Michael Palmer - The Last Surgeon

“Hello, this is Nick Garrity,” he said, having to clear his voice after the first word came out as a croak.

“Three years ago, Umberto Vasquez was transported by ambulance from the Singh Medical Spa and Cosmetic Surgery Center to Shelby Stone Memorial.”

“Go on,” Nick said to Mollender.

“Three years and one month ago to the day, to be exact. Vasquez was brought by a private ambulance, Littleton Ambulance Services, it looks like. I’ve tried Google, Yahoo, and a couple of other places, but I can’t find them, and I’ve never heard of them.”

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Saul.”

“Maybe not. But I will take that gift your friend Ms. Coates was kind enough to make for me-that is if she hasn’t incinerated it.”

Jillian nodded vigorously and gave Nick a thumbs-up.

“Nope, she still has it. She’s an optimist. You’re a good man, Saul Mollender,” Nick said.

“Not really. I’m a bit of a dud. I know that. I did it because I believe Andy would have wanted me to. And I trust you. Not really sure why. I guess when you spend your day reading medical records you forget the humanity that goes into those pages. Perhaps you reminded me of that.”

It was then Nick realized Jillian had started getting dressed.

“Saul, hold on a second.” Pulling the phone up to cover the receiver with his hand, Nick asked, “Where you going?”

“That date. Belle was a nursing student at Shelby Stone on the day Umberto was brought there. I’m going back to the hospital before my shift to see if I can catch up with Nancy Lane at the nursing school. She’s been like a mother to each of her students for over twenty years, and she keeps incredible records. There’s a chance that she’ll be able to figure out where Belle was working that day. I’m certain that’s where her path and Umberto’s crossed and that’s how she knew about Nick Fury.”

“Good idea. Saul, sorry, you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“So, what floor did Umberto go to after he was dropped off at Shelby Stone?”

“Well, that’s where it gets really interesting,” Mollender said.

“How so?”

“There are no other entries in his record.”

“Nothing?”

“Not a word. According to all I’ve been able to find, Umberto Vasquez was delivered at Shelby Stone Memorial at ten o’clock that morning. Then he just disappeared from our records. It’s as if he simply dropped off the face of the earth.”

On the way south, Jillian phoned Nancy Lane, dean of the nursing school at the Shelby Stone Institute of Health Professions. She had seen the woman at Belle’s funeral, and then received several concerned calls from her after that.

During the horrible days following the fire in her condo, when it appeared as though Jillian was destined for an extended stay in a Residence Inn or crashed out in a succession of friends’ guest rooms, Lane had come through for her as she had in so many situations for so many students. One phone call was all it took to secure a room for Jillian indefinitely in Anne Marie Cosco Hall, the nursing school dorm.

Lane was not in her office when Jillian called, but her secretary felt certain she would be back before leaving for the day. In addition to all her help, the dean was one of the few who did not discount that Belle had been murdered. Hopefully, knowing that Jillian’s request to meet pertained to her sister would be enough to keep Lane in her office.

With time to think during the sluggish drive to D.C., Jillian’s mind wandered to the beautiful and entirely unexpected afternoon spent in Nick’s arms. Her desire to take their relationship to the next level had, she acknowledged, been there almost from the start. He was a beautiful, deeply caring man, with demons that were keeping him somewhat at bay. But she felt ready and anxious to help him drive them from his life. All the two of them needed now was time.

Belle had once likened Jillian’s dating life to the Oregon Trail, joking that it had begun along the smooth tracks of the hopes and desires of her admirers, only to become littered along the way with pieces of their broken hearts. If only her sister could be here to meet Nick. Jillian’s feelings for him were unlike any she had ever experienced before, and after they had made love, her mind flashed like neon with a giddy, but also panicky thought- this was it . Nick Garrity was the one.

Logjammed by the heavy afternoon traffic, Jillian grew increasingly anxious about her chances of catching the dean in. By the time she had parked and trekked from the garage to the office, she had all but given up. She had also given up intellectualizing her feelings for Nick, and was ready to let emotion guide her.

Lane’s office door was closed and there was no light spilling out from underneath it. Jillian cursed softly. Thanks to Saul Mollender, they had taken a huge step forward in connecting Belle to Umberto Vasquez, and possibly learning more about why she had been killed. Armed with the bewildering information that Umberto’s medical record had him going by ambulance from the Singh Center to Shelby Stone, where his arrival was never documented, Jillian wanted to move as quickly as possible. Something was very wrong with Singh’s clinic, and now it seemed quite possible that something was rotten at Shelby Stone as well.

She made a tentative knock, then sighed with relief when she heard movement from within. Nancy Lane, in a charcoal business suit, embraced her warmly. In her early sixties, the dean had grayed over the years, and with her granny glasses and jovial laugh, reminded some of Santa’s wife. But she was a force. She had almost single-handedly built the nursing school into one of the top in the country, and was showing no signs of slowing.

“Thank you for waiting,” Jillian said.

“Everything all right in the dorms?”

“Perfect. It seems like lately I’m always thanking you for something, but thank you for that one. Staying here has made a huge difference. The insurance company has come through, so now I’m looking for a new place.”

“Take your time, dear. Stay here as long as you need to. So, come into my office, sit down, and let’s talk.”

“Thank you… again.”

Jillian followed Lane into her office suite, accepted a cup of tea, and settled in on the sofa beside her.

“So tell me now, what’s going on?” the dean asked. “I understand it’s about Belle?”

“Yes.”

“You know, I think about your sister all the time, Jillian. Nothing about her death makes any sense. I wrote a recommendation for her when she moved to Charlotte, and she called me so excited when she got the ICU job. She was already such a shining star in our profession. Her loss has affected us all deeply.”

With effort, Jillian used her anger to help her maintain composure.

“I know that,” she said, “which is why I came to see you. Many people admired and loved Belle, but you are one of the few who truly understood and believed in my conviction that she would never ever take her own life.”

“I did then and I do today.”

“I’ve formed a friendship with a doctor named Nick Garrity. He runs the medical van that drives around caring for the homeless people around D.C. and Baltimore.”

“Yes, of course. I have heard wonderful things about him and the marvelous nurse who works with him.”

“Junie Wright. Actually, they are partners in the van.”

“They do such good for so many.”

“Well, there’s a connection between Belle and Nick that I’ll tell you about when I have more time. For now suffice it to say that Nick and I might be closing in on finding her killer.”

“Oh, my God. Please be careful,” Lane said.