Рита Браун - Claws And Effect

If she'd thought about it, she would have waited for this nighttime exploration until she could bring Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker. Their eyes and ears were far better than her own, plus Tucker's sense of smell was a godsend. However, she'd taken them home after work, whipped off her barn chores, and hopped over to the rectory for the meeting.

She thought she heard voices somewhere to her right. Instinctively she flattened against the wall. She wanted to find the boiler room. The voices faded away, men's voices. A closed door was to her right.

Stealthily she crept forward. A flickering light to her right told her a room lay ahead. The voices sounded farther away, and then-silence.

The door behind her opened. She hurried away, slipping into the boiler room. She'd found her goal. Again, she flattened against the wall listening for the footfall but the boiler gurgling drowned out subtle sounds.

She quickly noted that another exit from the boiler room lay immediately in front of her on the other side of the room.

Glancing around she took a deep breath, walked to the boiler. The chalk outline of Hank's body had nearly worn away. She knelt down, then looked at the wall. Though it was scrubbed, a light bloodstain remained visible. Shuddering at the picture of blood spurting from Hank's throat, jetting across the room, she started to rise.

Harry never made it to her feet. A clunk was the last thing she heard.

17

Sheriff Rick Shaw and Deputy Cynthia Cooper hit the swinging doors of the emergency room so hard they nearly popped off their hinges.

"Where is she?" Rick asked a startled ER nurse.

The young woman wordlessly pointed to yet another set of doors and Rick and Cynthia blasted through them.

A woozy Harry, covered with a blanket, lay on a recovery-room bed. A quiet night at the hospital, no other patients were in the room.

Jordan Ivanic, a sickly smile on his face, greeted the officers. "Why does everything happen on my watch?"

"Just lucky, I guess," Dr. Bruce Buxton growled at him. Bruce considered Jordan a worm. He had little love for any administrative type but Jordan's whining and worrying curdled his stomach.

"Well?" Rick demanded, staring at Bruce.

He pointed to the right side of Harry's head. "Blow. Blunt instrument. We've washed the blood off and cleaned and shaved the wound. I've taken X rays. She's fine. She's stitched up. A mild concussion at the worst."

"Harry, can you hear me?" Cynthia leaned down, speaking low.

"Yes."

"Did you see who hit you?"

"No, the son of a bitch."

Her reply made Cooper laugh. "You'll be just fine."

"Who found her?" Rick asked Jordan.

"Booty Weyman. New on the job and I guess he just happened to be checking the boiler room. We don't know how long she was there. We don't know exactly what happened either."

"I can tell you what happened," Rick snapped. "What happened was someone hit her on the head."

"Perhaps she fell and struck her head." Jordan tried to find another solution.

"In the boiler room? The only thing she could have hit her head on is the boiler and then we'd see burns. Don't pull this shit, Ivanic." Rick rarely swore, considering it unprofessional, but he was deeply disturbed and surges of white-hot anger shot through him. "There's something wrong in this hospital. If you know what it is you'd better come clean because I am going to turn this place upside down!"

Jordan held up his hands placatingly. "Now Sheriff, I'm as upset about this as you are."

"The hell you are."

This made Bruce laugh.

"Dr. Buxton." Cynthia leaned toward the tall man. "When did you get here?"

"I came a little bit after the meeting at the rectory, the God's Love group, you know. Herb's group."

"Yes." She nodded.

"Stopped at the convenience store. So I guess I got here about eight forty-five."

"Did you go to the boiler room yourself?" Rick asked the doctor.

"No. She was brought to me. When Booty Weyman found her, he had the sense to call for two orderlies. Scared to death." Bruce remembered Booty's face, which had been bone white.

"Well, if you won't be needing me I'll go back to my office." Jordan moved toward the door.

"Not so fast." Rick stopped him in his tracks. "I want the blueprints to the hospital. I want every single person's work schedule. I don't care who it is, doctors, receptionists, maintenance workers. I want the records for every delivery and trash removal for the last year and I want all this within twenty-four hours."

"Uh." Jordan's mind spun. "I'll do my best."

"Twenty-four hours!" Rick raised his voice.

"Is that all?" Jordan felt like he was strangling on his voice, which got thinner and higher the more nervous he became.

"No. Have you had any patients die under mysterious or unexplained circumstances?"

"Certainly not!" Jordan held his hands together.

"You would say that." Rick got right in his face.

"Because it's true. And I remind you, Sheriff," Jordan found a bit of courage to snap back, "whatever has occurred here has occurred in the basement. There are no patients in the basement."

"Get out." Rick dismissed him with a parting shot. "Twenty-four hours, on my desk."

"I'm glad he left before he peed his pants," Bruce snorted.

"I did not pee my pants," Harry thickly said.

"Not you, Harry. Just relax." Cooper reached for her hand.

Rick whispered to Bruce, "Do you think Harry is in danger?"

"No. Her pulse is strong. She's strong. She's going to have a tender spot on her head." He pointed to the three tiny, tight stitches. "These will drive her crazy."

"The blow was that hard?" Cynthia carefully studied the wound.

"No. If it was that hard, Deputy, we'd have seen a fracture in the skull. Whoever hit her knew just how hard to hit her, which is interesting in and of itself. But the skin on the skull is thin and tears quite easily. Also, as you know, the head bleeds profusely. If I hadn't stitched up what was a relatively small tear, the wound would have seeped for days. She might scratch it, infecting it or tearing it further. Something like this doesn't throb as much as it stings and itches." He smiled warmly. He had a nice smile, and it was a pity he didn't smile more often.

"Do you have any idea what she was doing here? Did she mention coming to the hospital at the meeting?" Cynthia asked.

"No."

Rick sighed, a long, frustrated sigh. "Mary Minor Haristeen can be damned nosy."

"Drugs." Harry tried to raise her voice but couldn't.

"What?" Cooper bent low.

"Drugs. I bet you someone is stealing drugs."

Bruce sighed. "It's as good an explanation as any other." He rubbed his hands together.

"I'd like to keep her here overnight for observation."

"I'll bring her home and stay with her," Cynthia declared.