Once he was outside her offices, he leaned against a decorative column and concentrated on breathing air that didnt carry a faint hint of her scent. He had to clear his head. He didnt have time to get tied up over a woman. Any woman. Especially a R-ONC.
You okay, boss? As seemed to be his habit, Whistler appeared out of nowhere.
Fine. Cage didnt want to talk about R-ONC, or about the way Ripley Davis made him feel mad and guilty and horny all at once. Nor did he want to talk about the rumors of radioactivity gone astray. He wasnt sure who he could trust in the Rad Safety department yet. If anyone. Any calls this morning?
Nothing exciting or I wouldve paged you. The young man shrugged. A few gray egg deliveries. The radioactive material arrived in lead-lined capsules. It was delivered to Rad Safety, checked in and dispersed to the labs.
Everything was checked and double-checked. There was no radioactivity in the hospital that couldnt be accounted for each and every moment of the day. So where the hell had the nukes supposedly found in the broom closet come from? Cage had no idea, but the concept was unnerving. Since he was working on coffee-shop rumor and speculation, he had no evidence, either.
When hed brought it up with the Head Administrator, Gabney had stared at him, hard, and prattled on about the Hospital of the Year award. Cage had gotten the message.
Dont rock the boat.
Too bad for Gabney it was Cages mission in life to do exactly that. Heather had died because a group of doctors hadnt wanted to make waves. Cage had vowed it wouldnt happen again.
The doors to the R-ONC department swung open and there was Ripley Davis, marching across the foyer to the stairs. Cages head came up. Here. Take these. He shoved the R-ONC radiation logs at Whistler. Check them against our databases, but dont worry if you dont find anything. I bet theyre up to date.
Whistlers eyes cut from Ripley to Cage and back. Whatre you going to do?
Im going to have a little chat with Dr. Davis, Cage said, feeling an unfamiliar tingle of anticipation. I think she and I have gotten off on the wrong foot.
Whistler snorted. Good luck. She can be a real hard case with people whore trying to interfere with R-ONC. Her head tech used to say Dr. Davis treats that department like its her husband, and the patients like her children.
Cages eyes followed her figure down the stairs, admiring the long, no-nonsense stride and the gentle sway of hip and hair. He grimaced. Husband. Children.
In his experience, doctors gave little value to family.
TANSY WAS LATE for their midmorning coffee break, so Ripley sat alone at the rear of the hospital café with her back to the room and hoped everyone got the hint. She was in no mood for company.
She scowled at her muffin and wished the new Radiation Safety Officer to the devil. It was his fault she felt out of synch today. She was tired because shed dreamed about him and she was behind schedule because hed insisted on testing each of the treatment machines separately, though there hadnt been an accelerator-related death in four or five years.
And she was worried because she couldnt help feeling Zachary Cage had seen more than she wanted him to, both in the lab and in her. If he and the Head Administrator ganged up against R-ONC, shed be out in a minute. Her patients would be farmed out and forgotten, and shed wind up doing a hundred Pap smears a day in her fathers practice.
Ripley bowed her head as tears threatened and the bruises left by Ida Maes husband throbbed.
There you are! The dark, rough voice spoke close at her shoulder for the second time that day, but she didnt give Cage the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. Somehow, shed known he was there. A hint of electricity in the air, a shadow of heat had warned her of his presence.
Go away, she muttered as he slid onto the wall bench opposite her, Im waiting for someone.
She could meet rude with rude any day.
I saw Dr. Whitmore in the hall. She asked me to tell you she was on the way to an autopsy and shed see you at lunch. He grinned, but the motion of his face didnt lighten the darkness of his eyes one bit. He knew very well she didnt want him there. So Ill keep you company instead.
His legs were so long his knees bumped hers beneath the tiny table, sending a buzz of warmth through her thighs. Her chair was bolted to the floor. She couldnt slide away, and Cage didnt seem in any hurry to move.
Why should I want your company? She remembered the look in his eyes when Livvys favorite wig fell off. Scowling, she tried to scoot away from the warm pressure of the knees bracketing hers.
Cage took a hit of his coffee and grimaced as though it didnt go down quite right. We both know I wont find anything when I look over those logs.
She slanted him a look as wariness sizzled through her. He was fishing. Meaning?
Meaning that your records are clean and your protocols are up to snuff, yet I think youre hiding something. Care to let me in on it? You can start by telling me about those papers on your desk.
Ripley wrapped her hands around her coffee cup and wished it were his neck. She decided to meet rude with angry. Anger was better than the guilt of knowing she couldnt explain Ida Maes death. She snapped, I dont like your tone, Mr. Cage, and I dont like your implication. I Her cell phone rang. Excuse me. She flipped open the slim phone. Dr. Davis.
Ripley! Youve got to get down to autopsy right now. Tansys voice was tight with tension and Ripley fought the quick panic as she remembered where her friend had gone.
To oversee Ida Maes autopsy.
Ripley kept her voice steady, professional, all too aware of the RSO sitting across from her. Aware of the pressure of his knees against hers, the accusation that hung in the air as she said, Ill be right there. Can you tell me whats wrong?
Its Ida Mae. Tansy paused and in the live silence Ripley heard Cages beeper sound. He looked at the display, cursed and stood just as Tansy said, The bodys radioactive, Rip. Shes so hot shes practically glowing.
Chapter Three
I hope this is Whistlers idea of a joke, Cage muttered as the elevator descended. His beeper read 911C-B110, which translated to emergencycontamination in room B110. Nukes in the basement? That didnt make any sense.
Aware of two nurses and a civilian sharing the car, he didnt ask about Ripleys phone call, but she was headed down to the basement on the double. The thought that they were bound for the same place bothered him, though he couldnt have said why.
Coming? Ripley held the door with obvious impatience. He stepped out into the long, damp hallway, aware of the faint hum beneath his skin, a tingle left over from the intimate press of her knees beneath the café table. He frowned.
This was neither the time nor the place for desire. And it certainly wasnt the right woman.
Still, he moved closer to her side as they strode down the hall. Harris had said something about a phone call, and her file was missing from his desk. His instincts, which hed learned to heed, gave him a sharp poke, a hint of suspicion. What if Ripley Davis wasnt a sloppy doctor after all?
What if she was in trouble?
What if she was in trouble?
His mind rejected the idea, but his heart wasnt so sure. And hed be damned if he let another woman be hurt while he concentrated on other things.
Rip! Tansy Whitmore was waiting in the hall, and Cage thought she looked even worse than she had that morning, when hed noticed the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the deep grooves beside her mouth. Pretty and blond was one thing. Pretty, blond and haunted was another. It made him wonder just what Dr. Whitmore might be hiding. What she knew. Ida Maes body is
Tansy! Ripley interrupted with a quick look back at Cage. A line had just been drawn with him on one side, the women on the other. Inclining his head in acknowledgement, he opened the door to B110 and gestured them into the autopsy room. He grimaced when the smell hit.
Death, with a pathetic overtone of air freshener.
Hey, boss. Whistler leaned over a body bag with no apparent regard for the funk in the room or the smear ofsomething on his shirt. Cage had thought before that his nominal second-in-command was a tad strange. Now he was sure of it.
Whatve we got? He hadnt meant to bark the question, but it echoed in the fetid room and battled with the cheerful hip-hop blatting from a radio sitting high above the metal slabs.
Whistler straightened unhurriedly. We started the radiation sweeps you ordered down here in the basement. You know, work the hospital from bottom to top?
Cage noticed that the pathologist and the women were huddled at the end of the room. You paged me for contamination. Where is it?
And why the hell was there radiation in the morgue?
Whistler jerked his chin at the body, which had been only partially unzipped from its bag. Right here. Ida Mae Harris is hotter than a Las Vegas showgirl.
What the? Then stand back, Cage snapped. Youre not wearing a protective suit, you idiot. No wonder the others were plastered against the far wall. When Whistler obligingly ambled out of range, Cage said, Wheres she contaminated?
Not where, boss. The tech shook his head and shrugged to indicate that he didnt understand it. Shes hot everywhere, and I dont think its surface contamination. He picked up a portable Geiger counter, cranked it on and waved the wand toward the body bag.
The machines howl drowned out both the music and Ripleys gasp. Cage looked over at her and their eyes met and held. He saw surprised horror. Confusion. Andguilt? Then she glanced over at her friend, and Cage saw the curtain drop over her emotions.
Hed get no more from Ripley Davis. Her priorities were clear. Herself first, the members of her department second and the hospital third. Then maybe the patients fourth or fifth.
Just like every other R-ONC hed ever dealt with.
With unaccountable disappointment sliding through him, Cage glanced down at the pathologists notes. The womans name jumped out at him. Ida Mae Harris.
This was the wife of the man who had attacked Ripley the day before. Coincidence? He thought not. Suddenly, the distraught husbands words in the atrium took on a far more sinister meaning.
Dr. Davis killed my wife.
Cage glanced over at her. It was difficult to see the slender brunette as a killer, but hed learned the hard way that death in a hospital was not always a simple thing. There were often many players. Many mistakes. In his mind, she slid back from victim to suspect as he reached for his phone and called the Rad Safety Office. We need all of you down here, pronto, he barked when one of the techs answered, grouchy at having his card game interrupted. We need to isolate the morgue, decontaminate everything in it, and dispose of this body.
You cant do that!
He glanced over at Ripley. Shed advanced to the center of the room with her hands fisted as though shed fight him for the body. Her breasts lifted with the force of her agitated breathing, and he fought the elemental sexual awareness that clawed at him when she took a step closer.
He leaned down and had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen a fraction, though the surge of heat between them was less satisfying. Yes, I can and I just did. Dixon may have used the RSO job to harass the female doctors who turned him down for dates, but Im here to keep this hospital safe. That includes isolating radioactively contaminated items.
Ripley snapped, Thats not an item. Its a womans body. Her name was Ida Mae Harris, and her husband wants to know why she died. Remember him, Cage? Are you going to tell Harris that he cant bury his wife because shes going to spend the next thirty half-lives in a fifty-five-gallon drum in the subbasement? Are you going to tell him we wont autopsy her because were afraid of contamination? He doesnt care about any of that. Frankly, I dont care about it, either. I want the autopsy done as quickly as possible.
Why was she arguing for the autopsy? Hed have thought she would want the whole incident buried. Or cremated. It was the surest way to cover a mistake.
What was her angle, then? There had to be one. Doctors didnt do anything without an agenda, but what was hers? Because she was absolutely right. For the good of the patient and the hospital, theyd have to find a way to examine the body without nuking anyone. He frowned, confused.
Whose side was Ripley Davis on?
What was wrong with Mrs. Harris? Whistler interrupted, Besides the obvious.
Breast cancer, Ripley answered. She had a small lump removed.
Thinking fast, Cage asked, What radiation treatment? Some of the newer methods involved implanting a radioactive seed in place of the tumor. If the seed hadnt been properly removed, it could account for the womans contamination.
Shed had two treatments under the A55, Ripley replied, and Cages heart iced at the reminder of another linear accelerator. Another patient. Heather. His wife had gone in for a simple radiation treatment and died mere days later. He barely heard Ripley say, But that couldnt account for the contamination. The accelerator beams radiation into the body. Theres no residual source.
Whistler chimed in from across the room, And thats not all, boss. There are hot spots all over the room with varying count levels. He grinned at the pathologist, who looked as though she might faint. There was a strange, unsettling fascination in Whistlers expression. Ill bet theyve autopsied radioactive bodies here before and never even knew it.
OH, GOD. THAT WAS AWFUL. Once she and Tansy were back in the R-ONC inner office, Ripley sank to the sofa and covered her face with her hands. She couldnt believe Ida Maes body was radioactive. What the hell had gone wrong?
Shed sat and talked with Ida Mae, just as she visited with each of her patients. She waited with them. Agonized with them. Loved them. And now this? It was unthinkable.
Nothing wasodd about her treatment, right, Ripley? Reluctant doubt edged Tansys tone. Just back from an overseas assignment with her partner, she hadnt been in town when Ida Mae had started her treatment.
It was textbook, Tans. I swear. I have no idea how this could have happened. Ripley dropped her hands and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. No idea at all. Damn it.
What about the other spots Whistler found in the morgue?
That discovery had chilled Ripley to the bone. She shook her head. I hope he was wrong. If not, then She faltered. If not, it meant radioactive bodies had been processed in the morgue before.