Lancaster County Target. Kit Wilkinson

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СКАЧАТЬ “Fortunately, you’re strong and your body quickly absorbed much of the excess. We gave you something to calm your heart. It worked just the way it was supposed to—the monitor is just here as a precaution. You’re going to be fine. There will be no long-term effects.”

      “Epinephrine?”

      “Yes, it almost threw you into cardiac arrest.”

      “How? Why would I take epinephrine? That’s crazy. Are you sure?” In a blink, Abby had a flash image of a shaking hand raising a needle to her arm. It was dark, like nighttime.

      “You were found with an empty syringe, which we are pretty certain contained a killer amount of epinephrine before having a meeting with your arm.”

      “Wait a minute, what else? I—I...” She looked down at her bruised arm. Her pulse started to rise. Someone had held her. So tight. She remembered her arm had felt as if it might break. She also remembered a man so close she could feel his breath on her neck. Abby shivered. “Someone gave me a shot. He was holding me around the arm. But where was I? And how did I get here?”

      Blake’s lips pressed together as he seemed to consider how much to tell her. He frowned. “The custodian found you on the third floor. He said you were out cold in the stairwell by that big hall that’s being renovated. He’s the one who brought you down. He saved your life. Now, look, you’re getting too worked up. Try to rest. We can continue this conversation in a bit. You’re very weak.”

      The third floor. Cold gray eyes. Abby could feel the tension rising in her, and it wasn’t because of her condition. She locked eyes with the doctor. More images shot through her mind. Gurney. Syringe. Eyes. Icy, fiery eyes. She flung the sheet off her lap and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I need to go back upstairs. Someone’s in trouble. I wasn’t the only one who was injected.”

      Blake placed a hand on her shoulder that gently but firmly kept her from moving. “Slow down, Abby. You could still be under the effects of the drugs.”

      “No. Really, I’m fine.” She slipped from his reach and stood. Her legs felt like cooked spaghetti. Blake caught her as she leaned back for support.

      “It will have to wait, Abby. You need to rest.”

      “I’ll rest later.” She pushed the doctor and his restraining arms away.

      She didn’t remember all the details of her attack, but she knew someone else had been in danger. She couldn’t wait a minute longer—she might already be too late.

      * * *

      Blake could hardly believe the beautiful but provoking patient had talked him into letting her out of bed. Of course, when she’d plucked the IV from the back of her hand with a single yank, it was clear she was going to get up to the third floor with or without his approval. Since his shift had ended, he thought it best to accompany her. At least that way he could confine her to a wheelchair and keep an eye on her.

      “Janice told me that you were raised Amish,” Blake commented as he wheeled her into the elevator.

      She nodded. “It’s true.”

      “So why did you decide to stop being Amish? If you don’t mind me asking?”

      She laughed. “I don’t mind you asking at all. But I wouldn’t say that I stopped being Amish. I may not wear the clothes, but in here—” she touched her chest where her heart would be “—I will always be Amish. I didn’t take vows to commit myself to the church because I wanted to continue nursing.”

      The elevator stopped at the third floor and Blake turned them toward the renovation area, taking in her words, which were more personal to him than she knew. “At the risk of sounding ignorant, I’m going to ask. Nursing isn’t allowed?”

      “No, it’s not. It’s Hochmut.” Abby smiled and waved hellos to the few staff members they passed. “The Amish can have shops, build furniture or buildings, and farm. Professions that require higher degrees are not pursued.”

      “Hochmut?”

      “Ja. Hochmut,” she repeated with a teasing look, correcting his pronunciation.

      “I don’t speak Pennsylvania Dutch.” Blake felt himself blush—her unfamiliar words were just another reminder of how little he knew of this place where he had come to find answers about himself.

      “It means ‘arrogance.’ It’s what comes with letting the world in, with studying and learning more than needed. By going to school and becoming a nurse, I’ve become too much a part of the world. In many ways, I’m not worthy to take vows. But I have vowed in my own way to take care of people. My people. They need health care that they are comfortable with and I can provide that. I think I made the right decision. One day my family will understand. Some of them already do.”

      Blake tried to wrap his head around the Amish culture. After the letter his mother had left him, he’d researched anything and everything Amish. But now that he was there in Lancaster, he realized there was still so much to learn. And there was already one strike against him. Would his biological family think less of him for his medical profession?

      “How about you?” She looked back at him with her bright blue eyes. “Why did you leave New York? And how did you pick Fairview Hospital of all places?”

      Blake had a stock answer for that question. It was the one he’d given to everyone else who’d asked him, even his closest friends. No one knew the real reason he’d come to Lancaster. He’d told no one that he had recently found out that he’d been adopted, that he’d been born in Lancaster, not in New York City as he’d thought his entire life. He could hardly process the news himself, much less deliver it to others and expect them to understand. It was best to sort it out first. By himself. Yet he found himself on the verge of telling Abby the truth.

      “Lots of reasons,” he said in a low voice.

      “Dr. Jamison. Dr. Jamison.” The young nurse from Nicolas Hancock’s room raced after him, waving a set of papers. “Here, Doctor. I called Mr. Hancock’s lawyer, but I only spoke with a receptionist. She wouldn’t let me through, nor would she tell me if there was a next of kin to notify.”

      “Thank you.” Blake took the papers.

      She glanced at the closed doors to the renovation area and easily guessed their intentions. “The renovation area has been locked up after what happened to you, Abby. But if you want to take a look, then we might have a key at the station.” She started back in the direction she’d come. “I have your hermetically sealed IV and tubing, too, Doctor. Would you like to have that, too?”

      “Yes, if you could bring the IV, too, I’d appreciate it.”

      Abby looked up at him. “Hancock? Did she say your patient’s name was Hancock?”

      “Yes. Nicolas Hancock.” He handed Abby the chart so he could steer the wheelchair. “But he wasn’t really my patient. Supposedly, he was a transfer. Somehow my name got on that chart. My signature, even—but I never laid eyes on him until I was paged for a Code Blue. I came right away but it was too late. The crash team tried and tried to resuscitate but he didn’t make it.”

      Abigail stared down at the front page of the chart in her lap. “I’ve seen this before.”

      “Seen СКАЧАТЬ