“BEFORE YOU TELL ME what the errand is,” Jane said, her lips sliding into a big grin, “I hear you got a telephone call last night. Didn’t talking to Kit make you feel better?” Her dark hair was in braids tied with orange ribbon that matched her jumpsuit.
“I never talked to Kit,” Duffy explained. “They wouldn’t put the call through. Too late. How did you know he called?”
“Dylan told me.” A bleak expression flitted across Jane’s round, plain face. “He didn’t seem too happy about it.” She paused and then added, “He likes you, doesn’t he?”
Duffy didn’t know what to say to that. Yes, he probably did like her, but right now, that seemed so unimportant—except to Jane and Amy. Duffy Quinn had far more pressing matters on her mind.
During Jane’s absence, Duffy’s idea had taken shape. But she needed Jane’s help. “Never mind Dylan,” she said tersely. “About that errand…”
Jane heaved a sigh. “I just got through running errands! Is it really, really important?”
“Do you want me to get better?” Duffy asked sternly.
Jane flushed. “Of course I do, Duffy. Okay, what is it? Where do I have to go?”
“To the lab.”
Jane frowned. “You mean Dean’s lab?”
“Of course. I need a lab, and your brother works in one, so why would I send you to someone else’s lab?”
‘What do you need a lab for?”
“You’re stalling, Jane. Quit asking questions just so you won’t have to leave this room. I need my pills analyzed, and Dean’s just the person to do it.” She handed Jane the capsules she hadn’t taken, still wrapped in their paper napkin. “Take these over there, right away, and ask Dean what they are. Then come straight back here and tell me.”
Jane’s frown deepened. “Why don’t you ask your doctor what they are?”
Duffy glared. “Because my doctor doesn’t know what they are. I mean, he thinks he does, but I think he’s wrong. I think someone screwed up and gave me the wrong stuff, and Dean can tell me if I’m right. So hurry up, okay? This is important.”
Something in her voice sent Jane to her feet. She took the napkin, then hesitated. “Duffy, I can’t believe someone would make a mistake like that.”
“That’s because you aren’t a patient in this hospital.” Conscious of the minutes passing rapidly, Duffy urged, “Jane, just do it, okay? Trust me. I know what I’m doing. I promise, I won’t ask you for another single favor as long as I live.”
“Yes, you will. And I’ll probably give it to you.” Jane grinned weakly. “I want you to know I’m only humoring this bizarre request because you’re my best friend and I miss you and I want you out of this place so life will be back to normal again. But I’ll bet you anything you’re wrong about the medication being screwed up, Duffy.” She shuddered. “I can’t believe someone could make such a mistake.”
Duffy shuddered, too. Because she wasn’t at all sure it was just a “mistake.” She wasn’t sure of that at all.
“I’ll hurry,” Jane said quickly, noticing Duffy’s shudder. “I’ll tell Dean it’s for you. He’s always liked you, Duffy.” She bent to give Duffy a quick hug. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”
When Jane had rushed out of the room, Duffy wondered just who she would tell if it turned out that the pills contained the missing digoxin. It would have to be someone she trusted completely. Names flitted through her mind and were rapidly discarded.
The list of people she trusted completely was getting shorter all the time.
A nurse coming in to give Duffy a back rub nearly collided with Jane.
“Where’s your friend going in such a big hurry?” she asked amiably as she uncapped the bottle of lotion.
“Gee, I don’t know,” Duffy fibbed. She wasn’t telling a single soul in this place where Jane was going, or why. Not until she was sure of who she could trust.
“You feel hot again,” the nurse said as she rubbed Duffy’s muscles, so tense with fear and uncertainty, they were cramping between her shoulders. “Your temperature must be up.”
Duffy knew it was because she wasn’t getting the antibiotics she needed. But until Jane returned with the lab report, she wasn’t about to tell anyone she’d quit taking the capsules.
The nurse was leaving when Dylan arrived, mop in hand.
And when he bent to kiss her cheek, Duffy was shocked to find herself recoiling. She didn’t do it on purpose. It was strictly an involuntary movement. But she knew it was stimulated by fear.
Fear of Dylan?
That really was crazy. Dylan hated hurting people. In grade school, he hadn’t done well in football because he was so afraid of hurting someone when he tackled them. He’d got over that in high school and was on the varsity team now, but the coach was always yelling at him for “holding back,” not “giving his all.” Duffy knew it was because he was still a little afraid of breaking bones. Someone else’s bones, not his own.
It would take something really powerful to overcome Dylan’s reluctance to hurt people.
And she couldn’t think of a single thing powerful enough to do that.
But neither could she bring herself to return his kiss, or even smile as if she meant it, not until she felt completely safe—if she ever did again.
How long would Jane’s “errand” take?
Frowning, Dylan asked gently, “You okay? Taking your pills?”
Wearing a frown of her own, Duffy remembered that this wasn’t the first time Dylan had asked that question. Why was he so preoccupied with her medication?
Maybe, she thought, her stomach twisting in revulsion, maybe he knew something about those pills.…
“Yes,” she snapped, “I’m taking them.”
Could Dylan, who seemed to like her so much, be the one who wanted to hurt her? What reason would he have?
If Kit were still around, maybe jealousy would make Dylan act weird, do strange things.
But Kit was in California. He wasn’t a threat to Dylan. Not that he ever had been, but Dylan didn’t know that. Maybe he was the sort of person who didn’t believe girls could have male friends. Like Jane, who had always had a hard time believing that Duffy and Kit weren’t in love.
“If you don’t want him for a boyfriend,” she had said more than once, “you shouldn’t monopolize his time when there are so many girls out there without boyfriends.”
Meaning Jane, of course.
But Kit had never been attracted to Jane. Duffy had suggested once, casually, that Kit ask her out, and he had said, “I don’t think so. She’s not my type.”
Meaning he liked “thinkers” and Jane wasn’t a thinker. She was a “feeler,” running mostly on emotion. Kit, who lived in a household devoid of emotion, couldn’t understand that.
Dylan wasn’t happy when he left her room, but Duffy couldn’t dwell on that.
Where was Jane? I need to know the truth, Duffy thought, and I need to know it now.
A very long hour and a half later, she did. Because Jane, red-cheeked and breathless, came into the room carrying a brown paper bag.
“Well, here it is,” she said wearily. She handed the bag to Duffy. “The pills are in there, and so is the report. Dean was glad to do it…for you.” She hesitated, and then added in a voice that hinted of hurt feelings, “Duffy, why didn’t you tell me you had a heart condition?”
Duffy looked down at the slip of paper in her hand, already knowing what it said.
DIGOXIN