Critical Condition. Sandra Orchard

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      TWO

      The next day, with half a night of prayer behind him, Zach managed to walk the halls of the cancer ward without feeling that he might faint. Good thing, too, since the realization that Tara’s theories might not be so far-fetched had nixed all hope of avoiding this area of the hospital.

      Barbara’s finely plucked eyebrows had disappeared into her bangs when he’d offered to test the computer setups in the new wing. But once he’d convinced his colleague that he would rather confront his ghosts than run from them, she had handed over the pass cards to all the computers on the floor.

      Ahead of him, Tara stepped from a patient’s room. Her hair was done up in a funky bun. Strands of hair poked out in various directions, and several wayward tendrils curled down the back of her slender neck. Oh, boy, if his mouth went this dry watching her from behind, he dreaded to think how he’d react to seeing those beautiful brown eyes again.

      She turned, and her smile swept the breath from his lungs.

      He recovered quickly and asked for directions to Whittaker’s office. He knew the way, but asking Tara to show him would give him an opportunity to find out how she was faring without piquing anyone’s curiosity.

      Tara glanced at the pass cards he held. “Dr. Whittaker doesn’t like to be disturbed too soon after rounds. Perhaps you could start with our resident’s computer. Dr. McCrae.”

      Recognizing the name as one of the doctors on duty the night the Parkers died, Zach agreed.

      “How are you doing?” he asked as they strolled to McCrae’s office.

      “I didn’t sleep so well. I thought I’d sleep better, knowing you’re...you know. But I woke at every noise, worried he’d come after me.”

      “I’m sorry I scared you. But I’d rather you be on your guard than unaware of potential danger. Suzie okay?”

      Tara chuckled. “Oh, yeah. You made quite an impression on her. All evening it was Dak this, and Dak that.”

      Zach smiled past a pang of grief. “She’s a sweet girl.”

      Tara knocked on an unmarked door. When there was no response, she pushed it open. “Before this new wing was added, our interns and residents got nothing more than a locker and had to share computers with the nurses. But Dr. Whittaker insisted that, since residents work such long shifts, they should be given an office.” She chuckled and jutted her chin toward the far corner. “The mattress was McCrae’s idea.”

      Zach surveyed the small room, doing his best not to inhale Tara’s vanilla scent as she moved toward the window. With the bare white walls, chrome-and-glass desk and slatted window blinds, the office looked as sterile as an examination room. He supposed residents weren’t around long enough to add those personal touches that would offer some hint of their life outside the hospital.

      Zach settled into a plush leather desk chair, pausing to appreciate the improvement over the cheap box-store chair he’d had on his last case. “Any news on Miss Clark’s cause of death?” he asked, now that they wouldn’t be overheard.

      “Not yet.” She frowned and twisted open the vertical blinds. The light striped her face like prison bars. “For all we know, the coroner could be in cahoots with whomever’s behind this.”

      The anger fueling her comment didn’t mask the wobble in her voice. An aching vulnerability that awakened every protective instinct in him. Taking a moment to reel in his emotions, he powered up the computer. “I’ll check him out. You said the patient asked for you before she died. Anyone inquire about that?”

      “Actually, Dr. Whittaker commended me for having such a positive impact on our patients that they’d ask for me by name. Not that his comment surprised me. He’s always upbeat and encouraging.”

      “Hmm, a regular Dr. Wonderful,” Zach said, repeating the moniker he’d overheard one of the nurses use for the man.

      Tara shrugged. “He’s nice.”

      As Zach waited for the computer to boot, he motioned Tara to shut the door and peeked inside McCrae’s desk.

      Suddenly, he heard loud footsteps in the hallway. The door banged off the wall, and a doctor stormed in, lab coat flapping in his wake, his face as red as his hair. “What are you doing in my office?”

      “This is Zach Reynolds,” Tara answered for him. “He’s the IT specialist who’s upgrading our computer systems. I showed him in.”

      McCrae’s gaze flashed to Zach and then down to where his hand hovered over an open СКАЧАТЬ