let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m saying we don’t have all the facts. And certain things I’ve been told don’t add up. Which as you know—”
His phone rang just then. He tugged it free and glanced at the display. “Excuse me, Erin. I need to take this call. Perhaps you could go find coffee? Black.”
As she turned to stalk out of the room, Winchette spoke to her again.
“Your father gave me advice once, Erin, about dealing with security matters. He said, ‘Some things are better left unquestioned.’ I’ve never forgotten that. Your father was a very smart man.”
He turned away, dismissing her as he answered his phone.
Just outside the door, Erin stopped and leaned back against the wall. Did Dr. Winchette think she’d blindly accept her father’s idiom and march away to do his bidding? Coffee. Black. His request infuriated her. She had no problem acceding to his desire for privacy. But to be sent off for coffee? Please! Talk about a ploy. She’d return and Winchette would change the subject or rush off.
Not this time. She’d wait him out.
Through the closed door, she heard Winchette’s voice rise. What now, she wondered, shifting closer.
“I need that device immediately!” Winchette demanded. “If there is a way to track that man…”
She knew he had to be discussing John Doe, though the words made little sense.
“I’m getting him out first thing in the morning,” Winchette’s voice dropped and grew muffled. “Can’t keep…the level I need here.”
Now he was discussing Max Duncan. But with whom?
“Travis Franks agrees. And when the patient goes brain-dead…”
Brain-dead? What in the world—
“Excuse me, are you Dr. Houston?”
She jerked, cheeks flaming guilt-red as the hospital’s security chief addressed her. “Yes, I’m Erin Houston.”
“I’m looking for Dr. Winchette, ma’am. He’s not answering his cell phone.”
“He’s on another call.”
“This is urgent. We’ve got a lead on that missing patient.”
At that, Erin rapped on the door before thrusting it open. Winchette looked stunned at her interruption.
“The chief of security needs to see you,” she said. “He has information regarding John Doe.”
“I’ll call you back.” Winchette practically leaped to his feet and hurried to the door. “Well, what is it? Have they located him?”
“We have a report of a jumper on a bridge south of here, threatening suicide,” the security chief said. “He matches the patient’s description.”
“Good God! How far is this? Get the police on the phone and tell them to back off until I get there.” Winchette scrambled to grab his briefcase, stopping just long enough to scoop up the papers he’d completed. “Erin, I need you to get a copy of these transfer orders to Dr. Giles. I’ve got a private medical helicopter coming in at sunrise. I suggest you get some sleep. If I get tied up, you may need to accompany Mr. Duncan back to Virginia.”
Before she could reply, Winchette’s phone rang again. He rushed away, motioning the security chief to follow.
Erin stared at the papers without seeing them. When the patient goes brain-dead. Granted, the words were garbled and she’d heard them out of context. But what had Winchette meant by that?
Her thoughts were drawn back to her first encounter with Max. His eyes. He had squeezed her fingers. Just before receiving a sedative…of course! It was only natural that Max was more likely to respond as the medication waned.
If she could get to him before his next injection, could she wake him?
Back in Max’s room she checked his charts. He was due for another dose in about an hour. She could hang around until then. She also noted that the new medication Winchette had prescribed was indeed enough to keep a man comatose. Was that being done on purpose? With the CIA’s blessing? Travis Franks agrees…
She started to set the chart aside, then noticed that new pages had been added. She flipped through the
His phone rang just then. He tugged it free and glanced at the display. “Excuse me, Erin. I need to take this call. Perhaps you could go find coffee? Black.”
As she turned to stalk out of the room, Winchette spoke to her again.
“Your father gave me advice once, Erin, about dealing with security matters. He said, ‘Some things are better left unquestioned.’ I’ve never forgotten that. Your father was a very smart man.”
He turned away, dismissing her as he answered his phone.
Just outside the door, Erin stopped and leaned back against the wall. Did Dr. Winchette think she’d blindly accept her father’s idiom and march away to do his bidding? Coffee. Black. His request infuriated her. She had no problem acceding to his desire for privacy. But to be sent off for coffee? Please! Talk about a ploy. She’d return and Winchette would change the subject or rush off.
Not this time. She’d wait him out.
Through the closed door, she heard Winchette’s voice rise. What now, she wondered, shifting closer.
“I need that device immediately!” Winchette demanded. “If there is a way to track that man…”
She knew he had to be discussing John Doe, though the words made little sense.
“I’m getting him out first thing in the morning,” Winchette’s voice dropped and grew muffled. “Can’t keep…the level I need here.”
Now he was discussing Max Duncan. But with whom?
“Travis Franks agrees. And when the patient goes brain-dead…”
Brain-dead? What in the world—
“Excuse me, are you Dr. Houston?”
She jerked, cheeks flaming guilt-red as the hospital’s security chief addressed her. “Yes, I’m Erin Houston.”
“I’m looking for Dr. Winchette, ma’am. He’s not answering his cell phone.”
“He’s on another call.”
“This is urgent. We’ve got a lead on that missing patient.”
At that, Erin rapped on the door before thrusting it open. Winchette looked stunned at her interruption.
“The chief of security needs to see you,” she said. “He has information regarding John Doe.”
“I’ll call you back.” Winchette practically leaped to his feet and hurried to the door. “Well, what is it? Have they located him?”
“We have a report of a jumper on a bridge south of here, threatening suicide,” the security chief said. “He matches the patient’s description.”
“Good God! How far is this? Get the police on the phone and tell them to back off until I get there.” Winchette scrambled to grab his briefcase, stopping just long enough to scoop up the papers he’d completed. “Erin, I need you to get a copy of these transfer orders to Dr. Giles. I’ve got a private medical helicopter coming in at sunrise. I suggest you get some sleep. If I get tied up, you may need to accompany Mr. Duncan back to Virginia.”
Before she could reply, Winchette’s phone rang again. He rushed away, motioning the security chief to follow.
Erin stared at the papers without seeing them. When the patient goes brain-dead. Granted, the words were garbled and she’d heard them out of context. But what had Winchette meant by that?
Her thoughts were drawn back to her first encounter with Max. His eyes. He had squeezed her fingers. Just before receiving a sedative…of course! It was only natural that Max was more likely to respond as the medication waned.
If she could get to him before his next injection, could she wake him?
Back in Max’s room she checked his charts. He was due for another dose in about an hour. She could hang around until then. She also noted that the new medication Winchette had prescribed was indeed enough to keep a man comatose. Was that being done on purpose? With the CIA’s blessing? Travis Franks agrees…
She started to set the chart aside, then noticed that new pages had been added. She flipped through the
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