Diagnosis Death (29 page)

"I . . . Well, I'll certainly do what I can," Sam said.

"Do more than that," Lindberg said. "Jandra Pharmaceuticals is hurting. We're staking everything on this drug."

"Oh, and stop referring to it by its generic name," Patel added." From now on, the compound is Jandramycin. When people hear the name
Jandra Pharmaceuticals,
we want them to think of us as the people who developed the antibiotic that saved the world from the worst epidemic since the black plague."

Lindberg eased from his chair and gave Sam another slap on the shoulder. "This is your project now. It's on your shoulders. The company's got a lot riding on this."

And so do I. "But what if a problem turns up?"

Patel rose and drew himself up to his full five feet eight inches. His obsidian eyes seemed to burn right through Sam. "We're depending on you to make sure that doesn't happen. Are we clear on that?"

"Something wrong, Dr. Miles?"

Sara opened her eyes and turned to see Gloria, the clinic's head nurse, hovering over her shoulder. "No, just taking a few deep breaths before I have to make a call I'm dreading."

Gloria slid into the chair next to Sara. The controlled chaos of the nurse's station hummed around them, the buzz of conversations and ringing of phones serving as effectively as white noise to mask her next words. "Is it one of your hospital patients? Got some bad news to deliver?"

"Sort of. It's Chelsea Ferguson."

"The teenaged girl? Is she worse?"

"Yes. The cultures grew
Staph luciferus."

Gloria whistled silently. "The killer. That's bad."

"The only thing that seems to be working in these cases is that new drug of Jack Ingersoll's."

"Oh, I get it. That's the call you don't want to make." Gloria touched Sara lightly on the shoulder. "When are you going to stop letting what Ingersoll did ruin the rest of your life? I can introduce you to a couple of really nice men who go to our church. They've both gone through a tough divorce—not their fault, either—and they want to move on. It would be good for you—"

Sara shook her head. "Thanks, but I'm not ready to date. I'm not sure if I can ever trust a man again."

Gloria opened her mouth, but Sara silenced her with an upraised hand. No sense putting this off. She pulled the phone toward her and stabbed in a number.

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