Chameleon

By Cole Steele and english

Dr. Marlene Scott is a respected emergency room physician inside Kirkwood Memorial Hospital. Her email often inundated with lucrative offers from recruiters across the country. Having rekindled a steamy relationship with her ex-boyfriend Kurt Collison from her undergraduate days back at Rutgers, she now has the one thing that has been missing in her life. But a recent series of unexplained patient deaths following a routine procedure have rocked Memorial to its administrative core and reeling for answers to what could be a potential serial murderer in their midst. The authorities have a person of interest and it's Marlene who inconceivably shares the same DNA as the suspected killer. Detectives Roman Lee and Willow Darby must solve this deadly mystery before another patient dies and Marlene loses everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cole Steele
• Release date: Jun 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9788834143841

Cole Steele

Author of two book series currently residing in the United States.I have a few writers to thank for inspiring my plunge into the foray of storytelling. I will admit that nothing brings greater joy or drives more passion than providing an escape for my readers with great characters.Meet Roman Lee and Willow Darby.The Roman Lee SeriesRoman Lee is an ex professional football player who ends up serving as a detective in his hometown of Kirkwood after a brief stint with the London Knights. He's tough as nails and has a notoriously quick wit. A car enthusiast, he drives a supercharged Chevrolet Chevelle that has been commissioned by his city's department. Roman had owned the car since high school when he spent his nights in the streets racing it. Together with his senior detective partner Lonnie Temple, they pursue crime with unmatched intensity to keep his beloved Kirkwood safe.The Willow Darby SeriesWillow Darby is a single mom detective. After a terrible divorce she moves with her daughter Hannah into the home of recently widowed June Darby. Three generations of Darby women under one roof. Her mom, June Darby is unfiltered and embarrassing at times. But not to my readers, they love her!Hannah Darby resembles her mom Willow in almost every way. There's only one thing that concerns Willow about their similarities. Her daughter's adolescent years might end up mirroring her own and it scares the hell out of a single parent.Willow sometimes has a difficult time with the men in her life. They seem to have some underlying character flaw that bubbles up at a pivotal moment in their relationship. Take Miles Cooper for instance. He's an independent Aussie journalist with movie star good looks and an intoxicating accent. But getting him to settle down is like herding cats. She's tried social media as a way to extend her dating pool but it ends up more frustrating than what it's worth. But she's not going to give up. There's a knight with shining armor out there somewhere that she has yet to meet. Well, maybe not someone exactly perfect but perhaps one that has a few minor dents and scratches that she can look past..Join these two on paperback or e-book today!

Book preview

neighborhood.

ONE

Lisa Ridenour reached for her side again as the excruciating sharp pain returned. It had become more frequent with each passing hour. Perspiration was a new symptom and concern, as the small fan on her desk was of little help. She had been up earlier than usual this morning due to the discomfort. It had brought her right out of a deep sleep and using the bathroom didn’t provide the relief she had anticipated.

The timing couldn’t have been worse. A single loan application blinked on the screen of her computer, awaiting completion. Typically a routine task, it was anything but as she typed some more, trying to focus between bouts of an intense stabbing sensation. Lisa was employed at a small financial institution situated inside the city limits of Kirkwood. She had been fortunate enough to find work with what she thought was almost assuredly a tainted resume. Lisa had previously worked for Wells Fargo as a branch manager for nearly twenty years. On a Thursday morning nearly a year ago, she was abruptly terminated, following the latest scandal that rocked their customer base for the second time in nearly a decade. A regulatory division of the United States government had responded with a fine that was simply not going to be absorbed without casualty. Years of service to her former employer had only been recognized by a modest severance. Although Lisa hadn’t done anything to warrant her release, it mattered little to the major shareholders of the financial giant. They had demanded a public facelift in an effort to rebrand their image.

Employed as a loan officer, she had less flexibility than her previous position at Wells Fargo. The current branch manager ran a tight ship enforcing a strict schedule including lunch breaks. She looked at the time on the lower right corner of her computer screen.

It was nearly 10:30 AM, and her designated lunch hour wasn’t for another ninety minutes. There was a Med Express less than a mile from the bank’s office. Lisa promised herself she would get checked out if the pain had not subsided by then. The source of her discomfort seemed to be isolated in one general area of her abdomen.

Another fifteen minutes had passed, bringing an intense fever as she felt moisture on the back of her hand after lightly touching her forehead with it. Lisa finished uploading the information for the bank’s prospective loan applicant and then answered a few emails. Every effort was made trying to keep her mind elsewhere besides the ever growing pain in the upper right quadrant of her digestive system. It was little use trying to distract her mind from the litany of symptoms that now included nausea. At 11:00 AM, Lisa knocked on the open door of the branch manager to explain the situation. Without much hesitation, to her surprise, she was told to go get seen right away, and text back whether she would be in the following morning.

Instead of going straight to the Med Express, she drove herself directly to the Emergency Room of Kirkwood Memorial Hospital. Making most of the lights along without having to fight the rush hour traffic, she pulled into the parking lot designated for patient drop off. Once inside the sliding glass doors, she walked calmly as possible to the reception window. A woman in her late twenties with brown medium length wavy hair dressed in aqua blue scrubs greeted Lisa politely.

Welcome to Memorial. How can we help you?

Placing her hand on the counter, she stood for a second with the other on her abdomen.

I need help. Something is terribly wrong and I don’t know what it is.

Are you in pain? she asked.

Something awful, and it seems to be getting worse. Lisa was handed a clipboard with a few forms.

Alright. If you would, take this and fill out the highlighted areas. I’ll have someone come out to get you in just a minute or so. Can you do that much, or no?

I can manage, I think.

Your name, Ma’am?

Lisa Ridenour.

The clerk typed on a flat keyboard that slid out from underneath her desk. Adjusting the monitor slightly, she smiled gently at the woman who was in obvious pain. Lisa had written most of the information that the clerk suggested on the hospital’s documents.

A nurse will be out momentarily, Ms. Ridenour, if you’d have a seat in the waiting area.

Late morning at Memorial found the room nearly empty, except for an elderly couple sitting next to a large aquarium which was home to several tropical fish. Lisa selected a seat across from the reception area doors waiting for the nurse that would eventually come out to greet her. She couldn’t get comfortable in the chair leaning on either side. Her husband was still at home and hadn’t responded to several texts. He worked third shift at a local plastics plant and typically didn’t get up until early afternoon. A male voice called her name as she put the cell phone away.

Ms. Lisa Ridenour?

Her body temperature had risen significantly since arriving. She was sweating profusely sitting in the chair and struggling to stand from the pain after her name was called.

Yes?

Looking at the woman sitting alone in her forties, she didn’t look like she was going to be ambulatory for very long. The nurse quickly retrieved a wheelchair, helping Lisa into the seat. He rolled her through the wide doorway down to examination room number three.

He asked his patient some common questions, watching her respond before getting to the core reason for her visit.

Where are you feeling the discomfort, Lisa?

My stomach, around there.

She pointed with an index finger to an area under her ribcage and didn’t dare press down on the afflicted area as it hurt to simply breathe. There was no difference between the hospital bed with its thin mattress complimented by an even less comfortable flat pillow and the stiff chair from the waiting area. It had been an arduous task getting the flimsy flower-patterned gown over her while sitting down. Privacy was almost non-existent with a flimsy curtain drawn around the perimeter of the bed and constant foot traffic outside the examination room.

If you had to rate the pain between one and ten?

Eight.

Her male nurse was in his early thirties. He had a neatly manicured beard and a short-trimmed hairstyle. His dark green scrubs were pale compared to the colorful expensive athletic shoes that he wore. He had gathered her vitals, wasting little time entering them into her chart on the hospital’s patient system. Although he had his own theories of what might be bothering Lisa Ridenour they soon dissipated as a woman similar in age to his patient entered the room. She was beautiful, with sharp features, complimented further by high cheekbones. Her long blonde hair appeared to be flawless. The female physician was above average height with a slight athletic build. Her stunning looks gave an appearance of someone younger than her actual age.

Lisa, I’m Dr. Scott. So you’re not feeling too well I understand.

Lisa winced as she made an attempt to sit up.

I’ve never been in this much pain, doctor. It feels like someone is stabbing me with a hot poker.

Dr. Scott listened while she looked at her patient’s chart.

How long have you been experiencing it?

Lisa replied with a look of utter discomfort.

Since this morning, early.

Have you eaten anything today?

I tried having my usual breakfast, but couldn’t finish it.

Loss of appetite?

Just made the pain worse.

Lisa, can you do me a favor?

Sure, anything. Just make it go away.

I’ll certainly try. I want you to take a few deep breaths when I say.

Lisa responded as if to protest.

It kind of hurts to do that now.

Just a couple.

Dr. Scott quickly palpated, finding the inferior margin of Lisa’s rib cage and then gently pressed just below it. Lisa grimaced simply by the touch of hands against her warm skin.

Whatever you did, that’s it.

Dr. Scott held her position on one side of Lisa’s ribs.

Ok, just one breath for me. Go ahead and inhale.

She followed the doctor’s instructions by first closing her eyes, then drawing a deep breath.

Dr. Scott pressed against tissue as she felt near the middle-aged woman’s diaphragm as it met with resistance from the gallbladder. Immediately, it brought a twisted expression of pain from her patient.

Lisa Ridenour instantly replied, breathing heavily.

Please don’t ask me to do that again.

Lisa, I think you may have an issue with a gallstone. Just to be sure, we’re going to do an ultrasound. I promise it won’t cause that much discomfort.

Can I get something for the pain?

Let’s get this test out of our way first, then we can discuss it. You may not need something until later.

Dr. Scott ordered the ultrasound, stat. She had seen the symptoms a few times. The positive Murphy’s Sign was definitely a strong indicator of cholecystitis. What concerned her was that her patient might be suffering from a rupture, which would require an immediate laparoscopic extraction of the middle-aged woman’s gallbladder.

The technician was quick to respond, and produced images that confirmed Dr. Scott’s preliminary suspicion. Lisa Ridenour was indeed potentially hours away from a rupture and impending sepsis. There were several small stones that had accumulated causing the blockage. It was no wonder that her patient was suffering such awful discomfort. She walked back into the room holding the evidence in her hand.

Lisa, we’ve discovered what’s been bothering you this morning. The good news is that we can take care of it today, but you’ll have to spend the night.

What’s wrong with me?

You have cholecystitis. In more simple terms, there is a severe blockage with your gallbladder, and we need to remove it before there’s any further complications, such as a rupture. I thought it was fairly severe, given the pain you were in, and the ultrasound was the clincher. Did you want to see the pictures?

No thank you. When will you do the surgery?

A colleague of mine will perform the procedure within a few hours after he is available. Typically, you’d be out the same day, but we want to keep you overnight for observation. Do you have someone that can take you home tomorrow?

My husband, but he’ll have to call into work to get the day off.

Ok, Lisa. Best of luck to you and in a few weeks you should be back to normal living.

Thank you, Dr. Scott.

You’re more than welcome. I may stop by later on my way out to see how you’re doing.

Several hours had passed since her time in the emergency room. Lisa Ridenour was taken to her room up on the fifth floor, toward the end of a hall and away from the nurse’s station. Some of the effects from the anesthesia clung to her bloodstream, making things a bit foggy. She tried desperately to recapture short term memories prior to surgery as a figure appeared in the doorway.

Making an effort to sit up, she noticed clear plastic tape on the top of her right hand. Lisa followed a single line of tubing from under the adhesive with her eyes, up to a bag of Lactated Ringer’s solution that was resupplying the drip chamber at a steady pace.

The door closed quietly behind the lone visitor dressed in surgical scrubs, who scanned the room momentarily before approaching. Something about her looked so familiar, yet she was having such difficulty remembering anything. Perhaps it was the woman’s eyes, which remained visible because of the surgical mask, but concealed any additional recognizable features. Lisa’s memory clicked for a brief second as a bit of the anesthesia began to dissipate. The emergency room physician. She had mentioned a possible visit. It resembled her anyway, as she spoke to the visitor while fighting a sore throat.

How long was I out, doctor?

Lisa’s visitor didn’t reply, but casually withdrew a syringe from her front pocket. Reaching up to grab the IV line, a port was opened, and the needle inserted. Latex gloves covering the hands stretched as a thumb slowly pressed the plunger down, delivering lethal contents directly into her bloodstream. Lisa looked up again, into what she thought were familiar blue eyes, but was met with only a blank stare. She managed just a few more words from a mouth that felt dry as cotton.

This must have been the pain management you mentioned earlier.

She closed her eyes for a moment. It lasted only seconds before they shot open. A tidal wave of fire rushed through her arm, and the rest of her body. Her entire being writhed in absolute pain.

Less than a few minutes passed before Lisa Ridenour went into full cardiac arrest, the portal delivery working its way through her bloodstream and returned back to the heart. Lisa’s visitor had vaporized quickly after an alarm sounded from one of the monitors above the bed, indicating that a pulse was no longer detectable. A coordinated personnel response team came sprinting down the hallway toward her room, answering Memorial’s code blue when she expired.

A few floors below in the surgical family lounge, a man in his late forties looked up at the large monitor mounted on the wall. It served as the hospital’s surgical communication tracking board. His wife of twenty years had gone in for a routine procedure, but her status still had not changed for several hours. Nervously looking around, he noticed most of the lounge with its uncomfortable furniture had emptied. Family and friends of other patients who had waited were directed to visit the post anesthesia care unit. A green dot blinked on the board next to their respective identifying numbers, except for one. The short balding male approached an elderly woman in her late sixties. She was seated behind a wooden desk with a single monitor and a smartphone.

Excuse me.

Yes?

Would you do a favor for me please, and check on a patient with the last name of Ridenour?

Certainly.

TWO

Roman Lee looked over at the vacant desk across from him, waiting for his new partner to arrive for duty this particular morning. Lonnie Temple had retired quietly. They had worked together for a number of years. It wasn’t a secret, Lonnie had mentioned it on several occasions before submitting the paperwork. His son Torey was playing professionally in Carolina after making the team and signing a five year contract. Lonnie was getting essentially everything he had asked for including a warm climate with great fishing opportunities. Lonnie Temple had been a great asset to the police department of Kirkwood. He had always been a voice of reason, especially in situations where violence seemed to be the only viable solution.

A small notebook sat directly on the desk with a pen resting next to it. Its small square size would fit neatly in any jacket or sport coat pocket. Lonnie had left it as a gift along with a message, encouraging him to use it in the same manner he had for years. There were boxes filled with them at his home from all of the cases they had worked together. Toward the end of his career, he even started sketching in the margins to enhance the log of events. Lonnie preferred an archaic method rather than using emerging technology.

Roman Lee picked it up, flipping through crisp blank pages, at the same time, his new partner arrived setting things down on a clean desk before coming around to introduce herself. The new occupant across from him had a firm handshake. She was approximately five foot five and a black pant suit with a white buttoned blouse. Her long reddish brown hair was done up on top of her head revealing a fair skin tone with distinct features. His prospective new partner, only wore a small amount of makeup. Her intense brown eyes never blinked during the greeting, remaining entirely focused on his.

I’m Willow Darby, your new partner.

" Roman Lee. Kind of figured that out after you set your things