by V.K. Sykes
Holly slowed through the EZ-Pass lane and then hit the gas as she passed through the toll plaza. Traffic over the bridge had been heavy, but now the freeway opened up. This late at night, she thought the road should be free of the usual New Jersey bottlenecks, speeding up the short trip home from Nate’s condo.
For someone who`d spent most of her life in the sexual wilderness, Holly had gotten used to daily sex in a big hurry. Except for the time Nate had spent on the road, this was the first night since the golf tournament that they hadn’t had sex. She already found it strange not to end the day in bed with him.
Sex with Nate Carter was easy to get used to.
But Nate had dozed off on the sofa over dinner, so Holly packed him off to bed, kissed him goodnight, and headed back to her house. She had an early surgery the next morning, so she needed a good night’s sleep. The day had kicked the stuffing right out of her.
Of course, she hadn’t been totally honest with Nate when he’d asked what weighed on her mind. Her answer—that it was the incident with Lance Arnold—was true, but it wasn’t a complete answer. There was Nate’s injury, too.
But what had rocked her even more was when Maddie spilled the beans at the game about Nate being traded.
Possibly being traded, Maddie had said. But maybe it was just a rumor.
Where there`s smoke, there`s usually fire.
She tried not to dwell on it, since there wasn`t a thing she could do about a baseball trade. But it gnawed away at her with sharp little teeth. Didn’t Nate think she deserved to know something that important? Something that could determine the outcome of their relationship? Maybe she was getting way ahead of herself, but she’d already been thinking about what it would be like to be involved with a man who spent half the year on the road. That prospect scared her half to death, especially after the things Maddie had told her today.
And now it looked like Nate might be gone from Philadelphia completely. How could they ever make that work?
Her cell phone rang, jolting her from her gloomy thoughts. Canizaro’s name flashed on the small display.
“Hi, Katie, what’s up?”
“Dr. Bell, Tyler’s grandmother just called. She kept getting your voice mail, so she finally asked the department to page me.”
Mrs. Crump. Holly was anxious to talk to her. “What’s her number? I’ll call her as soon as I get home.”
Canizaro told her. “Mrs. Crump said she’d finally managed to reach her son-in-law. Arnold told her about his discussion with you today. The poor woman was really upset.”
Holly mentally winced. “God only knows what Arnold said to her.” She swung onto the freeway off ramp. “I’ll make sure she has the whole story. I’m hoping she’ll be our ally if we have to fight Arnold.”
“I hope so, too,” the resident said, hesitation in her voice. “But the thought of having to fight that guy scares the hell out of me.”
Hearing her resident say it again made Holly’s stomach take a sickening dip. No point in admitting that, though. “We’ll do whatever has to be done. I’m going to fix that boy’s heart, period.”
“I’m with you, Dr. Bell. Whatever it takes.”
“Good. I’ll brief you after I talk to Mrs. Crump.” Then Holly realized that Canizaro had been on duty for almost twenty-four hours. “Make that tomorrow,” she added quickly. “You need to take some time off now.”
“Yes, I think I’d like to,” Canizaro said with a sigh.
“Talk to Dr. Wylie and tell him I want him to give you at least tomorrow off. If he gives you a problem, tell him to call me.”
“Thanks, I will.”
“Take care of yourself.”
“You too, Doctor.”
Less than five minutes later, Holly wound her way through the leafy streets of the small town she now called home and pulled into the driveway of her bungalow. Exhausted, she had to drag herself up the dark walkway, up the steps to the open porch, and then into the house. Her body and mind both felt weary and leaden.
Unlocking the front door, she groped for the switch, annoyed for not remembering to leave some lights on when she left for the ballpark. She could hardly believe it was only ten hours ago. It seemed like a week. A really crappy week.
She kicked off her shoes, dumped her bag onto the kitchen counter, and yanked the cork out of the half-full bottle of Pinot Grigio she retrieved from the fridge. Maybe a glass of wine would relax her.
With a relieved sigh, she flopped down on the sofa, taking a few minutes to sip her wine before she reached for her phone. Talking with Mrs. Crump would be difficult, but it might yield some good results. Tyler’s grandmother could be an important ally, especially if they wound up having to go for a court order.
The woman answered on the first ring.
“Mrs. Crump? This is Dr. Bell, returning your call. I hope I’m not calling too late.”
“Not at all,” the woman said in a thin but crisp voice. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep tonight in any case. Not after what my idiot son-in-law told me today.”
Holly smiled. A straight shooter and, apparently, a pretty tough cookie. “I understand you’ve been ill lately,” she said sympathetically. “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to talk before.”
“Not to worry. Things have been a little rough, but I’m hardly down for the count. Unfortunately, I’m still not up quite yet to making a trip into the hospital to see Tyler. Excuse me, please.”
The woman must have clamped her hand over the phone, but Holly could still hear her racking coughs.
“You see,” she continued, “I live in Wilmington. The only way I can get to PCH is if my daughter comes all the way from Havre de Grace and drives me up to Philadelphia. And she’s a busy mother of three, so that`s hard for her to manage.”
Holly remembered that Lance Arnold lived in Chester, not all that far from Wilmington. The jerk could have driven Mrs. Crump in. “I’m very sorry,” she said. “I hope you’ll be able to manage it soon. Tyler is doing better, now, and I’m sure he’d love to see you.”
“I know he would. But Lance never brings him to see me, and since the accident it’s not easy to leave the house.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, what did Mr. Arnold tell you about Tyler’s situation?”
“Well, he did say the boy was improving, as you said. Thank the good Lord for that. But when I asked him for more details, he got mad and started yelling about you, Doctor. He claimed that you’re dead set on performing a risky surgery on Tyler. One that could kill him. He said that even if the boy survives the surgery, he’ll have to have more operations and spend months and months in the hospital because the new valve won’t last. Dr. Bell, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I don’t believe a word that man says. I never have.”
Holly propped the phone on her shoulder as she reached for a pen and paper on the coffee table. She really wanted to take notes of this phone call.
“Mrs. Crump, I’m afraid your son-in-law has painted the worst case scenario for you.” She paused for a few moments. Before the call, she’d decided to pull her punches if she had to, considering the woman’s precarious health. But everything in the conversation so far said to her that Mrs. Crump needed to be given the unvarnished truth.
“Go on, Doctor.”
“Tyler’s situation is serious, but far from bleak,” Holly continued. “His mitral valve—the one that was surgically repaired—needs to be replaced. We really have no option at this point but to install a mechanical valve. In a child Tyler’s age, that surgery does entail certain risks and potential complications. And it’s true that the surgery will have to be repeated in a few years. But frankly, ma’am, there’s no other reasonable choice.”
Mrs. Crump cleared her throat noisily. “Without that surgery, will he die?”
People always wanted definitive answers. It was a deep part of human nature to want certainty about future outcomes, even when no certainty was possible. When it came to medicine and the mysteries of the human body, predict
ing outcomes was even more precarious. Holly knew she had to weigh her words carefully.
“Yes, he will, Mrs. Crump. But as to when—how long—I simply can’t give you a clear answer. Every patient is different, adult or child. Some have lived for many years with a faulty valve, but eventually they have the surgery because it’s no longer an option not to.”
“So, Tyler could have it done later? It doesn’t have to be done right now?”
Here was where there was room for some medical disagreement. Holly knew that if he wanted to, Lance Arnold could find a surgeon or cardiologist who would testify that surgery could be delayed without unduly risking the boy’s life. But she was convinced that immediate surgery—or as soon as the boy could withstand the operation—was by far his best hope. She’d already gone over the case in detail with Dr. Rosen and he backed her one hundred per cent. The cardiologist, Morris, had been less conclusive, but she didn’t think he’d stick his neck out to support Lance Arnold.
“Ma’am, in my professional opinion, valve replacement surgery is the only effective weapon we have, and Tyler’s prognosis will not get any better with time. In fact, the probability is that it will worsen, possibly quickly. I would rather perform the surgery when Tyler’s not in crisis.”
“I see,” Mrs. Crump said. “Doctor, may I ask how old you are? Lance said you were barely out of medical school.”
Holly grimaced. “I’m thirty-one, Mrs. Crump, and I’ve been out of medical school for quite a long time. I assure you that I’ve done valve replacement surgery dozens and dozens of times, on children of all ages. If you like, I’ll have our chief of surgery, Dr. Rosen, call you.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” the woman said in a kind voice. “You sound like someone I can trust. And, as a general rule, I’ve learned to have faith in the medical profession. Unlike my son-in-law.”
Holly decided to go for it. “Mrs. Crump, I confess I don’t understand where he’s coming from. But I do know that his parental veto over this surgery shouldn’t be allowed to prevail. If necessary, the hospital will seek a court order allowing the surgery to proceed. If it comes to that, ma’am, may I tell the chief that we’ll have your support?”
“You may,” the woman answered immediately. “And I’ll testify in court if I have to. As far as I’m concerned, Lance wasn’t a fit husband, and he certainly isn’t a fit parent. He’s an abuser and a bully, and frankly I think he’d be happy if Tyler...” Her voice broke as the words trailed off.
Holly practically dropped the phone. Even though she and Nate had talked about that same possibility, it still shocked her to hear the boy’s grandmother confirm her fears. She wished she were there to give the woman a comforting hug.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Crump.” Her throat tightened. “Has he abused Tyler in any way?”
“Not physically,” Mrs. Crump said, her voice stronger. “Not as far as I can tell. But verbally, yes. Absolutely. He’s always hated that Tyler is so…sickly. Lance wanted a son to be the image of himself. A real tough guy. I’ve heard him belittle the poor boy more times than I can count.”
“You’ll testify to that, if necessary?”
“Count on it. And I’ll tell the court how he abused my daughter, too. Physically and mentally.”
The woman paused again, inhaling several deep breaths. Holly stayed silent, waiting for her to finish.
“Lance Arnold…he…he…killed my daughter, Dr. Bell.”
Holly’s tired brain seemed to refuse to absorb what it had just heard. “Killed her?” she said incredulously.
“Yes. Oh, he set it up to look like suicide, but he murdered her, all right. The detectives were very suspicious of him, but he had such a strong alibi that the district attorney decided he couldn’t make a murder charge stick. Lance had a pack of his scumbag friends lie to save him.”
“No one could do anything to prove he did it?” Holly asked in a faint voice.
“They tried. It didn’t stick.” The terse answer held a universe of grief and anger.
Holly dug the fingers of her free hand into the fabric of the couch. She took three or four deep breaths to slow her racing heart before speaking. Could this possibly be true? Or was it the grief of a sick, elderly woman talking? All her instincts leaned toward believing the woman.
“Mrs. Crump,” she said finally, “with your help, I’m going to save Tyler’s life. It’s probably futile to try to convince Arnold to grant permission for the surgery, but professionally I have to make every reasonable effort before seeking a court order. So, I’m going to arrange a meeting as soon as possible, preferably tomorrow, between our chief of surgery, Tyler’s cardiologist, Lance Arnold and myself. Is there any chance you’d be well enough to make the meeting, ma’am? I’m sure I could have one of my residents pick you up.”
Mrs. Crump didn’t hesitate. “Doctor, if you can arrange transportation, I’ll be there.”
Holly felt a rush of relief. “Thank you, Mrs. Crump. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”
“Thank you, and God bless you, Dr. Bell.” Gratitude filled the elderly woman’s voice.
“No, thank you, Mrs. Crump.” Holly put down the phone. A strange mixture of relief and fear swirled through her. Relief that she had an important ally in Tyler’s grandmother. But fear that she now had to face a man far more dangerous than she’d ever imagined.
But she’d do it to save that little boy. Whatever the risk.
Chapter Seventeen
