don’t know how he’ll handle it.”
“I’ll call Ken Rosen, ask him to talk with Tank,” Gina put in. “He’s good with stuff like that.”
“Ken?” Lydia said. “Really?”
“Sure, why not? I’ll see if he’s in his lab today—that will give Tank a place to go while Narolie is getting her ultrasound.”
“Sounds like we have all our bases covered,�
�� Lydia said. “Okay, I’ll see you guys later.”
“Where are you going?” Nora asked.
“Down to the ER. I have a little research project that needs finishing. I’ll call you when I’m ready to go home.”
Nora stared after her. She didn’t like the smile that played across Lydia’s face—it was the same smile she’d worn yesterday when she talked about blowing the heads off targets.
43
Lydia took the stairs back down to the ER. She didn’t go through the main emergency department, but rather took the back hallway around to the locker rooms and OR 13. The usual Saturday bustle echoed down the hall from the ER, but no one was around as she ducked into the men’s locker room.
She didn’t close the door immediately, but held it as she listened, ready for a quick escape. The locker room was empty. She shut the door and grabbed the clipboard from the hook beside it. As in the women’s locker room, there was a listing of occupied lockers. Jim Lazarov had number seventeen.
She replaced the clipboard and wound her way past two rows of lockers and benches strewn with discarded scrubs, street shoes, and towels. At least the women cleaned up after themselves. Locker seventeen was on the far wall, the second from the end.
Jim had a cheap combination padlock on it—good enough for routine security, not good enough to match Lydia’s skills. She glanced over her shoulder even though no one was there, feeling guilty and rebellious and naughty at the same time. She hadn’t picked a lock in years, but this one would be easy.
The lock had three dials on the side and was the kind where the owner could reset the combination at will. Great for convenience, not so hot for security. Lydia pulled the shackle bar out, getting a feel for how tight the tumbler wheels were. As she spun the first wheel, her cell phone rang.
She dropped the lock, and it banged against the locker door. She pulled out her cell and glanced at the screen. Ruby Garrison, Trey’s mom. Damn. If she let it go to voice mail, next thing she knew Trey would be hunting her down.
