Danger Calls (13 page)

Melissa only hoped that neither would be necessary.

“Y
ou may not want to hear what I've got to say,” Diana told Melissa the next day over the phone.

Melissa leaned back in her office chair to listen to Diana's report. “Please go on.”

“Our hospital break-in suspect turned up in the morgue. Possible drug overdose.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. Diana had been right when she said Melissa wouldn't like the news. “Truly a dead end.”

“Not really.”

Sitting back up with a snap, she said, “There's something that can help us?”

“My detective friend told me the suspect died of an overdose of an unusually potent synthetic heroin. Not very common, which is why the M.E. decided to call in Homicide. And guess what the good detective found?”

“Another overdose like this one?” Melissa guessed.

“Exactly like this one. Plus, that overdose occurred just after the crash that killed your parents. Two dead bodies within days of incidents connected to the Danvers family means something, both to me and Detective Daly,” Diana replied.

Melissa released a tired sigh. “But I still haven't confirmed what my father discovered that someone was willing to kill for.”

“Four bodies adds up to something very valuable.”

Valuable?
Ryder wouldn't consider his state one of value, but since reading the short but damning excerpt from one of her father's last entries, Melissa knew her father had seen something in Ryder's vampirism that could help her mother. She had little doubt he'd acted upon that belief and she was just waiting for something else in the journal that would confirm her suspicions.

“Whoever did this…It may make sense just to let this lie for a little while.”

“Telling me to back off on this, Melissa? We haven't known each other very long, but I didn't think that was like you.”

“Please be careful, Diana. I just want a little more time with the journals so I can give you more to work with.”

“Both victims are ex-cons with long records, so it may be possible for my contact to stonewall for a few days. But only for a few days. In the meantime, I'm going to visit the M.E. to talk over the toxicology report. Hear what he has to say that he can't put in writing.”

For a moment, Melissa wished there was more that she could do. More that would help Diana with the investigation, but for now, there was nothing. “Thanks for all that you're doing. And if you need me for anything—”

“I know I can count on you, Melissa. As soon as there's anything else, I'll let you know.” Diana hung up.

Melissa replaced the phone in its cradle and headed to the sofa, out of camera range. It was time to get back to her father's journal and try to discover what could be so important that someone would have killed for it.

Melissa kept on reading, carefully making mental notes of all her father had done. Waiting for the moment when he would explain why he'd needed Ryder's blood. What her father had hoped to find once he'd examined the specimen. It was slow going as she kept vigilant for clues as to what her father may have learned and whom he might have trusted with the knowledge.

An hour passed. A knock came at the door to her office. Melissa hastily marked her spot, closed the book and tucked it into the large pocket in the front of her lab jacket. Her father had favored small slim journals that could be carried easily. “Come in,” she called out, and grabbed the copy of
The New England Journal of Medicine
from her coffee table.

The door opened a crack and Sara poked her head in. “You okay in here? I buzzed you about the patient in 420, but you didn't answer.”

Melissa glanced at her phone. The red message light was blinking off and on. “Sorry, I must have been so engrossed in this,” she said, waving the magazine in the air, “that I didn't hear it.”

Tossing the magazine onto the coffee table, she followed Sara down to the patient's room. The young man had been diagnosed with leukemia five years earlier, but had gone into remission after only a minimal round of treatments. That had lasted for about two years before the disease had returned. Another round of treatments, longer and more intense, had again forced remission of the disease for a couple of years, but now the young man was back in the hospital. So far, the treatments were not helping.

“He's complaining of pain in the abdominal area,” Sara explained. “It seems distended, as well.”

Melissa conducted a brief examination that confirmed Sara's observations. She turned to her friend. “Afraid the spleen's been compromised?”

“That's why I called you,” Sara said.

Melissa calmly asked the patient a few questions, extended her examination a little further to better pinpoint the source of his pain. When she was done, she said, “Don't worry, Billy. We're going to run some tests and in the meantime, I'll have Sara give you something for the pain.”

She was just finishing up with her notations on the young man's chart when Edward Sloan came by.

“Problems, Dr. Danvers?” He glanced from one woman to the other. “Nurse Martinez?” Ice dripped from his voice as he addressed Sara.

“On the contrary, Edward. Sara made some keen observations about Billy Preston. Unfortunately, I think he's having problems with his spleen. After the tests—”

“You'll let me see the results. We'll decide whether or not surgery is warranted,” Edward instructed, his tone so paternal it bordered on insulting.

“Certainly, Dr. Sloan. If you have a moment, may I speak with you in my office?” Melissa asked. When the older man nodded and walked away down the hall, Melissa finished up with Sara.

As she turned to meet Edward, Sara laid a hand on her arm. “Don't let that ol' snake do a number on you.”

“I gather you two don't get along.” Melissa wondered why she hadn't noticed it before.

“He got in my business a couple of times. Got in your father's face, as well, if I recall.” Sara moved to walk away. This time, it was Melissa who stopped her in her tracks.

“When?”

Sara looked upward as she seemed to search for an answer. Finally she said, “A few weeks before your dad died. I heard them arguing about something in your father's office when I went to drop off a chart your father had requested.”

“Do you know what it was about?”

Sara shook her head. “Not really. Something about a new treatment, I think.”

Maybe the treatment her father had planned on trying on her mother. Melissa took a step closer to Sara and in tones soft enough so that only Sara could hear, said, “Don't mention that again to anyone. Especially Sloan.”

There was a confused look on Sara's face. “What's up, Melissa?”

“Something bad, Sara. You need to keep quiet about that conversation and anything else you might remember about my father and Sloan. Trust me on this,” Melissa urged.

Sara nodded. “You know I trust you, girl. If I remember anything else, you'll be the first to know.”

Melissa watched her go, then returned to her office. Inside, Edward had made himself comfortable at her desk and was busy looking at the photo of her and her parents. “Ah, the good ol' days,” he said, and held the photo out to her.

It was almost as if he was testing her. Without a moment's pause, she grabbed the frame, examined the photo and faked a smile. “It was a wonderful night. My mother and father were in such good spirits. Even my mother—”

“Looked beautiful, just like her daughter,” Edward said.

There was an unusual tone in his voice. A wistful one she'd never heard before. She handed the photo back and he glanced at it one more time, almost longingly, before he returned the frame to its spot on her desk. His actions brought a round of doubt, which she needed to dispel. “My father was hopeful about the treatments she was taking.”

Edward's face hardened immediately. “You knew about them?”

“Not really. He only mentioned them in passing that night, when I commented on how well mother looked.” She was surprised at how smoothly she'd lied. Prevarication was a not a trait of which she'd thought herself capable.

“Oh,” was all he said.

“Did you know about them?” she pressed.

“Frederick mentioned them to me in passing, as well. Quite frankly, your mother's condition was so severe that I wrote it off to Frederick being unable to deal with reality.” As he spoke, Edward looked back to the photo. “She was dying, you know.”

Melissa laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I didn't know, Edward. My parents and I were never very close.”

There was a ripple in his body. One of shock, it appeared to her. When he met her gaze, his was inquisitive and disbelieving. “You expect me to believe that your father didn't tell you her condition was that grave. That he didn't tell you he was trying something new in an effort to cure her.”

“Believe what you will, Edward. The truth is, I knew little about their lives.” The sad part of that statement was that it was the truth.

Because of that, doubt left his gaze. “If your father kept any papers, you should look through them. See what he was doing.”

“I don't think there are any,” she lied.

“He was a marvelous researcher in addition to being a fine doctor. I find it hard to believe—”

“Again, believe it, Edward. And if there were papers, why would he leave them to me? I haven't seen the inside of a lab since med school,” she said, trying to throw him off the scent.

“A shame, with a mind like yours. Plus in a teaching hospital such as this one, it's only a matter of time before you'll have to consider some kind of research.”

Melissa hadn't forgotten that eventually she'd have to do more in order to move up the line. But for now, the only experiments she was interested in were her father's. “I'm glad you think I have a fine mind, Edward, although it didn't seem that way in the hall a few minutes ago,” she said, trying to turn the conversation away from additional questions about her father.

“I'm sorry about pulling rank on you out there in the hallway. Most of my anger was with Nurse Martinez. She's a meddling sort, isn't she?” Edward's disdain for her friend was clear. Not to mention worrisome if he had any suspicions about Sara and her father. She only hoped Sara would take to heart her earlier admonitions.

“Apology accepted. As for Sara, she means well. However, seeing that you're concerned, I will speak to her about her involvement with the patients.”

Edward nodded, seemingly satisfied with Melissa's concession. He rose from the desk with stiff and almost lethargic movements. “Are you okay, Edward?”

“Just a touch of age, my dear. No need to worry.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, he continued to the door, but paused for a moment before leaving. “If you ever decide to resume your father's work, I'd be delighted to assist.”

Melissa forced a smile to her lips. “If I find anything about it, I'll be sure to let you know. As for working together, it would be a delight.”

Edward's clear blue-eyed gaze was assessing for a moment. Then he stepped from her office, closing the door behind him.

Shifting to the side of her desk, Melissa picked up the phone and dialed Ryder. When he answered, she said, “We need to talk tonight.”

“Diana isn't available.”

“I know. She's meeting the M.E.—”

“And Detective Daly about the suspect in your break-in.”

There was that hint of anger in Ryder's voice again at the mention of the NYPD officer. She worried about whatever was going on between Diana and the detective that troubled Ryder so much. But she was even more worried that what she was about to suggest to Ryder would violate Diana's trust in her.

I can count on you, Diana had said earlier that night. But Diana would probably not approve of what Melissa thought they had to do next. “Diana's being absent might be for the better, Ryder,” Melissa said and waited anxiously for his reply.

“Just remember that whatever we decide is something we're all going to have to live with. In my case, for a very long time.”

“I know, Ryder, and believe me, I wouldn't be thinking about this if it wasn't necessary.”

His tired and almost defeated sigh came across the line. “I hope you're right.”