spoke softly, earnestlya man who inspired confidence, and obedience. “Have they transferred the Myers girl to Psyche yet?”
It was not a large hospital, only three floors, if you didn’t count the basement where the morgue was located. Not much ground to cover.
“No, Ishe’s still in intensive care.”
Having already noted the numbers on the door, he took a stab. “Still in 302, then.”
“314,” she corrected him. She hadn’t seen this one before. But then, Sally Bowes was a recent graduate of nursing school and had been at St. Clair only six weeks. She had dreams of one day working in a big city hospital, where something exciting was always happening. Just like on ER or Chicago Hope. But for now, what with all the cutbacks, she guessed she was lucky to have this job.
He looked down at his chart. “Right. 314. Good book?” He winked conspiratorially, moved on down the corridor, checking the numbers on the doors as he went. His step faltered when he saw the cop sitting outside her door. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he assessed his situation. A rookie, maybe in his twenties. With an animal’s keen sense of danger, he patted the knife in his belt, under the coat. Just in case. A last resort.
Drawing nearer, he saw the cop’s mouth agape, heard his snores, and almost laughed out loud. Not that he’d been too worried. He was quite prepared to handle whatever stood in his way, one way or the other.
“Evening Officer. Long night?”
Mel Willis jerked awake, straightened in his chair. He adjusted his hat. “Wasn’t sleep,” he said, relieved it wasn’t Sorrel; he’d be walking a beat tomorrow if the old man had caught him. Might anyway, if this doctor ratted on him. “Just closing my eyes for a minute or two,” he said.
“Well, it’s that kind of night.”
Not for a second did Officer Mel Willis imagine the man exchanging small talk with him was anything other than what he presented himself to bea respected doctor. Mel also believed that whoever attacked that girl and left her for dead, was long gone from the area. Probably some transient passing through, seizing an opportunity that came his way.
Some thought the boyfriend did it, but it was Mel’s theory that they would have found her body in the woods, or dumped in the bay, if he had. Not in the backroom of the place where she worked.
The sort of thing that was about to happen to Officer Mel Willis happened to other people, in other places. Or on some TV cop show. Not to a guy in a sleepy hospital like this one.
“I’m going to be in there for a few minutes,” the doctor said, patting Mel’s shoulder in empathy. “Why don’t you go down and grab yourself a coffee, pal. You look like you could use one. I know the feeling. I’ll hold the fort till you get back.”
“Oh, I don’t know if…” Hot coffee sounded awfully tempting.
“Give yourself a break while you’ve got the chance,” the doc said. He gave Mel a knowing grin. “I’m guessing you’ve still got a few more hours of duty before you’re out of here, right?”
Seconds later, the nurse glanced up from her book as Officer Willis passed by her station, but it never occurred to her to question his leaving his post.
Eleven
A shadow fell across her bed and Heather opened her eyes expecting to see the nurse standing there with her medication. But it was not Nurse Lewis, nor Doctor Halstead, either. Doctor Halstead was older than this doctor, and had white hair and chubby cheeks. He’d always reminded her of the doctor in Norman Rockwell’s illustration hanging in her father’s muffler shop. She took in the graying hair, the glasses and mustache. Something familiar about him. Also familiar was one of the voices she’d heard outside her door only moments ago. Or was that a dream?
As his eyes held hers, the pattern of her heartbeat peaked on the
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