Why did you open your big mouth?
Because he had to know sooner or later. . . especially when she began asking for extra time off.
But you may never get the job.
Right. Too right.
She finished the last H and P, logged off her terminal, and sat there.
Now what?
She had to face him. Had to clear the air. Had to find out where she stood. Was she still welcome here as a pre-op evaluator and surgical assistant? or was she to be cast into the outer darkness?
Only one way to find out.
She gathered her courage and hurried upstairs to the main floor. From there a short walk down the hall.
Duncan's slim, pretty, blond receptionist-secretary guarded the door to his office.
"Hi, Barbara. Is he in? ' She smiled up at Gin. "Just missed him.
Said he was going to look in on the senator, then, " ", head for the golf course, " Gin said. That was Duncan's routine.
"He may still be here. If you hurry, "
"Thanks, Barb." She hurried toward the V.I.P recovery room. Along the way she saw Sharon Collins, the recovery RN, standing in the hall and talking to Joanna. She slowed as she passed.
"Excuse me, Sharon. Aren't you, ? ' "Doing recovery on the V.I.P? " She was short, dark, and built like a Ninja turtle, but one sharp nurse.
"Yeah. Dr. D.
told me to take a break while he double-checked his needlework. I'm just about to head back."
"Good. Maybe I can catch him."
"You sure you want to? " Joanna said.
Gin flashed her a smile. "No." She scooted around the corner to the V.I.P recovery room, a plain, unmarked door, and knocked gently.
When there was no answer she tried again.
"Duncan?
She pushed the door open.
Noon brightness filtered through the full-length beige drapes across the picture window. Carpeting instead of linoleum, mahogany instead of Formica. A veneer of luxury for the sort who craved it, but very functional beneath.
In the bed, Senator Vincent snored softly, sleeping off the general anesthetic. But no Duncan.
Damn. She'd missed him. He couldn't have got that far.
She was half turned to leave when she saw Senator Vincent move his leg.
An unfolding length of sheet revealed a spot of red on the white over his thigh. She leaned closer.
Blood.
Just a tiny spot. No more than a drop. But there shouldn't have been any blood down by his leg. On his pillow, maybe, but not there.
She lifted the sheet and looked at the senator's leg. A small, semicircular puncture wound, less than a quarter inch in length on the outer aspect of the thigh, slightly toward the rear.
She probed the area around it and the senator moved again. Within the bandages his lids struggled open. His glazed eyes stared at her, then closed again.
"Shot, " he mumbled.
"What? " "Gave me shot."
"Who gave you a shot? " "Docker Lafram." He opened his eyes again and smiled. "Summin special.
Only choice patients." The senator smacked his lips and closed his eyes. He began to snore.
Gin stood over him. A shot? Since when did Duncan give injections?
Never. It was unheard of.
Vincent had to be wrong . . . and yet there definitely was a puncture wound in his thigh.
She adjusted the covers back over him.
Weird. Very weird.
A noise behind her made her turn. Collins was slipping through the door. She glanced around. "He's gone? " "Gone when I got here. Did Dr. Lathram say anything about giving the senator an injection? " Collins checked the order sheet. "No. Just the usual, Tylenol, two P-O every four hours P-R-N."
"No, I mean himself, giving the senator an injection himself."
Collins's wide face broke into a grin. "Dr. D. ? Giving meds personally? No way. That's what us RNs are for. Where'd you get an idea like that?
" "There's a puncture on his thigh and he said something about Dr. Lathram giving him a shot." Collins stepped over to the bed and examined his thigh.
"Hmmm. Where'd that come from? Looks more like a tiny cut than a needle mark."
"He said, " Collins gave Senator Vincent's shoulder a gentle shake.
"Senator? Are you awake? " He snorted and his eyes fluttered but didn't open.
"Okay, Mom, " he said.