The Pain Nurse - страница 27

“I’m sorry. Everybody’s jumpy right now, and you have the most right to be.” The hand on her shoulder and the voice in her ear belonged to Dr. Jay Carpenter, the chief of general surgery. He was tall and rumpled, as usual the only neat thing on his body seemed to be the expertly knotted bowtie he wore. It was amazing how many docs still didn’t realize their conventional ties could fall on a patient or a surface, picking up bacteria to be deposited elsewhere. Dr. Carpenter always wore a bowtie. Above it was a goatee of gray and brown, setting off a creased, craggy face, all topped by thinning white hair. His voice was always ready to assume its distinctive thundering tone. He was a notorious and highly successful ladies’ man.

“Any Christmas plans?”

“I guess I’ll go see my brothers in Kentucky.”

“Walk with me, Cheryl Beth.”

Visiting hours were coming to an end, so the halls were emptying out.

“Were you in the ER for the shooting du jour?”

She had been called in. The aftermath of gunshot wounds could be especially painful. The patient was a fifteen-year-old with a stomach wound. As usual, poor and black. As usual, from the violent ghettoes that separated downtown from the hospital district on Pill Hill.

“It’s going to be a pain grenade,” she said. “You know he’s probably not opiate naïve.”

“Not with all the addicts in that neighborhood.” They knew the drill: a patient with a history of addiction didn’t respond to doses of painkillers that would work in a normal, or “naïve,” patient.

“So there’s a good chance he won’t be adequately medicated,” she said. “I’m going to go back and check on him, post-surgery.”

“That’s good,” he said, pausing to lean against a wall, his voice assuming its full freight-train tone. “If his doc isn’t doing the right thing, you do what you need, and you have my verbal orders.” He looked around and spoke more quietly. “The last thing we want is to have another African American kid screaming in pain in this hospital. Lord, this city is so tense. They won’t admit it, of course. Everybody is so nice in Cincinnati.” He paused. “They could have used you in peds today.”

“I can’t do peds.” She spoke quickly.

“I know.” He gave a gentle smile. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Me? I’m all right.”

“I know, you’re the tough one. But your job can get pretty lonely. Why don’t you come up with me to the stroke floor? They’re having their Christmas party tonight.”

“Maybe I will, if I’m not persona non grata. Stephanie Ott is out to get me.” Cheryl Beth said it lightly but the words still sounded dark. She sighed. “Things aren’t right.”

“With Stephanie?” He gave his trademark rumbling laugh. “Nothing is ever right with Stephanie. Don’t worry about her. I’ve got your back.”

“It’s not just that. Someone was digging through my desk. The whole vibe here seems different. And I found footprints in my flower bed, right by my window.”

“Maybe it was the meter reader?”

“No, the meter is in back. And they only appeared in the last couple of days.”

“It wasn’t me.” He winked. “It’s probably nothing, Cheryl Beth. Still, you ought to talk to the police.”

“It was the first thing I did!” She heard her voice rising and slowed herself down. “They blew me off. They wouldn’t even come out, just said call if I see a prowler. Damn it, they think I killed Christine.”

“No.”

“Pretty damned close.” She slumped against the wall, suddenly exhausted. “They say I could be ‘a person of interest.’ Isn’t that what it means? I always hear that on TV and those are the people who end up being the killers.”

He patted her shoulder and spoke quietly. “Nobody thinks you would hurt Christine.” He paused. “I do have to say, jeez, baby, Gary Nagle? If you were going to do that, I should have been hitting on you harder all these years.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hell, does everybody in the hospital know about this?”

“Of course not.” He waited a beat. “Of course.”

She laughed with him but felt the rough stone of exposure pulling her down. What an insane thing, getting together with Gary, going for a drink with him that windy spring night, letting him kiss her underneath the streetlight. She tried to push the memory away.