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'Well, Lisa,' Elsa said cheerfully, 'we got through that one OK!'

Preoccupied with thoughts of the patients they had recently dealt with, as well as thoughts about her relationship with Marcus, Lisa was less than alert as she hurried through the front lobby an hour later to return a piece of equipment. It was thus with a jolt of something like horror that she saw a familiar figure passing through the lobby ahead of her.

Among the milling figures that thronged the main lobby she spotted a head of long blonde hair, styled in a ponytail.

Not absolutely sure that it was Charlene Damero, she nonetheless had an awful sinking feeling that it was her. It took Lisa only seconds to decide what she had to do.

'OK!' she said quietly, firmly, out loud to herself. 'I'm absolutely sick of this already. You're not going to terrorize me, if I have anything to do with it!'

She put on her white lab coat which she had handy, tucked her hair up into a surgical cap, put on a clean surgical mask and the glasses that she sometimes wore for reading small print. Briskly she walked round to the waiting room for ambulatory patients. As she walked down the corridor beside it, not pausing in her stride, she glanced in casually.

Yes, there was no mistake. The woman was sitting there sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup. Her clothing was different from last time, her hairstyle slightly different, yet there could be no mistake. She had the same brilliant red lipstick and carried the same multicoloured bag.

Lisa kept walking, cutting through a connecting door to get back the way she had come. Fear gripped her almost like a physical thing. It seemed ridiculous to be frightened of someone in that way, yet she was. Marcus—and Peter Johanson—had said that this woman could be a psychopath.. .and Lisa felt inclined to agree with them.

A psychopathic person, she reminded herself—as opposed to someone who had a psychosis, a mental illness—could appear perfectly normal a great deal of the time until you really got to know them. They generally had a glibness, a superficiality, a lack of empathy, an ability to manipulate, a charm, when they wanted something from someone.. .often a fatal charm. Lying came as naturally to them as breathing. Criminality was not uncommon with them—neither was murder.

Equally, they could turn nasty in the batting of an eyelid, especially when it became clear to them that they were not going to get what they wanted. In this case, the woman wanted Marcus. Somehow, Lisa doubted that Miss Damero would know what to do with him if she got him—her world was one of fantasy.

Lisa remembered then that there had been several security personnel in evidence when the accident victims had come in. Hurrying back to the lobby, she looked frantically around for one of them. A man she knew only as Doug was still in evidence, even though the crisis was nearly over. In other circumstances, they would have spotted Miss Damero themselves.

'Excuse me... Doug?'

'Hi.' He peered at her ID badge. 'Hi, Liz. What can I do for you?'

'Dr Blair spoke to your department on Monday about a woman who had been harassing him by the name of Charlene Damero,' she blurted out breathlessly.

'Yeah, I remember,' he said, looking at her closely. He was a big man, looking very competent in his navy blue uniform. 'She threatened you also, I believe. Yes?'

'That's right,' she confirmed. Doug obviously had made notes of all the details. 'Well, she's in the waiting room over there right now.' Briefly, she gave a description of the woman. 'Maybe we should nip this in the bud before she makes a nuisance of herself. I saw her come in a few moments ago. She manages to avoid the triage nurses.'

'Let me call for some reinforcements,' Doug said, releasing his walkie-talkie from his belt. 'We'll get her from all angles. You make yourself scarce, Liz.'

Marcus wasn't alone when she went to find him in a treatment room. 'Dr Blair,' she said quietly, 'Miss Damero is in the waiting room.'

When he slipped out with her she explained.

'Lisa,' he said wearily, 'come and have a quick cup of coffee with me in my office. It's time we had a break. Everything's under control here.'

'Yes, please,' she agreed, 'I've had nothing since breakfast.'

'OK. I'll tell Sadie where you are so that she won't come looking.'

When he took her elbow, walking swiftly, she didn't resist. Once inside his office he turned to her, after closing the door, his expression serious. 'I must apologize, once again, for all this,' he said, 'I feel pretty awful about it. Hopefully, it won't go on for much longer.'

'I certainly hope not,' she said tiredly. 'It is beginning to get to me, I have to admit that. You said it's been four years she's been harassing you? I don't think I could take four months.'

'This is a battle we'll win, Lisa. It's really my problem. I hate to see you involved…in any way.'

'I. . .1 am involved, unfortunately, whether I like it or not.'

'Let me get you some coffee.'

The coffee he poured for her was very hot, strong and good.

'Mmm. This is wonderful,' Lisa said, her mind occupied with thoughts of the security personnel escorting the threatening woman from the waiting room. Right now she was glad of the comfort of Dr Blair between her and a sick, nameless fear.

The door burst open and the nurse, Marie, came in. 'Dr Hanks is looking for you, Dr Blair,' she said abruptly, casting a look of surprise at Lisa as she stood leaning against the edge of Marcus's desk. There was veiled hostility in that glance.

'What for, Marie?'

'A consultation in room one.'

'Tell him I'll be there in about three minutes,' Marcus said crisply. 'And, Marie, never enter my office without knocking in future.'

When the nurse had gone Marcus looked at Lisa with an air of apology. 'She tends to get a bit.. .bossy,' he said.

'I've noticed.' Lisa drained her coffee-cup.

'Help yourself to more coffee,' he offered, as he looked at his watch. 'I have to go in a moment. Stay here for a while until we can be sure that Miss Damero has gone.'

'Thank you.' They were both standing, both thinking.

Images of herself as she had appeared to him on the night she had been admitted as an emergency case came to her now that she was alone with him in the small, cramped room. She wished he hadn't made those earlier comments today, which now served to make her self-conscious. He had seen her being undressed, her abdomen palpated, had taken the bag containing her blood-stained clothing, had witnessed her vulnerability... That knowledge seemed to hang between them now. It charged the atmosphere with an electric awareness, like the pressure in the air that built up before a storm. Lisa let out a sigh, disturbed by a premonition conjured up by her own analogy.

'Take a taxi home, will you?' Marcus said, 'I'd feel much happier. And do you have a call-display unit on your telephone at home? An answering machine?'

'No to the first question, yes to the second,' she said, suspecting what he might be getting at.

'I recommend that you get one,' he said seriously. 'Don't pick up the receiver unless you recognize the number. Let the machine answer it. Get your father to record the message on your machine. Don't give out your name or address on it. And another thing... I've hired a private detective to watch Miss Damero night and day, starting tomorrow, at least until she indicates her next move.'

When he had gone Lisa sat down at his desk to call her mother.

Lisa
went up to the ward area of Men
's
Surgical to see Mr Ottinger the next day after her work shift, where she found the patient asleep and a young woman sitting by the bed. Quietly Lisa introduced herself.

'Hi.' The other woman stood up and held out her hand. 'I'm his daughter, Barb Hager.' They both turned to look at the sleeping man. 'He's looking much better than he was at home. They operated on him yesterday—a colostomy. I've been up most of the night with him.'

'His colour is certainly much better than when he came in,' Lisa observed, taking in the details. Mr Ottinger still had a stomach tube in place, and was also getting intravenous fluids. Propped up in the bed, immobile, he still looked very sick.

The daughter motioned Lisa out into the corridor. 'What do you think his chances are?' she asked, fighting back tears. 'I've spoken to the surgeon. He said he has only a few months to live, and that all anyone can really do is make him comfortable as the tumour has spread beyond any sort of control.'

'Well. . .' Lisa began gently, not avoiding eye contact with the other woman, 'I expect he's right, but no one wants to put a time scale on someone else's life. I think you have to assume that, in the long term, he is not going to recover. In the short term it is important to let him know that he's being treated. He needs to have his general health maintained. And, of course, he needs someone to talk to.'

'That's what the young doctor said—Dr Logan,' Barbara said, wiping away tears. 'That's why he was given the blood transfusion. I'm very glad about that.'

'Yes,' Lisa said firmly, 'and we have a special care ward in this hospital for just such a purpose—so that patients can come in for a few days to be checked and maintained, then go home. It's a very good, hopeful sort of place. Dr Logan will tell you about that.'

'One thing I'm not sure about,' Barbara said hesitantly, 'is whether to tell my mother the news. They're divorced, you see. She knows he has cancer and that he was operated on before. What she doesn't know is that he.. .that he might not have long to live.' She began to sob quietly.

Lisa put an arm round her shoulders, searching for an appropriate answer. What if she were in the daughter's place? What would she do then?

'Would your mother want to come to see him?' she said, finding difficulty in controlling her own emotion. 'And—maybe more important—would he want to see her?'

'Yes,' the daughter said, 'I know my mother still loves him. She.. .she left him because he.. .he drank a lot for years. He was more or less an alcoholic. Then he had an affair with another woman. My mother couldn't take it any more so she left with us kids. That was some years ago, of course.' The tears were flowing freely now as the daughter remembered. 'I've been in two minds about what to do. I think he would want to see her, too.'

'Does he live with the other woman?' Lisa asked gently.

'No,' Barbara Hager said sadly. 'That ended a long time ago. He's alone now. There's me and my brother... We're both married and don't live with him, of course.'

'Maybe you should sound out your mother to see if she wants to come,' Lisa said slowly, 'and let her know the seriousness of the situation.'

'Yes.. .I'd better tell her... Better break it to her as soon as possible.'

'One of the doctors could talk to her first before she even sees your father. I'm sure Dr Logan would be willing to do that.'

'Yes. Thank you, Nurse.' Barbara made an attempt to smile, 'I feel relieved now.'

'I could speak to Dr Logan,' Lisa offered.

As luck would have it, Ted Logan was at the nursing station at the entrance to the ward as Lisa made her way out. Within minutes she had waylaid him and explained the situation.

'Sure, I'll talk to the guy's ex-wife,' he agreed. 'Sounds to me as though she ought to know. I'll speak to the daughter, too. I'm on my way to see Mr Ottinger as soon as I've written up a few notes here.
^?

'I'm glad he's being well looked after.'

'One of the staff-men actually queried the blood transfusion we were giving him,' Ted Logan said, running a hand wearily through his short, fair hair. 'He actually said it was a waste of blood and asked me why I was giving it.'

'What did you say?' Lisa asked, sharing his disgust.

'I told him that it makes the patient feel better,' Ted said emphatically. 'I told him that was my number one mandate. I also told him that I didn't know it was hospital policy to write people off. He didn't have anything to say to that. Just walked away.'

'Good for you, Ted,' Lisa said warmly.

'Dr Claibourne's pretty good, but he's so pressured all the time that he's more or less left the day-to-day care of Mr Ottinger to me. If necessary, I'll get Dr Blair to back me up.'

'Yes,' Lisa agreed soberly, 'he'll back you up all the way.'

'You know, I had a patient once who had cancer all over his body—he was terminal—and the staff-man ordered a blood transfusion to build the guy up a bit. In a few weeks all signs of tumour in that patient had disappeared. No one knew why. It was attributed to the transfusion he had had. Everyone got very excited, of course, and they traced the donor—did all sorts of tests on him.'

'That's amazing. What did they find?'

'Nothing of any significance,' Dr Logan said, 'because they didn't know what they were looking for, of course. They were shooting in the dark.'

It was a beautiful spring day. As Lisa left the hospital to go home her spirits lifted at the sight of the sun shining in a clear blue sky, even though it was not yet very hot. It promised much.

At first she didn't notice the car that crawled next to her along the side of the pavement as she walked briskly away from the hospital, her bag swinging carelessly from one hand. Her thoughts were on Emma Kate—how much she was missing her, how much she longed to pick her up and hug her.

'Hey, bitch!' a voice called, a woman's voice. 'Hey! Hey, you!'

The sound finally got through to Lisa and she stopped. There were a few other people around, though not close enough to hear the words which were directed at her alone.

With a sinking heart Lisa realized she knew the owner of that voice, even before she turned to confirm it.

Charlene Damero was sitting at the wheel of a car, the window wound down on the driver's side. Her long hair hung freely over a skimpy sleeveless top that fitted her tightly, emphasizing her abnormally large breasts. She wore sunglasses.

'You think you're so smart, don't you?' the woman shouted, a sneer in her voice. 'Getting me escorted from the hospital. Let me tell you, that won't work. There's nothing I won't do to be near Marcus. Nothing! Do you hear me?'