Thursday, Journal Entry

“Okay. I’m ready. If she’d been satisfied with merely blackmailing me, I could have overlooked it, but she’s getting too close to the truth and that I cannot have. I’ve got people counting on me. I’m their contact to the money, to the good life, to not going to prison. They need me. The planning is complete. I have all my ducks in a row. With just a little bit of luck, by morning this particular problem will be behind me. So, off to work! Write at you later.”

Chapter 1

Day 1 – Thursday night / Friday morning

Hillcrest Regional Medical Center

Death surrounded her. It hung in the very air she breathed. It slid across the tile floor and seeped around the corners, into and out of the rooms where the patients lay. It was there, always, waiting.

One a.m. in the Medical ICU at Hillcrest Regional meant the beginning-of-shift tasks were done and the patients settled for the night, as much as was possible. The ceiling lamps glowed at quarter-strength, casting muted shadows. Voices ebbed and flowed as the staff went about its business and the alarms, turned down as far as they would go, were swiftly silenced, to give the illusion of peace.

In some of the rooms frail humans fought for life, in others they slipped toward death. Ginny Forbes, RN, hovered outside her patient’s door, grimly determined that he would live, at least until the dawn. After that—well, death isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a man.

She frowned at the calculator, then ran the math again. In the glow from the monitors, her skin was the color of green tea. Her eyes, behind thick lashes and lowered brows, could barely be seen, pale and cold and hollow, to match her mood. Once she was sure she had the right dose, she put on the protective clothing mandated by hospital infection control policies and stepped to his side.

She was halfway through the carefully timed injection when she heard a sound just outside the door. Her head snapped up, but there was no one there. No one checking on her. She frowned. It was bad enough to be afraid of making a mistake. Even worse to be afraid of being caught.

Glancing down at the syringe, she found she had inadvertently pulled it out of the intravenous line port. She swore to herself, changed the contaminated access device for a clean one, and finished the injection. When it was done, she pulled off the gown and gloves, stepped out of the room, and accessed the computer link.

“I start classes in January. I’ve already explained to Ms. Hawkins and asked her to cut back my hours so I’ll have time to study.”

Ginny looked up to see two nurses emerging from the break room, coffee in hand.

“What are you going to focus on?”

“Patient safety, of course.”

The first speaker was Phyllis Kyle, a velvet-covered steamroller quietly saving the world. Her companion was Susan Reed, a level-headed collector of human foibles.

“Well, duh. What in particular?”

“My proposed dissertation topic is ‘Best Practices for Spotting Nurse Imposters.’ It’s ridiculous that anyone can get away with pretending to be a nurse, but there’s at least one in every Bulletin.”

“What made you chose that topic?”

Phyllis shrugged. “Oh, you know. Someone said something last summer and it got me thinking.”

“Did she give you any trouble, Hawkins, I mean?”

“She didn’t look happy, but the big bosses want us to continue our educations, and they’re paying for it, so she had to give in. She’ll manage. She always does.”

They passed out of earshot and Ginny went back to work, scowling at the computer displays. It was taking her twice as long as it should to complete her assigned tasks. Not that she could pack up and leave if she finished early. It didn’t work that way. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t want to do her job. Usually she did. Usually, she was good at it.

She dragged her mind back to her task, wondering why she was having so much trouble concentrating. Knowing the answer. Trying to ignore it, to turn her back and move on.

“Hello.”

Ginny started, twisting toward the voice. She found her heart pounding and her breath tight in her throat, but it was only Jim. He was wearing a lab coat over his scrubs, embroidered with Dr. Mackenzie, Emergency, proof that he was both legitimate and on duty.

“You scared me.”

“So I see.” He frowned slightly. “I was wondering if you could take a break.”

Ginny shook her head. “Not at the moment. Maybe later.”

He kept his voice down, in deference to the hushed hour. “Would you like me to get you something from the cafeteria?”

Ginny shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.” She smiled at him, trying to pretend she was all right.

He stepped closer and she could smell the faint scent of the emergency department on his clothes, a mixture of bandages and betadine and not-quite-fresh skin.

“You need to eat.”

She nodded. “I know. I brought something.”

“You also need to take a break.”

“I will.”

“When?”

“Another hour at least.”

He didn’t raise his voice, but she could hear the note of authority in it. “Find someone to relieve you.”

“I’m fine, Jim. Stop worrying about me.”

He reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertip. “I can’t help it,” he said. “It’s an occupational hazard.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Just let me catch up so I’ll be ready for my admission.”

He sighed and slipped a power bar into her hand. “Here. Better than nothing. I’ll check on you later.”

She watched him leave, her brow furrowed. She didn’t want him hovering, didn’t want him telling her what she should do, didn’t want him reporting back to the Laird. And the only way she was going to get him to stop trying to help was to prove she didn’t need it.

* * *

Nine hours later, Ginny sat with her head down on the conference room table. It was two hours past her bedtime and, in spite of the situation, she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Somebody had to go last, she supposed, and she’d made the mistake of staying behind to help pick up the pieces. Stupid conscience.

She heard the door open behind her, then felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Ginny?”

She pried her eyes open and looked at Jim. His face was close and a bit distorted, seen sideways like this. He looked upset.

“I just heard what happened.”

Ginny sat up, then rolled her head, trying to work the kinks out of her neck. She leaned back in the chair and swiveled around to face him.

“I left you a message.”

“I got it. I’ve been catching up on some paperwork, waiting for you.”

She sighed. “I have no idea how much longer they want to keep me. You’d better go home.”

He shook his head. “Not without you.”

“Okay, but you can’t say you weren’t warned.” She put her head back down on the table and shut her eyes, but wasn’t allowed to fall asleep. He put his hands on her shoulders and started rubbing and it felt really good, but that, too, was interrupted.

“Miss Forbes?”

She followed the police officer to the interview room and gave her statement, as well as she could through the haze of exhaustion, then, finally released, she let Jim lend a strong arm, steer her to his car, and drive her home.

“I’ll see you this evening.”

“I’ll be there.”

She closed the door to her bedroom, pulled the shades on the windows, and turned out the light, plunging the room into darkness. By touch she undressed and slid between the covers. She curled up on her side, willing her muscles to relax, to let her sleep. It wasn’t until she was almost there, eyes closed, just on the point of dropping off, that the full horror of the situation broke through her defenses.

It was just chance that Ginny had been the one to find the body. It could have been anyone, but it had been her. And, once seen, there was no unseeing it. Phyllis was dead, murdered, and she, Ginny, was one of the suspects. The tears slid out from under closed eyelids and rolled down her cheeks. She let them go.

* * *