Malicious Intent (33 page)

‘What are her obs like?’ Anya asked.

The nurse checked the bed chart on the desk. ‘Temp is fine, KATHRYN FOX

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pulse normal. BP 110 over 70. No more shortness of breath than yesterday. The resident thought it could be the antibiotics affecting her liver,’ she said, placing the specimens in a plastic bag with the request form and sealing it. ‘He’s more worried about pulmonary emboli. Her lung function is poor enough as it is. Imagine surviving all those injuries and dying from a blood clot.’ She deposited the plastic bag into a blue box and returned the bed chart. ‘You’d have to be jinxed or something.’

Within a minute, she had returned. ‘You can go in now, but she’s in a foul mood. Lady Muck doesn’t want to see anyone.’

‘Thanks.’ Anya would discuss the fibers later with the registrar. Briony might need a bronchoscopy if clots and infection were excluded. She also wondered whether this woman, now facing the reality of losing her business, partner and access to her child, could be experiencing depression.

She tapped on the door and entered. Predictably, Briony didn’t acknowledge her presence.

‘Good morning.’ Anya pulled a small cardboard box from a carry bag. ‘Thought you might like a bagel. There’s a cheese and bacon roll, too.’

Briony continued to stare at the television attached to an overhead stand. In the light she did appear a little sallow.

‘How are you feeling?’

Briony clicked off the remote. ‘You’ve got a hide coming here. I could sue your arse off.’

Anya was taken aback. ‘I don’t understand. We talked the other day –’

‘And you couldn’t help yourself. Had to go and tell your friend all about me. You’re a lying bitch. Get out!’

‘What are you talking about? I kept your confidence.’

‘You’re using me to solve your precious case and get brownie points with your mates.’

Anya had no idea what had upset her so much. ‘I don’t understand what happened. Did someone come to see you?’

‘As if you didn’t know. Two homicide detectives forced their way in and threatened me if I didn’t cooperate. They said 266

MALICIOUS INTENT

they could charge me with obstructing a police investigation if I didn’t tell them how to find him. They knew I’d already spoken to you.’

Anya felt her heart speed up. ‘Was one of the detectives a woman? With short, dark hair?’

Briony bit her bottom lip.

‘The thing that really pisses me off isn’t your cop friend.

You knew what I’d been through and pretended to care.’ She held her side with one hand. ‘I believed you.’

Anya had no idea how Kate had found Briony, but felt responsible.

‘I’m sorry. The police asked for your name but I wouldn’t give it to them.’

‘How did they know you’d been here?’

Anya knew nothing she could say would help Briony now.

‘I’m sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.’

Briony became louder, sounding hysterical. ‘Sorry doesn’t fix anything. Get out now or I’ll call for security. Get out!’

Anya opened the door to leave as the nurse from the desk rushed in.

‘What’s going on?’

‘I was just leaving.’

Briony lowered her voice. ‘You’re no different from
him
, using people to get what you want. You’d make a great pair.’

Anya pulled up outside Homicide and phoned Kate. Within minutes, the detective appeared on the front steps and Anya headed her way.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, going to see her in hospital?’

‘Hang on, I know you’re pissed off.’ Kate held her arms up in a pseudo-surrender.

‘Damn right I’m pissed off. Briony Lovitt just threatened me with legal action for betraying her confidence. And what about the emotional damage you’ve caused that woman?’

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‘Can we cut the melodramatics? She is pivotal to a possible homicide investigation. All I did was my job. If you weren’t going to tell me, I had to do something. That way you weren’t directly involved and you still have your precious ethics intact.

No penance or Hail Marys, or whatever it is Catholics do.’

‘You deliberately used me to get to a patient. So how did you do it?’ Anya paced along one step. ‘Did you have me followed?’

Kate looked around. Uniformed officers and detectives on their way in and out of the building began to notice the pair.

‘Can we talk about this somewhere more private?’

‘Jesus. You
did
. You dogged me.’ Anya knew exactly how betrayal felt. ‘You compromised me. This could cost me my registration, my practice.’

Kate looked up at the sky. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll say how I located the witness. No one’s going to hold you responsible.’

She couldn’t believe that her friend had been so deceitful.

Now the odds of getting anything from Briony were impossible. She’d be unlikely to open up to anyone again.

‘I hope it was worth it.’ Anya turned around and headed for her car.

Kate followed. ‘Could you just stop and think for a minute?

We know something is happening to these women. The DNA from the fetus came back. The kid was fathered by the same guy who sprogged into Debbie Finch’s throat. It can’t have been Mohammed Deab. You said the viruses were from the same source. I can connect two women to each other with herpes, and the other two to each other with DNA. What else was I supposed to do?’

Anya stopped at her car and swung around. ‘That isn’t the point. Any chance we had of finding out who Briony was with is gone. She’s withdrawn and refuses to talk to anyone. We’re back to square one. Some man slept with these women before they died. Suspicious, sure, but without a record, there’s no chance of finding this guy, let alone charging him with a crime. He’s smart.

No one sees him take the women, or they go voluntarily. We’ve got nothing. Briony was the key. She won’t talk again.’

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‘This wasn’t personal,’ Kate said, throwing her hands up in the air. ‘I made a decision under the circumstances. I did my job.’

‘Like hell it wasn’t personal.’

The detective’s mobile rang and she walked over and grabbed Anya’s arm as she answered the call. Anya pulled away and fumbled for her keys.

‘Shit. Thanks, I’ll be right there.’ Kate hung up. ‘You might want to come to the hospital. Briony Lovitt’s been taken to intensive care. She’s in some kind of coma.’

45

The director of intensive care came out of the unit and asked to speak to Detective Sergeant Farrer. Dr. Jim Ho recognized Anya from medical school and was happy to include her in the conversation, turning more of his attention to his colleague than the policewoman.

‘The patient’s in a critical condition. It looks like paracetamol poisoning –’

Kate interrupted. ‘Hang on, are you saying she has overdosed on
painkillers
in here?’

‘I’m afraid that’s what the blood tests show.’

Kate rubbed her chin. ‘How does someone with a spinal cord injury, flat on her back, manage to get hold of enough tablets to kill herself? Did someone else poison her?’

Jim Ho spoke calmly and without sounding patronizing. ‘I suppose it’s possible but, I suspect, unlikely. The psychiatrist believed she was depressed but didn’t think she was a suicide risk. We can only assume that instead of taking her analgesia, she saved her tablets and took them all at once. Judging by the levels in her system and the degree of organ failure, I’m guess-ing the lethal dose was taken over the last couple of days.’

Kate paced, hands on hips again. ‘How can you kill yourself in hospital? Aren’t you people supposed to notice something?’

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Her voice was half an octave higher than normal. Anya recognized the anxiety signs, and so, it appeared, did the intensive care specialist.

‘With paracetamol poisoning there may not be any symptoms until very late, and it can be done with as little as a dozen tablets,’ he said, without sounding defensive. ‘The notes suggest that Briony seemed all right this morning apart from mild jaundice.’

‘I spoke to her and she was lucid. The jaundice was barely noticeable,’ Anya confirmed.

‘The blood tests showed she already had early renal failure, liver failure and her PT was over 180.’ Again, Dr. Ho addressed his former classmate.

‘Excuse me?’ Kate asked.

‘PT’s a test for bleeding time,’ he said. ‘The liver is responsible for clotting factors and if it fails, bleeding time increases.

That means a risk of hemorrhages.’

‘Is she conscious right now? I need to interview her.’

‘I’m afraid not. She’s developed encephalopathy, which is the effect the damage has on her brain, and is in a coma. We’re trying hemodialysis, but we’ll find out tonight if we’re winning or not.’

Anya thought of Julie and little Georgia. ‘Has the family been notified?’

‘Yes, but no one’s come yet.’

A nurse hurried out of the unit and called for Dr. Ho, just as his beeper went off and a loudspeaker announced a code one in the ICU. ‘Excuse me, I have to go,’ he said with urgency.

Within minutes, four doctors came sprinting along the corridor and ran into the unit.

‘What’s going on?’ Kate waited for an answer from Anya.

The doctors must have been on the arrest team and answered the emergency page. Anya said a silent prayer for Briony. Minutes passed. No one reappeared.

‘Why the frig don’t the nurses watch you take the stuff if it’s so bloody dangerous?’ Kate muttered.

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Nurses habitually left tablets in a small paper cup by the bedside. For safety and legal reasons, two nurses checked the medication when dispensed, but they were too busy to stand there and ensure the pills were swallowed. Patients could have been in the bathroom, with a doctor, or may have had to take the pills with food and wait for the meal tray.

As they sat on a lounge outside the unit, Kate phoned the office. Anya knew Briony had faced death rather than return to the man. The poor woman had lost her child, partner, home, business, and the use of her legs. Of course she was a suicide risk. It just hadn’t occurred to Anya that Briony had the means to commit suicide. It should have.

A couple of middle-aged men in dark suits walked up to the intercom at the door and buzzed. One of them complained loudly how damaging a wrongful death lawsuit would be for the hospital. The other agreed that the cost would run into tens of millions. Classic administrators. Full of compassion and tenderness, Anya thought. What if we were the relatives hearing that?

They buzzed again and walked in. A few more minutes passed before Dr. Ho came out. Judging by the lack of eye contact as he approached, the news wasn’t good.

‘I’m sorry to tell you this,’ he said to Anya and Kate. ‘Due to metabolic failure, Briony Lovitt suffered a series of cardiac arrests. Despite all our efforts to resuscitate her, I’m afraid she passed away a few moments ago.’

46

At seven o’clock on Saturday morning, Ben sat down to crunchy cornflakes, scrambled eggs – Anya’s only specialty, done in the microwave – and thick crusty toast. He even had room for a chocolate-chip muffin intended for morning tea.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice how little his mother ate.

She thought about Briony Lovitt and wished she could have done something different. No matter how she replayed the events of the last week, Anya felt responsible, in part, for Briony’s death.

Ben played with his dinosaur as a thought came to his mind.

He gulped the last of his milk.

‘Mum, is Vaughan your boyfriend?’

Luckily, the phone interrupted.

‘Hi Elaine,’ Anya said into the receiver. ‘No, not yet.’

Ben watched his mother. Unlike most children his age, he usually knew the instant that things weren’t right.

‘Thanks for the warning. I’ll speak to you later.’

Hanging up, Anya tried to reassure Ben, who now had a furrowed brow.

‘Elaine just wanted me to know about a story in the newspaper in case I forgot to read it, with you and me being so busy.’

Ben climbed off his chair, placed his plate and cup next to the sink and picked up his toy.

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‘Why don’t you go upstairs and choose something to wear today, Speedie. We’ve got a big day planned.’

He was out of the room, clomping up the stairs before Anya had opened the front door to collect the Saturday newspaper.

She unwrapped the plastic, flattened it and turned to the News Review section. Elaine couldn’t have prepared her for the shock of the double-page spread.

‘MURDER MOST FOUL, EXPERT IN PRIVATE

AND IN PRACTICE’, the headline screamed.

Dr. Anya Crichton, prominent forensic pathologist and physician,
can’t seem to avoid murder in her private and working lives. Perhaps it’s become second nature. Her life has been embroiled in
controversy from the age of five, as Trent Wilkinson discovers . . .

In the middle of the page, in a box, was an old photo of Miriam, taken on her third birthday. It was the one used by the police all those years ago. ‘Miriam Reynolds disappeared, presumed murdered. Family members were implicated but no charges were ever laid,’ the caption read.

There was no mention of Billy Vidor in Risdon jail. This was a hatchet piece designed to discredit her. Why?

Her eyes were drawn to a photo that stunned her.

Crichton’s husband, Martin Hegarty, was dismissed from London’s
Royal Huntley Hospital for injecting a patient with a lethal dose
of the narcotic morphine. He resigned from the hospital only after a
public campaign for justice by the dead woman’s family. Hegarty
failed to maintain nursing registration in Australia. The victim’s
family remain convinced there was a coverup by the hospital and
maintain that manslaughter charges should have been laid. They
deny that the woman requested euthanasia. A close colleague of
Crichton’s performed the autopsy on the victim, a fact condemned
by lawyers acting for the family.

A few paragraphs down was the photo taken with Scott Barker.