Home at last. Susan Randall moved her shoulders in slow circles to ease the tension raised by the series of delays she had experienced during the morning's journey from Florida. An hour's delay in the departure of the flight. Traffic snarls due to construction. She had hoped to be home long before noon. She looked at her watch. Nearly one o'clock.
The limousine driver dropped her bags on the porch. After paying the man, she waited for him to leave. Then she fished the house key from the jumble in her purse and opened the front door. Why hadn't she stuck to her original plan and left last night? Instead, she had allowed her parents to persuade her to stay until this morning. Another failure in assertiveness, she thought.
The two weeks in Florida had exhausted her. With a sigh, she opened the front door and lifted the suitcases. Worry over the outcome of her father's abdominal surgery and coping with her mother's fears had drained her. Her father's uncomplicated recovery had given her parents time to offer advice on how she should live her life.
It's been nearly a year and a half since Jim's death. How long are you going to grieve? You're thirty-five. Isn't it time to let him go and build a new life?
Variations on the theme had been endless. The unsolicited advice and opinions had only increased her inner restlessness.
Susan dropped the suitcases beside the brown and white couch. How could she admit to her parents that fear of losing her identity again and not grief had governed her choices? Until the restraints had vanished, she hadn't realized she had been wrapped in a cocoon. If Jim hadn't died, her contentment with her life would have lasted. He would have continued to make decisions for every moment of their life and she wouldn't have protested. He had bound her so tightly, there had been little need for family, friends or children. During the past eighteen months, making decisions for the slightest change had been difficult, but she had learned. She had no intention of ceding her newfound independence.
Why would she want to find another man and plunge into the same kind of dependency? The odds of settling into a similar relationship were high. How many of her friends had she watched leave one man and find another with the same traits? She couldn't take the chance not until she gained confidence in herself. Besides, her life would remain serene as long as her emotions remained in a coma.
The wall clock chimed. Startled, she looked up. One forty-five. How long had she drifted in thought? She'd better move before she arrived late for work, an act she hadn't committed in her thirteen years at Bradley Memorial Hospital.
When she took off her coat, she saw the basket of gold and rust-colored chrysanthemums on the coffee table. She reached for the card.
"Welcome home. Talk to you soon. Patrick."
Warmth infused her. She touched one of the feathery blooms. This wasn't the first time one of his unexpected presents had raised her spirits.
As she ran upstairs, she pushed aside questions about his intentions. Patrick was her friend and tenant. He had been Jim's friend, too. She refused to believe there was more, and yet, she remembered a night when there had been. She shook her head. She needed a friend, not a lover.
Moments later, she stood in the shower. Warm water washed away the sour smell of nervous perspiration. Though the tension caused by the multitude of delays eased, she sensed it lurking like the remnants of a nightmare. She stepped from the shower, dried and dressed in a white uniform. If traffic cooperated and the line at the deli was short, she would reach the hospital in time to step into her role as a nurse. That Susan was completely different from the shadow woman Jim had created. At the hospital, she was confident, decisive and in control.
At twenty minutes to three, Susan entered the locker room on Five Orthopedics. She changed from boots to shoes, punched her time card and draped a Sprague-Rappaport stethoscope around her neck. Then she stepped into the hall.
As she approached the nurses' lounge, her pace slowed. She inhaled a deep breath. Why the sudden reluctance? For the past year and a half, being at the hospital five evenings a week had been her escape from loneliness. What had changed? While searching for an answer, she opened the lounge door.
"Do you really think I'll tell you?" Barbara Denton's strident voice rasped against Susan's nerve endings. "Believe me, when I say it's dynamite. Someone isn't going to like what I've learned. And let me tell you, this time, I have all the facts."
The practical nurse's harsh laughter and the veiled threat in her voice added to Susan's uneasiness. Whom had Barbara targeted this time? Her stories always contained a dram of truth but little more. Susan halted in the doorway and waited to hear further hints of scandal. When the practical remained silent, Susan stepped into the room and closed the door.
The hospital's gossip queen sprawled on the bright green loveseat facing the door. She stabbed a cigarette toward the round table that was partly hidden by the jutting powder room wall. A gold bracelet glittered on her arm and slid up and down as she used the cigarette to emphasize the importance of the tidbit she dangled.
Susan shook her head. Had anyone reminded Barbara that smoking in the hospital was illegal? Would it matter? The practical had chosen to break the rule, but so did the unit's nurse manager.
"Don't tease," Susan said. "We know you're dying to tell all."
One of the two nurses seated at the round table jumped up. "Welcome back," Julie Gilbert said. "How was your trip? You look terrific."
"The trip was nice." Susan smiled. A year ago, during Julie's first three months on the unit, Susan had been the younger nurse's mentor. They had become friends.
Barbara flicked a long ash from her cigarette. "Would you look at the tan? Bet you didn't spend your entire two weeks playing private duty nurse. Sure wish I could afford two weeks in the sun."
"The rent was free." Susan crossed to the credenza and reached for the coffeepot.
"As if you have to worry." Barbara's words flowed on a stream of smoke. "Bet your husband left you tons of insurance money. All I ever got from mine was a stack of unpaid bills."
"Three times." When Julie turned to look at the practical, sunlight glinted on the silver clip that held her long hair at her nape. "You sure know how to pick them." Her grin was as saucy as her voice.
"About as good as you." Barbara's hand hovered over a Styrofoam cup. "If you think you're going anywhere with De Witt, think again."
Julie made a face. "You'll soon see how wrong you are."
"Sure I will," Barbara drawled. "Ask Trish about him. After all, she followed him here. Hey, Trish, was it love or another reason?"
What did Barbara mean? Susan glanced at Trish Fallon. Her bony shoulders hunched and her lower lip trembled. Trish and De Witt? The unlikely combination made Susan want to laugh. She stepped toward the table until a flash of anger in the thin nurse's pale eyes halted her in mid stride. Why the attempt to provoke a quarrel between Julie and Trish?
Julie walked around Susan. "It's really great to have you back. Like the new hairstyle. How much weight did you lose?" She grinned. "Is there something you're not telling us? Who is he?"
Susan added milk to the coffee she had poured. "I have no secrets."
"Ain't that the truth," Barbara said. "And believe me, I've searched." She stubbed her cigarette. "Let me tell you what happened to me while you were gone. You saved my life."
Trish rose. Julie groaned.
Though curious, Susan didn't want to be a captive audience for one of Barbara's tales. She edged toward the door. "Catch you later. I want to check meds before report."
"Hold on. This is something you need to know. I'll give you the abridged version." Barbara lit another cigarette.
Susan glared. "Put that out. You know the rules."
The practical took a deep drag. "Saturday night, I was nearly mugged in the parking lot. If some man hadn't shouted your name, who knows what would have happened. Any idea who your guardian is?"
"No. I'd say you were lucky someone yelled."
"Pity." Trish pushed past Susan and entered the powder room.
Susan shook her head. What had Barbara done to Trish?
Barbara blew smoke rings at Susan. "You'd better be careful. Most nights, you're the last one out of here."
The words sent a chill along Susan's spine. "Who would want to hurt me?"
"Susan's never careless. Susan has no secrets. She's perfect." Trish slammed the powder room door.
Susan shook her head. During the past two weeks, the atmosphere on the evening shift had deteriorated. When she had left for vacation, there had been no problems. Tonight, Barbara seemed determined to make trouble. One of these days, the practical would irritate the wrong person and she'd find herself out of a job.
"Don't you think someone should do something about the parking problem?" Barbara asked. "Why should days get to park beside the hospital and evenings get stuck across the street in the middle of a cemetery?" Her voice rose to a crescendo.
Susan stepped into the hall. "Don't ask me. Talk to someone from administration."
"I have and all they say is there's never been a problem before. How--" The door closed and cut off the woman's strident voice.
Welcome back to Five Orthopedics. Did every hospital have a Barbara? Susan groaned. This was rapidly becoming one of those evenings when she didn't want to be here.
She paused beside the doctor's desk and studied the census board. Would she be happier on another unit? Should she leave Bradley Memorial? The urge to change, to explore, to do something different arose, but she knew she wasn't ready to take such drastic action.
"That's the first time she's related her grand adventure in less than thirty minutes and without dramatic embellishments," Julie said. "Why don't they put her on probation or something?"
Susan shrugged. "Guess she knows where the bodies are buried. I swear she knows how many times we breathe during a shift."
Julie laughed. "And if she doesn't, she'll invent a number."
"Are you having a problem with her?"
"Not exactly."
"Can I help?"
"No one can." Julie pushed a portable chart rack toward Susan. "Good luck. Since Trish and I refuse to work with her, you have the honor tonight. District Two."
"Some things never change." Resentment tightened Susan's shoulder muscles. Since Barbara usually cooperated with her, the nurse manager routinely paired them.
Unfair, Susan thought. Tomorrow, she planned to come in early and confront Meg about the situation.
She pulled the chart rack to the section of the desk where she usually sat. Several of the day nurses clustered in front of the counter. One of them pulled Julie into the medication room for narcotic count. Susan answered questions about her vacation and checked the medication book against the doctors' orders.
Julie emerged from the med room. "How's your father? Barbara had me so rattled I forgot to ask."
"As stubborn as ever. When I lectured him about the need for fiber in his diet, he laughed. What does one do with a father who's a junk food addict?"
"Love him."
Susan chuckled. "He handles the temporary colostomy like a pro."
"Then I was right. He has diverticulitis."
Susan nodded. "I owe you a dinner. Let me know when you're ready to collect." She reached for the district care plan book and motioned to one of the day nurses. As the woman began report, Barbara sauntered into the station and leaned against the counter.
The early hours of the shift were hectic. Susan felt as though she chased the hours she'd lost on the airport runway and in crawling past construction barriers. With eleven unfamiliar patients, she had no time to dwell on the undercurrents she had sensed in the lounge or on her own restlessness.
At six thirty, she finished second medication rounds and walked to the lounge for her dinner break. As she entered the room, Barbara lit another cigarette.
"Go out and watch for call lights," Susan said.
"Will you be finished by seven?" Barbara asked. "I want evening care to be done before you drop out for nine o'clock meds."
"My break begins when you're out of here."
"I'm going. I'm going." Barbara stubbed her cigarette and slipped the butt into a silver case she said one of the patients had given her. "Isn't it about time for Leila to make rounds? Wouldn't want the supervisor to think I was goofing off."
"Goodbye, Barbara." Susan carried a salad and a cup of coffee to the table. Fifteen minutes later, the lounge door opened and Leila walked in.
"You're late," Susan said.
Leila poured a cup of coffee. "It's been one of those evenings. ICU had a visitor who refused to leave. The OR needed four units of blood stat. A patient on Five Med/Surg fell." She sat across from Susan. "I like the hair. It's about time you colored the gray."
"That's what my mother said, plus a lot of other advice." Susan closed the salad container. "Why don't we get together for lunch tomorrow and I'll fill you in about the state of nursing practice in Florida?"
Leila lit a cigarette.
Susan raised an eyebrow. "I thought you quit."
"Stress."
"And the rules?"
"Will you turn me in?"
"I might. About lunch?"
"I can't. I have class. Just one more semester."
Susan cleaned the area of the table she had used. "Wednesday?"
Leila shook her head. "I'm picking up my new car. Do you have time to talk about one of your co-workers?"
"Here? I wouldn't want to chance being overheard. What about Friday?"
"I'll be away. It's a four-day weekend."
"Joe?" Susan asked.
A dreamy look misted Leila's dark eyes. "We're going to his hunting cabin."
"Don't you ever get tired of spending so little time with him?"
"Quality counts." Leila's smile brought an elegant charm to her pointed features. "It's a good relationship. We both know how much we're willing to give. I don't want him to leave his wife and marry me."
A fleeting shadow in her friend's eyes made Susan wonder why Leila lied to herself. On the surface, her friend acted like a realist, but Susan knew the hidden romantic. For twelve years, she had watched Leila hide that part of her nature.
Susan rose. "I'd better leave before Barbara comes looking for me. Wouldn't want her to think I was goofing off with the supervisor."
Leila made a face. "She's at the top of my problem list."
"Then we definitely couldn't talk here. I think she's bugged the lounge."
"I wouldn't put it past her." Leila raked her fingers through her short blonde curls in a nervous gesture Susan had seen Leila use since her divorce.
Susan stepped into the hall. "Let me know when we can get together."
"Probably next week." Leila waved and ducked into the storage room hall used by the nurses as a shortcut to the elevators.
As Susan neared the utility room, a cart shot from the doorway. Barbara caught the handle in time to prevent an accident. "Good," she said. "You're right on time."
"And you're efficient."
"Wasn't me." The practical's hands rested on her ample hips. "While you were loafing in the sun, the volunteer took over the job."
Susan smiled. "How nice of him. Let's go."
From seven until nearly nine, Susan and Barbara moved from room to room, straightening beds, rubbing backs and doing special treatments. Each time Susan stopped to explain a test of to do pre-op teaching, Barbara groaned and looked at her watch. Susan refused to be pushed and deliberately ignored the broad hints.
While they worked, Barbara's mouth remained in constant motion. "Kit has a new boy friend. He's a real loser... The other night De Witt and Mendoza nearly came to blows over a patient's treatment. Julie blew up at Trish and defended De Witt. That girl sure is uptight these days. You saw the way she reacted this afternoon when I tried to warn her about his intentions...I think Trish is anorexic or something... Boy, Leila's sure looking smug these days. Wonder who she plans to stomp. Better not be me... I know..."
By the midpoint of the district, Susan had tuned out the strident voice. She refused to request details or ask the questions Barbara's statements demanded. At nine, she left Barbara in the last room of the district and stepped into the hall.
Trish pushed a med cart past the door. "Aren't you caught up yet? You should learn to cut corners the way the rest of us do." The thin nurse spoke so fast her words ran together.
"Slow down," Susan said.
As though Trish hadn't heard the warning, she moved away with the speed of the final runner on a relay team. Susan shook her head. One of these days, in her haste to finish first, Trish would make a mistake.
Moments later, Susan entered the pentagon-shaped med room. Julie stood at the refrigerator. In both hands, she clutched plastic pouches of intravenous antibiotics. She closed the door with her foot. "Looks like you're almost caught up. Wish I could have helped you."
"There wasn't any way you could have." Susan put her med book on top of her district's cart. "If Barbara does her share of charting, I'll be out of here on time."
"Your idea of on time, no doubt. Have you ever clocked out at eleven thirty?"
"A time or two."
"What did you learn from Barbara? Any hints about her big story?"
"Before I tuned her out, she rattled on and I've jumbled all her tales together." Susan unlocked the narcotic cabinet and removed a box of Valium. "If you want to help me untangle them, we could stop at the diner after work."
"I can't. Larry's here to clear a patient for surgery tomorrow. We're meeting at the Oasis. Though Barbara doesn't believe me, I'm getting a ring for Christmas."
Susan returned the Valium to the cabinet. Would there really be an engagement ring for Julie? What the younger nurse saw in De Witt puzzled Susan. In the two and a half years since the leonine young doctor had joined his uncle's practice, De Witt had dated most of the hospital's available nurses and a few who weren't. Did Julie really believe he'd marry her? Julie was young enough to think she was different from the other victims of his charm.
Five minutes later, Susan pushed the med cart into the cull de sac off the main corridor. The patients in the private rooms along the short hall were being treated for bone infections and she had to hang the first round of IV medications.
The volunteer stepped out of the first private room. "Mrs. Randall, welcome back. How's your father?"
"Doing nicely." She smiled.
"I'm glad." A matching smile softened his chiseled features. "You've been busy this evening."
She nodded. "It's a matter of settling into the routine again. Tomorrow will be better." She entered the room he had just left.
After hanging the medicine, she left the room and halted in the doorway. The volunteer leaned against the wall across from the door with a hand pressed against his chest. His dark eyes held a glimmer of fear.
"Mr. Martin, are you all right?"
As she spoke, his stance relaxed. "Angina. Took a nitro."
"Is there anything I can do?"
He shook his head. "I'm fine now."
She watched him walk away. His short clipped hair suited his bearing and his gait. He seemed to have recovered from the brief attack, but she decided to check him when she finished the first round of antibiotics. She entered the room next to the patients' lounge.
Barbara stepped away from the bed. "She's on the bedpan. Take her off. I'm going on break and I'm late."
As the practical left the room, Susan saw a gold bracelet. Glimpses of the unusual piece had tantalized her all evening and she wanted a closer look. Was this another gift from a "grateful" patient?
* * *
He stood in the shadows just beyond the brightly-lit Emergency Room entrance. She was here. A series of quickly inhaled breaths brought a feeling of euphoria. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and savored visions of what was to come.
He felt the softness of her skin and of his fists pummeling her body. Susan would be with Mommy and he would be free. There would be no one to scold him for doing the things that made him feel so powerful and so strong.
He slapped his jacket pocket and growled. No hard piece of metal pressed against his hip. Susan was here. What had he done? He had planned this event so carefully but somehow, he had forgotten a vital piece of the plan. He pulled off his gloves and shoved his hands into his pockets.
What would he do now? He rocked from his heels to his toes. It had to be tonight. He couldn't wait.
The glow of anticipation faded. He struggled to renew the fire.
Susan was like Mommy. Until he closed her eyes, he couldn't act. Before he had a chance to make those people pay for what they had done to Mommy she had to die. He knew she would tell on him.
"I'll never leave you. They'll have to kill me first."
"Mommy, don't leave me."
At ten fifteen, Susan pushed the med cart into the nurses' station. "If anyone wants me, I'll be in the back." Her feet ached. She needed the lift a cup of coffee would bring.
When the unit secretary turned in her chair, her red hair swirled like a matador's cape. "Bad news," Kit Carbonari said. "When I got back from break, I found a note about an admission. Guess who has the empty bed? It's a seventy-year-old with a fractured hip."
"Murphy's Law," Susan mumbled. No break tonight. The next half-hour would be spent with the new patient. She abandoned the med cart in the middle of the nurses' lounge, strode across the room and opened the door.
"Barbara, let's go. We're getting an admission."
No strident voice answered. No acrid aroma of cigarette smoke tainted the air. Where was the practical?
As she retraced her steps to the nurses' station, her shoes slapped against the dark green carpet. She paused at the desk. "Has anyone seen Barbara?"
Kit shook her head. "She didn't take break with us. Acted like she had a hot date."
"Guess it's gossip rounds tonight." One of the practicals giggled. "Think of all the juicy stories she'll have when she gets back."
"And the ones about us she'll spread." Trish reached for another chart. "Someone should plug her mouth."
Julie turned in the chair at the doctors' desk where she sat beside De Witt. "Is there a problem?" she asked. "Can I help?"
"Just an admission and no Barbara." On her way to the clean utility room, Susan paused beside the younger nurse.
De Witt captured Julie's hand the way a lion grasps its prey. "Don't be late." As he rose, he smoothed his ash blond hair and slung a black leather jacket over his shoulder. He strode down the hall.
"Go get the equipment," Julie said. "As soon as I finish this chart, I'll meet you in the patient's room."
Moments later, Susan entered the semi-private room and dropped an egg crate mattress on the foot of the bed next to the door. Leaving the hospital at eleven thirty had become an impossible dream.
"I knew it was too good to last." The patient by the window raised the head of her bed. "Sure hope she doesn't snore."
"You'll soon know."
"What's wrong with her?"
"You know I can't tell you. After she arrives, you can share tales of your adventures."
"Maybe she'll be as jolly as my last roommate."
The traction apparatus from the former patient remained in place. Susan moved the weight bar from the right to the left. As she worked, she mentally listed the equipment she'd need. A foam Buck's boot, weights, ropes, elastic bandages, Barbara's help.
The clot of anger she had hidden from the other nurses loosened. The moment she saw the practical, Susan knew she would explode. Barbara had been away from the unit for more than an hour. Had she been the one to take the message about the admission? How typical of Barbara to leave without preparing the bed.
Susan pulled the sheets to the bottom of the bed. She lifted the foam mattress.
"I'll do that," Julie said. "Get the weights and stuff. Kit's calling around for Barbara."
"By the time she returns, the work will be done."
"Does that surprise you?" Julie asked. "You can always report her for being off the unit so long."
Susan sighed. She could, but would anything be done? The practical had been reported more times than the rest of the evening staff combined. She had never been warned let alone disciplined.
With quick steps, she headed for the storage room. To her surprise, the door was locked. "Why? Had Kit forgotten to open the door after the day shift left? Susan pulled the large ring of keys from her pocket. She unlocked the door and flipped on the lights.
The disorder made her groan. Why had the orthopedic cart been left in the middle of the room? The stench of urine assaulted her. Who had left a dirty bedpan behind?
The cart blocked the path to the shelves at the end of the room where most of the supplies she needed were stored. She pushed the cart toward the wall. The wheels caught on an obstacle. She tried a different angle with the same result. With a jerk, she yanked the cart toward the door and edged around it.
Her eyes widened. A harsh gasp escaped. "Barbara!" Guilt over her earlier anger warred with fear. She stepped closer. "Oh God!"
The streak of red on the practical's white uniform spoke of violence. Susan had seen death many times, but never like this. A soundless scream reverberated in her thoughts. Who had done this and why? She stared at Barbara's battered head and face and fought the need to flee.
Several minutes passed before the scattered hundred dollar bills registered. Susan blinked but the money remained. Who had given Barbara the money? Had it been her killer?
She inhaled. She had to do something. Like a robot programmed to perform a series of tasks, she knelt beside her co-worker. She pressed the bell of her stethoscope against Barbara's chest and stared at the sweep second hand on her watch. One minute passed. Then two. She heard nothing.
With a shudder, she rose. Questions fomented in her thoughts. The desire to bolt grew stronger. The clutter in the room impeded her escape. Step by step, she backed around the ortho cart. Three more steps took her into the hall. She held back the fear-generated sobs that threatened to burst free and hurried to the nurses' station.
There for stability, she grasped the counter of the U-shaped desk. She swallowed convulsively.
Kit held the phone to her ear. The two practicals sat at the long section of the desk. Trish lounged in the med room doorway. The mundane scene failed to erase the bizarre picture in the storage room.
"In...in..." The words emerged as a harsh whisper. She gulped a breath.
Julie stepped out of the semi-private room across from the desk. "What took you... Susan, what's wrong?"
"In...in..." Susan couldn't force her frozen tongue to form the words.
Trish strode across the green carpet. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Susan cleared her throat. Her knees buckled. Only her grasp on the counter kept her erect. "In the storage room... Barbara..."