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  Code Blue

  By Janet Lane-Walters

  Digital ISBNs

  EPUB 978-1-77362-069-5

  Kindle 978-1-77362-070-1

  WEB 978-1-77362-071-8

  Amazon Print ISBN 978-1-77362-072-5

  Copyright 2013 by Janet Lane Walters

  Cover Art by Michele Lee

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Prologue

  He crouched in the cemetery that embraced three sides of the hillside parking lot across from Bradley Memorial Hospital. A massive family marker shielded him yet allowed him a clear view of the steps, the street and the door of the Emergency Room. Dark clouds slid across the surface of the moon. Lights, set high on poles around the perimeter of the lot sent finger shadows groping among the cars.

  The watcher straightened and edged from behind the granite marker. White puffs of vapor from the shallow, rapid breaths he took coalesced around his face. He held his body as rigid as a tombstone. As he waited for the evening nurses to end their tour of duty and hurry across the street to their cars, his narrowed eyes focused on the brightly-lit hospital entrance. Every night for a week, he had watched while excitement and anticipation had circled like a swarm of hornets. Would she come tonight?

  "I'll never leave you." When he was eight, Mommy had said the words that had become his litany. That broken promise had brought him here.

  He stared at the steps. When would Susan come?

  When Mommy was a patient, Susan had been her favorite nurse. He had liked Susan, too, but she hadn't stopped those other people from hurting Mommy. His shoulders tensed.

  "I'll never leave you. They'll have to kill me first."

  The night Mommy died was etched into his memories. On that dreadful night, he had begun his plan to make them pay.

  Mommy would be unhappy about what he meant to do. To her, nurses were special and Susan more wonderful than the rest.

  He rocked from his heels to his toes. The last time he had disobeyed, Mommy had threatened to tell everyone how bad he was. He had promised her he would be good. His hands curled into fists. Sometimes he wanted to feel the heat of accomplishment so much he felt sick.

  He gulped a breath. Tonight the heat would blossom and he would feel powerful again.

  Susan was like Mommy. She would tell. He chewed on his lower lip. Her death would free him to still the people who had hurt Mommy on that dreadful night.

  His smile became a grimace.

  He had trusted Susan but she had failed to keep Mommy safe. Though he wished to see the others dead, Susan had to be first. He had laid his plans carefully, and while he had considered all the things that could go wrong, days had become weeks and then months.

  The bright lights across the street caught his attention and stirred his hopes. She had to come tonight. He wanted to be free.

  His hand brushed Mommy's tombstone. He pressed his fingers against the engraved letters of her name. He cocked his head and listened to the whisper of the wind.

  "Nurses give so much to others. Someone should take care of them."

  Mommy's husky voice thrummed in a corner of his mind. Her face appeared. Tears spilled from her eyes. He shook his head. Why should he listen to her when she had left him?

  Sometimes at night when he slept in her bed, he caught a glimmer of her presence. For fleeting moments, the scent of her perfume brought her to him.

  He squared his shoulders. Since he was eight and Daddy died, Mommy had watched him carefully. One day, her vigilance had wavered. The neighborhood bully had fallen from a tree and broken his neck. That awful boy shouldn't have torn up Mommy's flower garden.

  Mommy had liked the candy and the other presents he had given her every time he disobeyed. He groaned. Who would like his presents now?

  Where was Susan? Waiting made him anxious. She had to come so she would be just like Mommy.

  He saw her. Hazel eyes, sad eyes, Susan's eyes, Mommy's eyes. Brown hair swirled to hide her siren smile. He reached for her, but she vanished into the darkness of the night.

  The chill November wind flowed across his nape. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket and touched the weapon he had brought.

  The sound of leather scuffling against asphalt caused him to turn and scan the parking lot. When he saw no one, his gaze returned to the hospital entrance.

  Someone dashed across the street. A flash of white showed beneath the woman's dark coat. He held his breath. Susan had come. It had to be her. A rush of anticipation built to a peak. She was here. The nurse ran up the steps beside the cemetery.

  A darting shadow startled him. With stealthy movements, a dark-clad figure edged between the cars. The nurse paused beside a battered tan sedan. A hand stretched to grasp the purse that dangled from her shoulder.

  "Susan, watch out." A bellow proclaimed his rage. If she was attacked, he should be the attacker.

  Mommy wouldn't like that. "A good boy never hurts a woman." She had never guessed what he had done, not even when he had given her the tri-colored bracelet she had always worn.

  "No," he shouted.

  The dark figure fled and nearly tripped over the single strand of chain that separated the parking lot from the cemetery.

  The watcher smiled. Mommy would be proud of him. He couldn't wait to go home and tell her what he had done tonight.

  A shrill scream rose. From her? From him? He bit his lower lip and clenched his hands. He stared at the woman he had thought was Susan. She wasn't, but she had been in Mommy's room the night she died. Intent on completing what the mugger had begun, he stepped toward the chain. What was he thinking about? He couldn't, not tonight. Susan had to be the first. He returned to Mommy's grave. Her voice rode on the wind.

  "What will become of you when I'm not here to look after you? I'll never leave you. They'll have to kill me first."

  But she was dead and they had killed her.

  "Mommy, don't leave me. You promised you would never go."

  The nurse ran to the steps. She shouted and waved to the group of women who hurried across the street. He slid deeper into the shadows. Car doors slammed. Engines roared. He waited until most of the cars had left the parking lot before he went to his own. As he drove home, he wondered why Susan hadn't come.

  Chapter 1

  Home at last. Susan Randall moved her shoulders in slow circles to ease the tension raised by the series of delays she had experienced during the morning's journey from Florida. An hour's delay in the departure of the flight. Traffic snarls due to construction. She had hoped to be home long before noon. She looked at her watch. Nearly one o'clock.

  The limousine driver dropped her bags on the porch. After paying the man, she waited for him to leave. Then she fished the house key from the jumble in her purse and opened the front door. Why hadn't she stuck to her original plan and left last night? Instead, she had allowed her parents to persuade her to stay until this morning. Another failure in assertiveness, she thought.

  The two weeks in Florida had exhausted her. With a sigh, she opened the front door and lifted the suitcases. Worry over the outcome of her father's abdominal surgery and coping with her mother's fears had drained her. Her father's uncomplicated recovery had given her parents time to offer advice on how she should live her life.

  It's been nearly a year and a half since Jim's death. How long are you going to grieve? You're thirty-five. Isn't it time to let him go and build a new life?
/>   Variations on the theme had been endless. The unsolicited advice and opinions had only increased her inner restlessness.

  Susan dropped the suitcases beside the brown and white couch. How could she admit to her parents that fear of losing her identity again and not grief had governed her choices? Until the restraints had vanished, she hadn't realized she had been wrapped in a cocoon. If Jim hadn't died, her contentment with her life would have lasted. He would have continued to make decisions for every moment of their life and she wouldn't have protested. He had bound her so tightly, there had been little need for family, friends or children. During the past eighteen months, making decisions for the slightest change had been difficult, but she had learned. She had no intention of ceding her newfound independence.

  Why would she want to find another man and plunge into the same kind of dependency? The odds of settling into a similar relationship were high. How many of her friends had she watched leave one man and find another with the same traits? She couldn't take the chance not until she gained confidence in herself. Besides, her life would remain serene as long as her emotions remained in a coma.

  The wall clock chimed. Startled, she looked up. One forty-five. How long had she drifted in thought? She'd better move before she arrived late for work, an act she hadn't committed in her thirteen years at Bradley Memorial Hospital.

  When she took off her coat, she saw the basket of gold and rust-colored chrysanthemums on the coffee table. She reached for the card.

  "Welcome home. Talk to you soon. Patrick."

  Warmth infused her. She touched one of the feathery blooms. This wasn't the first time one of his unexpected presents had raised her spirits.

  As she ran upstairs, she pushed aside questions about his intentions. Patrick was her friend and tenant. He had been Jim's friend, too. She refused to believe there was more, and yet, she remembered a night when there had been. She shook her head. She needed a friend, not a lover.

  Moments later, she stood in the shower. Warm water washed away the sour smell of nervous perspiration. Though the tension caused by the multitude of delays eased, she sensed it lurking like the remnants of a nightmare. She stepped from the shower, dried and dressed in a white uniform. If traffic cooperated and the line at the deli was short, she would reach the hospital in time to step into her role as a nurse. That Susan was completely different from the shadow woman Jim had created. At the hospital, she was confident, decisive and in control.

  At twenty minutes to three, Susan entered the locker room on Five Orthopedics. She changed from boots to shoes, punched her time card and draped a Sprague-Rappaport stethoscope around her neck. Then she stepped into the hall.

  As she approached the nurses' lounge, her pace slowed. She inhaled a deep breath. Why the sudden reluctance? For the past year and a half, being at the hospital five evenings a week had been her escape from loneliness. What had changed? While searching for an answer, she opened the lounge door.

  "Do you really think I'll tell you?" Barbara Denton's strident voice rasped against Susan's nerve endings. "Believe me, when I say it's dynamite. Someone isn't going to like what I've learned. And let me tell you, this time, I have all the facts."

  The practical nurse's harsh laughter and the veiled threat in her voice added to Susan's uneasiness. Whom had Barbara targeted this time? Her stories always contained a dram of truth but little more. Susan halted in the doorway and waited to hear further hints of scandal. When the practical remained silent, Susan stepped into the room and closed the door.

  The hospital's gossip queen sprawled on the bright green loveseat facing the door. She stabbed a cigarette toward the round table that was partly hidden by the jutting powder room wall. A gold bracelet glittered on her arm and slid up and down as she used the cigarette to emphasize the importance of the tidbit she dangled.

  Susan shook her head. Had anyone reminded Barbara that smoking in the hospital was illegal? Would it matter? The practical had chosen to break the rule, but so did the unit's nurse manager.

  "Don't tease," Susan said. "We know you're dying to tell all."

  One of the two nurses seated at the round table jumped up. "Welcome back," Julie Gilbert said. "How was your trip? You look terrific."

  "The trip was nice." Susan smiled. A year ago, during Julie's first three months on the unit, Susan had been the younger nurse's mentor. They had become friends.

  Barbara flicked a long ash from her cigarette. "Would you look at the tan? Bet you didn't spend your entire two weeks playing private duty nurse. Sure wish I could afford two weeks in the sun."

  "The rent was free." Susan crossed to the credenza and reached for the coffeepot.

  "As if you have to worry." Barbara's words flowed on a stream of smoke. "Bet your husband left you tons of insurance money. All I ever got from mine was a stack of unpaid bills."

  "Three times." When Julie turned to look at the practical, sunlight glinted on the silver clip that held her long hair at her nape. "You sure know how to pick them." Her grin was as saucy as her voice.

  "About as good as you." Barbara's hand hovered over a Styrofoam cup. "If you think you're going anywhere with De Witt, think again."

  Julie made a face. "You'll soon see how wrong you are."

  "Sure I will," Barbara drawled. "Ask Trish about him. After all, she followed him here. Hey, Trish, was it love or another reason?"

  What did Barbara mean? Susan glanced at Trish Fallon. Her bony shoulders hunched and her lower lip trembled. Trish and De Witt? The unlikely combination made Susan want to laugh. She stepped toward the table until a flash of anger in the thin nurse's pale eyes halted her in mid stride. Why the attempt to provoke a quarrel between Julie and Trish?

  Julie walked around Susan. "It's really great to have you back. Like the new hairstyle. How much weight did you lose?" She grinned. "Is there something you're not telling us? Who is he?"

  Susan added milk to the coffee she had poured. "I have no secrets."

  "Ain't that the truth," Barbara said. "And believe me, I've searched." She stubbed her cigarette. "Let me tell you what happened to me while you were gone. You saved my life."

  Trish rose. Julie groaned.

  Though curious, Susan didn't want to be a captive audience for one of Barbara's tales. She edged toward the door. "Catch you later. I want to check meds before report."

  "Hold on. This is something you need to know. I'll give you the abridged version." Barbara lit another cigarette.

  Susan glared. "Put that out. You know the rules."

  The practical took a deep drag. "Saturday night, I was nearly mugged in the parking lot. If some man hadn't shouted your name, who knows what would have happened. Any idea who your guardian is?"

  "No. I'd say you were lucky someone yelled."

  "Pity." Trish pushed past Susan and entered the powder room.

  Susan shook her head. What had Barbara done to Trish?

  Barbara blew smoke rings at Susan. "You'd better be careful. Most nights, you're the last one out of here."

  The words sent a chill along Susan's spine. "Who would want to hurt me?"

  "Susan's never careless. Susan has no secrets. She's perfect." Trish slammed the powder room door.

  Susan shook her head. During the past two weeks, the atmosphere on the evening shift had deteriorated. When she had left for vacation, there had been no problems. Tonight, Barbara seemed determined to make trouble. One of these days, the practical would irritate the wrong person and she'd find herself out of a job.

  "Don't you think someone should do something about the parking problem?" Barbara asked. "Why should days get to park beside the hospital and evenings get stuck across the street in the middle of a cemetery?" Her voice rose to a crescendo.

  Susan stepped into the hall. "Don't ask me. Talk to someone from administration."

  "I have and all they say is there's never been a problem before. How--" The door closed and cut off the woman's strident voice.

  Welcome back to Five Orthopedi
cs. Did every hospital have a Barbara? Susan groaned. This was rapidly becoming one of those evenings when she didn't want to be here.

  She paused beside the doctor's desk and studied the census board. Would she be happier on another unit? Should she leave Bradley Memorial? The urge to change, to explore, to do something different arose, but she knew she wasn't ready to take such drastic action.

  "That's the first time she's related her grand adventure in less than thirty minutes and without dramatic embellishments," Julie said. "Why don't they put her on probation or something?"

  Susan shrugged. "Guess she knows where the bodies are buried. I swear she knows how many times we breathe during a shift."

  Julie laughed. "And if she doesn't, she'll invent a number."

  "Are you having a problem with her?"

  "Not exactly."

  "Can I help?"

  "No one can." Julie pushed a portable chart rack toward Susan. "Good luck. Since Trish and I refuse to work with her, you have the honor tonight. District Two."

  "Some things never change." Resentment tightened Susan's shoulder muscles. Since Barbara usually cooperated with her, the nurse manager routinely paired them.

  Unfair, Susan thought. Tomorrow, she planned to come in early and confront Meg about the situation.

  She pulled the chart rack to the section of the desk where she usually sat. Several of the day nurses clustered in front of the counter. One of them pulled Julie into the medication room for narcotic count. Susan answered questions about her vacation and checked the medication book against the doctors' orders.

  Julie emerged from the med room. "How's your father? Barbara had me so rattled I forgot to ask."

  "As stubborn as ever. When I lectured him about the need for fiber in his diet, he laughed. What does one do with a father who's a junk food addict?"

  "Love him."

  Susan chuckled. "He handles the temporary colostomy like a pro."

  "Then I was right. He has diverticulitis."