Doctors at Risk

by Alison Roberts

  ‘I bet they don’t,’ Wendy said softly. ‘I think it probably was arson and, what’s more, I think that whoever lit that fire thought that Ross was inside. Asleep.’

  ‘I told you she was getting paranoid.’ Ross looked up at his friends. ‘She thinks Kyle Dickson is out to blow up and burn the world.’

  ‘He’d have trouble following a recipe well enough to burn toast,’ Joe grinned.

  Fletch was frowning. ‘You don’t really think there’s anything sinister going on, do you, Wendy? Even if it was arson, which seems unlikely, maybe that unit was chosen because it was empty.’

  ‘And what on earth would make you think it had something to do with Kyle Dickson?’ Joe put in. ‘The guy’s an idiot.’

  ‘It’s just a feeling,’ Wendy admitted. ‘I know it sounds crazy.’

  Ross nodded tersely. ‘And I’ve got enough on my plate without worrying whether someone’s out to get me, thanks. Give it up, Wendy. Joe said it. Kyle’s an idiot. He’s not a psychopath.’ Ross gripped the wheels on his chair and propelled himself forward. ‘I’d better go and see if they’ve got room for me at the inn.’

  The crowd was dispersing. A nurse came towards Ross. ‘Thank God you’re all right,’ she exclaimed. ‘We were all thinking the worst back there.’

  ‘Someone’s trying to tell me something, I think,’ Ross said lightly. ‘I suspect it’s time I left this place for good. It’s time I went home.’

  Ross had made up his mind and was not going to let anyone persuade him otherwise.

  ‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself. I’ve got transport. There’s no reason to stay any longer.’

  ‘You still haven’t attempted any gait training.’

  ‘My ankle injury prevented that.’

  ‘That’s healed now. You could start today.’

  ‘No.’ Ross looked at Sally who was sitting with Patrick in the hospital director’s office. ‘I know all my exercises back to front. With a bit of extra equipment like some weights I can carry on at home. In fact, I’ll do better at home. I won’t get long interruptions like having to get back to the ward for sessions with therapists or mealtimes or visiting hours.’

  ‘You’ve got to rest,’ Sally protested. ‘And eat. You can’t spend all your time training. This isn’t some marathon you’re getting ready for.’

  ‘But I feel like my physical therapy is being held back by not having enough time,’ Ross said patiently. ‘Look at today. I’m supposed to spend an hour with an occupational therapist this afternoon talking about things like bathroom rails and door ramps. Another hour for a urology appointment—if they’re running to time, and the gym will be closed by 5 p.m. when dinner starts. I don’t need any of that stuff. I’m reasonably intelligent. I can figure out what I’ll need to make life more manageable. I’m perfectly continent but if I do run into any renal problems I’m sure I’ll be able to recognise the symptoms.’

  Patrick was smiling. ‘I’m sure you will.’

  ‘And I don’t even need dinner,’ Ross finished. ‘Look at me. I’m packing on weight with all this food and far too much sitting around.’

  ‘We can’t really argue with too much of that, Sally,’ Patrick said.

  ‘But it’s so isolated on the coast,’ Sally retorted. ‘We can do heaps more to help Ross here, even if it’s on an outpatient basis.’

  ‘I’m not going back to the coast for ever,’ Ross said. ‘Though we do have a perfectly good physiotherapy department at our hospital. I only need a week or two. I want to decide where I’m heading next. I want to sort out the sale of my property. And most of all I want some time to myself. I feel institutionalised. Depersonalised.’ His smile was rueful. ‘I didn’t exactly get much of a taste of independence in that unit, did I?’

  Patrick shook his head. ‘That was a disaster. It’s going to take weeks to get all the units fully operational again. The only good thing is that no harm was done to anyone.’

  ‘And they still haven’t found what started it?’ Sally asked.

  ‘No. We’ve vacated the whole block. We’re putting in a smoke detection and new alarm system plus some effective sprinklers. It’s going to blow our budget in a big way for the year but at least we’ll know it’s not likely to happen again. It’s a pain for everybody who wanted the units in the meantime.’ He nodded at Ross. ‘And the delay is probably a good reason to let you have a go at home.’

  ‘I’m sure I didn’t do anything that could have caused the fire.’

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ Patrick agreed. ‘I hope you’re not feeling at all responsible, Ross.’

  ‘No. I’m just feeling trapped,’ Ross confessed. ‘I want to get out of this place, Paddy. I’ll discharge myself if I have to.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’ Patrick stood up. ‘Come on. We’ll go and sort out the paperwork now.’ He held the door open for Ross to wheel himself into the corridor. ‘But I’ll be making an outpatient appointment for you at the end of next week and I’ll expect you to keep it.’

  ‘Cool. Can I leave today? Should be a nice quiet drive home on a Monday.’

  ‘You can leave as soon as you like,’ Patrick agreed. ‘I guess you don’t have too much packing to do.’

  ‘No. What I didn’t lose in the fire I probably don’t need anyway.’

  Patrick nodded, then turned into the nurses’ station. ‘Oh, hello, Wendy.’ He reached for a tray of forms beneath the counter and then looked up to frown at her. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Wendy lied. She picked up the patient notes she had come to find before turning to where Ross had positioned his chair near the desk. ‘So…you’re heading home?’

  Ross nodded. His smile was apologetic. ‘I’ve just managed to wangle a blessing, sort of.’

  Wendy’s voice was tight. ‘Today?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ross tried unsuccessfully to hold her gaze. ‘I was going to come and tell you.’

  Wendy’s smile looked brittle. ‘You won’t need to now.’ She turned away. ‘Drive carefully…and…and give me a call some time.’

  ‘Of course I will. Soon.’ Ross watched her leave with a vice-like sensation kicking in deep in his gut.

  He hadn’t meant Wendy to hear his news like that but she hadn’t been around to talk to over the weekend. She hadn’t been telling him her plans, mind you. It had been Joe and Jessica who’d told him she’d gone climbing on her days off. Jessica had been anxious about having to reschedule her hen night but Ross had been vaguely relieved. At least Wendy hadn’t been overly concerned about him being a target for an obsessed volunteer firefighter. Or had concerns for her own safety prompted a trip away from town?

  Maybe he shouldn’t have dismissed her fears so lightly. Wendy looked tense, and it couldn’t be simply due to the fact he was being discharged. She had accepted their break-up now. That had been obvious since the night before the class reunion, and reinforced when she hadn’t kept him in touch during the callout in Dunedin. She had seemed distant the night they’d had the party in the unit, and had seemed more bothered by the possibility that the fire had been deliberately started than whether he had been inside or not. If it had been arson, they would have found some evidence of it, surely? Perhaps focussing on dismissing Wendy’s concerns as paranoia had been a bit heavy-handed but he’d had to do something to disguise the fact he’d been scared stiff.

  He wasn’t afraid of Kyle. That was nonsense. Ross had been terrified by the revelation of how helpless he would have felt if he had been caught by the fire. He could see a lifetime stretching ahead of him sprinkled with moments of feeling physically inadequate. Helpless. Disabled. For someone who had built most of his self-esteem on his physical prowess it almost represented the theft of his entire personality. And it had been terrifying. Ross had felt, at that moment, a non-person and the spotlight, however brief, had delivered a very cruel blow.

  It was the core of what he now faced. For the rest of his life. In rational moments he could appreciate the other ski
lls he had and the other aspects of his personality, but that core had robbed him of his passions—his love for activity and the outdoors—and the opportunity to live with and revel in his love for Wendy. Her protestations that she still loved him were like the knowledge that he could point his career and even hobbies in new and probably satisfying directions. He knew they could be successful if it wasn’t for that core of poison—that fear—which Ross knew would surface often enough to destroy the joy that he and those around him could enjoy.

  The fear had to be faced and conquered alone. He was ready now and the only place he could truly face it was the space he had belonged to so completely. The home he had built to express who he was and what he loved about life. Maybe he could hunt down and find enough evidence to eradicate that fear of being a non-person. And maybe not. Ross couldn’t afford to consider the risk he might be taking. This was something he had to do.

  And he had to do it now.

  Each day seemed longer than the one before. Wendy was caught in a space she’d never experienced before and she hated it. Even when she’d been avoiding him, the knowledge that Ross had been nearby had infused her working hours with a life that had now been snuffed out. She could feel the emptiness there in the background no matter how busy she was or how much enjoyment or satisfaction her job provided.

  Time away from work was worse. There were no friends Wendy could contact who weren’t totally absorbed in their own happiness. Living with the people they loved and planning weddings and futures full of promise. Being confined in her own townhouse felt suffocating but Wendy couldn’t summon any enthusiasm to use physical activity to try and break the cycle of misery.

  As she unlocked the door of her flat on Thursday afternoon Wendy had to smile, albeit ruefully. Her home was cleaner than it had been in a very long time. Even her cupboards were tidy. Tomorrow was her first day off since Ross had left town. Maybe her desperation to distract herself might lead to the disorder in her garage being sorted.

  The message light on her answering-machine was blinking and Wendy ruthlessly suppressed the hope that there might be a message from Ross. It was far more likely to be Jessica or Kelly, wanting her opinion on a wedding-dress pattern or venue selection. But the number that came up on the caller ID display was not one she recognised. The deliberate silence and hanging up was eerily familiar, however. The message had been received at 2.31 p.m. The next had come at 2.32. And the one after that at 2.33. Wendy found herself looking over her shoulder, more scared than she had ever been as she pushed the erase button again and again, not wanting to hear any more of the non-messages but hoping desperately for evidence that at least one person who wasn’t trying to threaten her might have called.

  Wendy was still clutching the telephone five minutes later. ‘There were fourteen messages. All from the same number.’

  ‘Give me the number. I’ll have it traced.’

  Wendy reeled off the figures. ‘I’m scared, Nick. I don’t know what I should do.’

  ‘Make sure your doors are locked and don’t answer if anyone knocks. Stay home. I’m going to make a few calls and then I’m coming round to see you. If you feel unsafe before then, dial triple one.’

  ‘OK. Thanks, Nick.’

  ‘My pleasure. See you soon.’

  Wendy waited by her window, and the sight of the police parking by her gate was an enormous relief. The look on Nick Thompson’s face as he sat down on her couch, having introduced his colleague Julie, was not.

  ‘There’s been some developments,’ the young detective informed her. ‘There’s a warrant out for the arrest of Kyle Dickson.’

  Wendy’s jaw dropped. ‘For what?’

  ‘Dunedin CID decided yesterday that they had enough evidence for a search warrant. You were right—his computer has been used to access some pretty incriminating sites.’

  ‘Have they found Kyle?’ Wendy had a horrible feeling she already knew the answer to her question.

  ‘No.’ Nick’s face settled into even more serious lines. ‘And there’s something else you should know.’

  ‘What?’ The word was a whisper.

  ‘The police found some photographs in the house. They scanned and emailed them to me.’ Nick opened the manila folder he held and showed Wendy a page.

  She could feel the colour draining from her face. ‘I didn’t even know they were missing.’

  ‘Where would he have found them?’

  The photos were not all recent. One had been taken on a climbing expedition a year or so ago. Another was a shot of her in a bikini taken on a beach in Spain. ‘I keep all my photos in a shoebox in my bedroom wardrobe. I haven’t had any reason to look at them recently.’

  ‘Did you notice anything else missing after the break-in?’ Nick consulted another piece of paper. ‘You mentioned a silver necklace. Did you find that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You weren’t missing any…ah…more personal items?’

  ‘Like what?’

  Nick didn’t meet her stare. ‘A black bra and knickers set?’

  ‘Oh, my God.’ The underwear she had been looking for the night of the USAR gathering. Wendy felt sick as she nodded slowly.

  ‘I’m sorry we didn’t take your fears more seriously earlier,’ Nick said. ‘I can assure you that everything possible is being done to find Mr Dickson and we’ll make sure you have protection in the meantime.’

  ‘Do they have any idea where he is right now?’

  ‘We’ve only just started a concerted search effort. We’re running a check on credit-card usage and his car registration right now.’

  ‘He drives a Volkswagen Beetle. A maroon one.’

  Nick shook his head. ‘He traded that in a while back. He’s got a fairly late model Toyota now. Sporty-looking black number.’ Nick’s smile was wry. ‘Turns out he had an accident the day after he bought it and caved the driver’s door in. The panelbeater he went to had to replace the whole door. It should be easy to spot unless he’s got around to having the door repainted to match.’

  Wendy took a deep breath to try and counteract the sick fear settling around her stomach. ‘And the phone number I gave you? From those messages?’

  ‘A public phone booth.’ Nick hesitated. ‘In the closest shopping centre you have.’ He didn’t allow enough time for Wendy to assimilate the implications. ‘I can leave Julie here with you but it may be better for you to go and stay with a friend for a day or two.’

  Wendy nodded. No way did she want to stay in her townhouse. ‘I’ll go out to my friend, Kelly Drummond. She lives just out of Halswell.’

  ‘Would you like us to drop you out there?’

  ‘No, I’d rather have my own car with me.’

  Nick nodded. ‘We’ll wait while you pack a few things then we’ll follow you far enough to make sure you haven’t been tailed.’

  ‘Thanks. I’d appreciate that.’

  The police car followed Wendy’s hatchback until she was clear of the suburbs. A flash of the beacons signalled a farewell and Wendy tried not to feel abandoned. The police were on the case now. They would locate and arrest Kyle very soon, and in the meantime she would be safe and she wouldn’t be alone. Kelly and Fletch would be ideal company.

  Except that Wendy didn’t want their company. She felt scared and alone and there was only one person in the world she wanted to be with. The desire for the comfort and understanding only Ross could give her was overwhelming. Wendy carried on through the roundabout past the exit south she had intended to take. Instead, she headed west. Towards the coast.

  Towards Ross.

  The traffic was a little heavier on the main West Coast road but Wendy wasn’t bothered. She was focussed on where she was heading, not where she had been. She had no reason to take any notice of the vehicle travelling well behind her.

  A low-slung, black car.

  With a dark blue driver’s door.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE weight might as well have been a ball and chain.

&n
bsp; A soft, heavy pad with Velcro fastenings was strapped around Ross’s left ankle. He lay on the thick rug in front of the empty grate of his huge, open fireplace and sweat trickled between his shoulder blades as he lifted his leg yet again. How far was it above the bright Aztec pattern that bordered the terracotta shade of the rug? It felt like twelve inches but he knew it was probably more like one or two. How long could he hold it? Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty. His foot dropped with a thump that sent an answering twinge the length of his spine and Ross lay still, trying to bring his respiration rate back to normal levels.

  Be patient, he told himself firmly. He was doing well. Three days ago he could barely lift his legs. Now he could attach at least small weights and hold them aloft. Transfers were becoming easier. He could trust his legs to hold his weight for the few seconds it took to turn in his small downstairs bathroom and get himself from the wheelchair to the toilet or the stool that was now a fixture in the shower. The mattress he’d had moved to the corner in the downstairs living area was working well as a bed. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see the view of the bush and mountains the upstairs windows provided. Or that bringing in wood to feed an open fire was impossible. He was better off not having reminders of what he loved so much about this house because he would be leaving soon enough anyway.

  Sitting up, Ross unstrapped the weight and then levered himself back into his wheelchair. He didn’t register the ease with which he could lift his feet onto the footplates because his mind was now firmly occupied by what was lying on the dining table. The agreement for sale and purchase of real estate that had been there since yesterday morning. He was ready to sign now and only needed to decide a settlement date that would give him enough time to organise the move but not enough to allow regret to undermine the hard-won decision.

  Spending three days agonising over the choice had been unnecessary torture. Ross had known what the decision had to be the moment he’d arrived. His home had once been a refuge. Despite its isolation it had had never been a lonely one, but that had been because Wendy had never been here. He had never known what it was like to see the perfection of his home reflected in eyes as blue as autumn skies over the Alps. He’d never heard the echo of a laugh that gurgled like the rocky stream in the stretch of native bush outside. And he’d never dreamt of the joy of waking to that mountain view with the woman he loved held in his arms. Wendy’s company had brought his home to life and now it felt dead. No longer a refuge, his home was a prison and if he stayed he would be doomed to solitary confinement, haunted by memories of things he could never again experience.