Code 15 (33 page)

“I left a fax number on the request form. Would you please send me a copy of the report?”

“I’ll send it this afternoon.”

Her suspicions regarding her flight confirmed, Morgan felt lucky to be alive. There was no doubt in her mind that her coffee had been drugged by Mason Kaine. Her first impulse was to call Detective Wolfe. But as she reached for her phone, she was filled with second thoughts regarding the wisdom of her decision. Even if she showed him the report, what was to prevent him from assuming she had done it herself to prove to the authorities that she was correct regarding the Code 15s? With the stark realization that she’d have to find another way, Morgan never finished entering Wolfe’s phone number.

DAY THIRTY-SEVEN

 

 

From her terrace, Morgan gazed out at the Atlantic.

It was usually a spectacular view, but today it was made dreary by an endless gray mist that lay static over the water. Sitting at a small rattan table, she leafed through the stack of articles that Jonathan had sent over. Owing to his prodigious nature and a career that had spanned almost thirty years, Tony Wallace had written an impressive number of articles.

Jonathan had also sent a biographical sketch of Wallace that the
Sun-Sentinel
’s public relations department had prepared. The brief bio mentioned that after graduating from Washington University with a degree in journalism, he had spent five years working as a reporter at the Jefferson City
News Tribune
. He then moved to California, but after two brief stints at small-town newspapers, he took a position with the Fort Lauderdale
Sun-Sentinel
. The bio was informative and fairly detailed, especially with respect to Tony’s involvement in numerous community service projects.

Morgan picked up the pile of health-care articles and slipped off the oversized rubber band. Scanning the titles, she noted the first several stories addressed generic topics in health care. Non-contentious in nature, Morgan couldn’t believe that any of them could offend anybody. Toward the end of the packet, she came upon two articles about Dade Presbyterian’s Cardiac Care Center.

More than just slightly intrigued, she slipped them out of the stack, stood up, and walked over to the railing. She read the first article. Wallace had written it just after Dade Presbyterian officially announced it would be going ahead with its plans to build the most prestigious cardiac program in the southeastern United States. He was extremely complimentary of the hospital’s leadership, praising their grit in making tough choices in a complex health-care environment. He even supported the board’s decision to allow several other worthy programs to go unfunded so the Cardiac Care Center could be built.

Wallace had written the second article a month or so after the Cardiac Care Center’s ribbon-cutting ceremony. It was more of the same, again extolling Dade Presbyterian for their perseverance and commitment to the community’s health care needs. Finding the articles repetitious, Morgan was barely paying attention when she began reading the last paragraph. But as she read on, her interest was suddenly piqued. When she finished it, she could hardly believe what she had just discovered.

She closed her eyes. The mysterious haze that shrouded how and why Mason Kaine had selected Tony Wallace to die was finally lifted. The strange irony was that Wallace himself had sealed his own fate by telling Kaine, along with two million other readers of the
Sun-Sentinel
’s Sunday edition, that during the second week of May he would be undergoing coronary artery bypass surgery at Dade Presbyterian Hospital’s Cardiac Care Center.

Morgan stood up and walked over to the railing.

When she noticed the temperature dropping and the wind picking up, she looked overhead. The sky had darkened. Morgan hoped it would be one of the last storms of the summer rainy season.

She walked back to the table, gathered up Tony’s articles, and went back inside her apartment. Sitting at the kitchen table, she was, for the first time, starting to get an inkling of insight into Mason’s Kaine’s twisted mind.

Her cell phone rang. It was the security officer calling from the lobby.

“Dr. Docherty’s here to see you.”

“Send him up,” she said.

Morgan checked the time. It was almost six. She stood up and headed for the foyer to let Ben in. When she opened the door, he was holding a white bakery box. The inviting aroma of its contents filled the entranceway. He handed her the box. She wasted no time in flipping open the top.

“Chocolate croissants? I thought we were going to an early dinner.”

“We can eat later.” He pointed to the box, still smiling like a proud child. “It wasn’t easy finding those.”

“How did you know that—?”

“You once told me you lived on them when you traveled through France.”

Morgan closed her eyes and breathed in the aroma of the croissants. Ben could sense her ability to resist was toppling. After gently rocking her head from side to side, Morgan finally reached in, snatched one of the croissants, and took a small bite. The sheer delight on her face forced Ben to smile.

“C’mon into the kitchen,” she told him. “Did you hear about the hospital’s latest disaster?”

He shook his head. “I’m a little removed from the daily goings-on of Dade Presbyterian.”

“A man recovering from a mitral valve replacement was having some memory problems so he was scheduled for a brain MRI. During the test, one of the candy stripers walked into the suite wheeling an oxygen tank.”

“You’re kidding.”

“The guy died in surgery a couple of hours later of a massive head injury. The administration already reported it as a Code Fifteen. I told you this would happen.”

“Maybe you should wait for the facts before assuming the worst.”

“You’re right. It’s probably just another bizarre coincidence. But since I’m no longer the chairperson of the Patient Safety Committee, I guess figuring out what happened will be somebody’s else’s headache.”

“Something tells me you’ll find a way to get involved.” Ben took a few steps closer and pointed to the folder. “What are you reading?”

“The articles written by Tony Wallace. I just finished going through them.”

“And?”

“He wrote a couple of dozen stories about health care, but two were specifically about the Cardiac Care Center. He wrote the first one when it was still in the planning stages and the other right after it opened. He was extremely supportive of the project.”

“As I recall, so were a lot of people.”

“But not all of them were reporters with millions of readers. What do you want to drink?”

“Milk,” he responded taking a seat at the table.

“Are you serious?”

“Don’t I look serious? What’s wrong with milk?”

“Nothing, assuming you’re under the age of one or a baby cow. Read the last paragraph of the article on top.” Morgan poured him a glass of milk while he read it. She said, “Now I know how Kaine knew when and why Tony Wallace would be in the hospital.”

“You and a million other readers. That still doesn’t give you a motive.”

“The board was very concerned about the public’s perception of the project. Right after the opening, Bob told me that they never would have approved the project unless they were sure public sentiment was behind it. Tony Wallace’s articles may not have been the main factor that got the center approved, but I bet they sure helped.”

“But as you said before. Bob was the one responsible for building the center. It seems more logical to me that Kaine would have gone after him.”

“I think he did.”

“By trying to kill his son.”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” she insisted.

“Did Tony Wallace have any kids?”

“No,” she answered. “It all kind of fits together nicely.”

“I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but you’re still missing one small detail,” Ben pointed out. “Kaine lost his sons to meningitis. He had no gripe with the Cardiac Care Center, so what’s the connection?”

“I don’t know yet,” Morgan confessed, “But we’re obviously dealing with somebody whose behavior to date has been somewhere between irrational and insane. Whatever happened that got him so enraged may make no sense to us.”

“What do you do from here?” Ben asked.

“I’m going to go back and look at the Alison Greene case again.”

“Alison Greene? Is she the one who died from the pacemaker problem?”

“Yeah.”

“You never mentioned her full name before.”

“So?”

“How old was she?” Ben asked.

“Twenty-seven.”

“Did she go by Ali?”

“I think so. Why do you ask?”

“Do you know if she worked for one of the big department stores?”

Morgan stopped unloading her dishwasher and turned around.

“She was a buyer for Saks. How did you know that?”

“Because I met her once. I know her father pretty well. His name’s Cam Greene. He’s the CEO of SHS.”

“What’s SHS?”

“Strategic Healthcare Solutions. They’re a large consulting firm. I retained them when I sold my business. Bob Allenby recommended them to me. The hospital has used them on several projects.”

“Do you remember which ones?” Morgan asked.

A curious look covered Ben’s face. “The most recent one was the physician compensation for emergency room coverage, but they were also involved in the feasibility study involving the Cardiac Care Center.”

“How did you meet Alison Greene?”

“She was interested in learning to fly so her father had her call me. She came out to the school and took an introductory lesson. She got horribly airsick. I never heard from her again.”

“What were her father’s recommendations regarding the Cardiac Care Center?”

“His firm came out strongly in favor of it. They thought it would be a financial windfall for Dade Presby. The hospital used SHS’s report to bolster both community and political support for the project.”

Morgan’s mind instantly shifted to her father and his long career at the hospital. He had always been very active politically. Not only had he served on numerous committees but he had risen through the medical staff leadership and was elected to the prestigious position of chief of staff, a position he held for two four-year terms.

Morgan now wondered if Kaine had two entirely different reasons for wanting her father dead.

“When Dade Presbyterian first proposed the construction of the CCC, my father was chief of staff. He was very much in favor of the project and came out for it publicly. I remember him being interviewed by both Channel Four and the
Miami Herald
. He told the reporters he would knock on every door of the twelve hundred physicians on staff to encourage them to support the new Cardiac Care Center. I also remember the hospital board making it clear that they would not proceed with the project without the support of the physicians.”

“Of course that’s what they said. The building of a state-of-the-art cardiac center was a no-brainer. As I recall, everybody supported the plan.”

“But those people aren’t in the public eye. My father, Bob Allenby, and Tony Wallace are notable exceptions. You have to agree it’s also a little coincidental that both Bob Allenby and Cam Greene came out in the media in favor of the construction, and now, one of their kids is dead and the other one’s lying in an intensive care unit.”

Morgan walked over to a large central island. She leaned her back against it and slowly shook her head. Ben watched her carefully. The stress and frustration in her face was obvious. Rather than going any further with the conversation, he decided to change directions.

“I think we’ve talked enough hospital politics for a while. Why don’t we go in the living room and watch an old movie or . . . or . . . something?”

“Something?”

“I thought maybe we could have a . . . a relationship talk,” Ben told her as casually as he could.

“A relationship talk?” she said with an unavoidable grin.

“That’s right. I thought it might make a nice change to talk about us instead of everybody else in south Florida.”

She looked at him in silence for a few seconds. She then walked over to where he was standing, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

“Some things are obvious, Ben,” she whispered. “They don’t need to be discussed.”

As she expected he would, he cleared his throat. “In that case, we can hold off on the relationship talk and just watch the movie.”

Morgan pointed toward the living room. Ben nodded and followed her in.

DAY THIRTY-EIGHT

 

 

After an uneventful shift, Morgan arrived home at nine p.m.

Ben was teaching an instrument-rating class and for the first time in a couple of weeks, she ate dinner alone. When she was finished, she took her coffee out on the balcony. It turned out to be one of the nicest evenings in weeks and Morgan decided to take Limerick for a walk.

She had been out for about a half hour when she checked her watch. It was after ten. Morgan gave the preoccupied setter’s leash a couple of quick, gentle tugs, hoping to coax him back toward her building. The distinctive aroma of ozone still clung to the air from an unexpected downpour that struck the Hollywood area just after nightfall.

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about Mason Kaine. She had been over the Code 15s more times than she could count and she still had no clue what linked them to the deaths of Andrew and Jason Kaine and to the Cardiac Care Center. Finally, in a sea of frustration, she forced the problem from her mind.

Limerick ambled along, sniffing every patch of trampled grass with great interest. Morgan knew his routine and assumed he had figured out that if he moved at a glacial pace, his walk would last longer. Strolling past a chain-link fence that framed out the construction site of a new apartment building, Morgan glanced overhead at a starless sky. When they were halfway down the street, Limerick’s head suddenly popped up. With a stiffened neck, he made a half turn and looked past Morgan. Expecting to see a fellow dog walker approaching, Morgan glanced back down the sidewalk. Unfortunately, the newly installed streetlights were more ornamental than practical, making it difficult for her to see anything coming toward her.