Richard Mabry - Diagnosis Death

Elena knew the answer David wanted, but she answered with her heart, not her head. "Yes! That's exactly what it felt like. Doesn't it say somewhere in the Bible that whatever we ask, we'll get?" She swallowed hard. "Now that seems like a lie."

"You're right about the passage. That's hard to understand when we ask for something and don't see the result we want. But there are other places that assure us God knows not just what we want, but what we need."

"So why bother to pray, anyway?"

David shrugged, as though the concept was beyond words. "I guess it's a way of staying connected. For me, part of praying is listening. It's a two-way conversation."

"Right now, I'm not sure I feel like talking to God."

"No problem. Just listen."

Code Blue ICU! Code Blue ICU!

Elena hurried down the hall and pushed through the double doors into the ICU. Her heart dropped when she saw the activity in Charlie Lambert's room. She edged nearer and saw an anesthesiologist at the head of Lambert's bed. He'd reinserted a breathing tube and was squeezing an Ambu bag to force air into Lambert's lungs. Another doctor-it looked like Marcus Bell-pumped on Lambert's chest at a pace of one hundred beats per minute. Just a couple of days ago she'd told her CPR class they could achieve the proper rhythm by humming the BeeGees song, "Stayin' Alive." The class thought that was comical. Now it was a serious matter.

The drama dragged on, but eventually Marcus looked at the anesthesiologist. Both shook their heads and straightened, flexing their backs to ease tired muscles. Elena turned away and saw Mrs. Lambert huddled at the nurse's station, shivering despite the blanket someone had thrown over her shoulders.

Elena eased over and stood beside the woman. "What happened?"

"I slipped out to make a phone call. I was only gone for five or ten minutes. When I came back, Charlie wasn't breathing. His lips were blue. I screamed. A nurse came running in. They brought me out here, so that's all I know." She looked at the room, where the blinds were now drawn. "Is he…?"

"I wasn't in the room. I'm sure someone will be here soon to tell you."

Mrs. Lambert ignored Elena's carefully neutral answer. She seemed to shrink in on herself and started sobbing. A woman in a plain blue dress covered by a short white coat eased into the chair beside her. "Mrs. Lambert, I'm Chaplain Fulmer."

Elena moved aside, her mind already locked in a comparison of this episode to the death of Chester Pulliam. Although she had no idea who could have done such a thing, she had a very good idea who might be blamed for it. She felt a tingling between her shoulder blades. Just as surely as if she had a target pinned to her back, she knew what was coming.

Elena wished she'd sneaked a peek at the thermostat as she entered Nathan Godwin's office. Surely he had the air conditioning cranked up full tilt. She shivered inside her white coat. Then again, maybe the fault lay not with the thermostat but with her situation.

"Doctor Gardner, I appreciate your coming by." Godwin's voice showed none of the appreciation his words supposedly conveyed. "Please have a seat."

Elena took one of the two visitor's chairs. She hitched it forward so that only an expanse of uncluttered mahogany separated her from the administrator. Don't show your fear. Don't get angry. Let it play out. "Under the circumstances, I expected the call." She looked at her watch. Still plenty of time to get through this before she left for Fort Worth.

"I perceive you're in a hurry," Godwin's smile carried more triumph than mirth. "Very well. I'll get right to it. As you know, I'm already aware of your involvement in the suspicious deaths of two patients during your residency training."

Elena bristled. She leaned forward until she was halfway across Godwin's desk. "For the last time, these deaths were the result of withdrawal of life support from two patients with no hope of recovery. And one of those patients happened to be my…" Her throat caught. She couldn't say the word.

"Your husband," Godwin said. "Yes, I know. Nevertheless, you left your residency under something of a cloud, with your ability to deal with brain-dead patients in question." Not only was the administrator capable of using the dreaded phrase, he seemed to delight in it.

"What's your point?"

"You were in the ICU at noon, shortly before your patient, Mr. Lambert, was found unresponsive, with no respirations and only a faint heartbeat. Efforts to resuscitate him were not successful."

"I don't deny that. I saw him, talked with his wife, and then met a colleague to discuss one of his patients. After that I went to medical records to sign some charts. I was on my way back to the ICU when I heard the emergency page."

Godwin opened his desk drawer and pulled out a plastic bag containing a small vial and a syringe. "This was found in Mr. Lambert's bedside table. It's succinylcholine, commonly known by its trade name of Anectine. I believe someone injected Lambert with this drug. Since he no longer had the respiratory support of a ventilator, when the Anectine paralyzed him he stopped breathing."

Elena clamped her jaws shut. Don't say anything. See where he's going.

"I intend to turn this evidence over to the police. At that time, I'll make them aware of your history and suggest they investigate Mr. Lambert's death as a homicide." He turned the bag, letting the light catch the vial. "It appears to me that there's a clear set of fingerprints on the vial. If they're found to be yours, I have no doubt that you'll be charged with murder. At that time, I intend to summarily suspend your hospital privileges."

"You can't do that. This is America. I'm innocent until proven guilty."

Godwin pointed to a thick binder on his desk. "I've carefully researched the hospital bylaws. If there is reasonable suspicion that a staff member's continued practice in this hospital constitutes a threat to the well-being of its patients, the hospital administrator may suspend that doctor's privileges pending a full investigation. I don't need the approval of the Credentials Committee or your precious Dr. Bell. It is within my power, and that's exactly what I intend to do at the first opportunity."

He dropped the bag back into his desk drawer. "Good day, Doctor."

As Elena left the city limits of Dainger, she wished she could leave her troubles behind as well. All the way to Fort Worth, thoughts circled in her head like a cloud of vultures over carrion. She felt certain this vial of Anectine was the same one she'd found in his bedside table earlier-the one she'd so innocently picked up and examined-which meant that her fingerprints would be on the vial. Someone was trying to frame her. But who? And why?

Was Nathan Godwin the culprit? He had no reason to hate her. But she'd aligned herself, no matter how innocently, with Marcus Bell, and the enmity between Bell and the administrator was obvious. Could Godwin have gone so far as to kill a man in order to cast suspicion on her as a way to demonstrate his power? It was far-fetched, but so was everything else that had gone on in her life recently.

Then there was Eric Burson. He made it a frequent practice to be in the ICU. He'd been there right before the first episode that almost took Lambert's life. As an EMT, Burson had access to Anectine and was familiar with its action. He hated doctors. That was no secret. And he'd apparently directed some of that hate toward Elena from the moment they'd met. Was this the endgame of some arcane plot to harm her? Elena found it hard to believe that someone whose profession involved the daily saving of lives could sacrifice one in order to get revenge on a member of the medical community.

Marcus Bell? He'd been in the ICU at the time of Lambert's death, but she couldn't think of any motive he might have to do such a thing. She'd tried to turn away his advances graciously, pleading her recent widowhood. Surely he understood that, since he'd gone through the same experience. No, Elena couldn't bring herself to consider him a suspect.