by V.K. Sykes
Holly had no problem with her surgery the next morning, a relatively simple though grueling shunt operation. But now she felt like the proverbial train wreck, overwhelmed at all she had to face in the next few days. Starting with meeting Dr. Rosen to discuss the Arnold situation.
She slumped back in her office chair and rubbed her tired eyes. Sleep had been late in coming last night, especially after that truly alarming conversation with Mrs. Crump. She couldn’t completely take the older woman’s word at face value, especially since the D.A. had declined to prosecute Lance Arnold. Mrs. Crump obviously despised her former son-in-law—not that Holly could blame her—and would probably have no problem conjuring up an image of him killing her daughter.
Still, Mrs. Crump clearly believed in Arnold’s guilt, and Holly had very little trouble imagining that Arnold could murder his wife. She’d never met a more menacing man.
She glanced at her watch. Before she went to Rosen’s office, she wanted to call Nate. She’d thought about stopping by his apartment on the way to the hospital, but it had been way too early. He needed as much sleep as he could get, and with the amount of pain medication Morehouse had prescribed, that shouldn’t have been a problem.
She dialed Nate’s number. The phone rang a half-dozen times before the voice mail finally kicked in. She left a message asking him to call her office number, but then decided to try his cell. The need to talk to him was growing stronger by the minute. It wasn’t a feeling she liked very much.
“Where are you?” she said, when Nate answered his cell. “Aren’t you supposed to be home resting?”
“I’m well rested, and ready for anything,” he said. “Are you asking as my doctor or as my girlfriend?”
Girlfriend.
The first time he’d called her that. Why didn’t it sound better to her ears than it did? Maybe she’d already started thinking about them in stronger terms. Somehow, girlfriend sounded so temporary. Just another one in a long line.
God, why was she stressing over something as stupid as that?
“Both,” she said. “Please tell me you’re not driving.” She had a vision of him steering with his sling while he held the phone in his good hand.
“I pulled over when the phone rang. I was hoping it was you.”
Okay. That was better. “You sound good. But you have to be extra careful driving. You’re on some serious pain meds.”
“Now you sound like my mother,” he said with a deep chuckle.
“Well, somebody has to keep you in line. You’ve got a reputation, you know.”
“All lies,” he said. “I will have you know I’m as responsible as any ballplayer my age.”
Holly laughed, and more of her tension slid away. “That`s exactly the problem. So, are you going to answer my question? Where are you and what are you doing?”
“Are you in your office?”
“Yes.”
“Well, look down onto Walnut. I’m about fifty yards east of you.”
Holly put the phone down and peered out the narrow window that overlooked Walnut Street. As Nate had said, the gleaming DB9 was parked in a loading zone on the next block. She went back to her desk and picked up the phone. “Just passing by?”
“Fat chance,” he said. “I thought I’d drop in for a few minutes on little Ms. Morgan McDaniel and some of the other kids, and then track down my favorite pediatrician and take her to lunch.”
Holly sighed. That sounded like a slice of heaven. She envisioned the two of them on the rooftop patio at a fabulous Italian restaurant on South Street, followed by a stroll through the bustling Italian market.
But it wouldn’t work. Rosen was expecting her. And the sooner she lined up the meeting with Lance Arnold, the better.
“Sorry, dude. There’s nothing I’d like better in the world right now, but I’m booked solid. I have to meet the chief right now, then have a consult with a possible new patient, then an M&M meeting, and then late rounds. How about dinner, instead? If you’re up for it?”
“Oh, I’ll be up for it, all right. And I’ll be up for dessert, too. Man, I’ll really be up for dessert.”
Pinpricks of heat teased her skin. Nate’s voice dripped pure sex, and she couldn’t wait. Not that she wanted to make it easy for him. “You know, sweetie, a man in your condition should be careful with desserts,” she said. “Maybe one a week at most.”
He made a choking sound. “You’re killing me, Doctor.”
She chuckled. “Well, maybe we can bend the rules a little. If you rest and take good care of yourself.”
“Deal. I’ll head right home after seeing Morgan and a few other kids. Come right over when you’re done at the hospital. Maybe we’ll even eat in,” he said in a sexy drawl.
“Maybe we will,” she answered. “If you’re good.”
“I’m good, baby. You know that by now.”
Holly blew out an exasperated breath. “I meant if you behave yourself, as you well know, Nate Carter.”
“I promise. Hurry home, okay? Your patient needs you.”
“I will. Your doctor needs you, too. Be careful, okay?”
“Bye.” He clicked off.
Holly had never wanted to play hooky as badly in her life. It almost drove her crazy that Nate was only yards away, and would soon be in the hospital, just a floor below her. She craved being with him, but if she met him now or maybe even saw him, her focus might be shot for the rest of the day. She couldn’t afford that. Not with the Lance Arnold problem hanging over her head like an executioner’s blade.
She resisted the silly temptation to look down again at the street and follow the Aston Martin’s path to the hospital parking garage. Instead, she ignored the window and strode out her door and down the hall to the chief of surgery’s office suite.
Rosen’s secretary looked up as Holly pushed open the door. “Hi, Marilyn,” she said. “Is he in?”
“Hello, Dr. Bell,” the secretary said with a kind smile. “He’s on the phone, but he said to send you in as soon as you got here.”
“Thanks.” Holly knocked and poked her head inside. Rosen waved her in and pointed to one of the chairs in front of his heavy oak desk.
In addition to the massive desk and the two comfortable chairs in front, Rosen had a three-seat sofa and a circular meeting table that seated six. Fourteen framed degrees, diplomas and certificates on his ego wall, all pristinely-preserved in expensive-looking frames, testified to Charles Rosen’s standing as one of the foremost surgeons in the United States.
Rosen clasped his left hand on the top of his shaved head as he held the phone in his right. He was dressed in his usual designer golf shirt and crisply-pressed dress pants. The only time Charles Rosen donned a white lab coat was when he met patients.
“Just get it done,” the chief growled, then hung up the phone.
From his tone and his scowl, it didn’t take much insight to figure out the chief was pissed off.
“What’s up, Holly?” he said, forsaking any pleasantries. “You said you’re having problems with one of the parents?”
“With a fellow named Lance Arnold,” Holly said. “He’s the sole parent of Tyler Arnold, the five-year-old boy who was a patient of Dr. McMillan’s for several years.”
Rosen nodded. “I’m familiar with the case. Never met the father, though.”
Holly gave him a grim smile. “I’d say that was your good fortune, Charles.” She’d called him Dr. Rosen the first time they’d met, but he’d asked that she call him by his given name. It still seemed strange to her, as she’d always had a more formal relationship with her immediate superiors, but he had insisted.
“What’s the guy’s problem?”
She quickly recounted the events of the past week, including her conversation with Mrs. Crump, and gave Rosen a full update on Tyler’s condition. She concluded by saying, “I’d like to set up a meeting right away with Arnold that would include you and Richard Morris, as well as the boy’s grandmother. Perhaps with all of us singing from the same so
ngbook, we’ll be able to convince Mr. Arnold that surgery is the best option. The only option, realistically.”
Not that she held out more than the faintest glimmer of hope.
Rosen snorted. “Why? I get from your tone that you’re not optimistic that it’ll do any good.”
Holly felt a little jolt of dismay, but she kept her gaze steady. “That would be a fair conclusion. But surely we have to give it our best shot, don’t we?”
Rosen shook his head. “Come on, Holly. A judge won’t give a damn whether you talk to the man once or a dozen times. If you think we’re going to have to get a court order to force the surgery, then get on with it. Tell Arnold that he either signs the consent form or our lawyer will be filing for the order immediately. We don’t need to mollycoddle parents who won’t do what’s in their child’s best interests. Not in a clear-cut case like this.” His thick, gray eyebrows almost met in the center as he frowned. “You’re not intimidated by him, are you?”
Of course she was, at least a little, but she’d die before admitting that. Not to her boss, especially not this early in her job.
“No, of course not,” she said. She hated lying to the chief, but she didn’t see much choice. A perceived lack of confidence had killed or stunted the careers of several doctors she’d known. She wouldn’t let that happen to her. “I figured we had to go the extra mile. For the court, in particular.”
“I don’t agree. Just take care of it,” Rosen said brusquely. “Don’t expect some kind of committee to do your job for you. That’s not the way it works around here.”
Around here. Okay, that stung.
Holly might think of herself as a hot-shot recruit to PCH, but in reality she was still a newbie, and Rosen had just sharply reminded her of her status. Part of her wanted to slink out of his office, but she gave him a calm little nod instead. “I understand, Charles. I’ll take care of it right away.”
“Good,” Rosen said, finally allowing her a small smile. He stood up in dismissal, and she followed his lead.
“Good luck, Holly. Let me know if you have any more problems with the guy.”
“Thanks for your time and advice, Charles.”
She gave Marilyn a casual wave as she passed, and hurried out of the suite and back to her office. For some reason, she glanced out the window down Walnut, at the spot where Nate had been parked a few minutes ago. She silently castigated herself for being such a coward. After all, she would never be alone with Arnold, or see him away from the hospital. She really didn’t face any kind of threat from him. Just verbal abuse, and she had to get used to that.
Pull yourself together, Holly. Do it for Tyler.
She took a deep breath, shrugged her shoulders, and called Canizaro on her cell phone. “Katie, I want to see Lance Arnold this afternoon. Could you track him down and get him in here, please? Tell him whatever you have to in order to get him here, okay?”
Canizaro hesitated a moment. “Will do, Dr. Bell. But are you all right? You sound upset.”
“I’m fine,” Holly said, more sharply than she’d intended. “I’m going to go head-to-head with Arnold, and I’d just as soon get it over with. It’s not going to be pretty.”
“Dr. Bell, you know I’m willing to be there with you. Just say the word.”
Canizaro was a tenacious and brave young woman. “Don’t worry. I’ll ask a couple of the security guards to hang close by. But this is something I need to do myself.”
She had to, or she would have already let Lance Arnold beat her.