THE MAVERICK DOCTOR AND MISS PRIM/ABOUT THAT NIGHT... (5 page)

“So, that’s it folks. We’ll let you know as soon as we hear back from the labs. In the meantime, we’ll have arrangements in place to make everyone more comfortable with the facilities we have here.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “It could be that in a few hours we move to somewhere more suitable?”

She nodded wordlessly. He must have known that Callum would already have put the wheels in motion to set up a category C facility for containment.

“In the meantime, follow the infection control procedures on the walls around you. Take a deep breath and show a little patience. We’re all scared.” He pointed at the figures lining the walls with their clipboards, “It’s important we help these guys out. Tell them everything you know.” He looked back at Callie. She was sure that right now she must resemble a deer caught in a set of headlights. “And if you have any questions, Dr. Turner is in charge. That’s it for now.”

He jumped off the table and headed back down the corridor.

The room was quieter now, the shouting had stopped. Her legs were trembling and she grabbed hold of a hand offered to her as she climbed down off the table. Heads were down, people working away, going about their business. One of the security guards was helping one of the nursing aides carry linen through to another room to help set up some beds.

Callie knew she couldn’t leave this. She knew she had to talk to him. Even though he was trying to put some space between them.

“Sawyer.” She was breathless, running down the corridor after him. “I just wanted to say thank you. For back there.”

His green eyes fixed on hers, just for a second, before they flitted away and he ran his fingers through that hair again. Her heart clenched, even though she couldn’t understand why. He was exasperated with her. “That was a one-off, Callie. Don’t count on me to help you again.” He turned and strode back down the corridor, leaving her standing there.

Alone.

CHAPTER THREE

“Y
OU
 
NEED
 
TO
manage things better.” He couldn’t help it. There were probably a million other ways to put this more delicately, but Sawyer didn’t have time to think about nicer words.

Her head shot upwards. There it was—that rabbit-in-the-headlights look again from her.

He hated it. Because it made his stomach churn. He didn’t know whether to be irritated by it or whether he really wanted to go over and give her a quick hug.

“What on earth do you mean,
‘manage things better’
?” She made quote marks in the air with her fingers as she repeated his words back to him. He could see the lines across her brow. She was tired and she was stressed. And he understood that. It was part and parcel of the job at the DPA.

He could feel his lips turn upwards. She looked even prettier when she was cross.

“What are you smirking at?” She stood up from behind the desk. A desk lost under a multitude of piles of papers—no doubt more copies of plans and protocols. A few sheets scattered as she stood.

His smile broadened. He could tell she really wanted to stop and pick them up.

She was in front of him now, her hands on her hips. “What?”

He liked that. Sometimes she just got straight to the point. No skirting around the edge of things.

He gestured to the door behind him. “You need to clarify some things about the vaccination. There are still a lot of questions out there.”

She sighed and ran her fingers through the short side of her hair. “I know. I’ll get to it. I’ve got a million and one things to deal with.” Her eyes flickered in the direction of the hidden desk.

“Then delegate.”

She started, as if the thought of actually delegating horrified her.

“But I’m responsible—”

“And you need to be visible. You need to be seen. You have to be on the floor—not stuck in some office. You can make your decisions out there, not from behind a desk.”

He could see her brain ticking, thinking over his suggestions. Truth be told, she’d been delegating from the minute she’d walked in the door—just not the important stuff.

“And you need to do something about Alison.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you wanted to deal with Alison.”

“And I have—we’ve had the discussion about the vaccine. She hasn’t decided what to do yet, but I think she’ll opt on the side of caution and say no.”

“So what’s the problem?” She’d started to walk back over to the desk.

“The problem is she’s a nurse. She’s stuck in a room at the bottom of the corridor. Isolated. Quarantined—”

“You know that’s not the case.”

He touched her shoulder. “But she doesn’t. You need to tell people, explain to them what the difference is. You explained that to the masses—but you need didn’t explain it to her. She’s in there frightened and alone. You need to communicate better.” He could feel her bristle under his touch. “Alison needs to do something. I understand you think she might have been exposed but you can’t leave her sitting there for hours on end.” He picked up a pile of papers from the desk. “Give her a list of phone calls to make for you. Let her do some of the specialized phone contact tracing.”

“She can’t do that. That’s a special skill. You need of hours of training to do that properly,” she snapped.

He could feel the frustration rising in his chest. “It’s only a list of questions! She’s an intelligent human being. Give her something to do. Something to take her mind off things.”

He grabbed the first random thought that entered his head. “Let her organize the food, then! Something—anything—to stop her thinking that if she hadn’t come to work this morning she wouldn’t have risked the life of her baby.”

He could see the realization fall on her face. And suddenly he understood.

She was a big-picture girl. The perfect person for public health. She didn’t individualize, or personalize, the other side of the job. The things that affected normal people.

He took a deep breath. He wasn’t trying to make this harder for her. He knew she’d been thrown in at the deep end.

Part of him wanted to offer to take over, even though he knew that would never be allowed to. And part of him still wanted to run for the hills.

He hated this. Everything about this situation grated on him. He’d thought he’d be safe.

He’d thought he’d distanced himself enough to never to be in a situation like this again. How often did an E.R. notify an outbreak on this scale? Rarely.

And this type of disease? Well, let’s face it, not in the last thirty or forty years.

No matter what his brain told him, he would not allow himself to be dragged in. Even though he was right in the middle of everything he needed to keep some distance. He needed
not
to have responsibility for this outbreak.

She was hesitating. He could see it written all over her face. Then the decision was made. It was almost as if he could see a little light go on behind her eyes.

She looked him square in the eye. “You’re right. I can give her something to do. Something that means she’s not at risk to herself or anyone else around her.” She picked up a list from her desk. “She can order the food supplies, linen supplies and any extra medical supplies that we might need. The food’s turned into a bit of a nightmare in the last few hours.” She picked up a hefty manual from her desk, ripped out a few sheets and attached them to a red clipboard. “This will tell her everything she needs to know about how to arrange the delivery of supplies that keeps all parties safe.”

Her eyes swept around the room.

It was almost as if once she’d made a decision, that was it. She was ready. She was organized. The courage of her convictions took her forward. She could be great at this job, if only she had confidence in her abilities. And she would get that. It would just take a few years.

A few years that she would normally have had in the DPA, working with their most experienced doctors.

His thoughts went back to Callum and he glanced at his watch. “I need to make a phone call.”

Her hand rested on his arm. The warmth of her fingers stopped him dead.

“I need you to do one more thing for me before you go.”

She was looking at him with those big eyes. The ones he preferred not to have contact with. This was where his gut twisted and he wanted to say no. Say no to anything that would drag him further into this mess.

There was a new edge to her voice, a new determination. She handed him a file from the desk. “I need you to look over this with an independent eye. You’ve been out of the DPA long enough to make an assessment.”

He was confused now. What was she talking about? Instinctively, his hand reached out for the file.

“You told me to delegate. Everyone thought the next smallpox outbreak would be deliberate—a terrorist act. Nothing we’ve seen here supports that. All the information from the parents and contacts would lead me to suggest this was a natural outbreak—however impossible or improbable that may be.”

He was nodding slowly. It was one of the first things that Callum had asked him. It was one of the most immediate priorities for the DPA: to try and determine the source.

“I need you to look over the rest of the evidence the contact tracers have collected. I have to phone Evan Hunter in the next half-hour. It’s my professional opinion that this isn’t a terrorist act.” Her voice was wavering slightly. This was one of the most crucial decisions she would make in her lead role for the DPA.

Everything she was saying made sense and he knew that she would have read and analyzed the evidence to the best of her abilities. But time was pressing. If there was any threat to the general population, they had to know now.

He understood what this meant to her. And he understood why she was asking him.

It wasn’t just that he’d told her to delegate. It was that this could impact on everything. The actions and reactions the world would have to this outbreak.

She had to be right.

She had to be sure.

If Callum had been here, this would have been on his head. But even then, he would have had Callie to bat things back and forth with. To agree with his decision-making.

She didn’t have that.

She didn’t have anyone.

So she was asking the one person here who might have those skills.

He laid his hand over hers. “I’ll make the phone call. It will take two minutes and then I’ll close this office door and look over all this information. If I have even a shadow of a doubt, I’ll let you know.”

Her shoulders sagged just a little. As if she’d just managed to disperse a little of their weight. “Thank you,” she said as she walked out the door.

Sawyer watched her leave, trying not to look at her rear view in the pink scrubs. He couldn’t work out what was going on. One minute she was driving him crazy. The next?

He slumped back in the chair a little, the mound of paper in front of him looking less than enticing. His phone slipped from his pocket and clattered to the floor.

It was like an alarm clock going off in his head.

Violet. He really needed to contact Violet.

His sister worked at the DPA and must be going crazy. She would have heard his name bandied about by now and know that he must be in the middle of all this.

His phone had been switched to silent for the last few hours and he glanced at the screen and cringed. He’d known as soon as he’d called the DPA that his number would have been logged in their system.

It made sense that she’d tried to get in touch with him—after all, he’d changed his number numerous times in the last few years—only getting in touch when he could face it.

He really didn’t want to know how many missed calls and text messages he’d had from her. It just made him feel even guiltier.

When his wife had died and he’d walked away from the DPA, he’d also more or less walked away from his family.

It had been the only way he could cope.

He couldn’t bear to have any reminders of Helen, his wife. It had been just too much. He’d needed time. He’d needed space.

On occasion—when he’d felt guilty enough—he’d send Violet a text just to let her know that he was safe. Nothing more. Nothing less.

She deserved better and he knew that. He just hadn’t been in a position to give it.

The one saving grace was that no one in the DPA knew they were related. She’d started just after he’d left. And the last thing any new doctor needed was to live in the shadow of the family black sheep.

He turned the phone over in his hands and looked at his watch. The mountain of paper on the desk seemed to have mysteriously multiplied in the last few minutes.

He would phone Violet. He would.

But right now time was critical. He had to do this first.

* * *

Callie was mad.

But she was trying not to show it.

Everything he’d said was right.

The doctor who was apparently bad-tempered and temperamental was making her feel as if she was the problem and not him.

The worst thing was he’d sounded clear-headed and rational. He was right, she did need to delegate. No matter how alien the concept seemed to her.

So she’d delegated the most obvious duty to him. Evan Hunter would have a fit.

But she was in charge here. Not him. And since Callum wasn’t here, she had to rely on the one member of staff who had some experience in this area—whether Evan Hunter liked it or not.

“Callie?”

She’d reached the treatment room. One of the second-year residents was emptying the refrigerated container of vaccines.

“What is it?”

“How many of these do you want me to draw up?”

She shook her head. “None—yet.” She glanced at the face of the resident, who was obviously worried about doing anything wrong. A few years ago that would have been her.

“Have you used the ring vaccination concept before?”

The resident shook her head.

In the midst of all this madness Callie had to remember she had a responsibility to teach. To help the staff around her learn their roles. To lead by example.

The words started repeating to a rhythm in her head.

“Ring vaccination controls an outbreak by vaccinating and monitoring a ring of people around each infected individual. The idea is to form a buffer of immune individuals to prevent the spread of the disease. It’s a way of containment.”

“And it works effectively?”

Callie gave a small smile. “We thought it did. Ring vaccination was held as essential in the eradication of smallpox. For the vast majority of people, getting the smallpox vaccine within three days of exposure will significantly lesson the severity of the symptoms.”

“What about people who were vaccinated before against smallpox? Aren’t they already protected?”

Callie shook her head. “It’s a common misconception. Why do you ask?”

“One of the men in the waiting room said he’d had the vaccination as a child and he wouldn’t need anything.”

Callie smiled. “Last time ring vaccination was used for smallpox was in the late seventies. But if he was vaccinated then, he would only have had protection for between three and five years. There might still be some antibodies in his blood but we can’t assume anything.”

“Would we vaccinate him again?”

“It depends where he falls at risk. In the first instance, we vaccinate anyone who has been, or may have been, exposed to someone who has the infection.”

“He was sitting next to the family in the waiting room.”

Callie nodded. There was so much about this that wasn’t written entirely in stone and open to interpretation. “Then we need to assess how much contact he had with the family—and for how long.”

“And that’s where all the guessing games start.”

The deep voice at the door made her head jerk up. Sawyer was standing with her file in his hand. He walked over and held it out towards her. “You’re right, Callie. It didn’t take long to review the information.” He shook his head. “There’s absolutely nothing there to hint at anything other than a natural outbreak—the very thing the DPA declared could never happen.”