Robin Cook - Fatal Cure

David couldn't account for these symptoms. He wasn't sure how to proceed. Since her sinusitis seemed to be slightly better, he did not alter her antibiotics even though there was a slight chance the antibiotics were causing the GI problems. But what about the drowsiness? As a precaution, he canceled her PRN sleep order as he'd done with John Tarlow.

Going on to Jonathan Eakins' room, David's relatively buoyant spirits returned. Jonathan was in an expansive mood. He was feeling chipper and reported that his cardiac monitor had been beeping as regularly as a metronome without the slightest suggestion of irregularity.

Taking out his stethoscope, David listened to Jonathan's chest. He was pleased to hear that Jonathan's lungs were perfectly clear. David wasn't surprised with Jonathan's rapidly improved status. He had spent several hours going over the case with the cardiologist the previous afternoon. The cardiologist had been certain there would be no problems with the heart.

The rest of David's hospital patients were all doing as well as Jonathan. He was able to move from one to the other swiftly, even discharging a few. With his rounds finished, David headed to his office, happy to be early. After the experiences of the last few days, he'd made a vow to make every effort not to get behind again.

As the morning progressed, David remained acutely aware of the amount of time he spent with each patient. Knowing that his productivity was being monitored, he tried to keep each visit short. Although he didn't feel good about it, he was afraid he didn't have much choice. Kelley's implied threat of firing him had left him shaken. With their debt, the family could not afford for him to be out of work.

Having gotten an early start, David was able to keep ahead all morning. When two second-floor nurses called and asked to be seen as semi-emergencies, David was able to take them the moment they came in the door.

Both had flu-like symptoms identical to the two previous nurses. David treated them the same way: recommending bed rest and symptomatic therapy for their GI complaints.

With ample time to attend to other matters, David even had an opportunity to slip over to Dr. Pilsner's office. He told the pediatrician that he'd been seeing some flu already, and he asked him about Nikki's flu shot.

"She's already had it," Dr. Pilsner said. "I haven't seen any flu in my practice yet, but I don't wait to see it before I give the shots, especially to my cystic fibrosis patients."

David also asked Dr. Pilsner about his opinion regarding the use of prophylactic antibiotics for Nikki. Dr. Pilsner said he was not in favor of it. He thought it best to wait until Nikki's condition suggested she needed them.

David finished his morning patients before noon and even had time to dictate some letters before meeting Angela in the hospital lobby.

"With the weather as nice as it is, what do you say we go into town and have lunch at the diner?" David suggested. He thought some fresh air would be good for both of them.

"I was about to suggest the same thing," Angela said. "But let's get take-out. I want to stop by the police station and find out how they intend to proceed with the Hodges investigation."

"I don't think that's a good idea," David said.

"Why not?" Angela questioned.

"I'm not entirely sure," David admitted. "Intuition, I guess. And it's not like the town police have inspired much confidence. To tell you the truth, I didn't get the impression they were all that interested in investigating the case."

"That's why I want to go," Angela said. "I want to be sure they know that we're interested. Come on, humor me."

"If you insist," David said with reluctance.

They got tuna sandwiches to go and ate them on the steps of the gazebo. Although it had been well below freezing that morning, the bright sun had warmed the air to a balmy seventy degrees.

After finishing their meal they walked over to the police station. It was a plain, two-story brick structure standing on the town green directly across from the library.

The officer at the front desk was gracious. After a quick call he directed David and Angela down a creaky wooden corridor to Wayne Robertson's office. Robertson invited them in and hastily took newspapers and Dunkin' Donuts bags off two metal chairs. When David and Angela were seated, he leaned his expansive backside against his matching metal desk. He crossed his arms and smiled. Despite the lack of direct sunlight in the room, he was wearing his reflective aviator-style sunglasses.

"I'm glad you folks stopped in," he said once David and Angela were seated. He had a slight accent that had a vague similarity to a southern drawl. "I'm sorry we had to intrude the other night. I'd like to apologize for upsetting your evening."

"We appreciated your coming," David said.

"What can I do for you folks?" Robertson asked.

"We're here to offer our cooperation," Angela said.

"Well now, we appreciate that," Robertson said. He smiled widely, revealing square teeth. "We depend on the community. Without its support, we couldn't do our job."

"We want to see the Hodges murder case solved," Angela said. "We want to see the killer behind bars."

"Well, you're certainly not alone," Robertson said with his smile plastered on his face. "We want to see it solved as well."

"Living in a house where there's been a murder is very distressing," Angela said. "Particularly if the murderer is still on the streets. I'm sure you understand."

"Absolutely," Robertson said.

"So we'd like to know what we can do to help," Angela said.

"Well, let's see," Robertson said, showing signs of unease. He stammered, "Actually, there's not a whole bunch anybody can do."

"What exactly are the police doing?" Angela asked.

The smile faded from Robertson's face. "We're working on it," Robertson said vaguely.

"Which means what?" Angela persisted.

David started to stand up, concerned about the direction and tone of the conversation, but Angela wouldn't budge.

"Well, the usual," Robertson said.

"What's the usual?" Angela asked.

Robertson was clearly uncomfortable. "Well, to be truthful we're not doing much right now. But back when Hodges disappeared, we were working day and night."

"I'm a little surprised that there hasn't been a resurgence of interest now that there is a corpse," Angela said testily. "And the medical examiner has unquestionably ruled the case a homicide. We've got a killer walking around this town, and I want something done."

"Well, we certainly don't want to disappoint you folks," Robertson said with a touch of sarcasm. "What exactly would you like done so that we'll know in advance you'll be pleased?"

David started to say something, but Angela shushed him. "We want you to do what you normally do with a homicide," she said. "You have the murder weapon so test it for fingerprints, find out where it was purchased, that sort of thing. We shouldn't have to tell you how to carry out an investigation."

"The spoor is a little cold after eight months," Robertson said, "and frankly I don't take kindly to your coming in here telling me how to do my job. I don't go up to the hospital and tell you how to do yours. Besides, Hodges wasn't the most popular man in town, and we have to set priorities with our limited manpower. For your information we have a few more pressing matters just now, including a series of rapes."

"It's my opinion that the basics ought to be done on this case," Angela said.

"They were," Robertson said. "Eight months ago."

"And what did you learn?" Angela demanded.

"Lots of things," Robertson snapped. "We learned there was no break-in or robbery, which has now been confirmed. We learned there was a bit of a struggle…"

" 'A bit of a struggle'?" Angela echoed. "Last night the state police crime-scene investigators proved that the killer chased the doctor through our house bashing him with a pry bar, spattering blood all over the walls. Dr. Hodges had multiple skull fractures, a fractured clavicle, and a broken arm." Angela turned to David, throwing her hands in the air. "I don't believe this!"