He nodded. “Work stuff.”
“Yes.”
“She was always doing something. Never knew her to be still, not for a moment.” He swallowed. “She was working on something to do with getting enough nurses to fill in here in Texas. Something political.” His eyes filled with tears. “Could that be why she was—”
Ginny reached over and laid a hand on his arm. “The police are looking for a reason. If there’s anything you think they should know, tell us.”
John Kyle wiped his face with his hand, then dug around in his pocket, looking for a tissue. Ginny pulled a box over and handed it to him.
He blew his nose, then continued. “She said there was a vote coming up in the legislature. That it was going to be unpopular.” He controlled himself with an effort. “I didn’t care. I didn’t even listen. I should have been more supportive.”
It was a story Ginny had heard many times before. Too many people took the good things in their lives for granted, until it was too late. “Do you think I could look at those files?”
He nodded. “Take them. Take them all.” He rose and led her into a room set up as a home office. He moved swiftly, making a pile on the desk. Ginny let him work, knowing it was helping, even if only a little.
In the end, she needed a box to hold all of them. He carried them out to her car and put them on the back seat. Ginny turned to face him. “Thank you.”
“You find him, whoever did this. You find him.”
Ginny nodded soundlessly. That was two promises she’d made today she saw no way of keeping.
When she got home, Ginny collapsed into bed, promising herself she would look at both problems when she woke up. As she relaxed into her pillow, she found herself grieving for all of them. Poor little Luis and his friend, Joey, and Joey’s father.
The odds were seriously against her, but Ginny knew, whatever happened from here on out, there was no way her conscience would let her walk away. It wasn’t just her own self-respect anymore. She had given her word. She would have to keep it, or live with the guilt for the rest of her life.
* * *
Chapter 13
Day 6 – Wednesday evening
Forbes residence
Ginny slept until dinnertime. Like most night workers, she bulldozed through her assigned shifts, then collapsed, hoping to recover in time for the next round. It usually worked, but she was already beginning to wonder if she shouldn’t be looking for a less grueling schedule.
After dinner, Ginny settled down at her desk and opened her computer. She made a précis of what John Kyle had told her about Phyllis’ interest in politics, set up a timeline and a list of possible sources of information, and filled in some of the blanks on her means/motive/opportunity spreadsheet. She was soon staring at several pages of notes.
She added a few comments, then set the murder aside and turned her attention to Luis.
On the assumption that the disappearance of Maria Perez was somehow connected to Phyllis’ murder, Ginny started a mind map.
Mind maps do not follow linear formats. Instead, they allow the user to link one idea back to another (or many others) as the ideas occur to them. Ginny mapped location (both Luis and Phyllis had a connection to Hillcrest), Maria (Luis’ mom and Phyllis’ friend), occupation (both Maria and Phyllis were nurses), timing (Maria went missing after Phyllis’ death and referred to that death as if it had some importance to her), unknown enemy(ies) (Maria fled someone and appeared to think Phyllis was killed by the same or similar someone), and illicit drugs (Luis found wearing fake fentanyl patches and Phyllis’ purse found with cocaine in it).
Ginny took a moment to examine her work. Not a bad start but there were some dead ends. Why were Luis’ patches fake? What spooked Maria Perez? Was Phyllis connected, somehow, or was her death unrelated and Maria mistaken on that point? What did Phyllis have to do with the nursing shortage?
Ginny leaned back in her chair, her brow furrowing. She didn’t pay much attention to what happened in state politics. In some ways, the less she knew, the happier she was. But when it was something to do with the Board of Nursing, she had to pay attention.
Four times a year the Board published a bulletin with updates on laws affecting nurses in the State of Texas; announcements about programs, projects, and workshops; information about nursing education; articles of interest to nurses; and notices of disciplinary actions. It was always entertaining to see who had gotten into what kind of trouble.
Ginny opened a browser and pulled up the most recent issue, finding no one she knew on the ‘naughty’ list and a very dry description of some upcoming legislation having to do with expediting applications for nursing licenses for foreign nurses. She printed the article off for further study and set it aside.
There was one more thing she absolutely must do before she went back to bed and that was go through the pile of material John Kyle had given her, so she could hand the Hillcrest stuff over to Ms. Hawkins tomorrow before leaving for Austin. She sat down on the carpet, with the box beside her, and started to sort.
The files with a Hillcrest identifier were an eclectic lot. Among them were the human resources department policies on new hires, including proposed revisions to licensure verification processes (some of them fifteen years out of date), nursing department lists of continuing education dates and deadlines, and contact information directories for Hillcrest staff covering the last ten years. Interesting, but nothing that looked like a HIPAA violation. All of these went into pile number one.
The second pile was made up of things having to do with nursing reform and other political issues. Ginny went through this with attention, but found nothing more recent than last year and nothing that sounded as if it had anything to do with the nurse shortage.
The third pile addressed Phyllis’ graduate school plans. Among other things, Ginny found a stack of articles on imposters in healthcare, including a collection of Board of Nursing Bulletins, all open to the imposter alert page, and a calendar marking the class schedule with handwritten notes about which shifts Phyllis wanted to work in January.
Ginny paused, then dug out the January schedule for the Medical ICU. Phyllis was not on it, which was odd because it had been posted before Phyllis died. An oversight, perhaps?
The last pile was stuff unrelated to the hospital or nursing. Mr. Kyle had included mailings, advertisements, and some private letters in his haste. The letters would need to be returned. Ginny sorted through the junk, decided it was safe to discard most of it, put the Hillcrest files into the box and stood up, stretching.
Because of being sent out of town, she would be on day shift until the middle of next week. The sooner she got to sleep, the easier it would be to stay awake on the road tomorrow. Hillcrest first, then Tran, then drive to Austin. Then Friday, Saturday, and Sunday morning conference, then drive home in time to attend the Christmas party at the Jumping J ranch. Then two days off to make up for having to work through the weekend.
Not much time left for investigating. She hoped Detective Tran wouldn’t need her for a day or two.
* * *
Wednesday late evening
Hillcrest ER
“Got one!”
Jim followed the DEA agent down the corridor and into the exam room. It was a teenaged girl, just barely arousable, clearly under the influence. The nurse handed Jim the triage paperwork.
“What did she take?” The DEA agent asked.
“This.” She tossed him a baggie with a dusting of white powder inside. “The friend who brought her in said she’d injected it. She thinks it was fentanyl.”
The agent took the bag, then retired to a back room to do a field drug test on the material. He was back in five minutes.
“Positive.”
“Okay. Add fentanyl to the drug screen.” They had already medicated the patient with a second dose of naloxone.
So sophisticated had opioid drug abusers become that they carried their own supply of antidote with them when they wen
t to shoot up. The young woman accompanying this patient had produced an auto-injector she had used to keep her friend alive while waiting for the ambulance. Jim and the DEA agent took her into a private room to talk while they waited for the patient to wake up enough to speak for herself.
“I’m Dr. Mackenzie,” Jim said. “What’s your name?”
“Keesha.”
“That was quick-thinking on your part, Keesha. You probably saved Jasmine’s life.”
“Well, like, you know, you hear things.” The young woman shrugged, her eyes darting from Jim to the agent, then back again.
“What sort of things?” Jim asked.
“You, know. Things. So we, like, got the drug.”
“You mean the naloxone?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know where she got the fentanyl?”
“No.” Keesha’s eyes were no longer on Jim, focusing instead on her shoes.
Jim leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and clasping his hands loosely between his knees. He was deliberately trying to look harmless.
“It would help us to know where to look for her dealer. Do you both buy from the same person?”
Keesha was twitching now, squirming in her seat. “I don’ give up my sources. Y’all knows that.”
Jim nodded. “Normally we wouldn’t even ask, but there’s a problem.”
She swiveled a white eye in his direction.
“There’s someone targeting drug users, killing them, deliberately.” He watched Keesha’s eyes grow wider. “Whoever it is needs to be stopped.”
“I can’t tell y’all. I wouldn’t make it home tonight.”
“No one will know it was you.” Jim waited, watching the young woman squirm. “If you can help us find him—or her—you can save more lives, just like you did for Jasmine tonight.”
Keesha jumped to her feet and started pacing. “It’s not like I knows,” she said. “But I hear’d something, on the street.”
“What did you hear?”
“There’s, like, a war on. New guy says the old guy wants us dead and it ain’t safe to buy from him no more. Says his stuff is better. Safer.”
“Is it true?”
Keesha’s eyes grew wider and her cheeks taut. “Yeah. It’s true. They’s droppin’ like flies out there. It ain’t safe.” She went back to pacing, her hands moving spastically along her arms, then down the sides of her legs.
“Keesha.”
She turned abruptly to face him. “What?”
“Have you taken something tonight?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “No. Hain’t I done told you it ain’t safe?”
“When was your last dose and what did you take?” It was clear she was in the first stages of withdrawal from something.
She stared at him, her mouth falling open.
“Let us help you.” Jim rose and stepped toward her. She backed up against the wall and stood staring at him, then, very slowly, nodded.
“I don’t feel so good.”
“We’ll take care of that.” Jim very gently took her arm and steered her out of the consultation room and into the system. When he had her settled and had checked on Jasmine, he located the DEA agent.
“Do you need me for anything else?”
“Nope. Thanks Doc. That was a real nice job in there. Maybe enough to persuade one of them to give up the dealer.”
“Let’s hope so,” Jim replied. “You heard the lady. They’re dropping like flies out there.”
* * *
Chapter 14
Day 7 – Thursday early morning
Hillcrest Cafeteria
“Mind if I join you?”
Jim looked up from his tray to see one of the nurses from the ER smiling at him. He gestured at the three empty seats on the other side of the table. “Help yourself.” He went back to his meal, thinking he had a number of charts left unfinished and, if he wasn’t careful, he would have to stay late to complete them.
“You’re new, I think.”
Jim looked up again, realizing that the blonde was trying to engage him in conversation. He nodded. “Sort of. I started last summer.”
“Lisa Braden.” She stuck out her hand and he shook it. “ICU, mainly, but I float to the ER. I’ve seen you there.”
She was not his type. Too brassy and too aggressive, but he was aware that, in any job, making enemies could be a bad idea. He smiled. “And we’re very grateful.”
This much was true. The dynamics of an acute care facility like Hillcrest required that nurses be able to work in more than one area. The critical care areas routinely covered for one another, but ER nurses notoriously hated both floating to ICU and taking care of ICU patients who landed in the ER. They liked the “treat ’em and street ’em” variety.
The blonde seemed to have forgotten to get herself something to eat. She was toying with a soda, her arms crossed on the table, her just-barely-covered breasts resting on her arms.
“You’re really good,” she said. “I’ve been around a lot of ER docs and you’re the best I’ve seen.” She smiled at him.
Jim smiled back. “Thank you.” It had been a while since he’d had anyone throw themselves at him and he was finding it amusing.
“We heard what happened, about the virus. I’m glad you’re all right.”
Jim sighed inwardly and changed the subject. “I haven’t had much chance to get to know Dallas. What is there to do around here?”
“Oh! Well, there’s Billy Bob’s, of course, and the stockyards, and Southfork, and the State Fair, and gobs of nightclubs and good places to eat. What do you like to do?”
“Billy Bob’s, is that where they have the mechanical bull?”
She grinned. “Yeah, and Country and Western dancing. Can you Two-Step?”
Jim shook his head. “No, sorry.”
“Other kinds of dancing, maybe?” She looked at him coyly.
Jim studied her face for a moment. He did not want to encourage this woman. “Scottish Country Dancing,” he said. That should put her off.
Lisa blinked. “Scottish what?”
“Do you know Ginny Forbes?”
Lisa nodded.
“Has she ever mentioned what she does on Friday nights?”
Lisa’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, she and a hundred other Scots get together every Friday night. The dances are made up of intricate patterns that require the cooperation of everyone in the set and the footwork has its roots in French ballet. It’s quite a sight.”
Lisa looked dubious. “You do that, too?”
“I try.”
Jim saw a vertical line appear between Lisa’s eyebrows.
“Is it hard?”
Jim nodded. “Very.”
“Hmmm. Could I come watch?”
“Sure. It’s open to the public.”
She nodded, then changed the subject, holding out her hands for his inspection. “Which do you like better, the right or the left?”
Jim glanced at her nails, then looked closer, then averted his eyes, reminding himself he was a grown man and a physician.
“Sorry.” He gathered up his tray and stood up. “Got to go back to work. Nice to meet you, miss.”
“Lisa. See you later.” She was smiling at him, pleased with his reaction to the images painted in miniature on her blood red nails.
Jim hurried off, making a mental note to report her nails as a health hazard. They had certainly interfered with his appetite.
* * *
Thursday morning
Police substation
Ginny was sitting in Detective Tran’s office, copies of her notes in front of her, fidgeting. She’d been thinking about transparency and how to use it to catch a killer.
“Here are the bios—all I could remember about each of the people who were in the Unit that night. Here’s the summary of the shift and the timeline. And this is my Means / Motive / Opportunity spreadsheet, which you’ve seen before and
which is essentially empty because I can’t think of a single reason why anyone who works at Hillcrest should want Phyllis dead.”
Detective Tran nodded, looking over the work. “These are very clear. Thank you.”
Ginny then handed over the second set of notes, explaining about Luis. “He says the patches were intended for his mother, but I don’t know how reliable his testimony is. Dr. Mackenzie is following up with the DEA agent. Here,” she set down the third group, “is what I’ve been able to get from John Kyle, plus my mind map. And I’m working on a way to gather more personal information about Phyllis’ relationships with her coworkers, but that’s going to take some time.”
“Uncovering the truth usually does.” Detective Tran looked up from the mind map, then set it aside and leaned back in her chair, her eyes on Ginny. “You have something else to say?”
Ginny nodded, then took a breath. “Since everyone at the hospital already knows I’m working with the police, I was wondering if you could use me to pass along selected bits of information—or misinformation. Baiting the hook, as it were, to see if we could draw someone out.”
Detective Tran studied her for a moment, her eyes narrowing. “You would be willing to let us use you in this way?”
Ginny nodded.
“Have you spoken with anyone about this idea?”
“No.”
Detective Tran thought for a moment longer, then shuffled through her folder and pulled out a file, handing it to Ginny. “This is the forensic science report from the crime scene. It reveals nothing of use and, if the killer learns that, he may let down his guard.”
Ginny nodded and rose from her chair. “I’ll get started on this right away.”
“Miss Forbes.”
“Yes?”
“Discretion is called for. We want to lull our quarry into a false sense of security, not frighten him into precipitate action.”
Ginny nodded. “I understand.” She did, too. Cornered prey tended to attack.
* * *
Thursday morning
Forbes residence
“I’ll get it.” Ginny made her way to the front of the house and opened the door to Jim. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
The Swick and the Dead Page 10
