The Pain Nurse - страница 65

“Talk to your pal, Amy.” Cheryl Beth folded her arms, half feeling sorry for him, but still drunk with adrenaline fear.

“That bitch.” He slipped on his dress shirt and quickly buttoned it. His face was a caricature of little-boy petulance. She half expected to see him use his sleeve to wipe his runny nose. “She sold me out.”

“Sold you out?”

“The cops said she didn’t back up my story that we were together that night, the night that Chris was killed.”

“So she told the truth.” She was comforted by the sounds of a housekeeping crew working in the hallway close by.

“Do you know how much money I bring into this hospital as a neurosurgeon?” His adult voice was back, but with an angry edge.

“I know, you’re the famous two-million-dollar man.”

“They told me this would go away. They said it would not touch me!”

“Who told you? What are you talking about?”

“The hospital! Jim Bryant!” The CEO of Memorial. Cheryl Beth had a hard time believing such a thing. Gary’s eyes were still wild.

“Gary, I told you that night you should immediately go to the police and tell them the truth.”

“Bryant said he’d shut it down. No one would even talk about it.”

Cheryl Beth took that in but kept her face as expressionless as possible. You’re an open book.

“You’ve got to help me,” he said, adding, “Cheryl Beth.”

“I’ve done all I can do, Gary.”

“Damn you!” He shook his fist at her. “You’re such a cold bitch. It’s all because your mother never loved you. I get you.”

She pushed her anger down into her shoes and quietly said, “Gary, you never knew anything important about me. What matters to me. You weren’t man enough to ask or to understand. We just fucked. It was nothing special.” The cold harshness of her voice surprised her. His eyes widened and he actually twitched, jerking his head to the left, the veins standing out in his neck.

“Please, I’m sorry.”

She just watched him.

“You saw me at the bar that night on Main Street…”

“No, I didn’t. You just said you were there.”

He stood, but didn’t move toward her once he realized she would walk out the door. “You’re not playing well with others. I was there, you saw me.”

“I did not.”

“Don’t you understand the favor I did for you? When I first talked to the police…”

“You said I was your lover. We hadn’t been together for months. That was no favor.”

“I didn’t tell them you were with Christine that night, on Main Street, before she came back to the hospital.”

“So? I told them. They already know.” She was amazed at the effortless way she lied. He started to talk, but she was already out the door, walking fast to the elevators.

The next morning Will wheeled himself out to the busy main lobby and lined up at the Starbucks. It was one piece of the normal, outside world in the dreary daily hospital routine. His brother had brought him some money and fresh underwear, and then gone off to his shift as a firefighter. They were not close, and he could sense the discomfort from Mark, that he and his family might end up having to care for an invalid. Will vowed that wouldn’t happen. He would find a way to be self-sufficient. People worse off than him could do it. Cindy-he didn’t know when he would see her again, and didn’t want to care. Their marriage was just a scar now, not a wound. He couldn’t fix it, never could. His physical pain was less-it was noticeable, now more an anxiety he might miss his next dose than the constant vicious companion of recent weeks. Don’t worry about becoming an addict, Cheryl Beth had said. So he wouldn’t worry. He ordered his coffee, got it and rolled over to a table, then he saw the front page of that day’s Enquirer.

“Nurse charged in doctor’s murder,” a large headline said. A smaller one added: “Police suspect a romantic triangle led to killing.” He set the coffee down and read:

Police on Wednesday arrested a 35-year-old nurse in the Dec. 6 murder of Dr. Christine Lustig at Cincinnati Memorial Hospital.

Judd Mason, who also worked at the hospital, faces one charge of aggravated murder, according to Cincinnati homicide Det. J. J. Dodds.