Critical Condition. Sandra Orchard

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СКАЧАТЬ Zach slid the security pass card into the new hub that would connect McCrae’s monitor to the main network. “I could be a couple of hours getting this set up. Were you needing access before I start?”

      McCrae plunged his balled hands into the pockets of his lab coat. “No, that’s fine. I have patients to see.” He strode past Tara and scooped his stethoscope off the desktop. “Next time, however, I’d appreciate being informed before you barge into my office.” McCrae gave the room a sweeping glance and then left as quickly as he’d appeared.

      “Whew, quick temper on that one.” Zach tossed the borrowed pen back into the drawer.

      “It’s the sleep deprivation. Makes the residents edgy. He’s quite tenderhearted once you get to know him.”

      “How will I ever come up with possible suspects if you have such high opinions of everyone on staff?”

      Tara snorted. “Wait until you meet Alice Bradshaw.”

      “Who’s she?”

      “A nurse who... Well, let’s just say that when it comes to Alice, I follow my dear departed grandma’s advice. ‘If you can’t say something nice about a person, don’t say—’”

      Zach flashed Tara a silencing glance as a gray-haired nurse stepped into the doorway.

      * * *

      Tara spun toward the door. At the sight of her least favorite person in the world, she swallowed the last of her words. Okay, maybe Alice Bradshaw wasn’t her least favorite person.

      Her rat-fink ex-husband, who’d split on her and their then eight-week-old daughter, held that distinction.

      But what was Alice doing here? Spying on her?

      It was high time the woman figured out that twenty years’ seniority didn’t give her license to mind everyone else’s business. Tara took a deep breath.

      Okay, Alice had caught Tara talking about her. Not good. But if she let on that she was the least bit rattled, Alice would pounce. Ever since Tara’s promotion, Alice had snatched every possible opportunity to undermine her authority.

      Zach’s gaze ping-ponged from Alice to her, and the twinkle in his eye tugged a smile to her lips. She turned the smile to Alice. “Was there something you needed?”

      Alice blinked, clearly surprised that her ability to unnerve Tara had lost its effect, but she recovered quickly. “Yes, actually.” Her ultraprim voice enunciated each syllable with precision. “The patients are waiting for their meds.”

      Tara glanced at her watch and inwardly cringed at how late it was. “Okay, thank you. I’ll be right there.”

      When Tara returned her attention to Zach, a dimple dented his cheek. “I see what you mean,” he said. Then, all hint of humor faded as he added, “Stay alert. We’ll talk later.”

      The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Every bed on the ward was full, and every other patient had some urgent crisis demanding her attention. She was grateful for the distraction, but still found herself struggling to focus on her work, because busy as she was, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had her looking over her shoulder every few minutes.

      She was three bites into her lunch when the front office paged her. On her way there, she passed through the lobby, where Dr. Whittaker was showing a group of well-heeled prospects the inscribed marble donor wall on which their generosity would be forever immortalized.

      Tara had to chuckle. He went on and on about the groundbreaking research they’d be supporting, but everyone knew it was his irresistible charisma that pulled in the donations.

      A newly inscribed block at the end of the wall caught Tara’s attention, and she skidded to a stop. Mr. and Mrs. Parker, platinum donors?

      They hadn’t had that kind of money. Mr. Parker had often lamented about the extra jobs he had to take to afford his wife’s natural supplements, and how he hated that work kept him from being with her more.

      A hand clamped her upper arm, jolting her from her thoughts.

      “Miss Peterson?” Dr. Whittaker smiled down at her with his perfect white teeth. “For a moment, you looked like you might faint.”

      His gaze strayed to the Parker inscription, his forehead creasing.

      Zach’s words—stay alert—pulsed in her ears as Whittaker shifted, blocking her from the view of the potential donors he was courting. “No, I’m fine. I...” She peeked around him at their audience and raised her voice for their benefit. “I was admiring how generous people have been.”

      Dr. Whittaker beamed and shifted again, no doubt hoping her accolades would inspire further generosity.

      She tapped her finger on the Parkers’ name to gauge his reaction. “This couple, for example. They must’ve bequeathed their entire estate to this project.”

      “Yes, the late Mr. and Mrs. Parker were extremely charitable.” His lips jitterbugged from a smile to a frown before finally settling into a grim line. Although obviously pleased by the coup, he knew enough not to show his pleasure, considering the couple had to die for the hospital to get the money.

      Tara stiffened. Motive.

      He certainly had means and opportunity. Who would ever suspect Dr. Wonderful of being the grim reaper?

      Tara’s gaze shot to his. He still held her by the arm. And his grip was tightening.

      Zach strode toward them like a gleaming knight. He tapped the doctor’s shoulder. “Excuse me, Dr. Whittaker?”

      Whittaker’s grip loosened. “Yes?”

      Zach thrust out his hand, leaving Whittaker no choice but to release her and extend his own hand.

      Tara mouthed a thank-you and then scurried away without a backward glance. What was she thinking, goading Whittaker like that?

      That’s the trouble—she didn’t think. Mom always warned her she was too impulsive. Had Whittaker read her suspicions in her expression? Or was he just trying to stop her babbling before someone made the connection between the names on the wall and the recent deaths?

      Either way, if Dr. Wonderful sensed she didn’t buy into the persona he was peddling, she was in trouble.

      Her stomach roiled at the thought. She dealt quickly with the front office’s questions, and then returned to the lunchroom. But she was so rattled that her stomach grew queasier by the second. She covered the macaroni salad she’d barely touched and returned the container to the staff fridge.

      She tried to focus on paperwork to take her mind off her suspicions of Whittaker. Surely Zach would come by to ask about the run-in. She’d never had such a bad case of nerves. The detective’s warnings must’ve spooked her more than she’d realized. The mix of concern and determination she’d seen in his eyes as he’d drawn up behind Whittaker flittered through her thoughts. That...and how Zach’s shirt had strained across his broad chest when he’d reached up and tapped Whittaker’s shoulder.

      Maybe suspicions weren’t the only things leaving her a little СКАЧАТЬ