035 Bad Medicine (5 page)

N
ANCY
! N
ANCY
! Please, Wake Up!
Nancy!”
Nancy heard her name being called far in the distance. Her ears buzzed and her tongue felt too big for her mouth. She swallowed, then tried to form words.

“Nancy? Look, she’s coming around!” the same voice cried in relief.

It was Ned’s voice, Nancy realized. She couldn’t open her eyes. Her eyelids felt weighted down.

“Give her this.” Nancy heard Trevor’s voice.

She was lifted into a sitting position, a paper cup placed against her mouth. Some liquid
slipped between her lips, and she swallowed automatically. It was water. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

“Where am I?” she asked, confused, not recognizing her surroundings.

“You’re in one of the patients’ rooms,” Trevor said. “A nurse found you in the stairwell. We were taking you to the E.R. when you started to stir, so we brought you here instead. What happened? Did you fall?”

Slowly Nancy focused on Trevor. He was standing at the foot of the hospital bed. Ned was holding her shoulders, his dark eyes worriedly searching her face.

“Fall?” Nancy repeated on a short laugh. “No, I didn’t fall. I was attacked!” She turned her arm so the small red mark was visible where the hypodermic needle had pricked her skin. “I think I’m lucky to be alive,” she added soberly.

“
What?”
Trevor grabbed hold of her arm, staring in disbelief at the small puncture wound. The color drained from his face. “Someone did this to you on purpose?”

“I was in Dr. Rayburn’s office, looking at the Deverly file. Someone ran in dressed in surgical greens and mask. I’ve got to get that file!” Nancy struggled to her feet, remembering.

“Slow down!” Ned warned, gently pushing her
down onto the bed. “Someone just shot you with a hypodermic. You need to be checked out!”

“I know, but I need that file. Fm sure that’s why I was attacked.”

“I’ll go back to Rayburn’s office and get the file,” Trevor said. “Ned, take Nancy down to the lab. I’ll call and order some blood tests.”

• • •

An hour later Nancy was pronounced fit to leave. She’d been injected with a common sedative, which had no serious side effects.

“I still think you should go home,” Ned said worriedly.

“Trust me. I’m fine. Besides, you’re the one who has to explain why you missed your class.”

“Are you Nancy Drew?” one of the lab nurses asked as they were about to leave.

“Yes.”

“Dr. Callahan just called. He asked you to meet him in the doctors’ lounge in the basement if you feel up to it.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m coming with you,” Ned insisted.

“No, Ned. You go back to your class. I’ll talk to Trevor. I’m fine. Really.” She squeezed his arm, heading for the door.

Grumbling under his breath, he muttered to the room at large, “There’s no talking to her.”

Trevor was seated at one of the tables, and April was with him. “I begged off my classes this afternoon,” April admitted. “I can’t concentrate right now.”

Nancy smiled sympathetically. “What about—” she began, but stopped in midsentence when Trevor shook his head.

“The Deverly file wasn’t in Dr. Rayburn’s office. In fact, it seems to be missing entirely. Dr. Rayburn is really upset about everything. He’s furious that you were in his office and that someone purposely sedated you. And he’s fit to be tied about the missing file.” Trevor grimaced. “The chief of staff’s in a real state, too. We had to order a new file made up.”

Nancy hoped Dr. Wicks wouldn’t pull her off the case. It was certainly within his power. “Whoever attacked me didn’t want me to see that file.”

“Then it won’t surprise you that Dr. Shaw’s file is missing, too,” Trevor added. “I told you, Nancy—it’s a plot. Someone’s trying to ruin my career!”

This time Nancy didn’t argue. Someone
had
attacked her. And that meant someone thought she was a threat. “Who would want to ruin your career?” Nancy asked. “Have you got any enemies?”

April and Trevor quickly exchanged looks, but
neither responded right away. “Well, maybe,” he said finally.

“Who?”

“Suzanne Welles,” April answered for him. “She’s an administrator here at the hospital, and she—uh—doesn’t really like Trevor—or me.”

Nancy asked, “Why?”

“Suzanne and I were dating,” Trevor explained. “We were pretty serious for a while. Then she talked about getting married, but I didn’t think I was ready. We broke up, and then right after that, I met April.” He shot his fiancée a quick, affectionate glance. “The rest is history,” he added softly.

“Do you think she would carry a grudge this far?” Nancy asked skeptically. “I mean, not only is Trevor’s reputation suffering, but whoever’s changing the patients’ charts is also endangering their lives. That’s criminal.”

Trevor seemed to consider. “No, I don’t think so,” he answered. “Suzanne’s angry, but she’s not vindictive. She wouldn’t risk patients’ lives or her career.”

April opened her mouth, then clamped it shut again; clearly she had wanted to disagree with Trevor. Nancy sensed the hostility April felt for Suzanne. She wasn’t sure what to believe, but she made a mental note to find Suzanne Welles as soon as possible.

Nancy left a few minutes later to check at the administration building to find out where Suzanne worked. She learned Suzanne had her own office on the fourth floor.

Nancy took the elevator and stepped out into a hallway. A dark gray carpet deadened the sound of her steps. The lighting was indirect and tasteful. Unlike the hospital, which was designed for efficiency, the administration building—at least this floor—was decorated for comfort.

Suzanne’s name was embossed on a bronze nameplate recessed in the oak door. Nancy knocked softly, and a young woman let her in.

“Yes?” she inquired politely, taking in Nancy’s candy striper uniform.

“I’m looking for Suzanne Welles,” Nancy explained. “My name is Nancy Drew. Are you Suzanne?”

“I’m Suzanne’s secretary,” the young woman explained. “Do you have an appointment?”

Nancy hadn’t understood the importance of Suzanne’s position. It was clear Suzanne was high up to be awarded such a luxurious office and her own secretary. “No. I’m a friend of Dr. Trevor Callahan’s.”

The young woman hesitated, then shrugged and lifted the receiver on her phone. She explained who Nancy was to the person on the other end.

“Go right in,” the secretary said, her voice tinged with surprise.

“Thank you.” Nancy opened the door to Suzanne Welles’s office.

A woman in her twenties sat in a leather chair behind a massive oak desk. Her dark hair was swept up, and the suit she wore was simple and expensive.

“All right, Nancy Drew,” she said. “What’s your angle?”

Her directness surprised Nancy. “Angle?”

“I have a budget meeting in fifteen minutes with the administrative director. I don’t have time to waste. What have you got to do with Trevor Callahan?”

“Maybe I should come back another time,” Nancy murmured.

“Did Trevor send you?”

“No, I—” Nancy stopped to collect herself. Suzanne Welles certainly had a way of making her feel ill at ease! “Trevor said you’re a friend of his,” Nancy spoke up, deciding to fight fire with fire. She could be as direct and bold as Suzanne. “He’s in trouble now, and I thought you could help.”

“What kind of trouble? And how are you involved?” Suzanne drew her brows together.

Nancy quickly explained everything. Suzanne visibly softened.

“But Trevor didn’t actually ask for my help, did he?” she guessed. Sighing, she said, “Okay, let me be honest. I thought I was in love with Trevor once, but I wasn’t. That’s over.”

“You don’t know anyone who might want to hurt him?”

Suzanne’s face flushed. “Is that why you’re here? Because you think I want revenge?” She rose, crossed the room, and opened the door. It was a clear invitation to leave, and Nancy reluctantly turned toward the outer office.

“If someone’s making mistakes, it might be Trevor himself, you know,” Suzanne said. “He’s the most logical choice, isn’t he?”

She closed the door behind Nancy with more force than was necessary.

• • •

It was late afternoon by the time Nancy returned to her post in the emergency room. Her head was swimming with thoughts of Suzanne Welles. She was certain Suzanne still had feelings for Trevor, no matter what she said. Why else would Suzanne have agreed to see her unless she hoped Trevor had sent Nancy as a way of breaking the ice between them again? When Suzanne had seen that Nancy was merely trying to help Trevor, her hopes had obviously been dashed, although she’d tried to deny her feelings.

She must still love Trevor. But how could she be involved in ruining his reputation? She had seemed genuinely concerned for Trevor until she found out why Nancy was there.

In the emergency room, a young girl in a softball uniform was slumped in a chair beside her mother. The sticker on her T-shirt said her name was Carla. Nancy smiled at her and asked, “Can you fill this form out?”

Carla lifted her left hand, pointing to her right one. “I can’t,” she said, heaving a huge sigh. Her right hand was wrapped in a white terry-cloth towel.

“We think Carla’s finger is broken,” the woman beside her said, taking the clipboard from Nancy.

“I might be out for the season!” Carla wailed.

“Maybe it’s not that bad,” Nancy said consolingly. She stared at the sticker on the girl’s T-shirt, and something clicked inside her head. White sticker. Penicillin. “Excuse me,” she said, striding toward the emergency room desk. On top of the counter were several patients’ binders. Nancy opened one. A chart had just been started. A white paper marked Standard Orders lay on top, the patient’s name typed across the page.

“Hey, Nancy! I thought your shift ended at three.”

“Ned!” she cried excitedly, grabbing his arm, and dragging him toward an empty corner of the emergency room.

“Well, if I’d known I was going to get this warm a reception, I would have been here sooner,” he teased.

“It gets better.” Nancy’s eyes sparkled. “I just figured out how someone tampered with Trevor’s patients’ files!”

N
ED STARED AT HER
in amazement. “You did? How?”

“I got a quick look at Mrs. Deverly’s file this morning before I was attacked. On the doctor’s Standard Orders page Mrs. Deverly’s name was on one of those white labels stuck on the chart. Normally the patient’s name is typed on. Don’t you see? Someone
covered up
the real name. Trevor’s orders weren’t for Mrs. Deverly at all!”

Ned whistled.

“Those orders were for some other patient,” Nancy went on. “That’s why Trevor’s handwriting
was on it! Someone substituted those orders into Mrs. Deverly’s file. Trevor had really ordered penicillin for another patient!”

“Wow.” Ned shook his head. “But what about the red tape warning against an allergic reaction?”

“It had to have been ripped from the file and later replaced.”

“But weren’t Trevor’s orders dated?” Ned asked, thinking fast. “They date everything around here.”

“I bet the dates were altered, too. Those orders could have been for any patient since Trevor’s been a resident. No one really looked at the dates. It was Trevor’s handwriting on the file
ordering
the penicillin that put everything in an uproar.”

“Nancy”—Ned gripped her arm—“if what you’re saying is true, then some maniac is running around the hospital switching files!”

“Switching
Trevor’s
files, and putting patients’ lives in danger! He or she is after Trevor.”

Ned nodded, his handsome face grave. “Why would anyone be out to get Trevor?”

Nancy thought of Suzanne. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “And what about Dr. Shaw’s body? Whoever took it must have had a powerful motive. I can’t believe it hasn’t turned up by now.”

They headed for the seventh floor to look for Trevor in cardiology. As they rounded a corner, Nancy nearly ran into David Baines. The surly orderly was trying to follow Dr. Rayburn into his office.

“Excuse me, Mr. Baines,” Rayburn said patiently but firmly. “I have work to do.”

“Work to do. Right. Like in Saint Louis?” David asked, his tone nasty. He anxiously twirled a set of keys around one finger.

Rayburn just shook his head and strode into his office. David, noticing Nancy and Ned for the first time, said with a short laugh, “Well, if it isn’t the girl detective and her flunky.”

Ned bristled, but Nancy put a hand on his arm. “Who told you I was a detective?” she asked David.

“No one had to tell me. You’re asking all kinds of questions about Trevor Callahan.” He twirled the keys again before he walked past them.

“Did you see those keys?” Ned demanded. “Those were Porsche keys. I recognized them.”

“Porsche keys,” Nancy repeated, staring down the empty hallway where David had disappeared. “Tell me, how can an orderly afford a Porsche?”

“I don’t know,” Ned replied thoughtfully.

Ten minutes later they found Trevor in Room 721, speaking with a young boy whose chest was bandaged. Trevor was holding a soccer ball and
smiling at his patient. “So, you’re a soccer player,” he was saying. “How long have you been playing?”