Peter Clement: The Inquisitor

"Oh, I bet you had doubts but dismissed them. Look at those." Earl persisted, determined to dig up some evidence that might make her see she hadn't been totally naive. "They'd prove your instincts weren't all that bad, if only you trusted them enough."

She didn't respond, still looking morose, then all at once cocked her head at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, quit beating yourself up. You probably weren't as completely fooled by him as I was. Take that business about the pass cards. He kept asking if I had started to check them yet. I didn't think much of it then, but now I realize that he'd been making sure I hadn't started yet. And there was other sneaky stuff I didn't twig to, such as how he ingratiated himself into our cluster study. His apparent enthusiasm to be part of it seemed in keeping with what an ambitious resident might want, but of course he was only out to keep an eye on how close we were getting to the truth. And now I recognize all the clever little ways he raised doubts about Stewart while apparently trying to champion him. But at the time, no way. He even got me and everyone else to want him on staff. So don't think you were alone in getting taken in."

"Nobody got taken quite the way I did."

He struggled to come up with a reply but flushed instead.

The defiance in her gaze died. "Sorry. It's me I'm angry at for being so stupid, not you."

"And I bet if anyone had doubts about the guy when none of us did, it's you." He didn't know anything of the kind but figured the challenge was worth a try if it checked her self-doubts even a little bit.

She fell silent again.

Maybe Susanne should try to talk with her, he thought.

She cocked her head at him again. "You know, there were some things I wondered about. The night we responded to Elizabeth Matthews's code, Thomas seemed particularly peeved that Yablonsky had called the resus team. It struck me as odd how he kept pressing the point, ridiculed her even, when a simple reminder to check a patient better the next time would have sufficed. But of course he probably hoped that by browbeating Yablonsky, she'd keep subsequent calls to a minimum. That way there'd be little likelihood of anyone noting anything suspicious, at least until he had everything ready to pin the deaths on Stewart." Her brow furrowed. "Unfortunately, that made her explode about you."

"She would have done that anyway, I figure." He wanted to keep her talking, as if it might prevent her from sliding back into the hole she'd been in. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Yablonsky hadn't already noted the increased mortality rate, being head nurse in charge of the records. Figuring how easily nurses could get fingered once patients started dying in unexplained numbers, she planned to make certain she didn't get blamed, whatever the cause. I just happened to be handy."

Her expression became pensive. "You know, there's another thing that sounded a little too neat- the way he practically echoed all the feelings I had about losing my father at the age I did when he talked about his own father dying. At the time, I suppose, I figured the similarity meant we were soul mates. And when we talked about growing up in the country, we seemed to share common likes and dislikes there as well. But he was adopting all my likes and dislikes as his own, to fool me."

"It might have gone deeper than just a sham."

"How do you mean?"

"Given how he practically lived his part, maybe he used your feelings to shed his own. He made your memories and emotions his, like pulling on a new skin."

"Jesus, that's creepy."

"I think a lot of how he presented himself came from inventing his new history on top of true events, then making it part of his own memories, which is why he never had any major slip-ups."

She held her index finger up, as if about to point at something. "But he wasn't foolproof, even in his pretending to help you and Dr. Graceton. At first he didn't have any ideas and I had to push him, then all at once he was Mr. Helpful. That struck me as funny too, that he didn't come up with his own ideas sooner. He probably thought at first that everyone going after you would muddy the waters, then got worried you'd find out too much, hence his getting closer to you so he could steer you wrong."

A little spark had appeared in her eye that hadn't been there before. By being able to pick holes in the deception that had deceived her so profoundly, she would gradually cut the lie down to size and, he hoped, become less fearful of being taken in again. "You see, J.S.? Now why didn't you just tell me that at the time? Look at all the trouble we could have saved. You're so clueless."

She gaped at him a full ten seconds, puzzlement scrawled in the furrows of her forehead, the sagging of her jaw visible even behind her mask. Then she started to giggle. "Wait a minute, Dr. G., you're messing with me."

"Damn right. And I'll keep messing with you until you stop being so hard on yourself. And I bet if Jimmy were here he'd give you holy hell-"

The sudden pain that slashed through her eyes stopped him cold.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Sorry, Dr. G. I still get really tired, really fast. Do you mind if I rest now?"

"No, not at all."

On the way out, he stopped by the nurses' station. "Has Jimmy Fitzpatrick been in to see J.S. yet today?" he asked the clerk.

The large ebony-skinned woman beckoned him closer. "Several times," she whispered. "But J.S. left orders not to let him in."

3:50 p.m.

Erie Basin, Buffalo, New York

A light chop slapped against the bow of Jimmy's canoe, but the combined power of his and Earl's stroke kept the sleek craft on an absolutely straight course. A breeze from the west cooled the skin, and the dazzle of sunlight off the dancing aquamarine surface made it impossible not to squint, even behind sunglasses.

But Earl, seated in the bow, remained tense. He knew when Jimmy had invited him out here it wouldn't be for the pleasure of a Saturday paddle. "So are we making a run for the Canadian border, Jimmy?" he said, deciding to break the ice. Since setting out twenty minutes ago, his host had been uncharacteristically quiet.

"Actually, I wanted to tell you I had a job offer."

Not what Earl expected. "Oh?"

"Denver, Colorado. They need a hospital chaplain, and as a bonus, I get a little parish to moonlight in outside the city- ranch country, where I can do my rounds on horseback. Lone rider stuff."

"Really? Are you going to take it?" The thought of St. Paul's without Jimmy sobered him.

"That depends."

"On?*

"Whether I'm going to be carrying some pretty nasty baggage or not. I won't let my name hurt these people."

Earl paddled in silence a few strokes, digging the water extra hard, reveling in the pull on his back muscles. "What about here?"

"No matter what, I'm resigning. You know I have to. I won't put you or anyone else in a position of covering up for me. Besides, my work here is done, with Wyatt stepping down and the young lions taking over. The question is, will that be the end of it?"

"You mean, am I going to help people figure out the complete explanation of what happened here? What good would that do anyone? Patients got the morphine they should have had in the first place. Nobody will be looking past Thomas Biggs to explain the corresponding shift in death numbers."

More silence, except Earl felt the surge of Jimmy's paddle make the boat leap ahead, creating its own small wake in the greater sea.

"How did you know?" Jimmy asked after a few seconds.

Earl exhaled, as if he'd been holding his secret like a breath. "There were two increases in the mortality rate on that floor. The initial one involved mainly people who were DNR, which meant they were likely near death and liable to have the most pain, and it occurred in the first three months of this year."