Richard Mabry - Code Blue

"Wait for me back here," Jacob Collins said. "I've got to take care of a problem at the front of the store." He punched a four-digit code into the lock and pushed the Dutch door open for Cathy before hurrying off.

She stepped inside and looked around. Large stock bottles of every kind of medication were arranged in alphabetical order on shelf after shelf. One shelf looked different, though. Set at eye level, it featured a display of pharmacy implements from a prior era. She recognized several glass and ceramic mortar and pestle units for grinding substances into a smooth powder. A shiny brass balance scale stood in the center of the shelf, its weights arranged in an orderly row in an open walnut case beside it. At the end of the shelf she spied another small wooden case, open to display a group of metal dies and pegs. She had no idea what that was, but the display was impressive.

"What are you doing back here?"

Cathy looked around to see a stocky woman whose most notable feature was flaming red hair that appeared to owe its distinctive color to Clairol rather than genetics.

"I'm waiting for Jacob. I'm Dr. Cathy Sewell."

"Oh. Sorry, I should have recognized you." The woman's tone softened. She moved a step closer. "Sherri. Sherri Collins." She extended her hand. "I was Sherri Clawson when we were in school."

Cathy took the hand, while her mind conjured up a yearbook picture, and decided that the years had not been kind to her classmate. When she was in high school, Sherri had a figure that turned the heads of all the boys and was the envy of all the girls. Back then, when most of the kids still wore glasses, Sherri had contact lenses-blue contacts that complemented her faultless complexion and long, light brown hair.

The yearbook picture faded. Long-buried memories scrolled through Cathy's mind. Two senior girls vied for Homecoming Queen in a close race. Too close. That changed after a few words whispered in the right ears: "Oh, Sherri would be a great Homecoming Queen. After all, she's on close terms with almost the whole football team-very close."

During halftime at the Homecoming Game, every eye in the stadium followed Cathy as quarterback Will Kennedy escorted her to the center of the field to receive her crown. Runner-up Sherri Clawson trailed behind, escorted by second-string tackle, Jacob Collins.

Cathy forced the images back into hiding and smiled."Sorry I didn't recognize you. It's been a while. Jacob told me you two were married."

Sherri's eyes narrowed. "As soon as Jacob graduated from high school," she said. "After we married, I got a job in the drugstore. I wanted to go to college, but someone had to make a living." She made a face. "We lived with Jacob's parents to save money, and he commuted to his pre-med classes at TCU."

"I didn't know he'd gone pre-med." Cathy could have cut out her tongue. Obviously, Jacob hadn't gotten into medical school.

By this time, Sherri looked like she'd chewed and swallowed a lemon. "Medical school didn't work out. So Judge Lawton pulled a few strings, and Jacob got into pharmacy school."

Cathy decided that no good could come from going farther down this road. "He seems to be doing well now."

Just then Jacob hurried in. "Sherri, why don't you go up front and get a Coke out of the machine? Get one for me too. I'll only be a few minutes here."

"Sure," Sherri said. "Nice seeing you, Cathy." She wheeled and hurried away.

Jacob eased onto a high stool at the chest-high work counter. "Let's get this done. I'm in a hurry."

"I appreciate your letting me see the prescription." Cathy pulled up another stool next to the pharmacist, careful not to disturb the pill containers and prescriptions lying on the counter. "It's really important."

"Let me find it." He pulled open the top drawer of one of the half-dozen small filing cabinets arranged under his workspace. He thumbed through the prescriptions in practiced fashion before pulling one out with a flourish usually reserved for rabbits emerging from a magician's hat."I hope you realize that I can't let it out of my sight. Matter of fact, when you're through, I plan to seal it in an envelope and lock it in my safe. I suspect it will be an important piece of evidence in the near future."

Cathy ignored the jab and focused on the slip of paper in front of her. Little by little, like a child peeking between her fingers at a scary movie, she let her eyes move across the prescription. The top line carried the notation "Milton Nix (DOB 6-29-57)." Cathy's NPI number was handwritten in the space at the bottom right. One refill was authorized. An X appeared in the box for "generic may be dispensed." Her signature at the bottom left no doubt about who had written the prescription: Catherine Sewell, MD.

When she could no longer put it off, Cathy directed her gaze to the body of the prescription. As with all her prescriptions, the information was printed in a bold hand.

DIGOXIN TABS 0.25 mg

DISP: [# 30]

SIG: 2 TABS Q DAY

Two tablets a day of a medication twice as strong as was needed. Milton Nix would be taking four times the normal dose of the heart medication. It looked like her printing. It looked like her signature. But then she realized what was wrong, and she knew this wasn't the prescription she'd written for Milton Nix in her office.

Maybe she wasn't losing her mind. Maybe someone really was out to get her. And they'd almost killed Nix in the process.

The church service Sunday morning did little to calm Cathy. True, the handshakes and hugs seemed genuine. The songs brought back memories of happier times, sitting between her parents not far from the pew she and Will occupied today. The sermon spoke of the love of God, and that was where Pastor Kennedy lost her. If God was so loving, why hadn't He protected her parents? Why had she been left orphaned? And where was God's love in all the troubles she had-professional roadblocks and financial pressure and attempts on her life?

As she sat with the Kennedy family at lunch, Cathy let the conversation flow around her like rapids around a rock in a stream. She remained occupied with her own thoughts, and they weren't thoughts of peace and love.

"You seem quiet today." Pastor Kennedy took the bowl of mashed potatoes from his wife and dropped a large spoonful on his plate. "Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

Cathy shook her head. Talking to the pastor about her personal and professional troubles wouldn't help. She was the target for someone-some unknown person who didn't care who got in the way-but what could she do about it?

When Will spoke from across the dining room table, it confirmed the concern she'd read on his face when he'd picked her up that morning. "I don't want to pry, but if you're having problems, this is the place to talk about them. I mean, I'm your lawyer, Dad is your pastor, and we all care about you. You can tell us anything."

"No." The sharp retort came out before Cathy could stop it, but like a genie once out of the bottle, she couldn't get it back. She took a deep breath, put down the fork she'd been using to push food around on her plate without actually eating, and looked around the table. "Will, it may be a legal matter, but I'm not ready to talk about it right now. And Pastor Kennedy, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be disrespectful. But I have to confess-God and I haven't exactly been on speaking terms for the past few years."

"You mean, since your parents were killed?"

"Yes. I guess it was no secret that my mother had-" Cathy couldn't bring herself to say the word. "She had emotional problems. And as a result, she and Dad had some difficulties in their marriage. But he told me she was better. He thought they'd worked things out. My family would be together again. Then God let them get killed!" She squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears from flowing.