GRACE SHUFFLED THROUGH the stack of mail on her desk at noon on Saturday, tossing the envelopes into the appropriate piles. She hesitated over the last one, addressed to the Blackberry Hill Director of Nursing from the Lakeview County Medical Examiner’s Office, then slit it open and spread the contents out on her desk.
Milton Striker. Height 177.8 cm. Weight 82 kg. Mild congestive heart failure. Marginally elevated BUN, indicative of mild renal failure. The other lab results were within normal range, including those values that would have indicated a myocardial infarction. No evidence of a CVA—stroke—or heart attack or internal bleeding.
She gathered up the papers and headed for the nurses’ station in the hospital unit, where she found Dr. Edwards standing at the desk writing a progress note, and the unit secretary working at her computer.
Grace handed the papers to the secretary. “Put a copy of this in Milton’s chart, and send copies to Dr. Reynolds and Mrs. Lang. Then you can take his chart up to the front office.”
Jill closed the folder in front of her. “Are those Milton Striker’s autopsy results?”
“There wasn’t much to report. The cause of death was listed as ‘chronic illnesses of old age.’”
“Nothing unusual?”
“Not at all. I’m sure Mrs. Lang and Dr. Reynolds will be happy to see the results.” She lowered her voice. “They were concerned, you know.”
Jill nodded. “Understandably so, after that other death a few weeks ago.”
Their gazes met, and Grace knew Jill was thinking the same thing. These days, litigation was all too common—even when there seemed to be no good cause.
“Which reminds me that I need to make an appointment with your husband one of these days. I’ve been meaning to have my will revised for ages.” Grace stretched a little, to relieve some of the arthritic pain in her back. “Facing retirement has reminded me of a lot of things I need to do…and of things I wish I’d done.”
Jill chuckled. “Like what?”
I wish I’d had a wild fling…with the only man I ever wanted to be with…. Grace gestured vaguely. “I’m going to pitch all of my sturdy nursing shoes and uniforms. Lose fifty pounds. Buy new clothes and go to Europe. Not one of those regimented, hand-holding tours for old folks, either. I want to stay in hostels and go at my own pace.”
“Somehow,” Jill said dryly, “it’s a little hard to imagine you leaving this hospital. Here you are, working through another weekend. I must see you here seven days a week. The only person who works longer hours is Mrs. Banks, and she’s practically lived here since her husband died.”
“I never had one to go home to, or to mourn. And seeing how her husband’s death affected her, maybe I was lucky. When I retire, I’ll be free as a bird. No ties, no one holding me back. No sad memories to drag me down.”
“You vagabond, you—I’m jealous.”
“You’ve got that handsome husband of yours, though. I don’t imagine he’d be thrilled to see you take off on an adventure for months.”
“I’m not sure he would even notice, frankly.”
“I suppose he’s as busy as ever?”
“I imagine so. Not that I have much firsthand knowledge.”
“Long hours?”
“Long and late. The last two mornings I just found a note on the counter, since he got in after I went to bed. You can call his secretary and set up an appointment to see him, but I honestly couldn’t tell you how long it will take for you to get in. I’m half tempted to make an appointment myself. For all I know, he might have dyed his hair orange or gone bald.”
OUT OF THE BLUE, Connor stopped by Erin’s on Sunday afternoon towing a utility trailer filled with chain-link fencing materials.
She put the last of the lunch dishes in the dishwasher, rinsed her hands and dried them on a towel as she watched him from the kitchen window. The kids had run outside the moment they heard his SUV pull to a stop by the garage, and now they stood at a respectful distance, watching him lay materials out on the ground.
Lily apparently asked him something, and he turned to look down at her with a grin that bracketed his mouth with deep dimples. Whatever he said to her made her smile.
Erin wavered, then tossed her dish towel on the counter and went out onto the porch to watch them for a few minutes.
Maybe she and Connor hadn’t parted on the best of terms at the hospital a few days earlier, but that didn’t mean she was going to hide in the house when he showed up. She’d seen the disbelief in his eyes at her suspicions about his uncle. She’d seen that disbelief turn to indignation, then cold resolve. He’d been offended by her refusal to accept his help…but that was hospital business, and nothing to do with the process of being good neighbors.
Tyler glanced over at her and waved vigorously. “He’s making a pen for Scout! A cool one—with lots of room, and a house! And,” he added with obvious relish, “he says he’s gonna come over to teach us how to fish with flies.”
“Really.” Erin grinned down at him. “That sounds truly fascinating.”
“He says we’d do better with bobbers, but we want to learn how he does it.”
Connor glanced up at the house and acknowledged her with a nod before turning back to pull a toolbox and a battered wheelbarrow from the trailer. He slammed the tailgate, then motioned Drew over. Together, they began digging a rectangular space, evening out the dirt.
When Erin came back out onto the porch twenty minutes later, they were pounding stakes into the ground to create a wooden form. Both Tyler and Lily were watching with rapt attention.
It would have been all too easy for Erin to watch, as well, for however long Connor stayed out there in the meadow.
The bright October sun gilded his skin, highlighting the strong angles of his face. With each powerful, downward stroke of the mallet, his black polo shirt stretched over the muscles playing across his upper back. His faded jeans molded his trim hips and strong thighs.
And his hands were definitely not those of a pampered city boy. They were lean and strong and tanned, and he handled the mallet as if he’d spent a career framing houses and building barns.
That masculine capability spoke to her on a level she knew she’d better ignore, right along with his easy rapport with Lily and the boys, and the sound of his warm laughter floating to her on the late afternoon breeze.
Foolish thoughts, she chided herself, as she went back inside and gathered a tray of chocolate chip cookies, lemonade and cups. Out in the yard she sidestepped Scout, who bounced against her legs as she walked over to the kids. “Anyone thirsty?”
Tyler and Lily jumped to their feet and each grabbed a handful of cookies, then waited impatiently as she poured them some lemonade.
Drew, who was kneeling in the dirt next to Connor and pounding in a stake, shook his head. “We gotta get this done before the truck comes.”
“Truck?”
“Cement truck—he’s gonna pour a kennel floor this evening.”
“On a Sunday night?”
Connor rocked back on his heels and surveyed the angles of the two-by-four framework, then pointed toward the opposite side. Drew moved over there and began pounding in another stake.
“The cement truck driver is one of my patients. We’re doing a little bartering, because his son has medical problems and they don’t have insurance.”
Erin raised a brow. “This looks like quite a project.”
He didn’t look up. “The pup can’t roam. It isn’t safe up in the hills, and he doesn’t stay home very well.”
“But this is such a permanent structure.” She surveyed the rolls of fencing materials. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Absolutely. Drew, you’ve been working really hard. Take a break while Erin and I chat a minute, okay?” Connor rose to his feet, met Erin’s eyes and tipped his head toward the garage. “I need to talk to you.”
Great. She put the refreshment tray down on a tree stump and followed him to the back of the garage. “Look, if this is about those Hadley charts—”
“It’s about another wolf sighting.”
Surprised, she lowered her voice. “Close by? Just one?”
“East of my house—not a hundred yards away—and some people living on the edge of town reported that their small dogs have disappeared. One of them spotted a gray wolf in the area that evening. I’m guessing that it’s the one I’ve seen up here.”
Her defensiveness faded. “I thought wolves avoided populated areas.”
“Livestock is easy prey for them, and there are large deer herds around here. I don’t want the kids to be frightened, but if wolves are going after small pets, you’d better keep a close watch on Scout.”
“And the kids?”
“Usually wolves avoid people, but I wouldn’t want them to take any chances.”
Erin shivered as images of huge, silent creatures flashed in her mind. “Thanks for the warning.”
She turned to go, but he caught her elbow gently. “Don’t take any chances yourself, either. Promise?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“I wish…” His eyes were intent, searching, and for just a moment, she imagined that he was going to move closer and kiss her. Erin felt a thrill race through her that made her knees go weak.
But then he released her arm and stepped back with a grave smile. “I understand your concern about the hospital…and its patients. But I want you to know that Striker’s autopsy results came back yesterday and were ruled as natural causes. I hadn’t seen the man until he was admitted through the E.R., but he had an appointment with Ed two months ago. All of his prescribed medications were appropriate, and the dosages were correct. None of them could have potentiated or otherwise interfered with the others.”
“Was he being seen regularly at Hadley’s clinic?”
“Striker had mild hypertension. A hiatal hernia. Arthritis. Diet-controlled diabetes. Ed carefully followed up on everything.”
“You think very highly of your uncle,” Erin said.
“He’s had a long, successful career. He established a free clinic for low-income mothers and babies—one that I’m covering while he’s away. He’s been well thought of by his peers, and he’s not a careless man.”
Yet she’d found records of several unexpected deaths at the hospital over the past five years. They’d occurred at seemingly random times, without a discernible pattern that might alert hospital officials, except that so far, every patient had been Hadley’s.
“I understand that you want to defend your uncle, and I can appreciate your loyalty. But I’m just trying to cover all the bases.”
“And I want to make sure that your…investigation doesn’t harm a good man.” Connor’s voice took on a definite edge. “He doesn’t deserve it, and it’s a damn easy way to ruin a reputation.”
“I’m not making any wild claims, Connor, and I certainly don’t have a vendetta against anyone.”
“Before you assume too much, promise that you’ll be careful. And if you need any help, call me.”
“Fair enough.”
But if malpractice had occurred, Hadley’s fine reputation wouldn’t matter. Erin owed it to the people of Blackberry Hill to see justice done.
ON TUESDAY MORNING, Connor pulled into a parking spot in front of the hospital, turned off the motor and rubbed his stubbled face with both hands.
He’d been called to the hospital the last two nights, and the late hours had taken their toll—hell, last night he’d never even made it back home. Right now, the thought of a good hot shower and then hitting the sack sounded so inviting that it would have been all too easy to throw the Tahoe back into gear and head for home.
But the box in the back of the vehicle was too important. He’d worked too hard, lost too much sleep, to risk delaying its delivery now.
He unfolded himself from behind the wheel and stretched, then rounded the back of the Tahoe and opened the tailgate, grabbed the box and strode into the hospital, ignoring the startled receptionist at the front desk and brushing past a nurse’s aide who scuttled out of his way.
A vaguely familiar form appeared in front of him as he turned down the administrative hallway.
“Well, well, well.”
The nasal tone hit Connor like the sound of fingernails scraping down a blackboard, and he nearly lost his grip on the slippery plastic box in his arms as he pulled to a halt. Revulsion snaked through him. “Wayne?”
“What a surprise.” The younger doctor gave Connor a sweeping glance, from his old running shoes to his faded jeans, then smirked as he met Connor’s eyes. “Doing deliveries now, I take it—of another kind. How appropriate.”
A dozen sharp replies shot into Connor’s mind, followed by the temptation to ram a fist into Wayne Bloom’s doughy midsection. But a moment of satisfaction would mean assault charges, and the spineless bastard just wasn’t worth it.
Connor adjusted his grip on the box and stepped around him. “Excuse me.”
Wayne moved directly into his path. “Excuses.” He tapped his lips with a forefinger. “Interesting choice of words, Reynolds. Do they know about you here? Do they know what you did? Or is that your little secret?”
Connor glanced over his shoulder. The hallway was deserted. “Tell me, Wayne. What did you get for your ‘efforts’ on my behalf? A nice Rolex? Money? Or did you do it out of the goodness of your heart?”
Wayne paled, but at the sound of voices coming from far down the hall, he reached up and coolly adjusted his collar. “I did the right thing.”
Connor lowered his voice. “No, you didn’t. And if I’d stayed around to prove it, you would have been in jail.”
“Really.” Wayne stepped aside and smiled as two nurses walked by. “Funny, but I’d say that entire hospital in Green Bay has a different opinion.”
“One not based on fact, believe me.” Connor leaned closer. “If you share your stories here, you’ll be hearing from a lawyer. Fast.”
Wayne’s mouth pursed into a smug smile. “Not my intent, buddy. Not my intent at all. In fact, I hope we will stay in touch. A good idea, don’t you think?”
His blood still simmering, Connor swore under his breath as he watched the man saunter through the lobby and out the front door. Not his intent—but something was. Connor spun on his heel and headed down the east wing corridor to the nurses’ station. Why had he shown up here?
Carl Miller looked up from his charting. “Hey, Doctor—what’s up?”
“I just passed a man in the hallway. Early thirties, maybe. Sandy, thinning hair. Packing an extra twenty pounds of belly. Wire-rims. Do you know what he was doing here?”
“I asked him that myself, because visiting hours don’t start until nine,” Carl said with a grin. “He said he’d just stopped in town to visit with his Aunt Maude in room 12, but she wasn’t in the mood for company so he didn’t stay long. Knowing Maude, she probably swore at him and sent him packing after the first hello.”
“Thanks.” So running into him had been a chance encounter, then. Nothing more than that.
At least, not yet.
Connor strode to Erin’s office. Rapped once on her door, then walked in and headed straight for her desk.
Her welcoming smile faded. “What—”
He dropped the box on her desk, then folded his arms across his chest. “You didn’t want my help, but you’ve got it. Now tell me, where do we start?”