Critical Condition. Sandra Orchard
“The mattress was McCrae’s idea.”
Zach surveyed the small room, doing his best not to inhale Tara’s vanilla scent as she moved toward the window. With the bare white walls, chrome-and-glass desk and slatted window blinds, the office looked as sterile as an examination room. He supposed residents weren’t around long enough to add those personal touches that would offer some hint of their life outside the hospital.
Zach settled into a plush leather desk chair, pausing to appreciate the improvement over the cheap box-store chair he’d had on his last case. “Any news on Miss Clark’s cause of death?” he asked, now that they wouldn’t be overheard.
“Not yet.” She frowned and twisted open the vertical blinds. The light striped her face like prison bars. “For all we know, the coroner could be in cahoots with whomever’s behind this.”
The anger fueling her comment didn’t mask the wobble in her voice. An aching vulnerability that awakened every protective instinct in him. Taking a moment to reel in his emotions, he powered up the computer. “I’ll check him out. You said the patient asked for you before she died. Anyone inquire about that?”
“Actually, Dr. Whittaker commended me for having such a positive impact on our patients that they’d ask for me by name. Not that his comment surprised me. He’s always upbeat and encouraging.”
“Hmm, a regular Dr. Wonderful,” Zach said, repeating the moniker he’d overheard one of the nurses use for the man.
Tara shrugged. “He’s nice.”
As Zach waited for the computer to boot, he motioned Tara to shut the door and peeked inside McCrae’s desk.
Suddenly, he heard loud footsteps in the hallway. The door banged off the wall, and a doctor stormed in, lab coat flapping in his wake, his face as red as his hair. “What are you doing in my office?”
“This is Zach Reynolds,” Tara answered for him. “He’s the IT specialist who’s upgrading our computer systems. I showed him in.”
McCrae’s gaze flashed to Zach and then down to where his hand hovered over an open drawer.
Zach snagged a pen from inside. “You don’t mind if I borrow this, do you? Mine’s run out.” Without waiting for a response, Zach slid the security pass card into the new hub that would connect McCrae’s monitor to the main network. “I could be a couple of hours getting this set up. Were you needing access before I start?”
McCrae plunged his balled hands into the pockets of his lab coat. “No, that’s fine. I have patients to see.” He strode past Tara and scooped his stethoscope off the desktop. “Next time, however, I’d appreciate being informed before you barge into my office.” McCrae gave the room a sweeping glance and then left as quickly as he’d appeared.
“Whew, quick temper on that one.” Zach tossed the borrowed pen back into the drawer.
“It’s the sleep deprivation. Makes the residents edgy. He’s quite tenderhearted once you get to know him.”
“How will I ever come up with possible suspects if you have such high opinions of everyone on staff?”
Tara snorted. “Wait until you meet Alice Bradshaw.”
“Who’s she?”
“A nurse who... Well, let’s just say that when it comes to Alice, I follow my dear departed grandma’s advice. ‘If you can’t say something nice about a person, don’t say—’”
Zach flashed Tara a silencing glance as a gray-haired nurse stepped into the doorway.
* * *
Tara spun toward the door. At the sight of her least favorite person in the world, she swallowed the last of her words. Okay, maybe Alice Bradshaw wasn’t her least favorite person.
Her rat-fink ex-husband, who’d split on her and their then eight-week-old daughter, held that distinction.
But what was Alice doing here? Spying on her?
It was high time the woman figured out that twenty years’ seniority didn’t give her license to mind everyone else’s business. Tara took a deep breath.
Okay, Alice had caught Tara talking about her. Not good. But if she let on that she was the least bit rattled, Alice would pounce. Ever since Tara’s promotion, Alice had snatched every possible opportunity to undermine her authority.
Zach’s gaze ping-ponged from Alice to her, and the twinkle in his eye tugged a smile to her lips. She turned the smile to Alice. “Was there something you needed?”
Alice blinked, clearly surprised that her ability to unnerve Tara had lost its effect, but she recovered quickly. “Yes, actually.” Her ultraprim voice enunciated each syllable with precision. “The patients are waiting for their meds.”
Tara glanced at her watch and inwardly cringed at how late it was. “Okay, thank you. I’ll be right there.”
When Tara returned her attention to Zach, a dimple dented his cheek. “I see what you mean,” he said. Then, all hint of humor faded as he added, “Stay alert. We’ll talk later.”
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Every bed on the ward was full, and every other patient had some urgent crisis demanding her attention. She was grateful for the distraction, but still found herself struggling to focus on her work, because busy as she was, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had her looking over her shoulder every few minutes.
She was three bites into her lunch when the front office paged her. On her way there, she passed through the lobby, where Dr. Whittaker was showing a group of well-heeled prospects the inscribed marble donor wall on which their generosity would be forever immortalized.
Tara had to chuckle. He went on and on about the groundbreaking research they’d be supporting, but everyone knew it was his irresistible charisma that pulled in the donations.
A newly inscribed block at the end of the wall caught Tara’s attention, and she skidded to a stop. Mr. and Mrs. Parker, platinum donors?
They hadn’t had that kind of money. Mr. Parker had often lamented about the extra jobs he had to take to afford his wife’s natural supplements, and how he hated that work kept him from being with her more.
A hand clamped her upper arm, jolting her from her thoughts.
“Miss Peterson?” Dr. Whittaker smiled down at her with his perfect white teeth. “For a moment, you looked like you might faint.”
His gaze strayed to the Parker inscription, his forehead creasing.
Zach’s words—stay alert—pulsed in her ears as Whittaker shifted, blocking her from the view of the potential donors he was courting. “No, I’m fine. I...” She peeked around him at their audience and raised her voice for their benefit. “I was admiring how generous people have been.”
Dr. Whittaker beamed and shifted again, no doubt hoping her accolades would inspire further generosity.
She tapped her finger on the Parkers’ name to gauge his reaction. “This couple, for example. They must’ve bequeathed their entire estate to this project.”
“Yes, the late Mr. and Mrs. Parker were extremely charitable.” His lips jitterbugged from a smile to a frown before finally settling into a grim line. Although obviously pleased by the coup, he knew enough not to show his pleasure, considering the couple had to die for the hospital to get the money.
Tara stiffened. Motive.
He certainly had means and opportunity. Who would ever suspect Dr. Wonderful of being the grim reaper?
Tara’s gaze shot to his. He still held her by the arm. And his grip was tightening.
Zach strode toward them like a gleaming knight. He tapped the doctor’s shoulder. “Excuse me, Dr. Whittaker?”
Whittaker’s grip loosened.