Richard Mabry - Code Blue

"Nothing will change the way I feel" had been ambiguous. But this was "Nothing would make me stop loving you." How Cathy had longed to hear those words. More than that, she longed to say them back to Will. She wanted to, but somehow she couldn't. How could she explain this to him? And how could he possibly understand?

"Two men have already told me they loved me. They said they wanted to marry me. I thought I loved them. I told them so. Then they let me down. I'm still working on healing those wounds."

"And-?"

"And I promised myself that the next time I told a man I loved him, I would be one hundred percent sure."

"You're not sure about me?"

"At this moment I am. But I don't want to make another mistake. It would only hurt both of us. I'm almost there- maybe even ninety percent. Can you be patient with me a little longer?"

Will pushed back his plate. "Would it help if I withdrew as your lawyer? Honestly, it would be hard for me to do, because I want to help you, but I'd do it."

"No, I need your legal help. More than that, I trust you."The words just came out, but as she heard them, Cathy knew she really meant them.

"Okay, I'll try to be patient."

Cathy could see Will make a visible effort to shift into professional mode. "If I'm still your lawyer, we need to talk about our defense of this malpractice action. As I see it, it hinges on showing that someone tampered with that prescription and that you weren't responsible for Nix's overdose. And, of course, in the end you were the one who saved his life."

"That's all well and good," Cathy said, "but we have no proof, just suspicions."

"Maybe if I file for a continuance-ask for more time."

"No!" Cathy slammed her hand down on the table, and the silverware rattled. "I'm tired of having this hanging over my head. I've been thinking about it all day, and I believe I know how to smoke out the person responsible."

"How?"

She shook her head. "No, it's a one-person job, and the less you know about it, the better."

Jane tapped on the open door of Cathy's office. "Want me to bring you back a sandwich?"

"No thanks," Cathy said. "I brought yogurt and an apple. I'll eat at my desk. I've got some stuffto do."

Cathy waited until she heard the outer door close and lock. Then she opened Microsoft Word on her computer and began typing. It took her several tries to achieve the right blend of threat and greed.

How many copies would she need? That depended. Who could have changed the prescription? Who had means, motive, and opportunity? She opened a new document and made her list.

The two pharmacists, Jacob Collins and Lloyd Allen, were the most logical suspects. They had ample opportunity. They had the knowledge. She wasn't sure what the motive might be, but maybe that would come out later. For now, she needed to be sure they got the bait.

Sherri Collins, Jacob's wife, also had access to the pharmacy area. She could certainly have done it, but would she know how to alter the prescription? Motive? No problem there. It seemed that everyone in town had something against Cathy, and Sherri was no exception. Then Cathy realized she couldn't send a note to both Jacob and Sherri, or it would be obvious to them that she was on a fishing expedition. No, it had to be Jacob. Leave Sherri offthe list.

How about Gail Nix? Cathy had been bluffing when she told Milton his wife had tried to kill him, but it was certainly possible. She'd have needed the assistance of her brother, Lloyd. If Gail and Lloyd talked, would a letter to each make them think Cathy knew they had collaborated? Would it make them more certain that their plot had been discovered? She decided to add Gail's name to the list.

She couldn't bring herself to believe that Milton Nix had altered his own prescription, but had he left it on his desk at the bank before getting it filled? If he had, who could have gotten hold of it long enough to make the change? Only his secretary and Ella Mae had easy access. Motive aside, Cathy couldn't believe that either of them possessed the medical knowledge to make the alterations. No, leave them off the list.

Any others? Her mind kept coming back to Marcus Bell. He had a black Ford Expedition. His attitude toward Cathy had been ambivalent, to say the least. A doctor would know how to change the digitalis dosage. How could he have gotten the prescription? It wouldn't be hard for a physician to visit the pharmacy department and use some pretext to gain access behind the counter. Maybe Marcus sent the pharmacist looking in the shelves for some weird drug, taking the opportunity to palm the prescription as it lay on the counter. A little work in his office, then another trip back. Maybe even hand the altered script to the pharmacist and say he'd picked it up by mistake. Much as she hated the thought, Marcus's name went on the list.

Was there someone else? Yes, there was-a person with medical knowledge and a definite grudge against Cathy. She didn't see how he could have carried it out, though. It was far-fetched. Or was it? With a sigh, she wrote down Robert's name on the list and transcribed a Dallas address beneath it.

She'd carefully avoided adding one name to her list, stepping around it as gingerly as she would have avoided a landmine. There was one person who had intimate knowledge of all her actions since the first day the black SUV had made that near-suicide run at her. A person who had a right to hold a grudge, however much he might deny it. Of course, he didn't drive a black SUV. He drove a pickup. What if he had two vehicles? She'd never seen inside his two-car garage. Maybe the other half wasn't filled with tools and Christmas decorations.

She sighed and chided herself. His name wasn't on the list of Expedition owners. And he said he loved her. However much her head told her not to blindly trust a man, she knew-knew for certain-that she could trust Will. No, she couldn't- wouldn't- suspect he was capable of such duplicity.

Cathy computer addressed five plain white envelopes, adding the notation "Personal." She stuffed copies of her letter into the envelopes, added stamps, and dropped the small bundle into her purse. She'd mail them on the way home. They should arrive tomorrow-Friday. Then came the hard part-waiting to see who would respond.

She hoped her simple message would be enough to flush out the person whose actions almost killed Milton Nix and threatened to destroy her professional career:

I KNOW HOW YOU MANAGED TO ALTER THAT DIGOXIN PRESCRIPTION. HOW MUCH ARE YOU PREPARED TO PAY FOR MY SILENCE? IF IT'S ENOUGH, I'LL LET MY INSURANCE COMPANY SETTLE THE SUIT. I'LL LEAVE TOWN AND NO ONE WILL KNOW WHAT YOU DID. COME ALONE TO MY OFFICE AT 9:00 SATURDAY NIGHT.

– Cathy Sewell, M.D.

M ERCURY VAPOR LAMPS BATHED THE BARREN ASPHALT OF THE PROFESsional building's parking lot in blue light when Cathy pulled into her reserved space on Saturday night. Her throat tightened when she saw that the security light nearest the door had burned out, creating a tunnel of darkness she'd have to negotiate. She locked her car and hurried toward the building, shivering despite the mild breeze. The tingle between her shoulder blades made her tighten the muscles, as though that action could protect her from a bullet or a knife.

Once inside, Cathy hurried down the dark corridor to her office. She fumbled with her keys and slid inside, slamming and locking the door behind her. She stood for a moment with her back against it, breathing deeply and trying not to hyperventilate.

Quickly, she threw a switch and bathed the outer office in light. Despite her fear of an attacker, she eased past the reception desk and raced from room to room, turning on lights to reassure herself that no one lurked behind a closed door.

In her office, she slipped into her white coat and finished her preparations. She looked at her watch. Eight o'clock. Soon she'd know the truth. But, the more she thought about it, the crazier her scheme seemed. And if it did, could she handle the person who showed up, whoever it might be? She breathed a silent prayer, surprised that it seemed as automatic as though she hadn't stopped praying more than three years ago.