Michael Palmer - Fatal

"Hey, Ledge, wazzapnin'?" he said.

"Everything okay?"

"Yep. Your lady got off just like clockwork."

"Got off where?" Matt asked, feeling a sudden chill.

"For the MRI you ordered," Lyons said, clearly bewildered.

Matt raced to the doorway. Nikki's bed was empty and had been made, awaiting a return Matt doubted would be happening.

"Tarvis," he said, his pulse hammering, "I didn't order an MRI."

It was right there in the physician" s orders section of Nikki's chart, right below the order Matt had written for neuro checks.

MRI at Hastings Hospital. Ptnt to go by ambulance. T.O. Dr. Rutledge.

T.O. — telephone order. Someone had called the ward secretary using Matt's name and had ordered that Nikki be transported by ambulance for an MRI at Hastings Hospital. Quickly, Matt called the radiologist there. He was not at all surprised to learn that, at his request, Nikki had been inserted into their MRI schedule as an emergency. Her appointment was for thirty minutes ago, but as of yet she hadn't shown up.

Tarvis Lyons, looking nonplussed and bereft, was waiting by the doorway to Nikki's room.

"I screwed up, didn't I," he said.

"Just tell me what happened."

"You and Chief Grimes both said not to let no one into the room unless I knew who they were. Well, if I don't know the Stith brothers, I don't know anyone."

"The Stith brothers?"

"Marty and Gerald. They drive for Gold Cross Ambulance. Marty's part-time with the fire department, too. They're regulars on Saturdays at Snooky's, just like me. So, first the nurse came and told me you had ordered an MRI and the ambulance was coming. Then a little while later the Stiths showed up and took her. I had no idea I wasn't supposed to let her go."

Matt rubbed at his eyes. Who in the hell could have engineered this? It had to be someone who knew the hospital and how things were done. A doctor? A nurse? He snatched up the phone and called the operator.

"Hi, it's Dr. Rutledge. Could you please get me Gold Cross Ambulance?"

"Right away, Doctor."

"Gold Cross, Mary speaking."

"Mary, it's Dr. Matt Rutledge at the hospital. Would you please radio the ambulance that's taking Nikki Solari from Montgomery County to Hastings Hospital?"

"What do you want me to tell them?"

"Tell them to turn around and get back here as soon as possible. Don't take the patient to Hastings."

Matt tapped his foot and fidgeted with the light cord, but he knew what was coming.

"Dr. Rutledge," the dispatcher said, "this is very strange. I can't seem to raise them."

"Maybe they're in the hospital already."

"They each have portable units that kick in as soon as they leave the ambulance. I'll check on the trouble. Do you want me to keep trying the radio?"

"Yeah, sure," Matt said. "Keep trying."

At that instant, Tarvis Lyons's radio crackled to life.

"Lyons."

"Tarvis, it's Chief Grimes."

"Shit," Lyons whispered. "Yes, Chief."

"I told you not to let that woman out of your sight."

"I don't remember you sayin' — "

"Tarvis, give me that," Matt snapped, snatching the radio away. "Chief, it's Matt Rutledge. Someone using my name called in an order to have Nikki taken to Hastings for an MRI. She never arrived and the Gold Cross people can't raise the ambulance on the radio."

"That's because the drivers have been duct-taped to a tree in the woods off Highway 29. They just got brought in here. Nikki Solari's not with them."

"Damn. I'm coming right over."

"Listen, don't bother. I'll be over to — "

Matt handed the radio back to Lyons.

"Tarvis," he said, "if the chief calls back, tell him I didn't hear what he said and I'm on my way over."

The police station, standard redbrick issue with an attached garage and jail in back, was situated as far on the east end of town as the hospital was on the west. Matt rode the Harley over, searching his mind for a hint as to who could have engineered Nikki's abduction, and why. Whoever it was had to have been watching him to know he had left the hospital. If only Nikki had shared a theory — any theory — as to why the two men were waiting for her in the first place.

The patrolman on the station desk phoned Grimes and then, with a shake of his head, motioned Matt toward a bank of folding chairs. Through the open blinds on the interior picture window in Grimes's spacious office, Matt could see the chief talking to the two ambulance drivers. The Stith brothers, both freckled and red-haired, seemed to be talking at once. Matt had never spoken more than a few words to either of them, but that contact was enough for him to know that neither man was going to win the Nobel prize for rocket science. Grimes's right-hand man, a hard-nosed sergeant named Steve Valenti, faced the drivers from a seat beside the desk, his eyes narrowed as if probing their account for inconsistencies. As Matt approached the office door, Grimes caught his eye and held up a hand for him to wait a moment. Then, after a few words with Valenti, he motioned him in. Even before Grimes spoke, it was clear from his expression that he held Matt somehow responsible for what had happened.

"Rutledge, I warned you to be careful with that woman."

"I didn't do anything except go on a house call," Matt replied flatly.

"I also told you to stay at the hospital."

"Well, I don't handle being told what to do. That's why I went to med school. What's with you, anyway? Did Solari say something kind to you at the funeral? Is that what's going on?"

"Don't push me, Rutledge."

"Don't go ordering me around, Grimes. Hey, hi, guys."

"Hi, Dr. Rutledge," the Stiths said in unison. "We're sorry about this."

"I'm sure there was nothing you could have done about it."

"No, there wasn't. We got a flat on 29. One of the bastards drove up and — "

"Gerald," Grimes snapped, "we've already covered all this. It's Dr. Rutledge's turn to answer some questions. Listen, why don't you two wait outside. I'll call you back when I need you again."

Heads down, the brothers shuffled from the office. Valenti closed the door behind them and took his seat again. This time, the probing, eyes-narrowed stare was fixed on Matt.

"So," Grimes began, "you say you never ordered any MRI on Nikki Solari, but the ambulance people say they saw the order."

"It was a telephone order, called in by someone other than me."

"Not you, but using your name."

"That's right."

Matt felt the warmth building in his face — historically the first sign that some sort of eruption was imminent. Grimes's snide, supercilious tone was pushing a number of hard-to-reach buttons.

"So, where were you while all this was going on?"

"I was making a house call."

"To who?"

"I don't talk about my patients to anyone. It's unethical."

"And you, of course, are Mr. Ethics. So while you were caring for a victim of a brutal attempted murder, you decided it was the perfect time to make a house call."

"Back off, Grimes," Matt warned, the red warmth creeping up a few degrees. "I had been with her for more than twelve hours when I left the hospital. She was reasonably stable, and I had other people to attend to. Besides, if you had sent someone else out other than that lump Tarvis Lyons, they might have thought to have me paged to check on what was going on, since I didn't say anything about ordering an MRI."

"I don't know what in the hell is going on, Rutledge, but I can't shake the sense that you're right in the middle of it."

Matt pointedly ignored the remark. "What happened, anyway?" he asked.

"Sounds like the same two men who went after her before."

"If at first…" Valenti interjected, sounding like Ed McMahon.

"One of them probably shot out a tire on the ambulance, then both of them pulled silenced revolvers on the drivers. The whole thing took two minutes at the most. Dark sedan is all we can get out of the Stiths."