Comfort Zone

Chapter 45

Gotta make a decision, she thought the next morning, after a sleepless night and full load of patients ahead. Things are so bad I even skipped yoga, and of course that's when I need it the most. She'd had extra coffee instead, and done some light household chores to try to wake up. She straightened the masks that decorated her walls, dusting the hollow eyes, noticing their fierceness. No wonder they used to scare me, she thought.

Should I call Quest? Bad idea. He was a hands on and micromanaging CEO. If there was a pharmacy problem, he likely knew about it and was involved. But who had told her that Quest was always in the pharmacy anyway?

Josh.

When the time was right, it would happen, she'd heard him say. But he seemed so normal in the library, so warm and caring like always. Could he be that good a liar? But what other explanation could there be for the unsent filgrastim vial, and the fact that Taylor knew about her filched one?

I texted him before I went to the roof. Was it a coincidence that Louis Grant, the new pharmacy wholesaler, met me there, a chance meeting of two sunset lovers?

I could call someone, and ask for help...but who? The police? The FDA? Doing nothing was a decision, too. Maybe that was best. Just carry on, and push away those gut instincts she always told her patients to listen to. Surely there were enough complications in the daily grind without searching out more. Call everyone involved, make it clear she had no suspicions, act like an airhead, give away George's graffiti-like doodles to whoever wants it and wash her hands clean of the whole damn thing.

Assuming she could.

At least the cardiology article she'd read made one visit go smoother, since she could keep up with her patient's questions and concerns. After the office, she ran back to the library to return the pilfered journal without anyone seeing, then forced herself through hospital rounds, pushing poor patient satisfaction scores out of her mind.

Outside a room, a worried-looking family stood in a huddle; a doctor talked earnestly to them in hushed tones. She heard angry outbursts from within another room as she strode down the hall.

Glad they're not my patients.

Done.

I have to get home to sleep, she thought, eyes heavy with fatigue, thinking about a patient she'd seen earlier, the one she counseled about the importance of getting seven to eight hours of sleep a night. When was the last time I got that? She leaned against the wall, waiting for the elevator. When it came, a couple with bleak expressions pushed past her.

She trudged back to her office to gather her things, but at the last minute, feeling the slight welcome breeze of a second wind, she dropped down into her chair to do one more quick job. The IT person told her that the problem would be fixed by the next morning, but Miriam wanted to cross the task off her list before the hospital dinged her for an overdue note. She lifted the receiver and began the process.

Was there someone at the door? Miriam listened for a moment. No, just her overcharged nerves. Carry on.

"This is Dr. Miriam Gotlin dictating a discharge summary on Peter Vega, date of admission—"

Her cell rang, and she pressed five to pause the dictation. It was the hematologist giving her follow-up on a new patient she had referred to him.

"Jim, whatever happened to your patients, the ones that didn't respond to filgrastim?"

"Dugan died, sad to say. He had another complication before I could try out the filgrastim from my office. The other guy got better. His white count went up and he went home. May not have even needed the filgrastim.

"Did you follow up on the sample you gave the pharmacy—or rather, the one they sent? It should be back by now."

Miriam wondered how he knew about the sample. "Josh said he sent it last week but—"

"Yes, I was there," the hematologist surprised Miriam by saying.

"You were?"

"That's how I know about it. I bumped into Josh and had a question for him about a chemotherapy treatment. Said I hoped it was more effective than the filgrastim was in some of my patients.

"I was surprised when he knew exactly what I meant. He held up a package and said he was just going to the mailroom to send off a sample. He told me about your concerns."

"So he went to mail it," Miriam said, almost overwhelmed by relief that the package had simply been lost on its way to the lab, that Josh wasn't a liar. He really was her friend. He had mailed it just like he'd said. Len had simply made a mistake.

"Yes. I mean no. Richard Quest showed up and the three of us started talking. He knew about the issue. You obviously have friends in high places. He took the package from Josh and insisted on mailing it himself. Talk about hands on! Wouldn't take no for an answer..."

Maybe the package got lost, Miriam thought, but her gut refused to accept that explanation, sending unpleasant thoughts jabbing into her brain like carpet tacks.

Lilly Fielding worked in the pharmacy. Her fellow volunteers called her a smart woman who asked a lot of questions. She had great vitality, but Miriam had nearly been strong-armed into writing a DNR.

"Well, I'm heading out. Dinner with the family. All work and no play, etc. etc.," the hematologist was saying.

Who had just used that line?...of course, Quest said it to her in the ER when Lilly was admitted. It tickled her memory, reminding her of something else.

All work and no treats...the chocolate...the dead ants??

A wave of dread shot up her spine, making her hands tremble and cold as ice.

The CEO was a gambler, she remembered Edna divulging.

Did he gamble with people's lives too?

Miriam knew she had to stop working right away, get out of her quiet, suddenly claustrophobic office and leave the building. As soon as Greer hung up, she jumped out of the chair, then caught the blinking light of the interrupted dictation, the phone receiver off the hook.

She grabbed it, but before she could hang the phone up, she heard a sound and froze.

There was a faint metallic click in the distance, like a key turning, and then a door opening and closing, all so quietly she started to chalk it up to nerves.

But no. It wasn't a false alarm.

Someone was humming The Blue Danube just steps away.