He had seen something move through the shadows at the far end of the hall.
His muscles ached as if someone had winched them tight, and he shifted his weight for the hundredth time since he'd sneaked into the room nearly an hour ago.
Yet he kept his gaze locked on the black recesses where a person could hide.
And waited.
He'd initially felt foolish coming here at all. But his idea about a cluster study hadn't yielded much so far. At least Janet hadn't found any obvious patterns in the duty rosters and mortality figures, but they had a ways to go.
The job had turned out to be huge, and thank God he'd been smart enough to ask for her help. The idea had come to him out of the blue while they were having breakfast a few days ago. Not only did it give him a big edge in processing a ton of data, the project turned out to be exactly the carrot that convinced Janet to take an early pregnancy leave. Best of all, she thought it was her own decision. Funny how things just turned out sometimes.
Too bad their results weren't as obliging.
No one nurse had worked significantly greater numbers of shifts that corresponded to patient deaths than anybody else, and Monica Yablonsky's record seemed least suspicious of all. From what they'd looked at to date, she stayed on after evenings to work a double no more frequently than once a week.
"So maybe Hurst got it right. Patients are simply being admitted sicker and dying sooner," Janet had said last night, almost hopefully, even though they still had months of data to check.
Or a self-appointed angel of mercy could have anticipated a classic cluster investigation, then dispatched her victims when she wasn't on duty, he'd thought. So he set out to see how easily anyone could get in here and move about with no one the wiser. He also realized this line of thinking bore a striking similarity to that of the hard-core conspiracy nuts who turned up in ER occasionally. But he figured his being aware of the likeness mitigated against total lunacy. Unless Janet found out, in which case he'd plead complete insanity.
Coming up the back staircase unobserved had been no problem. He'd calculated that no one would be there after midnight, as might someone intent on committing a mercy killing.
When he'd reached the eighth floor, he hesitated in front of the door. If he pulled it open, light would spill into the corridor on the other side, and any nurse who might be there could spot it. He stepped over to a triple set of wall switches and flicked them off, casting himself into near darkness. The pale glow of the illumination from landings below barely reached this level. Shouldn't attract much attention now, he thought, and turned the handle.
He'd managed to slip all the way up to his destination, the empty room where he now stood, but he could just as easily have stepped into any door and done as he pleased with any patient on the floor. And he still hadn't seen a single nurse, just heard their radio and them chatting in their work station near the elevators. Judging from the relaxed tone of their voices and occasional laughter, they remained as indifferent to the lowing cries that floated through the hallway as when he'd visited last Saturday evening.
He found the noises impossible to ignore. They permeated the air with a forlorn sadness yet had the same soft urgency that went with the sounds of making love.
The longer he stood in the doorway listening, the angrier he grew. Having proved that any fool could waltz onto the ward, he felt an urge to stick around and see for himself how long these alleged caregivers would let men and women lie unattended in their last hours. While he'd skin his own staff alive if they ever allowed anyone to suffer like this in ER, the bunch up here did worse than fail to treat pain. Their indifference conveyed a message tantamount to telling someone in his or her final moments, "You don't matter, not even so much as for us to hold your hand while you die."
By God, he would give these so-called nightingales thirty more minutes in which to hang themselves. He'd keep watch while holding the door open with the toe of his shoe so he could personally attest that not one of them had taken the trouble to check on their charges during his time here. Then he'd nail them.
At least that had been his plan until he'd seen the figure that now galvanized his attention.
The person glided from doorway to doorway, coming ever closer, faceless as a ghost. Yet light from the distant workstation caught the shape's eyes, causing them to glitter in the blackness.
Earl shivered, certain they were looking right at him. He slowly withdrew his foot and smoothly closed the door until only a crack remained for him to see through.
The figure crossed the hall and, moving faster, reached forward as if to come in the room.
Holy shit! Earl thought, and leapt backward, then continued his retreat, tiptoeing in reverse toward the bathroom. He'd barely made it inside when the door he'd just left swung open without a sound and the intruder stood silhouetted against the dark grayness of the corridor. Earl froze where he stood, hoping the inkier interior of the small space would conceal him.
The person entered, restrained the door from swinging closed too fast, walked over to the blinds, and used the cord to open the slats. An orange glow from the sodium lamps outside the window immediately lined the entire room with tiger stripes.
The intruder then turned, looked at the bare mattress, and seemed to be surprised, going dead still, as if transfixed by the naked emptiness of it.
The hammering of Earl's heart so filled his head, he imagined the sound must be as loud as drumming on a hollow log. This must be the killer nurse! he thought on pure impulse, and got ready to pounce, until he saw his own reflection in a mirror that hung opposite the washroom where he stood. The lateral bands of light and darkness on his cap, mask, and gown lit him up like a mummy, and he wouldn't get a step into the room before his target spotted him. The pause also allowed him to consider a more rational explanation: what if it was simply someone here by mistake?
Not daring to breathe, he slowly raised his right arm, intending to find a light switch and snap it on. He figured the surprise would cause the interloper to bolt, but not before Earl got a good look at her, or him. With all the shadows and the unisex nature of protective wear, he couldn't tell which.
Except his reaching movement showed in the mirror.
The figure stiffened, twirled, and charged him.
Earl took the brunt of the hit in his chest and, caught off balance, felt himself lifted by a firm shoulder, then rammed into the tile wall behind his back. The blow turned his lungs into a pair of bellows, his breath left him in a roar, and a white light exploded behind his eyes. He crumpled to the floor, fighting a tumbling sensation inside his head and struggling to keep himself from spiraling down a deep, dark hole.
But the blackness around him poured into his brain, and the high-pitched squeak of someone running on linoleum in crepe soles filled his ears. Like birds cheeping, he thought. Whoever it is mustn't be wearing paper booties.
"Would you be tellin' us what the devil you were doing here?"
Jimmy's alarmed voice penetrated Earl's skull like a drill bit. He opened his eyes to the brilliance of a ceiling light and saw the priest, flanked by two nurses, hovering over him. He moved to get up and found himself lying on the bare mattress. "Did you get him?"
"Get whom?"
Earl glanced at his watch. He couldn't have been unconscious for more than a few minutes. "The person who sandbagged me."
"I didn't see anyone- I just found you like this when I dropped in to say my usual good night to Sadie." He looked around at the two nurses. "Where is she, by the way?"
"I gave her a weekend pass," Earl said, managing to sit at the side of the bed. His head and back hurt like hell, even when he breathed. "Her son from Honolulu showed up a day early. As a surprise, he hired a private nurse and opened up the family home so he and Sadie could stay there a few days. When she couldn't reach Wyatt, and the residents didn't want to make the decision, she didn't know who else to call."