CHAPTER SIX

Leo Baker stared out through the floor-to-ceiling plate glass window of his penthouse at the pedestrians far below him and wondered at their lives. Like little ants scurrying to and fro, intent on their business, it seemed like everyone had a purpose. Unlike him.

He sighed in annoyance, aware that he was being too hard on himself. Of course he had a purpose. He had a career anyone would be proud of, a wife who still turned heads, two children who were high achievers. He had come a long way since the difficulties of his childhood and had much to be thankful for. God had been good to him. It was more than he could have hoped for.

After watching his mother suffer a long and painful death, he’d felt called to become a doctor, driven to heal the sick and ease the suffering of those beyond help. It hadn’t been easy and his father had opposed him at every turn, but he’d managed it and here he was, celebrated and lauded in every circle of the medical world. He’d lost count of the number of doctors he’d mentored and helped along the way. He believed in giving back. But he’d never lost sight of the reason he’d joined the medical profession.

This burning conviction that his career had been ordained by God had been with him from the beginning. Even when he’d been studying full time and holding down three part-time jobs to pay for his tuition, he’d remained convinced he was doing the right thing. Whenever he became fatigued or his enthusiasm waned, he remembered his mother and how he’d felt, watching her die. He never wanted to feel that way again.

It was his dedication to the cause that started it, at least, that’s what he liked to think. A patient here, a patient there who was never going to improve. Some were young, many were old, but all of them deserved to find peace. It wasn’t going to happen for them in this world. It was up to him to give them the means to find it in the next.

He chose the special ones with care. Each one was his gift to God. Patients struggling with terminal cancer, HIV and worse. The stroke patients who would never again speak or even know who the hell they were. The victims of tragic car accidents who wished they were dead. They told him so—and those who were even beyond that showed him with their eyes. He listened and observed and acted.

“It’s time to meet your Maker,” he’d whisper and a peacefulness would come upon them. With little trouble, it was done and they were soon free of pain forever.

But lately, the urge to ease the suffering of others had gotten out of control. He only had to recall the situation with Robyn Evan. He’d struggled with the decision to press the emergency button. In the end, he’d done it, but it was almost like another being had entered his body and had taken over his mind. More and more, a voice urged him to end the life of this one or that one and often it wasn’t for any good reason.

Take poor old Amelia Arncliffe. Okay, she’d been treated abominably by the staff at the nursing home, but her affliction was far from terminal. With proper treatment, she would have made a full recovery. It angered him beyond measure the gross negligence of those who’d been responsible for her day-to-day care and chances that she’d continue to be mistreated were high, but still, she hadn’t deserved to die.

He felt bad about it, really bad. Not that he could do anything about it now. He’d sent a sympathy card to her family and he’d meant the heartfelt words. What was done, was done.

It was as simple as that.

* * *

Bryce stared at the young doctor with the thick wavy hair who sat across from him and did his best to remain calm. He’d heard it all before, of course. What the doctor had to say about Angela was nothing new.

He could still remember the day it had happened. The emergency room doctor had found him pacing up and down inside the waiting room.

‘Detective Sutcliffe, I’m afraid it’s bad news.’

The look on the doctor’s face told him everything he needed to know. He only caught snatches of the doctor’s words, but it was enough. His wife had suffered massive brain injuries. She was lucky to be alive. If it hadn’t been for the quick response of the paramedics, she might already be dead. She was on a respirator. As her next of kin, they needed to know what he wanted them to do. Did he want them to turn off life support? The question was as difficult for him to comprehend now as it had been then, but for entirely different reasons.

The doctor across from him cleared his throat and Bryce knew he was waiting for an answer. It was a different doctor from the one who’d brought him the news three years ago, but the gist of what he had to say was much the same: Angela was brain dead. There was no hope of a recovery. Again, they asked him to consider taking her off life support.

The question was stated a little more forcefully than it had been three years ago. The doctor explained that Angela was nothing more than a corpse breathing with the aid of a machine. No machine, no Angela. Of course, he’d put it a little more delicately than that, but his meaning was just the same. Apparently, it was pretty simple how that correlation worked. Switch it off and pull out the plug. Let his wife rest in peace.

Simple, right? Hell, who was he kidding? If it were simple, he would have signed the consent three years ago. Simple didn’t even come close.

* * *

Chanel glanced over her patient list and was pleased to see Robyn Evan’s name was on it. A week had passed since she’d met the elderly woman and a notation showed the antibiotics had finally done the trick. It was possible Mrs Evan might even be discharged that day.

She entered Ward Three and nodded to the nursing staff. “Good morning, everyone. How are we today?”

“Hi, Chanel,” the nursing unit manager responded with a smile. “You’re bright and early. Who are you here to see?”

Chanel consulted the list in her hands. Some of the names were familiar—patients who’d been hospitalized over the last few days. A couple others had come in overnight. Chanel read through the list of names and the NUM nodded.

“Good. I’ll leave you to it,” she said. “If you need me, just give me a yell.”

“Will do.” Chanel turned away and headed toward the first room.

Mrs Evan looked up when she entered and waved at her. “Doctor Munro, how lovely to see you.”

“And how lovely it is to see you, too, Mrs Evan. You’re looking so much better today. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling great,” she declared with a grin that set her double chin wobbling. “When I came in here, I could barely breathe. It was like there was a red-hot knife stabbing right through my chest. Every breath was agonizing. Now look at me,” she added. “Almost as good as new.”

Her grin was infectious and Chanel found herself smiling back. “I’m so glad to hear it. It looks like those antibiotics did the trick.”

“You can say that again. Whatever Doctor Baker gave me worked like magic. I haven’t felt this good since I first took ill.”

“Well, you look great.” Chanel pulled the stethoscope from around her neck. “Do you mind if I listen to your chest?”

“No, of course not. I bet it sounds better than the last time you checked.”

Chanel drew the curtains around the bed and then listened to the old lady’s lungs. As she expected, they were clear. Slinging the stethoscope back around her neck, she nodded.

“You sound as good as new. I’ll speak to Doctor Baker. I think you might just be well enough to go home today.”

Mrs Evan’s face lit up with delight. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all week, Doctor Munro. I can’t wait to call Lionel.”

“Is that your husband?”

Her face softened. “Yes. Married for just on sixty years. We’re just as in love now as we were all those years ago. He’s been totally lost without me. Hasn’t been able to find anything around the house. He’s been living on canned soup ever since I was hospitalized. He’ll be pleased that I’m on the mend.”

Chanel’s heart tugged at the tenderness in the elderly lady’s voice. It reminded her of her own parents and the way they still talked about each other. They hadn’t been married nearly as long as Mrs Evan and her husband, but the sentiment was the same. A touch, a look—it wasn’t hard to see the love they shared was as strong as ever.

It gave Chanel hope that one day she’d find what they had. In fact, it inspired her not to settle for anything less. The fact that she was only three years short of thirty and still unmarried was a minor cause of concern for her mom, but her mother would be the last person in the world to encourage her daughter to marry anyone other than her one true love.

As the youngest in a family of seven children, Chanel had been given plenty of time to observe her older siblings. Five older brothers and a sister were all blissfully married to their soul mates and happily raising families. She loved spending time with them, despite the fact it often left her yearning for a special someone of her own.

“Do you know what time you’re going to see Doctor Baker?”

Mrs Evan’s question intruded into her musings and Chanel blinked and focused on the woman in the bed.

“Um, I assume I’ll catch up with him sometime this morning. As soon as I get the okay from him, I’ll let you know.”

“It’s just that I don’t want to call Lionel and get his hopes up until I know for sure.”

“Of course. I understand. I promise to come and see you as soon as I catch up with Doctor Baker.”

After farewelling Mrs Evan, Chanel moved on to the next patient on her list. She was halfway through her rounds when Doctor Baker walked into the ward. Her heart immediately leaped into her throat and nerves fluttered around in her stomach. She might not find him attractive any longer, but he still had the power to disturb her equilibrium. He held her career in his hands. He had the power to destroy her and both of them knew it.

Failing to report him for his earlier behavior had only increased his confidence. He now knew she didn’t have the courage to call him out. She could only hope he quickly found someone else to take his bad temper out on. She’d had more than enough.

“Doctor Munro, how pleasant to find you at work so early in the morning. The nurses tell me you’re at least halfway through your rounds…”

“Good morning, Doctor Baker. Yes, I’ve seen eight patients, with another six to go.”

Doctor Baker nodded his approval and Chanel couldn’t help but wonder why he was being so amendable. Probably because there wasn’t an audience. The usual crowd of students hadn’t yet materialized. It was just her and him in the corridor outside one of the hospital rooms.

Unsure of how long his good mood would last, she hurriedly filled him in on Mrs Evan’s progress. He listened and nodded.

“How are her observations? Has her temperature abated?”

“Yes and her chest sounds perfectly clear. The antibiotics have done their job.”

“Good. Does she have any help at home? She’s going to feel a little weak after battling such a severe case of pneumonia, despite the magic of the drugs.”

“Yes, she has a husband who’s very keen to bring her home. I’m sure she’ll have plenty of support.”

“Well, in that case, I think she can be discharged. I’ll leave it up to you to complete the necessary paperwork.”

“Great. Thanks. I can’t wait to give her the good news.”

Doctor Baker stared at her for a few minutes. Heat crawled up Chanel’s neck, but she refused to lower her gaze.

“What about the other patients you’ve seen so far? Is there anything to report?”

As quickly and efficiently as she could, Chanel brought him up to date on the status of his patients. He nodded and commented here and there, and she walked away from him feeling more than satisfied with their encounter.

Perhaps she’d judged him too harshly? Perhaps he was turning over a new leaf? She didn’t know and could only hope, but she’d take this Doctor Baker over the old one any day.

The smile that lit up Mrs Evan’s face when Chanel told her she could go home sent warmth flooding through Chanel’s veins. After arranging for an additional supply of antibiotics from the hospital pharmacy and giving the woman a prescription for a repeat course, she completed the necessary paperwork for the woman’s discharge. With a fond smile of farewell, Chanel left the room and continued on with her rounds. It was going to be a great day. She was sure of it.

* * *

“Hey, Chanel, wait up!”

Chanel turned on her way out of the hospital after the end of another tiring shift and saw Tanya hurrying toward her. She acknowledged her friend with a wave and a smile and waited for her roommate to catch up.

“Hey, how are you?” Tanya asked, giving her a quick hug. “It feels like forever since I’ve spoken to you. We seem to have caught opposite shifts lately. I’ve been heading off to work and you’ve been coming home. We’ve been like ships in the night this week.”

Chanel nodded. “You’re right. I’m glad it’s you and not me who pulled all those nightshifts. I hope I didn’t wake you when I got home yesterday afternoon?”

“No, I didn’t even hear you come in. I was dead to the world. I didn’t even feel Zoe when she jumped on my bed.”

“You were tired.”

“Yeah, it’s been a tough week. Doctor Baker’s a hard taskmaster.”

“I take it he isn’t giving you any special treatment yet?”

“You guess right.” Tanya averted her gaze. “I still haven’t given him my answer.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re taking the time to really think about it before you make a decision.”

“Right. Let’s not get into that again. We all do what we have to do, remember? It’s as simple as that. I won’t judge you and you won’t judge me. Deal?”

Chanel looked at her for a moment and then grudgingly nodded. “Deal.”

They began walking in the direction of the train station.

“So, how’s your week been?” Tanya asked.

“Good. It started off a little rough with the usual run-ins with Doctor Baker, but on rounds a few days ago, he was almost polite. It threw me off. I’m not used to him being nice.”

“See, I told you he wasn’t so bad.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure I’d go that far, but it was a pleasant change, for sure.”

“You’re lucky you’ve been off for the last couple of days. He lost a patient last night and he took it hard. He’s been snapping at everyone who comes near him.”

Chanel stopped and turned to face Tanya, her heart filling with sadness. The chances she knew the patient were high.

“Who was it?”

“Who?” Tanya asked distractedly, her attention on the traffic.

“The patient. The one that passed away. Who was it?”

“Robyn Evan. It’s weird. She was…”

The rest of what Tanya had to say was lost to Chanel. A buzzing sound started in her ears and quickly took control. She watched Tanya’s lips moving, and heard nothing but the roar in her head.

How could Mrs Evan be dead? She was due to be discharged three days ago. Chanel had done her paperwork. It couldn’t be her. It wasn’t possible. She clutched at Tanya’s arm to make her stop.

“Robyn Evan? You don’t mean the lady I diagnosed with pneumonia more than a week ago?”

Tanya’s face filled with sympathy. “Oh, that’s right. You knew her. I’m sorry, Chanel. She died last night.”

Chanel shook her head in confusion and disbelief. “How? Why? I don’t understand. She was meant to be discharged. She couldn’t wait to go home.”

“I’m sorry, Chanel. I don’t know all the details. Apparently, she started complaining of pains in her abdomen not long after you left her. By that night, she was suffering from severe vomiting and acute stomach cramps. She couldn’t keep anything down. Nobody could work out what was happening. Her blood pressure sky rocketed. And then, it was all over. She died with Doctor Baker by her side.”

Chanel pushed her hand against her mouth and tried to hold back a sob. Shock ricocheted through her and left her gasping. It couldn’t be true and yet it was. Tanya had no reason to lie. Mrs Evan was dead and Chanel had no idea why.

At the thought of the old woman’s husband, tears welled up in Chanel’s eyes. She wondered who’d told him and whether he’d made it to his wife’s bedside to say good-bye. She prayed that he’d made it in time and that his wife had known he was there. It was suddenly important for Chanel to believe it had happened that way.

“What did Doctor Baker say? He must have some idea what caused her death?” she asked.

“I think he’s as shocked as the rest of us. No doubt there’ll be an autopsy.”

The mention of an autopsy triggered another memory. She turned to Tanya. “Do you remember a woman by the name of Amelia Arncliffe? She was a patient we saw with Doctor Baker on our very first day, when we were all still together.”

Tanya frowned in thought and then shook her head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“She was hospitalized so that she could be treated for a horrible bed sore. It was an abscess the size of my fist. She’d been brought in from a nursing home.”

“Oh, that’s right. I remember her. She was a tiny little thing with a pile of white hair. You did the diagnosis, right?”

“Yes, that’s her.”

“What about her?”

“She died a few days after we met her. Doctor Baker told me. I’m sure she died the same way Mrs Evan died—with severe vomiting and stomach cramps.”

Tanya frowned again. “What are you saying? Do you think their deaths are related? Could it be a superbug? Are you suggesting—?”

“I don’t know what I’m suggesting, but the similarity is a little odd, don’t you think?”

Tanya shrugged in bewilderment. “Maybe. I don’t know. It could merely be a coincidence. This is a hospital. As much as we hate to admit it, sometimes people die.”

Impatience surged through Chanel and she took off toward the train station. Tanya hurried to keep up with her.

“Hey, slow down. I didn’t mean to annoy you. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Chanel slowed her steps and drew in a deep breath. Letting it out on a heavy sigh, she gazed at Tanya and shook her head.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know anything for sure. As you said, it could merely be a coincidence. They were both old and according to Doctor Baker, Amelia Arncliffe at least had a number of other health issues.”

The girls lapsed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Chanel wished she could get rid of the sense of foreboding that had taken hold deep inside her, but right at that moment, that was beyond her.

* * *

Chanel took another sip from her wineglass. Her heavy sigh wasn’t lost on her brother Tom, who refilled his glass with iced tea and then regained his seat across from her. Dinner was over and Tom’s teenaged children had drifted away from the table to concentrate on homework—or more likely, to text and talk to their friends. Tom’s wife, Lily, was in the living room, on the phone to her mother who was caravanning with her husband somewhere in the far north of Australia.

“What’s the matter little sister? That’s the third sigh in as many minutes and you were way too quiet over dinner. What’s going on?”

Chanel bit back another sigh and glanced at Tom over the rim of her glass. He’d always been able to judge her moods, even when she was a child. As the oldest, he’d grown up observing them all and he had a knack for seeing past the obvious to what was at the heart of the matter. It was one of the things that made him such a good police negotiator.

“Do you mind if we sit outside?”

Tom’s eyebrows rose in silent query, but he pushed back his chair and stood. Chanel followed him through the French doors and out onto the paved outdoor area that bordered the inground swimming pool. The air was warm and heavy with the scent of Lily’s roses and the star jasmine vine that grew over the fence. Chanel filled her lungs with it and took a seat in a deck chair.

Tom sat next to her and put his glass and a jug half filled with iced tea on the ground beside him. The night had fallen at last and tiny stars bathed them with faint light.

“Talk to me, little sister. I thought you loved your job and being in Sydney.”

“I do, Tom. I love everything Sydney has to offer. The rush and noise and excitement; the people, the beach and you guys, of course. It’s so nice to be close enough to drop around for dinner when the whim strikes me and not to have to plan days off, travel time and everything else that goes with an interstate excursion. You don’t know how much I’ve enjoyed being this close to you all.”

Tom smiled. “The feeling’s mutual, honey. We love having you around.” He picked up his glass and took another swallow. “So, what’s troubling you?”

Chanel sighed. “My job’s getting me down. Weird stuff’s been happening and it seems like I’m the only one who’s concerned. Things keep going round and round in my head and I don’t know what’s true and what’s only imagined. I’m so confused, I sometimes feel like I’m going crazy.”

Tom blew out his breath. “Whew! That’s what I call a pickle! Why don’t you start at the beginning? Tell me about this weird stuff.”

“If you want me to start at the beginning, I have to tell you about Doctor Leo Baker.”

Tom gazed at her. “So, tell me.”

* * *

Hours later, back in her apartment, Chanel stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. It seemed like she’d spent half the night filling Tom in on what had happened, including the improper approach by Doctor Baker.

After managing to convince her brother not to seek out her boss at first light and pummel him into the ground, she’d listened to Tom’s advice and in particular, his take on the recent patient deaths under Doctor Baker’s care. While Tom had reiterated Tanya’s words that it wasn’t unusual for patients to die in a hospital, especially elderly ones, he was just as concerned as Chanel by the sudden and unexplained manner of their deaths. With his cop instincts humming, he urged her to take her concerns to the police.

The very thought sent quivers of fear and nerves rushing through her. To give voice to her suspicions to a trusted brother was one thing, even if he was a detective held in high regard. There was no question he’d keep her confidence. But to walk into a police station and talk to a stranger about her misgivings and to have them recorded… That was something else.

What if she were wrong? The police would initiate an investigation. Doctor Baker would be interviewed. If her accusations proved groundless, she’d never work in the state again—maybe not even the country. The Australian medical profession wasn’t that large, after all. Something of this nature would eventually get out. She’d be forever labeled as the Judas doctor who’d had the audacity to accuse one of their own, and one at the pinnacle of the profession. The betrayal would never be forgotten—or forgiven.

But what else could she do? Every time she thought of Amelia Arncliffe and dear old Robyn Evan, fresh pain built up inside. If there were even the slightest chance their deaths hadn’t been from natural causes, she owed it to them and their families to search out the truth.

What was her career in light of something like that?

Her sense of fairness and justice had always been acute. She guessed it came from being raised by a family intimately involved in law enforcement, including her father who was a retired District Court judge. It must have rubbed off.

The clock in the hallway struck one. Despite her misgivings, she was clear on what she had to do. She’d go to the police and file a report. What they did with it after that was their concern. Whether they chose to pursue it any further or not would be outside her control. Her conscience would be clear.

Maybe then, she could get some sleep.