Terminal

In fact, he’d felt so sick he’d gone to his supervisor and told him as much. The supervisor had sent him home, commenting that he was pale. He’d even noticed that Tom was shaking.

“You’ve got the whole weekend,” the supervisor had said. “Go to bed, sleep it off. It’s probably a touch of the ‘snowbird flu.’ ”

So Tom had gone home, but he’d been unable to rest. The problem was Janet Reardon. He’d almost had a heart attack when she’d come knocking on Gloria’s door minutes after he’d put Gloria to sleep. In an absolute panic he’d fled into the bathroom, sure that he’d been cornered. He’d gotten desperate enough to take his gun out.

But then the pandemonium in the room gave him the diversion he needed to get away. When he’d emerged from the bathroom, no one had even noticed. He’d been able to slip into the hall with his bucket.

The problem was that Gloria was still alive. Janet Reardon had saved her, and Gloria was still suffering, although now she was out of reach. She was in the ICU where Tom was not allowed to go.

Consequently, Alice still wouldn’t talk to him. Tom had continued to plead, but without success. Alice knew Tom couldn’t get to Gloria until she was transferred out of the ICU and put back into a private room.

That left Janet Reardon. To Tom, she seemed like a devil sent to destroy the life that he and his mother had created. He knew he had to get rid of her. Only now he didn’t know where she lived. Her name had been removed from the residence chart in administration. She’d moved out.

Tom checked his watch. He knew her shift ended when his would have ended: three P.M. But he also knew nurses stayed longer because of their report. He’d have to be in the parking lot when she came out. Then he could follow her home and shoot her. If he was able to do that he was reasonably confident Alice would break this petulant silence and talk with him.

“HELEN CABOT died!” Janet repeated through sudden tears. As a professional it wasn’t like her to cry over the death of a patient, but she was extra sensitive since there’d been two tragedies in the same day. Besides, Sean’s response frustrated her. He was more interested in where Helen’s body was than the fact that the woman was dead.

“I understand she died,” Sean said soothingly. “I don’t mean to sound callous. Part of the way I respond is to cover the pain I feel. She was a wonderful person. It’s such a shame. And to think that her father runs one of the largest computer software companies in the world.”

“What difference does that make?” Janet snapped. She wiped under her eyes with the knuckle of her index finger.

“Not much,” Sean admitted. “It’s just that death is such a leveler. Having all the money in the world makes no difference.”

“So now you’re a philosopher,” Janet said wryly.

“All of us Irish are philosophers,” Sean said. “It’s how we deal with the tragedy of our lives.”

They were sitting in the cafeteria where Sean had agreed to come when Janet called him. She’d called him after report, before she left for the apartment. She’d said she needed to talk.

“I don’t mean to upset you,” Sean continued. “But I’m truly interested in the location of Helen’s body. Is it here?”

Janet rolled her eyes. “No, it’s not here,” she said. “I don’t know where it is truthfully. But I suppose it’s over at the Miami General.”

“Why would it be there?” Sean asked. He leaned across the table.

Janet explained the whole episode, indicating her indignation that they couldn’t do an emergency craniotomy at the Forbes.

“She was in extremities,” Janet said. “They never should have transferred her. She never even made it to the OR. We heard she died in the Miami General emergency room.”

“How about you and me driving over there?” Sean suggested. “I’d like to find her.”

For a moment, Janet thought Sean was kidding. She rolled her eyes again, thinking Sean was about to make some sick joke.

“I’m serious,” Sean said. “There’s a chance they’ll do an autopsy. I’d love to have a tumor sample. For that matter, I’d like to have some blood and even some cerebrospinal fluid.”

Janet shuddered in revulsion.

“Come on,” Sean said. “Remember, we’re in this thing together. I’m really sorry she died—you know I am. But now that she’s dead, we should concentrate on the science. With you in a nursing uniform and me in a white coat, we’ll have the run of the place. In fact, let’s bring some of our own syringes just in case.”

“In case of what?” Janet asked.

“In case we need them,” Sean said. He winked conspiratorially. “It’s best to be prepared,” he added.

Either Sean was the world’s best salesman or she was so stressed out, she was incapable of resisting. Fifteen minutes later she found herself climbing into the passenger side of Sean’s 4×4 to head over to a hospital she’d never visited, in hopes of obtaining the brain tissue of one of her patients who’d just expired.