Maddy's Floor (16 page)

Scott appeared to be sleeping, at peace except for the wrinkles across his forehead. Drew stopped at the foot of his bed. "Mr Durnham? I'm Detective Drew McNeil from the Cold Case Squad."

Scott's eyes flew open, his face creasing in a weak smile. "Detective."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I had my head bashed in."

Drew grinned at the pissed-off tone. Anger was good. It kept one focused. Giving in was like giving up. Not so good for healing or for catching bad guys though. "Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"Not much. I was getting into my car when pain exploded at the side of my head."

"You didn't see your attacker?"

Scott wrinkled up his face. "Nope. I thought someone called me but when I started to turn around, the lights went out."

"What were you doing there?"

"Having a free breakfast at the seniors' center. Free, my ass. Had to stand in line for almost an hour, put up with shit from everyone else, then got into an argument. I should have stayed home."

"An argument?" Drew stepped closer, pulling up the single chair and sat. "What was that all about?"

"My wife's diary. I had it in my pocket, and that prick, Brent, made a comment about it. Then he followed it by a worse one about my dead son and I lost it. I thought I was done blowing up about all that mess, but apparently not." Scott moodily tugged at the sheets covering his chest.

"No one has seen a diary. It didn't come to the hospital with you, and the detective handling the case didn't see one at the scene."

Scott stared at him. "It was in my jacket pocket when I was in Emergency. I'm sure of that."

With Scott watching, Drew opened the locker beside the bathroom. He gathered up everything and dumped the lot on Scott's bed. Scott pushed himself back up against the pillows to watch.

Drew turned his attention to the jacket. He slipped his hands inside the pockets, first one then the other. "No diary." He laid the jacket within the injured man's reach.

Scott frowned and pulled it toward him, checking for himself. "I talked with the little Italian nurse about it. Told her the whole story."

Drew slowly went through the remaining items. There was no sign of the missing book. "Was it close in size to the others?"

"Exactly like the ones with the little lock on it. This one had blue sparkly things on it."

"Well, it's not here. Did it sit inside the pocket well or stick out? Could it have fallen out?"

"It fit in just fine. I kept my hand on it most of the time anyway." Scott dropped the jacket. "I suppose it's possible that it fell out somewhere. I've gotta find it. I need to ask the nurses." He threw back the bedding and swung his legs around the side. He groaned and grabbed his head.

"Whoa. I'll go. You stay here and rest up. You're no help if you don't get better." Drew helped him back under the covers. "I'll be right back."

"Thanks. I don't want that last one to go missing. I was telling the nurse about it. It's the one my wife wrote at the time of our son's death. I'd been looking for it for years. I'm finally going through the last of my wife's stuff. She's been gone so long now. I figured it's time I sell the old place." He stared at Drew as he leaned back. "I'd sure like to learn the truth before I die."

"I'm working on it, Scott. We'd all like to know what happened."

"Good to hear." With that, Scott leaned back and closed his eyes.

Drew took that as a good time to leave. He stopped in at the nurses' center first. After showing his identification, he asked about the diary.

"Sorry, I haven't seen it." The nurse pulled up Scott's information on the computer. "There's no notation of it here." She frowned. "He's sure he had it with him?"

"Yes, one of the nurses commented on it in Emergency."

"It didn't arrive here. You can check with them, maybe they're holding it over there." Her polite smile clearly said it wasn't her problem.

Not surprising. Stuff went missing all the time. "Thanks, I'll check there."

The nurse was already talking to someone else. He walked back toward Emergency, wondering if they had a lost and found here. He stopped to ask a nurse. They did, only the trip there proved fruitless.

Back at Emergency, he had to pull his badge in order to learn which nurses had attended Scott. Two nurses were still on shift. "I'd like to speak to them, please." The diary might or might not have important evidence in it but without it, he wouldn't know. He had to trust that Scott's memory hadn't played tricks on him and that he had indeed had the diary in his pocket while here.

A harried looking nurse approached from behind the counter. "You needed to see me?"

She frowned after hearing his problem. "I didn't see the diary myself. Sofie was there with me." She turned around, spotted the woman in question. "Sofie, can you come here for a second?"

The other woman, short and dark haired, walked over. "What's up?"

Drew quickly explained the problem. Sofie's face lit up. "That was such a pretty little book. I haven't seen those in decades. My mother used to write in one. And such a tragic story with it. That poor man."

"It's gone missing. Do you have any idea where it might have ended up?"

Sofie frowned. "No. I put it in the bag with his clothes. That's how I noticed it. We talked a little bit about it, and then I had to go. His personal effects should have traveled to his room with him."

It was Drew's turn to frown. "They did. Without the diary."

He asked a few more questions about who might have seen the diary and if someone had wanted to remove it, when it could have happened. He understood the women didn't like the line of questioning, but they answered readily enough.

The bag had stayed with Scott at all times. In theory, anyone who came by, treated him or moved him had access to the bag. It had no resale value. It might be considered a curiosity worth lifting though. However, as it was inside the closed bag, no one would know the diary was there. It was only important to Scott – and of course himself.

MONDAY

G
erard opened the door to the outer office as quietly as he could. Sandra was at the coffee maker, her back to him. Perfect. Maybe he'd be able to sneak past. His super efficient admin assistant was damn irritating sometimes.

"Good morning."

Gerard stiffened. Damn it. She'd heard him.

"Late, huh?" she said.

"Yeah, bad morning," he said, walking into his office and slammed the door shut.

Sandra opened it almost immediately. "Dr. Chandler called."

"What?" Gerard spun around, his back to the window. Not Chandler again. "What did he want?"

"He didn't say. He asked for Maddy's number." Sandra dropped several pieces of mail on his desk and turned to leave.

Instinctively, Gerard flung out his hand. "Wait. Did you give him her number?"

"Of course. Maddy's a big girl, but even she can't make a decision if she doesn't know the choices."

"Are you nuts?"

She turned and the door slammed behind her, leaving Gerard alone, sputtering in shock. Oh God, he didn't dare lose Maddy. The Haven would spin into a major crisis. Dr. Chandler wasn't allowed to steal her away. No way. "I need a new secretary, for Christ's sake, and maybe a new doctor. Damn it, Sandra, what have you done?" he cried.

From the other side of the door, she called back, "Nothing. Maddy's not likely to leave. As long as you treat her right."

Right. And he'd just added a patient she hated to her floor, cut her budget and increased her patient roster. He clenched the back of his chair. What should he do? Oh Lord, what should he do?

"By the way," Sandra's voice came through the door. "Maddy called. She wants to talk to you."

Oh shit.

His door shoved open and Sandra walked in again. Raising his gaze, anger and frustration warred inside him. He opened his mouth to blast Sandra when he saw the man behind her. Detective Drew McNeil. Damn it. He quickly schooled his features into a polite welcome while eyeing his visitor carefully. Why was he here? Personal or professional?

Gerard walked around his desk and shook hands with Drew. "Drew, nice to see you again. Please have a seat." Gerard sat down. His office phone beeped, and he pushed a button, cutting off the caller.

Catching the detective's questioning look, Gerard grinned sheepishly. "Some idiot did an article on the new wing opening up, now the phones won't quit ringing. People are trying to nab the unclaimed beds."

Focusing on the man across the desk from him, Gerard stretched out his arms and clasped his hands together. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to ask a few questions. It won't take a moment." Drew settled back into his chair and studied Gerard's face. "What do you know about Jansen Svaar's death?"

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Gerard answered honestly, "Nothing. I only hear if there's a problem."

"And the bed placements?"

"The doctors arrange those to suit the needs of the patients. I have nothing to do with it." Gerard didn't know what the detective was getting at. His next question confused him even more, and started his stomach acids bubbling. Six dead kids from thirty years ago? He frowned. "I knew a couple of them. They went to my school. Everyone who lived here back then would remember those kids. I can't remember any details. Only that no one seemed to know what happened. Why are you asking?"

"Just following up a lead. Now, I understand from Dr. Maddy that, in order to get on her floor, there are stringent requirements in place – a prognosis of greater than six months to live, being one." Drew paused as he searched through his notes, then glanced up, sending Gerard a hard questioning look. "So how did my uncle's application get approved? Apparently, he's been given only three months to live."

Ice filled Gerard's veins. Managing a weak smile, he shuffled the mail on his desk. "Our criteria aren't always so cut and dry. Many elements are discussed before the administrators and medical teams involved determine who is approved." He looked directly at the detective. "Thankfully, it's not my decision alone, or any one person's determination. The waiting list is long and getting longer by the minute." He grimaced at the flashing lights on his phone. "Especially after today."

***

Gerard had fussed about purchasing more cameras. Maddy had talked him around. Two were being installed as she sat in her office – one to shine on the stairwell and one for the new area. She'd prefer more. This was a place to start though. With the weird energy invading her floor, she wanted to stay here all the time, to move right in so she could watch over everyone. Still, even if she did, she wouldn't be able to watch over everyone all at the same the time.

She'd love to discuss the black energy issue more with Drew. He needed some adjustment time after their last talk before she nailed him with this mess. Once the floor calmed for the night, she planned to do energy readings. She needed to know how far off balance the energy on her floor had shifted after Jansen's death and the arrival of three new patients.

Nancy popped her head in the door. "I'm heading home." She sighed. "Don't stay too late. You need your sleep. Especially with the extra workload."

"How's the newest patient..." Maddy wracked her brain. "John McNeil settling in?"

"The irascible soul is hell on wheels. He's in bed and is ecstatic about being here."

"Good. They make for the best patients." So this was the detective's uncle. That meant she could expect to see Drew soon. Hopefully not until tomorrow. He sent her energy flying, which made it hard to do neutral readings.

Nancy smirked. "This one will be a handful, no matter what."

"I'll go down and say 'hi' in a couple of minutes."

"Good luck. Too bad Dr. Cunningham isn't here… again." With that, she closed the door, leaving Maddy alone with her thoughts.

Dr. Cunningham had popped in briefly. In his early sixties, he spent most of his time working on the hospital side, his first love. She never complained about the workload because bringing another doctor onboard would affect the energy balance of the floor even more. Dr. Cunningham pulled his weight, was there to help when she got overwhelmed, and left her and her project alone the rest of the time. A perfect system until she became overwhelmed…

Maddy walked down the hallway to check on the cameras. She found the one in the stairway up and functioning. Good. That was one less thing to distract her. She strode down to where the new patient should be. The camera in that area should cover the new wing without affecting the privacy of the patients. Time to welcome John to her floor.

Arriving at his bedside, she smiled at the sight. He had a small, almost shriveled frame with a huge chest that puffed up at the sight of her.

"Good evening, John. Welcome to The Haven."

John's face lit up. For all his apparent joy at the move, it was evident he had found the excitement and the trip arduous. Any move was incredibly stressful on a patient of his age. But what she saw was so much more. Maddy immediately shifted her viewing so she could see his energy more clearly… and frowned. He wasn't just ill and looking for a place for his last year where he could enjoy some quality of life. John was dying – and would soon. Not today, not tomorrow, however, she doubted he'd last more than ten weeks. Her frown deepened. Her floor in The Haven was not a hospice unit, for all the misunderstandings in the public's view. For this floor she only accepted patients much healthier than John. Something had gone wrong in the selection process.