Weapon of Choice (7 page)

Michelle reported that Laura's other patients were stable, giving Laura a few extra minutes before starting the drive to her labs. So Laura made her way to the administrative suite of offices of the hospital. Not bothering to knock, she went in to see her best friend, Roxanne Ruiz, director of nursing.

Roxanne was on the phone to Human Resources. “We're down thirty nurses, so yes, we will have to bring in contract personnel to get us through the winter months.”

“Isn't admin fun?” Laura said when Roxanne had concluded her call. “Remember when we just operated on patients? No bureaucratic headaches.” Roxanne had been Laura's scrub nurse back before they'd each moved on to loftier positions.

Roxanne grinned. “The price of success. But what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the university today?”

“I'm on my way. I wanted to drop by to brief you on that patient in the surgical ICU. The one we think has AIDS. Tricky diagnosis. We can document the Kaposi sarcoma and the pneumocystis, both hallmarks, but without a definitive test for HIV—”

“Just what we need on a holiday weekend.” Roxanne sighed deeply. “My staffing problems are bad enough, now with the isolation protocol and the panic that'll hit when the inevitable rumors spread, get ready for a nightmare.”

“That, and we have confidentiality of the diagnosis to worry about. You're right, Roxie, a nightmare. But not a surgical nightmare. One that comes under Duncan Kellerman's purview. Doesn't he tell anyone who will listen that he's God's gift to infectious disease.”

“We both know that Kellerman is in over his head.”

“That's why I called my friend Stacy Jones at the CDC. I told him to call her if he wants to get up to speed. If not—”

“Laura, Kellerman passed your friend's contact information on to me. My infectious disease nurse has already been in touch with Dr. Jones. And she's already been helpful. She's contacted the Director of the Hillsborough County Health Department so we all have the most up-to-date information on the HIV virus. God knows so many frightening rumors are flying around. Anyway, I know you're busy, but thanks for stopping by this morning, and a huge thanks for getting us access to the resources at the CDC.”

Roxanne checked her watch, but Laura did not leave. “Roxie, there's something else.”

“Uh-oh, I know that look. A cup of tea is in order, with a slice of my mother's homemade almond coffee cake. Let's take ten minutes.”

Roxanne got up and went to the electric teakettle she kept on her file cabinet. Pouring a cup of tea for each of them and slicing a generous piece of cake, she returned. Laura sat across from her. They'd done this countless times over the past twelve years, in one or the other's offices.

“I've always had such a great relationship with all my kids,” Laura said, “but something's changed. Not with the boys, they're okay, but with the girls. Even Natalie, but to a lesser degree than Nicole.”

“Like what?” Roxanne asked.

Laura told her about the birth control pills. “She must be lying to me,” she concluded.

“What if she's not?” Roxanne asked.

Laura had to admit that she hadn't given that option any credibility.

“Maybe Nicole's been a handful from time to time, but she's never lied to you, has she?”

“How would I know? I can't trust my judgment. That's what scares me.”

“Why don't you give her the benefit of the doubt? Tell her you trust her. Then keep a good watch on the girls. Nicole doesn't even have a steady boyfriend, does she?”

“No.”

“So probably she's not sleeping with anybody.”

“When you put it that way, I guess I overreacted. Sometimes I just feel so overwhelmed. Three teenagers in the house. At least I don't worry about the two in college.”

Roxanne grinned. “What you don't know—”

“Thanks, Roxie. Why do I always feel better just talking to you? I'll follow your advice—let this all blow over. With Thanksgiving coming up, there'll be lots of distractions.”

“When are the others coming in?” Roxanne was referring to Laura's sister, who with her husband and seven-year-old son, was flying in from their Paris home, and to Laura's brother, Ted, a Jesuit, stationed at the General Curia in Rome.

“Janet tomorrow, Ted on Thursday. In time for dinner, if my mother's prayers are answered. Mike and Kevin will be home tomorrow night. Then we'll head to Mom and Dad's for the long weekend. I rented a condo on Anna Maria Island, so we'll probably all hang out on the beach.”

“Your life always has been complicated, Laura. Louis and I just have my mom and the boys.”

“Hey, give my best to Louis—I've got to get going. And say hi to Stacy if you talk to her before I do. If anyone can give us advice about our AIDS case, she can.” Laura was up and out.

“Guess what,” Roxanne called out, “I bet I know something that you don't.”

“Well, speak up!” Laura turned as Roxanne cracked a smile.

“Breaking news from the CDC. Stacy got promoted to Section Chief or some big title like that. How about that for your mentee kid?”

“Fantastic. That girl is going to make a difference in so many lives.”

But Laura's pride was mixed with shame. Stacy Jones would never know what had happened to Johnny. Stacy would never know that her friend and mentor had killed her brother eighteen years ago.

T
UESDAY
, N
OVEMBER
26

Victor held Matthew's hand in his gloved one. Then he moved his chair closer so he could caress Matthew's forehead and cheeks, letting his fingers run over the purplish blemishes of Kaposi sarcoma. Matthew had been worried about his disfigured face. He'd tried using different types of concealer makeup, but that had only made the blotches more ghastly.

So far Victor had not broached the subject of AIDS with Matthew. Had Matthew, a science teacher, suspected that those purple lesions were a sign of Kaposi sarcoma? Not really “sarcoma” meaning cancer, but tumor cells that cluster in nodules and darkly colored papular blotches.

An infectious disease expert, Victor knew that the antibiotics dripping into Matthew's intravenous line were appropriate for Pneumocystis carinii, the bane of AIDS, and staph, and almost every other combination of bad bacteria. But nobody in this mediocre hospital would share Matthew's medical details. What organisms were growing? What did the antibiotic sensitivity panel show? Doctors in a D.C. hospital would handle HIV without all this fumbling. Nevertheless, Matthew's cheeks were a little pinker and his skin no longer so clammy. And he'd even started opening his eyes if only for a few seconds.

Victor never should have left Matthew alone in Florida. What had possessed him to go chasing off to Keystone Pharma? When he got the call that Dr. Nelson wanted to operate, Victor should have
headed directly to Tampa, chartered a plane that night, and taken Matthew home.

Matthew, alone and surely terrified, giving consent to surgery with no one by his side. Well, that would never happen again.
Matthew, I'm here and I will never abandon you
.

Victor had always been accused of being defensive, guarded, overly suspicious. Maybe that was true, but now, for the first time, Victor had found a relationship based on total trust. He was all Matthew had. And he vowed not to let him down.

When a nurse showed up to suction Matthew's nasotracheal tube, Victor stood, leaned over Matthew close enough to confirm the stability of his vital signs on the monitor, and told the nurse he was going to the cafeteria for breakfast. He'd spent most of the night in the chair next to Matthew, except for the hour or so he'd dozed off on the sofa in the ICU waiting room. He'd brushed his teeth and tried to shave in the men's room, but he still wore the same clothes he'd traveled in, not wanting to leave Matthew's side long enough to book a hotel room.

Victor paid for his oatmeal, orange juice, and hot tea and found a table in the far corner, away from all those people in scrubs and white coats. A woman sat alone in the back, wearing a designer-looking outfit. As he approached, she stood and called out, “Victor Worth—is that you?” She looked to be in her sixties, trim, with highlighted hair.

“Naomi Kantor,” he said, pausing. He remembered the pretentious woman whom he'd always disdained. His former boss's wife.

“What are you doing in Tampa? Come. Sit with me.”

Victor carried his tray to the small square table and sat down opposite her bowl of fruit, English muffin, and carafe of coffee.

“Norman's here in the ICU,” Naomi began. “He fell out of his sailboat, can you believe that? I'm so worried. He fractured his hip, and they did surgery, then he got blood clots. Well, you can imagine, I've been beside myself. Our twins both wanted to come down, but they're so busy with their jobs. Kyle's a dentist in Richmond and has two girls. Kara is a CPA in Philadelphia and she has two boys. Four grandchildren, total.”

Right, Victor thought:
Two and two. And, I have one son, he wanted to say. And your bastard husband has all but murdered him
. But he kept silent.

“I feel so alone down here,” she continued. Typical Naomi. The woman could not shut up. “You can't believe how glad I am to see you.” She reached across the table to squeeze Victor's arm.

You wouldn't be touching me if you knew where I just came from
.

“You do know that Norman retired last year. Now that I think of it, you weren't at the party.” The woman could not shut up.

“Keystone Pharma went all out. A gala affair in the Commonwealth Club at the William Penn Inn. I guess that was too much, to expect you to come from Bethesda to Philadelphia.”

Nice of you to let me make the decision. I wasn't invited
.

“Then we moved to Longboat Key, it's a barrier island off Sarasota. Norman was out in Tampa Bay when he got hurt, and this is the closest hospital, so I'm stuck here.”

“Norman has blood clots, you said?” Victor asked his first question.

“Oh yes, they're giving him heparin, but there've been bleeding complications. Something about getting the right dose. You can't believe how many times they take his blood in that ICU. The man's a pincushion. I can't stay very long, can't stand to watch, and the smell in there makes me woozy.”

“Norman's here? In the ICU?”

“For now. Once his blood tests come back okay, they're going to move him into a private room. God knows we can afford it. You can't believe the options and all the stock Keystone gave him. You'd be astounded.”

Naomi still had not asked anything about him. Like, why would Victor be in a hospital cafeteria in Tampa?

“I'd like to say hello to Norman.” Norman, on his mind since Sunday night, now an apparition?

“Oh, he'd love that. They restrict visitors to family only, but I'm sure I can talk them into letting you see him. You can't believe how bored Norman is. They won't even let him make phone calls.”

They deposited their eating utensils in the proper bins and
placed their empty trays on the belt, Victor accompanied Naomi to the elevator, up to the seventh floor. He walked with her, unchallenged, into the surgical ICU. Victor had never been in the main ICU—Matthew's room was separate—with its own entrance. He was surprised at the bustle of nurses and technicians and the cacophony of sounds. Victor's parents had tried to convince him to be a real doctor, an M.D., but hospitals made him physically ill. Alone in the isolation room with Matthew, Victor had managed, but now as Naomi led him toward her husband's bed, he felt a wave of nausea. He pulled out his handkerchief, now well used, and coughed into it.

“Sir?” a nurse looked up. “Are you okay? If you have any infection, you shouldn't be in here. These patients are very ill.”

“I'm fine,” Victor said. “Allergies.”

The nurse had already turned away to tweak a patient's IV line.

“Look who's here, Norman.” Naomi's husband had been asleep, but she had not seemed to notice, or to care.

Victor's one-time mentor—turned traitor—slowly opened his eyes, looking about.

Trouble focusing? Victor hoped not. He needed Norman alert, oriented, and motivated.

Norman ran his right hand—the one not tethered to an IV board—through crew cut salt-and-pepper hair. “What do you need now?” he growled. “Can't you people give me a moment's rest?”

Naomi stepped forward to adjust his pillow. “Victor Worth is here, darling.” She moved aside so Norman had an unobstructed view of Victor, and vice versa.

“Sorry about your injury,” Victor said as recognition dawned on Norman.

“Victor? What are you doing here?”

“Right now, I've come to check in on you,” Victor said. Could he overcome his disgust and discuss his son with this ruthless traitor?

“Well, I'm just great right now.” Norman faked a smile. “Got some obscure clotting problem. Threw a pulmonary embolus. Went into cardiac arrest. They can't get the blood thinners right. I had a gastric bleed, one thing after another—”

“Darling,” Naomi interrupted, “I heard the doctors talking. They are going to move you out of ICU in a couple of days once the main danger passes. Good news, right?”

“I want out of this place.” Norman sighed. “But I could live with a private room, a television, and a phone—anything would be a step up from—
this
.”

“What's going on in your life, Victor?” Naomi asked. “You still a bachelor?”

“Afraid so.” Should he tell them about Matthew? No, of course not.

“Naomi, why don't you give us a few moments?” Norman asked. “Just move this goddamned pillow over toward me. Please.”

“I'll stay, darling. I just came from the cafeteria—”

“I want to talk shop with Victor,” Norman said. “Good-old-days stuff. You'll be bored. Go call the kids or something.”