Every Fifteen Minutes (52 page)

“I'll say.”

“Allow me, please.” Mike glanced at Brad and Tom as he returned to the conference table, pulled out his chair, and sat back down opposite Eric and Paul. “I know I speak for Brad, Tom, and the entire PhilaHealth Partnership and HGH family when I say that we appreciate your efforts—”

“Enough.” Eric held up a hand. He couldn't hear another word that sounded like an employee manual. “First, I want to be reinstated as Chief immediately. It should be obvious by now that Kristine's sexual harassment claim was bogus. She did it at Sam's behest, probably for a recommendation, and you can verify that with her when she's well enough. I want you to issue a press release immediately, and I'll start back to work tomorrow, to keep some semblance of continuity for the patients and clean up the unit.”

Mike blinked, flustered. “Uh…”

Tom nodded. “Done,” he answered simply.

“Second, I'm concerned about any drugs Sam may or may not have been giving Donald Perino while he was treating him and—”

Mike interjected nervously, “I'm sure Mrs. Perino will file suit.”

Eric let it go. “Lawsuit or no, it's important for the integrity of my unit, and the hospital, that we apppoint an independent investigator to look into this matter. I would do it myself, but I think that will raise the question of a conflict of interest.”

Paul added, “You want to avoid even the appearance of impropriety.”

“Right.” Eric nodded at Paul, then turned to Mike, Tom, and Brad. “I don't want to pull any punches on this investigation. We have to have somebody look at it with a hard eye and let the chips fall. If Sam did anything to harm Perino's care, I want to know about it, even if I'm held responsible as his boss and even if the hospital is held responsible as his employer.”

Mike's eyes flared. “As a legal matter, any such acts or wrongdoing by Sam would be criminally negligent acts and outside the scope of employment, and therefore the hospital would not be liable. You have the most to lose, Eric, in the event of a lawsuit by Mrs. Perino. I'm sure her attorneys would argue that you were negligent in your supervision of Sam and—”

“Stop.” Eric held up a hand again, shifting his attention to Tom. “Do I have your word on that? We start an independent investigation?”

“Yes.” Tom nodded. “We would order such an investigation, given the potential liability of the system as a whole. The last thing the PhilaHealth Partnership desires is to allow any such wrongdoing to taint our reputation for patient care. As you know, I'm a surgeon. If we need to cut, I'm not afraid to cut.”

“Good.” Eric read between the lines, hearing that he might have to take the fall for Sam, but be that as it may. He knew now that if he got fired, he would survive. He'd certainly been through worse.

Tom cleared his throat. “Then we agree. It's my hope that we will weather the storm, no matter if Mrs. Perino files suit, and that you wouldn't be liable for any negligence, especially given your number-two ranking, which we are about to roll out and—”

“No rolling,” Eric cut him off. “Stop the rolling.”

Paul chuckled. “You mean slow your roll.”

Eric smiled. “I do. How did you know that?”

“I might be in love with you.”

Eric faced Tom, his smile fading fast. “Third, you need to send a letter to
U.S. Medical Report
telling them that we withdraw the HGH psychiatry service from the ranking. Given this debacle, with patient care so grievously compromised, we cannot go forward and accept that ranking. I will not go in front of any camera, smile, or make any speech.”

Mike gasped. “Eric, really?”

Tom frowned. “Eric, think about what you're saying.”

Brad looked at Eric like he was crazy. “You can't mean this. You've been through hell today, this past week. You're under enormous stress. We apologize for the role we may have played in that, however inadvertent, because we were completely misled by that young girl—”

“Stop.” Eric shook his head. “Kristine was a victim. She was Sam's victim as much as Ren
é
e Bevilacqua. I'm not going to play ball with the ranking. I suggest you withdraw us before it becomes public, then nobody will be the wiser.” Eric paused, thinking clearly. “And I promise you this—next year, we'll
earn
that ranking. And it won't be number two. It'll be number
one.
”

Tom and Brad exchanged glances, and Mike clammed up.

Paul interjected, “Eric, I do, I love you.”

Eric ignored him. “Last point.” He turned away from Mike, to Tom and Brad. “I want an independent investigation, by outside counsel, of Morris Brexler and any financial misconduct he may have been engaged in on the Pharmacy Review Board. We've heard the rumors about him taking kickbacks to promote certain drugs, most recently, Rostatin. You don't need me to tell you that there's corruption in our profession, from which drugs get approved by the FDA down to what gets carried in the hospitals, and what's given as ‘free samples.' I'm not content to turn a blind eye to my suspicions any longer. I want to do something about it. At the same time, nobody knows better than I do that it's unjust to be wrongly accused. If Morris is taking some kind of kickbacks, we need to stop him and punish him. If he's not, we need to clear him.”

Brad, Tom, and Mike fell momentarily speechless.

“Well?” Eric said, coolly.

Tom answered, “You're asking a lot, Eric.”

“It's about damn time, isn't it?”

“We'll take it under consideration.”

“You'll see the wisdom of my suggestion, or the press will.” Eric glanced at Paul, slyly, then back to Brad, Tom, and Mike. “Did you know that Harry Truman never said, ‘Give 'em hell'? He said, ‘I never said give 'em hell, I told the truth and they thought it was hell.' Now, boys, take care. I'm going home.”

Eric rose, and so did Paul, almost in unison. They walked to the door, and it struck Eric that the last time he was in this room, he'd been asked to pee in a cup.

He left without another word.

 

Chapter Sixty-three

It was dark by the time Eric left the hospital parking lot, holding up his hand against the camera flashes and klieglights of the media, which were being held back by HGH security guards. The local TV was already running the story of Sam's grisly death on a continuous loop; Eric had shut off the examining-room TV when the breaking news banner had come on, HORROR AT HGH.

He accelerated until he left the hospital campus and noticed a few news vans in his rearview mirror, so he turned right, then left, trying to lose them. It didn't work, and he stopped trying. They had his home address already, and he had something more important he wanted to do.

He stopped at a traffic light, slid his phone from his pocket, and dialed Caitlin's cell number, so he could speak to Hannah. The dashboard clock read 10:23, but he still wanted to give it a shot. The phone rang a few times, then went to voicemail, so he hung up. He tried the house number, and it rang and rang, then went to voicemail, too. He hung up, and the traffic light turned green, so he drove forward, vaguely defeated. He'd wanted to talk to Hannah to let her know that he was okay, but at a deeper level, he knew that he wanted to hear her voice.

Eric set his phone aside, drove home on autopilot, and turned onto his street without even realizing how he'd gotten there. A line of parked cars, news vans, and reporters thronged in front of his house, but he cruised past, turned into the driveway, cut the ignition and got out of the car, tuning out their shouted questions as he jogged down the driveway to his office entrance.

He shut the door, finally exhaling and looking around at the books and papers scattered all over the rug and the empty space on his desk, where his computer used to be.

He walked through the office, entered the house, and went almost reflexively to the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator door and got out a beer. He reached into the silverware drawer, left open by the police, rummaged around for the church key, popped the top off the bottle, and took a cold slug. The beer was chilly and delicious, and his gaze traveled over the open drawers, pots and pans on the butcher-block countertops, and the weird black smudges of fingerprint dust.

Eric wanted to put it all behind him, and there was no time like the present. He took another tug of beer, set the bottle down, and started putting things away, returning the colander, pots, and frying pans to the base cabinets, closing the silverware and utensils drawers. He shut the freezer door and took another sip of beer, then crossed to the sink, wet a sponge under the faucet, and tried to scrub off the fingerprint dust. He found himself getting a second wind, somehow feeling that if he could clean up his house, he could put the pieces of his life back together.

The reporters out front kept up a constant noise level, but he screened them out, fetching the dishwashing liquid and squirting a green squiggle onto the fingerprint dust, then scrubbing and rinsing until he got the first patch of clean. He was about to start on the second, when he heard some knocking coming from the door to his home office. He threw down the sponge, cranky that the reporters were getting aggressive, and he stalked back down the hallway and into his home office to confront them.

“You guys have a lot of nerve,” Eric said, opening the door, and there on the step stood Caitlin, with Hannah.

“Daddy!” Hannah cried, raising her arms.

“Honey!” Eric shouted with happiness, scooping her up and burying his head in her warm neck.

And suddenly, his world felt complete.

 

Chapter Sixty-four

“I'd offer you something to drink, but you see how it is. Want some water?” Eric gestured self-consciously at the kitchen, unable to hide his surprise at Caitlin's being here with Hannah.

“That's okay, no worries.” Caitlin forced a smile, eyeing the debris. “Love what you've done with the place.”

“How did you know I'd be home?”

“I heard they were finished questioning you.”

“Oh. Well, good to see you.” Eric felt so awkward, standing near Caitlin in a kitchen that wasn't theirs, turned upside down. It didn't help that she looked great, in a white T-shirt, cutoffs, and pink sneakers, with her hair in a ponytail. She even had her glasses on, a look he particularly liked, an older version of Hannah. They were even dressed the same.

Hannah bopped into the living room. “Daddy, your house is so messy! You need to clean up!”

“I know, you're right,” Eric said lightly, without elaborating. “That's what I was doing when you guys came here. What a nice surprise, and on a school night.”

Caitlin motioned vaguely, at nothing. “We saw the news, and I thought it would be a good thing for Hannah to see you face-to-face, not just talk on the phone. She was worried about you.”

“Wow, thank you,” Eric said, touched. “Sorry about the reporters.”

“Par for the course. So you're okay, that's all that matters. It must be some story, but I'll have to hear it another time.”

“Right, yeah.”

“Weird about Sam. I'm sorry, though. I know you liked him.”

“Thanks.” Eric felt at a sudden loss for words, glancing over at Hannah, who was gathering books that had been tossed onto the floor and shelving them. “Hannah, you're cleaning up for me over there? Thank you very much!”

“Daddy, it's like you had an earthquake!”

“I know!” Eric called back, managing a smile as he turned to Caitlin. “It's late, you guys must be so tired.”

“I figured she could go in late tomorrow, if she wants. Maybe sleep in.”

“Right, great idea.” Eric hid his surprise, since it was so unlike Caitlin to bend any rules.

“Anyway, I knew that, uh, your place might be a mess, so I figured that if you wanted to, you could come stay at the house tonight.” Caitlin shot him a look. “Don't get the wrong idea. I'm going to stay at Brian's.”

“The wrong idea? Perish the thought.” Eric forced a smile. He had gotten the wrong idea, but a part of him wasn't so sure it was the right idea anymore, and in any event, it wasn't her idea.

“You and Hannah can have breakfast together, then you can take her to school.” Caitlin reached in her back pocket and took out her key ring, a silver disk with the scales of justice, which he'd given her a few years ago. She unclipped the ring, slid out the key, and handed it to him. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Eric accepted the key. “When I'm finished with it, I'll put it under the coffee can in the garage.”

“Keep the key. You don't have to return it.” Caitlin glanced in the living room, where Hannah was busy shelving books like a future librarian.

“No, that's okay,” Eric said, touched. “It's your house. I'm clear on that now.”

“No, not anymore.” Caitlin lowered her voice and met his eye, directly, if a little sadly. “I blew off the deal with the German buyer.”

“What?” Eric didn't understand.

“Let's make a new deal. I'll sell the house to you for the appraised value, if that's what you want. I don't want to live there, but you can. Then maybe, going forward, we can share Hannah's time, fifty-fifty. A week with you, then one with me. The transitions won't be too hard for her if one of the houses is hers. What do you say?”

Eric's throat caught. His heart felt full at the prospect of living with Hannah again, under the same roof, especially in his own home. He could mow his own lawn and weed-whack his butt off. It was the perfect solution. He asked, “Are you
serious
?”

“Yes.” Caitlin nodded, her eyes filming, but she held off tears.

“Why are you doing this?” Eric couldn't help but ask.

“You going to make me say nice things about you?” Caitlin shrugged, swallowing hard. “I thought about what happened at the hospital, after the mall. You're dedicated and committed. You're a good guy. I changed my mind.
You
changed my mind.”