Fatal Reaction (15 page)

CHAPTER 37

Ana grabbed a beer from her refrigerator, pried off the top, and took a long sip. The cold malt replaced the moisture in her dry mouth, promising a comforting buzz. She turned on the living room lamp and grabbed her laptop off the end table. It was only 4:00 p.m., but for as dark as it got so early in winter, it might well have been eight. The computer screen emanated a blinding glow, the reflection of the dim lamp visible in the background. She opened an Internet browser, searched for Dr. Carmichael’s office phone number, and called it.

“Oakland Street Obstetrics and Gynecology. This is Kristin. How may I help you?”

Ana invented a false identity to avoid the inevitable red tape. “Yes, Kristin, this is Susan Greene calling from County Memorial’s Primary Care Center. How’re you today?”

“Good, thank you. How can I help you?”

“Our computer system is down, and I have a patient here by the name of Sydney Dowling to see Dr. Shepherd. She’s one of Dr. Carmichael’s patients. I need to get a copy of her operative and pathology reports, please. Do you think you can send those to me?” Ana played the odds that the office hadn’t yet been notified about Sydney’s death.

“Dowling, you say?
Sydney
Dowling?” Ana could hear other lines ringing in the background. “I’m sorry, can you hold just a minute, please?”

“Sure, thank you.” Ana’s heart raced while she waited.

The hold music broke, and Kristin came back on the line. “I’m sorry for the delay. Are you there?”

“Yes. I’m here,” Ana said.

“There must be some sort of mix-up. You say you have Sydney Dowling there for an appointment, correct?”

“Yes.”

“The Sydney Dowling in our system is deceased.”

They had been notified.

Ana, not sure of what to say, hung up the phone.

It was time to formulate plan B.

She needed an insider at County to look into things quietly.

County Memorial took HIPAA, the federal Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act, to a whole new level and observed “need to know” with a vengeance. Computer access was heavily restricted. The few people Ana would even consider asking for help would only have access to demographics, insurance, and maybe orders. She needed someone with high-level access.

Her doorbell rang and she ran to answer it.

“Can I help you?”

A sizable arrangement of red roses, baby’s breath, and lilies obscured the man on her doorstep. “Ana Ashmore?”

“Yes.”

“These are for you.”

Ana took the flowers, careful to avoid any thorns the florist might have missed.

The van parked behind her Jetta said the flowers were from Matrazzo’s.

“Sign here, please.”

“You’ve been busy,” Ana said, and signed the delivery slip. “I hope this one has a card.”

The driver, whose name tag read “Stan,” drew his eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

“I lost my sister about a week ago, unexpectedly. Matrazzo’s delivered three dozen roses to Parker and Sons Funeral Home last Wednesday, but there was no card. If there’s any way you can look into that for me, I’d really appreciate it. I’d like to thank the person who sent them.”

“Absolutely. I’ll look into it as soon as I get back to the shop. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Ana thanked him and closed the door, eager to know who sent the flowers. She pulled the card and sighed:

I’m sorry for your loss. Anything I can do to help, I’m here. Jared.

The flowers were another in a growing line of signs. Not five minutes earlier she was considering whom she could trust at County, who had the high-level access she needed to look into Sydney’s lab reports, and here, the man of her dreams was offering her a lifeline.

She just had to work up the courage to take it.

CHAPTER 38

Colby spent the morning placing phone calls to various prospective employers, doctors’ offices, and even Saint Matthew’s Hospital, preparing to be self-supporting for the first time in years. She was tired of feeling like a ghost, of fighting, of answering for things she wasn’t sorry for, and of feeling indentured to Jared—who hadn’t come home in two nights—for taking care of her.

She wandered into the guest bedroom where, up until a few days ago, Jared had been staying. The room smelled of his cologne, emanating off his laundry in the hamper. The queen-sized bed was neatly made, and the closet organized with several new garment bags from the dry cleaner.

Colby had always handled the dry cleaning, and regardless of what had happened between them, the fact that he didn’t need her for everyday things stung.

She picked up the photo Jared laid facedown on the nightstand, the one of them in the Bahamas. Jared had surprised her that day and arranged for her to swim with the dolphins, something she’d wanted to do her whole life. He was considerate of her, once, almost doting. Their marriage, though always under some demand for split time or attention, had been otherwise perfect.

“Marriage takes work,” her mother had said, and she remembered that every time things got bad.

They’d worked around the strain of Jared’s demanding school schedule, staying up late and studying together when she enrolled in nursing school. They dealt with his being on-call and working long hours, and managed to sneak away for private time between shifts at County. He was the reason she applied to work there. But the more he was drawn into the bureaucracy, the harder he tried to ascend the ranks, the further he withdrew from her. He
became
the job, obsessed with statistics about patient outcomes and finances. He volunteered to head several quality committees, and their already meager time together vanished.

Dorian had been there. He listened to her complaints about being alone and made time for her when Jared stopped bothering to. Eventually the complaints disappeared, as did the thoughts of Jared altogether. Colby never meant to cheat, but Dorian made her feel like the most beautiful, intelligent, and desirable woman on Earth, and she needed to feel something other than ambivalence.

A knock came at the door, and she went downstairs to answer it.

“Hello?” Colby squinted, lifting her hand to block the bright sun breaking through the gray clouds.

A young, clean-cut man wearing khakis, a button-down shirt, and a heavy winter coat stood on the front porch. “Colby Monroe?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been served.” He handed her a sealed envelope and was halfway back to his idling SUV before she could argue.

Colby ripped the tab and let out a frustrated growl.

The papers, prepared by one Wendell Cobb, attorney-at-law, said that Jared was filing for divorce on the grounds of infidelity.

“Dammit.”

She flung the papers across the dining room table, and they fluttered to the floor in a storm. Her heart pounded, and a dull ache started at the base of her skull. She had offered Jared the option of mediation, a quiet, peaceful, agreeable divorce, and had been revisiting that idea for the past year.

He refused, every time.

She couldn’t help wondering what made this time different.

She grabbed her cell phone from her purse and was about to call her lawyer, when a number she didn’t recognize appeared on the display. Despite the turn her day had taken, she answered it.

“Hello,” she said in a clipped tone.

“Colby?” Dorian’s voice sounded defeated, not at all like him.

“Dorian?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I need your help. Can you come get me?”

She grabbed her coat, purse, and keys. “Yeah, sure. Where are you?”

“I’m in jail.”

CHAPTER 39

Ana’s insides knotted as she walked into the ER, praying for a chance meeting with Jared and the strength to ask for his help.

“Ana, hey.” Cecelia spotted her immediately.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Cecelia looked like she’d gained several inches around the waist in the few days since Ana had last seen her.

Cecelia rubbed her stomach. “Good, but I don’t think this one’s waiting two more weeks. What are you doing here?” Ana stared off into the distance, listening to a voice she was almost sure was Jared’s. “Ana? Earth to Ana. Hello?” Cecelia waved her hand back and forth.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“No uniform. You’re not working. What’s up?”

“Can you look up a patient’s room number for me, please?”

“Sure, yeah. Is everything all right?” Cecelia waddled to her computer terminal.

“Everything’s fine. The patient’s name is Henry Coleman.”

Cecelia typed his name. “Here we go. Henry Coleman, room two twenty-four B.” Ana wrote down the room number on a scrap of paper. “He’s here, you know, somewhere.”

“Who’s here? What do you mean?” Ana folded the paper in half.

“Jared. He’s working.”

“I wasn’t looking . . .” Ana cracked a smile before she finished the lie.

“Yes, you were.”

“Okay, I was.”

“I hear he’s been sleeping in the on-call room the past couple of nights. Maybe you have a better option? Ana’s
Bed
and Breakfast?”

Ana’s grin spread wider. “Stop it. That’s not funny.”

Cecelia held her thumb and index fingers an inch apart. “It’s a little funny.”

“I’m going to see my patient now.”

Ana smiled all the way to 224B, only stopping when she saw Henry, withered in the bed.

His thinning, white hair was flattened against the pillow, his steely eyes half-open, and stubble covered his normally clean-shaven face. Ana turned to leave, but she stopped when Henry called out to her.

“Angel, is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me, Mr. Coleman. How are you feeling?” She noticed an infusion pump at his bedside.

“Not bad. Not bad. You came here just to see me?”

“Well, you know, if I don’t hear from Dorothy regularly, I get worried.” Ana smiled. “Ready to go home yet?”

“I wish,” he said. “It’s bad news this time, angel. Cancer.”

The word made her heart skip a beat.

Ana lifted Henry’s slipping gown onto his bony shoulder. “Mr. Coleman, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m going to beat this for Dorothy,” he said, his eyes damp with tears. “I can’t leave her alone.”

Ana nodded, though she knew that, at Henry’s age, the odds were likely against him. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

Henry smacked his lips together and made a face. “There’s a bowl of candies at the nurses’ station. The pretty young girl who changes my sheets brings them to me for this awful taste in my mouth. Think you can grab me some?”

“Sure thing.” Ana turned on her heels and froze when she saw Jared standing in the doorway.

“Cecelia told me you were here.” He adjusted the stethoscope around his neck and slid his hands into the pockets of his pleated Khakis. He wore a button-down dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, and a T-shirt underneath. He looked even more handsome without a lab coat.

Ana didn’t know what to say.

“Candy,” Henry whispered.

“Oh right. Jeez. I’ll be right back.”

The deep folds of Henry’s face retracted into a full smile. “No hurry.”

Ana brushed Jared when she walked past him, and her skin erupted in gooseflesh.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“No problem at all.” Jared’s smirk made her feel like a clumsy, giddy schoolgirl.

“I was going to see if you were working, since I was here visiting. I wanted to thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said, “and my offer stands, if there’s anything I can do.”

Another sign.

People offered help once out of politeness, twice when they really meant it.

“Anything?”

Jared tilted his head to meet her gaze. “
Is
there something I can do?”

“I don’t feel right asking.”

“Well now . . . you have my curiosity piqued. What is it?”

She hesitated a moment before answering. “I’ve been trying to get a copy of my sister’s lab reports, the pathology from her hysterectomy a little over four months ago, but her surgeon’s office says they don’t have them, and County says they’re lost.”

“It’s a computerized system. How can they be lost?”

“That’s what I said.”

“And you need someone to do some digging?”

“I don’t feel right asking you to jeopardize your job.”

“Why do you need the reports now, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Ana chewed her lower lip. “I’m not really comfortable talking about that.”

“I see.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” Ana reached out, needing for Jared to see that her interest in him was personal. “This whole issue, the thing I can’t really talk about yet, involves someone here. I can’t say more than that, but if I’m right, these records would prove wrongdoing on a criminal level. They would implicate a physician in ways I don’t feel comfortable dragging you into.”

“If it helps you figure out what happened to your sister, I’ll do whatever it takes.” Jared took Ana’s hand, and her breath stopped for a single, exciting second. “Ana, I’m not going to pretend I don’t have feelings for you. They’ve been there a long time, and now that I’ve filed for divorce, I can finally do something about them. I want to help you. I want to be friends and see where that leads. You can trust me, I swear it. I’ll get what you need because I want to.” The tenderness in his eyes had Ana falling in love. He pulled her closer, his face only inches from hers and said, “Tell me who the doctor is, and I’ll find out what happened.”

She leaned in, her lips nearly touching his ear, and whispered, “It’s Dorian Carmichael.”