Читать книгу California Moon - Catherine Lanigan - Страница 12

Shannon couldn’t get used to Ben or his gun. It hung in his holster like a living menace. There were days when it took every ounce of her self-control to keep from lecturing Ben about his gun, though she knew that he had no choice but to carry the weapon.

Only four days after John Doe was moved to Room 505, Shannon discovered that Ben’s presence was more than critical. It was crucial.

Dr. Scanlon took John off the respirator. The heart monitor was removed as well. “The monitor is desperately needed in ICU,” he explained to Shannon.

“I understand.”

“He’s doing fine.”

Shannon glanced at John. “Except that he’s still comatose.”

“There is that,” the doctor replied, walking out of the room. “I’ll be back later. You’ll see to the monitor?”

“Yes, Doctor. After I change the IV bag.”

Ben questioned the short, Hispanic orderly who came to take the heart monitor upstairs. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve come to get the equipment. That’s all I know,” the man said.

“Okay,” Ben said reluctantly, rubbing the back of his neck. This was the first break in the regular routine. Something bothered him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Moments later a tall, blond orderly appeared.

“I’m here to take the respirator to the ER.”

At that moment, the registered nurse, Chelsea Sikeston, rolled a stainless-steel cart down the hall toward John’s room. “Hi, Ernie,” she nodded to the blond orderly.

“Hi, Chels,” he said, then turned to Ben who was keeping everyone outside the room. “Look, man. Let me in. I gotta lot to do.”

“Hi, Ben.” Chelsea smiled seductively. “You’re looking mighty fine today.”

Ben ignored her.

Hearing the commotion outside the room, Shannon opened the door. “What’s going on?”

The Hispanic orderly pushed past her and efficiently unhooked the respirator. He tapped his foot, waiting for her to remove the chest tube from the patient.

Ernie, the blond orderly, walked into the room.

“Mr. Richards, what are these people doing?” Shannon asked.

“Ben,” he corrected her with a smile.

Chelsea’s smile vanished as she looked at Shannon and then at Ben.

Shannon didn’t miss the glint of jealousy in Chelsea’s eyes. “I’m following Dr. Scanlon’s orders, Shannon,” Chelsea said. “I can see you have other things that are more important.”

“I’m John’s nurse. I can handle this. You needn’t have brought all these people. After all, Dr. Scanlon just left here,” Shannon retorted with a distinct territorial edge to her voice.

“The doctor said he needed the monitor, stat,” Chelsea said. “As in, now. Here’s the new IV bag, linens and sterile gauze.” Chelsea’s eyes were chastising as she moved toward Shannon. “I’m not about to get written up on your account.”

Shannon returned Chelsea’s glare. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” She stood back as Chelsea wheeled the cart into the room, then removed the chest tube. The orderlies left the room with equipment.

Chelsea sailed icily past Shannon.

Ben chuckled, watching what had nearly become a fight. He found it interesting to be involved in part of its instigation. Cockily, he rocked back on his heels.

Shannon’s fury burned crimson on her face.

“Your temper is showing,” Ben baited her.

“I’m Irish. It’s allowed,” she said through clenched teeth.

She could feel Ben’s eyes on her back but she didn’t care if they were sympathetic or scathing. He’d witnessed her powerlessness. And that really made her mad.

“Oooo, what I wouldn’t like to do…”

“Easy now,” he said.

She shot him a damning look, slammed her palm against the door and went inside John’s room.

“Ben!” she screamed as she noticed the cloudy nature of John’s IV. “Come quick!”

Ben was at the door in a single stride. “What’s wrong?”

“His IV!” she shouted, already yanking the tube out of John’s wrist. “Someone’s tried to poison him!” She hit the emergency alarm, then depressed the call button to the nurse’s station.

“I need a pervasive antidote, stat! Get Scanlon, stat.”

John’s chest heaved as he struggled to breathe.

“Damn!” Ben raced down the hall. “Hey, you! Come back here!” He pulled his gun. “Stop!”

The Hispanic orderly turned, saw the gun and shot down the hall. Abandoning the respirator, he dashed down the stairwell.

The blond orderly depressed the elevator button. “What the…?”

Chelsea stopped dead in her tracks on hearing Ben’s shouts and backed up against the wall to give him room. “What happened?”

“Help Shannon! Poison!”

“What?”

Two nurses raced behind Dr. Scanlon. The tails of his lab coat were flying and he shouted orders as he ran. “Grab that respirator,” he said to one of the nurses, who instantly did as she was ordered.

While the medical crew raced to save John Doe’s life one more time, Ben pounded down the stairwell to the parking garage where the orderly ran toward the opening onto the street.

His lungs burned, but he kept running.

The orderly wasn’t even twenty years old yet. And he was in better shape than Ben, who smoked too many cigarettes and hadn’t seen his early twenties for a decade.

The city streets were crammed with morning delivery trucks, semis unloading office furniture and clusters of pedestrians. The orderly rushed down the alley, darted between cars and disappeared in the bright southern sun.

Ben searched the street to the right and left. He inspected the shop fronts in the area and looked into office-building lobbies, but found no trace of the suspect.

Giving up, he turned back toward the hospital entrance, cursing himself for not having seen this coming.

“Damn! I know better!”

Ben was plagued with questions about this extraordinary case. None of the facts gelled, and he was sure Jimmy Joe was lying about something. And Ben didn’t believe for a moment there was no trace anywhere of John Doe’s fingerprints. Yet, when he’d telephoned his own sources, the answers were the same—no trace of this man.

Ben wondered if John was with the mob. But which one?

He wouldn’t know until he got back to the hospital if the attempt today, though bungled, was successful. One thing Ben did know. He wouldn’t give up until he knew the answers. All of them.