The Silence That Speaks (15 page)

“So you don’t all move together as a unit all the time?” she asked when Casey paused to take a breath. “Each team member acts on his or her skill set?”

“Yup.” Casey nodded. “Sometimes we all move in tandem. Sometimes we divvy up responsibilities. The individual talents of my team are varied but unbeatable, especially when you add them all up. They’re simply the best of the best.” A wry grin. “No bias on my part, of course.”

“I know you have a bloodhound,” Diana said. “Hero. I saw him in an article I read about your company.”

Casey frowned. “We try to avoid publicity. Unfortunately, it finds us.”

“Well, Hero looks magnificent.”

“Hero is nothing if not photogenic,” Casey responded. “He’s also an amazing human-scent evidence dog.”

“Bloodhounds have a keen sense of smell.” Diana took a quick bite of bread. “Why did Hero leave the FBI?”

“Okay, that’s my cue to get back to work.” Janet rose, taking a last gulp of coffee and leaving most of her salad untouched. “Diana is now going to bombard you with questions about Hero. She’s a dog worshipper and knows trivia I doubt most veterinarians do.” Janet extended her hand to Casey. “Thank you for seeing me. If it’s okay, I’ll text you about that dinner.”

“Please do,” Casey replied.

Janet blew her daughter a kiss. “Have fun, ladies.” She took her tray to the trash and recycling area, and then hurried off.

“Do you mind my curiosity over Hero?” Diana asked.

“Of course not.” Casey took a bite of her salad. “You’re talking about the guy I sleep with every night.”

That made Diana laugh. She was pretty when she laughed—young and free and not so closed-off and serious.

Then again, if Casey were clinging to a job that might be snatched away at any moment, she’d be pretty strained, too.

She told Diana all about Hero’s background and that he’d been at the top of his class. The problem was that he’d been a poor traveler, which made it impossible for him to stay with the canine unit.

“And the FBI’s loss was our gain,” Casey concluded. “Hero can pick up scents from miles away, and he’s as loyal as they come. Like the rest of us, he’d give his life for the team. No one could ask for more.” She grinned. “Plus, I’m crazy about him. He and I have become a tight twosome.”

“Do you live at your brownstone?”

Casey nodded. “The top level is my apartment. Hero spends more time sleeping there than I do.”

“You work long hours. I can relate to that.” Diana fiddled with her bread. “Do you think I could meet Hero sometime?”

She sounded so wistful that it tugged at Casey’s heart. This was one lonely young woman.

“Sure,” she told Diana. “We’ll work it out.”

“Oh, thank you.” There was that hint of youthful joy again. Diana resembled Janet around the nose and mouth, but her eyes were set wide apart, and they were deep brown and very expressive.

“Diana, it’s my turn to overstep,” Casey said. “The couple of times I’ve seen you, you look so sober. Your mother told me all about your exceptional skills as a circulating nurse. Is the hospital merger threatening your job?”

Diana turned up her palms. “I don’t know. I’ve only been here a year. That makes me vulnerable. On the other hand, my reviews have been really positive, so I’m hoping my skills are enough to convince the people integrating the two hospitals to keep me on.”

“Which translates into long work hours and no social life. I hear you.” Casey took another bite of salad, then offhandedly asked, “Do you at least hang out with some of the hospital employees?”

“Yes.” Diana tore off another piece of bread and nibbled on it. “Manhattan Memorial has some gifted, warmhearted people who work here. We tend to bond because we dedicate so much of our lives to our careers. That bonding is even more accentuated now since we’re all kind of free-falling and nervous.”

“I get it.”

Diana’s expression brightened. “I’ve chatted with that young candy striper you recommended—Emma. She’s smart as a whip and very feisty. She definitely speaks her mind.”

“That’s Emma,” Casey said dryly.

“Does she work with your team?”

Casey answered very carefully. “She’s our part-time receptionist. She files and answers phones, that kind of thing. She’s really leaning toward a career in nursing, but in the meantime, her job at FI means she can pay the bills.”

“She said that Madeline Westfield helped her get the job by speaking to Mr. Casper.”

Smart, Emma, Casey thought.

“She did.” Casey ran with Emma’s entrée. “That was very nice of Madeline, considering we hardly know her. But as a friend of Marc’s, she agreed to pitch Emma. Marc’s judgment is spot-on, and Madeline knows it. So she did Emma an enormous favor.”

“That’s typical Madeline,” Diana replied. “We call her Florence Nightingale. She’s constantly helping and healing. She’s pretty inspirational. And I
am
biased. She taught me the ropes when I first came to Manhattan Memorial. She’s an E.R. nurse, so she’s seen just about everything. And she was married to a surgeon, so she knew a lot about being a circulating nurse. Most of all, she brought me into the fold, so to speak. She introduced me around and made it easier for me to make friends. I’ll always be grateful.”

Diana pressed her lips together for a minute. “I know it sounds silly since I’m a trained professional, but I was very relieved that she was on the code team the day Ronald Lexington died. It was a horrible loss, and it was my first. Madeline, of course, was devastated. But just her presence helped me get through it.”

Casey’s fork stopped on its way to her salad. “You were the circulating nurse during Ronald Lexington’s surgery?”

“Yes.” Diana looked puzzled at Casey’s reaction. “Why? Is that significant in some way?” She paled. “Do you think the hospital will count that against me when they’re making their decision?”

“No, no, of course not.” Casey chastised herself for showing any reaction. It wasn’t like her to slip up like that, but she’d truly been shocked. She wasn’t even sure why. It’s just that it seemed that everything about Ronald Lexington’s surgery was cast in shadows. It was like an onion being peeled away one layer at a time.

“I guess after that beautiful dedication ceremony, I’m surprised no one mentioned that you were in the O.R. when Ronald passed away and how traumatized you must have been,” she said, trying to continue the conversation without making Diana suspicious.

Diana sighed, taking the bait. “Most people are more stoic than I am. Besides, my mother worked hard to shield me—harder than she should have. I’ve got to toughen up. I can handle pretty much anything—except losing a patient. I’m still grappling with that one. And I’d better hurry up and get over it because it’s a factor in a circulating nurse’s life, even if it is a rare occurrence. Also, Mr. Lexington’s death truly came out of nowhere. One minute he was fine, the next he was bleeding out. We never expected such a successful surgery to reverse itself so abruptly.”

“I agree.” Casey frowned. “At the dedication ceremony, I heard so much gossip and speculation about that surgery. People were whispering. Some of them even blamed Conrad Westfield.”

“I know.” A spark of anger flashed in Diana’s eyes. “And it’s horrible and untrue. Dr. Westfield did everything—and then some—to save Mr. Lexington’s life. He called on every one of us to assist him. I was running back and forth bringing instruments and sponges. The surgical nurses did everything he needed and responded to his every command. And afterward...” Diana’s voice trembled a bit. “Both he and Madeline were devastated. Dr. Westfield was white as a sheet and there were tears in his eyes. Anyone who blames him is cruel and dead wrong.”

Casey saw how upset Diana was getting. She clearly regarded herself as one of the team—a team that had lost someone of great significance.

“Were you there the whole time?” Casey asked.

She nodded. “The circulating nurse is the first one in the O.R. and the last one out. I make sure the O.R. is fully ready for the incoming surgery—from the operating table to the surgical instruments. I assist the anesthesiologist in positioning the patients. I monitor lights, adjust equipment and assist with the final sponge and instrument count. I could go on and on, but I don’t want to bore you.”

“I’m not bored. I find medicine fascinating.” Casey ate some of her salad, reestablishing the calm that had been lost. “I’m sorry you had to go through such a trauma. But I’m also impressed. I’m sure Conrad used the A-team for that surgery. He must think a lot of you.”

“Thank you,” Diana said sincerely. “I respect him tremendously. Watching him operate is seeing a natural gift unfold. He’s a genius.”

“I believe you.” Casey picked up her napkin and dabbed at her mouth. It was time to leave. Too many more questions and her interest in all this would become suspicious. There’d be other occasions—like dinner with Janet—to dig some more.

“I’m so sorry, Diana, but I have to get going.” Casey placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

It was rigid.

“Have your mother send me your cell number,” she said. “We’ll make an appointment for you to come by the office and meet Hero.”

Diana relaxed, a smile spreading across her face. “I would love that.”

“So will he.”

* * *

Casey whipped out her cell phone the minute she got in the car, and punched the Ryan button.

“Yes, chief,” he answered.

“Anything on Nancy or her kids?”

“Nope. Just the usual bullshit. Nothing incriminating—at least not yet.”

“Damn,” Casey muttered. “I know you’re getting ready for your excursion with Emma, but later on, would you get me the full list of names of the staff that was present during Ronald Lexington’s surgery? All friggin’ roads seem to lead back to him.”

She paused. “I have a funny feeling. As the operating surgeon, Conrad picked his team. Which is fine, except that everyone I talk to, including our client, seems to have been around when Lexington died.”

“I’ll be able to get you any information your heart desires in a few hours,” Ryan assured her. “Just hang in there while I work my magic.”

17

EMMA FOUND HER
guy without much trouble.

Roger Lewis—or Loser, as Emma called him—was either locked in the IT section of the hospital or glued to her side, looking like a lovesick teenager.

This time he was on his way back to work, but taking a route that was out of his way to find her.

Perfect, she thought as she saw him coming. It was time for their tête-à-tête.

She’d already scouted out every floor of the hospital so she was ready when the opportunity presented itself. The third-floor bathrooms were right around the bend in a tiny, isolated alcove—ideal for what she had in mind. It was dead quiet.

Score.

Waiting until she was sure Roger had spotted her, Emma yanked on a pair of latex hospital gloves—as if she’d just come from seeing a patient—and strode across the hospital floor. She paused as she turned toward the bathroom.

“Hi.” There was that puppy-dog voice, coming up behind her. She couldn’t wait to never hear it again.

She turned around. “Roger.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

He scowled. “I’ve been tied up working on this new database to help the data integration of both hospitals.” He proceeded to ramble on in computer-ese until Emma could barely keep her eyes open.

“I can’t get over how brilliant you are,” she said, choking back a gag. “It’s so cool how you handle software and computer programs I’ve never even heard of.”

Roger puffed up. “That’s my job.”

“Well, you’re awesome at it.” Emma leaned a little closer than usual and laid a light hand on his shirt. “I’m sure you’re amazing at everything you do.”

He looked as if he was going to pee his pants.

“I...” He turned beet-red. “Maybe we could have a drink sometime,” he blurted out.

“I’d like that.” Emma’s nod was eager. “But right now, I have to get to the ladies’ room ASAP. I’ve been waiting to go for a half hour.”

“Sure. Yeah. Of course.” Roger stepped aside. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Can’t wait.” Emma hurried into the ladies’ room, shut the door and shuddered. Remembering her end goal, she glanced down at her tightly fisted gloved hand.
Good girl,
she congratulated herself.
You haven’t lost your touch.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Emma headed down to the basement. She had to be careful, since this was where the IT department was. But it was also the least bustling place in the hospital. So she stopped short of where Roger’s office was, made a quick left turn and, as planned, headed toward the custodial closet.

She surveyed the corridor as she approached. A thin flow of people. That was the best it would be.

She cleared her throat when she was two steps from the closet.

The door opened, and the man in the janitor’s uniform collided with Emma in the hallway.

“Oh, excuse me,” Ryan said, shifting the mop he was carrying to block the front of his uniform from view.

“No problem.”

Emma bent down as if to pick up something she’d dropped. Using her gloved hand, she adeptly reached into her candy-striper frock, retrieved the hospital ID badge she had just pickpocketed from poor, unsuspecting Roger and slipped it into Ryan’s jacket pocket.

“You look soooo hot,” she muttered in a teasing voice. “Good luck.”

With that, she continued down the hall.

Ryan rolled his eyes. Then he turned to do his job. He walked over to the locked door of the first office in the ramshackle hall. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Nothing.

Convinced that Emma was right about this office being virtually unoccupied, he held the ID card up to the proximity reader with a gloved hand and waited for the loud “clunk” as the bolt retracted, unlocking the door.

The office looked like a storage room, but it contained the one piece of equipment Ryan needed—a computer.

He shut the door behind him, heard the lock reengage and went straight to the desk. Seated behind the computer, Ryan removed the stolen badge carefully, pulled a special fingerprint kit from his other pocket and proceeded to “lift” the IT guy’s prints from the ID badge. He then transferred the index finger print to a flexible plastic strip and punched the button that woke up the computer.

Pressing Ctrl-Alt-Del, the screen whirred to life and waited for authentication. Ryan took the plastic strip, slid it carefully across the fingerprint reader and smiled as the system recognized him as Roger Lewis, Systems Administrator, with access to all resources.

Ryan navigated through the maze of drives and folders, until he came across one named “rlexington.” He expanded the menu to show file permissions and attributes and saw that one directory called “personal” had every file inside encrypted with a password.

Realizing this would take too long to break, he reached into his pocket for an empty USB drive, inserted it into the computer and initiated the replication of the entire contents of the “rlexington” folder.

But that wasn’t enough. The next order of business was to create a new administrative account for himself, with full remote access so he could obtain everything else he needed in the future. He worked quickly.

Done.

He then inserted a different USB drive and installed a spyware program of his own design that would allow him to access the hospital network via the internet, all without detection by antivirus and intrusion protection software—just in case the extra administrative account was found and expunged.

Eliminating any sign of his being here, Ryan packed up his gear and waited for the computer workstation to go back into sleep mode. He pocketed the ID badge to drop off just outside the IT offices. By now, the panicked Roger Lewis would be looking everywhere for his badge. Some pal of his would have let him in—but camaraderie like that wouldn’t last for long. Lewis would be frantic. Eventually he—or his irate boss—would find the badge in the niche between the door and the wall, and Roger would think it had accidentally unclipped from his belt and fallen off when he pushed through the door. Little did he know...

Ryan dumped his mop and uniform in the custodial closet and retraced his steps through the basement. As he walked, he removed the latex gloves he was wearing, and dropped them in the garbage just before he left the hospital.

* * *

Janet was entering some administrative data into her computer when her office door abruptly opened.

Nancy Lexington strode inside, her coat billowing out around her as she turned to shut the door. She whipped around, taking a few steps toward Janet’s desk. Her eyes were blazing, and anger emanated from her.

Clearly this wasn’t a friendly social visit.

“Hello, Nancy,” Janet said carefully. Ronald might be dead, but his wife still commanded some respect in this neck of the woods. “What can I do for you?”

“You can tell me why you were meeting with Casey Woods.”

Janet’s jaw dropped. That news had traveled fast, even for Manhattan Memorial.

“Who told you that?” she asked.

“Does it matter? It’s true, isn’t it?”

Janet rose from behind her desk. At least this way she could address Nancy on equal footing.

“Casey Woods and I had a quick lunch together,” she replied. “I wanted to learn more about Forensic Instincts. I find what they do fascinating. Is there a problem with that?”

“There’s a problem with the assumptions people make when they see you lunching with a well-known private investigator.”

Janet was starting to get angry. “And what would those assumptions be?”

Nancy closed the distance between herself and the desk, placing her palms flat on top of it. “Don’t play stupid games with me,” Nancy replied. “You know damned well what I’m talking about. You knew everything about Ronald—including his extracurricular activities. I don’t want that smut reaching my children’s ears.”

Janet couldn’t keep herself from laughing. “You’re kidding, right?
Everyone
knew about Ronald’s ‘extracurricular activities.’ Half of the hospital’s female population gossiped about it, and the rest were eager participants. As for your children, they’re not kids anymore. I’m quite sure they know who—and what—their father was.”

Nancy’s face had reddened. “That doesn’t mean they should have their noses rubbed in it. So keep your mouth shut and make different friends.”

“Or what?” Janet’s control snapped. “You’ll have me disposed of? I’m not afraid of you, Nancy, even if you are one step away from insane. So stop strutting around like you own this place. You’re nothing but a pathetic widow who couldn’t hold on to her husband when she had him. Maybe if you’d been a better wife, Ronald wouldn’t have spent so much time in other women’s beds.”

Nancy slapped Janet across the face so hard that the impact propelled her back a few steps. “You bitch,” she grated.

Janet pressed her palm to her cheek, which was already swelling with Nancy’s finger marks.

“You really are crazy.” Janet’s voice trembled with suppressed rage. “Not only that, but you’re delusional. You’ve actually conjured up some distorted image of your husband—heroic and monogamous to the end, despite a hospital filled with sluts who were throwing themselves at him. A noble man who was killed by a conniving surgeon, aided by his wife. Pull your head out of the sand and get some professional help. Concentrate on dealing with your grief and stop lashing out. Or is it too late? Are you already way past the lashing-out stage?”

Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying. I’m stating facts. You blame Conrad, Madeline and God knows who else for Ronald’s death. Ronald’s heart condition was bad. He didn’t make it. Accept that.”

Now it was Janet’s turn to lean forward, gripping the edge of her desk with whitened knuckles. “And if you have any thoughts of broadening your retaliatory actions to include the rest of the surgical team—such as my daughter—forget them now. You think you love your children? You have no idea. If you so much as lay a finger on Diana, I’ll take a page right out of your book. I’ll kill you.”

Nancy had grown ashen long before Janet’s threat. “What retaliatory actions? What gossip are you spreading now?”

“I’m not spreading a goddamned thing. There are all kinds of rumors flying around this hospital about the extent to which you’ve gone to avenge Ronald’s death.”

“And you passed those rumors on to Casey Woods?”

“My, aren’t we paranoid for a woman who claims to know nothing of what I’m saying. As for Casey Woods, I asked her to lunch to discuss Forensic Instincts. Period. Any other conversations we had were superfluous—unless, of course, you have something to hide.”

Nancy looked positively ill. “Don’t invite Ms. Woods to this hospital again, or I’ll use my influence with the board to have you both thrown out.”

She stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

Janet stared after her, a pensive expression on her face.