Dangerous Trust

By Cynthia Monet

Trust within Parker Memorial Hospital suffers three months after an earthquake and deadly viral outbreak. Dr. Curtis Webb, on probation, struggles with depression and his relationship with Anne Winters, a charge nurse. The NIH selects PMH for a new Federal Biosafety Lab. David Milliken, the new PMH general counsel, hides his covert role in biolab projects. The Department of Homeland Security wants the biosafety lab to unfold fast, bypassing the usual competitive process. Curtis is appointed project director but refuses to take part in the dangerous plan. Values are tested through self-serving actions and a dangerous reordering of old and new relationships. The truth forces hard choices on them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 9, 2009
• ISBN: 9781469106250

Cynthia Monet

Cynda Monet has extensive experience in healthcare and publishing. On faculty in a major California university system, Cynda has a rich background in hospital nursing, management, and trauma settings in California. She is listed in multiple Who’s Who citations, including Who’s Who in Medicine and Healthcare. Cynda believes it is vital to bring the color and conflict of healthcare workers and their relationships alive in her stories. DANGEROUS TRUST is Cynda’s 2nd full-length healthcare suspense novel in a series, with CONTAMINATED first in the series, published in 2005.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Thursday Evening

Although everyone in La Sierra read the same newspapers, saw the same news on TV or CNN online, and heard the same information at retail stores and gas stations after the earthquake and hospital outbreak in April, Curtis Webb was shocked that people never seemed to be on the same page. It wasn’t his fault that the hospital had to be rebuilt, or that one hundred citizens had died or had chronic problems after the outbreak of the respiratory virus right after the quake. It wasn’t until it was really too late that Curtis realized there was an illegal biological weapon building right next to the hospital. But even that wasn’t his fault. He had been part of a strong medical team and never expected anything that horrible to happen.

Even so, nobody agreed who was at fault, except Curtis. The Parker Memorial Hospital (PMH) board had its own understanding, as did the FBI, the CIA, the police, the state health department, the local and national news, Facebook blogs, the nursing staff at PMH, his medical peers, and his own parents. What’s worse, Anderson Cooper’s 360 degrees radar had picked it up and had covered the economic impact of the quake and viral outbreak, which brought the whole mess into the public’s eye. In other words, if the hospital and its epidemiologist didn’t know, that’s one thing, but if they did know, and didn’t act fast enough, that’s a whole different problem.

Shit. Curtis clenched his fists. All of this tore at his gut, made his head hurt, and resulted in a kind of internal craziness that gnawed at him day and night. It wasn’t enough for him to say, I did the best I could when asked why he’d not dealt faster with the outbreak and the fraudulent CDC team.

He had started going to church again lately, to find out if God could help him understand what had happened. His brother was a pastor in Seattle and quite concerned about Curtis.

Although the district attorney had not yet processed him and the other docs, Curtis tried not to think about the DA decision coming up in the next month. Of course, the California Medical Association had no problem dropping the whole misfortune into his lap. The past two months he had tried to forget his problems, and tonight was the first time he felt ready to enjoy himself.

Now, Curtis tried diligently to focus on the orchestra on the stage and not on the special woman seated next to him. The Citrus County Philharmonic Symphony was optimistically attempting both a Tchaikovsky symphony and less arduous pieces on this balmy July evening. The philharmonic’s regular season had ended in May, but tonight’s event was to celebrate the PMH hospital reopening this month. He found the Serenade for Strings full and pleasing, but devoid, naturally, of the piano sounds he so dearly loved. The lead flutist, a fellow member of the Grunions’ Classical Jazz Musicians group, would not appreciate his latter comment.

Curtis didn’t look around, as he knew, because of the media, chances were, the entire philharmonic audience (mostly PMH staff and family members) knew exactly who he was and how he’d failed, causing many to die. Others were no doubt looking at him, knew that he was responsible, and should be ashamed.

As he stared straight ahead, trying to focus on the musicians in front of him, he felt Anne’s fingers brush against his hand. Before he could think, he jerked his hand away. Anne Winters glanced at him and looked confused. Curtis felt like yelling at her. Not now while everyone is watching.

It was only moments to the intermission, and the Rose Adagio from The Sleeping Beauty resounded forth. He needed to look at her now. Curtis turned to the right to gaze at Anne. Her intense hazel eyes were fixed on the stage as though she were hypnotized. Her hands were both on her lap, nowhere near Curtis. He wanted to move his arm close to hers, to slip his hand into hers, but he hesitated. He needed to be able to touch her on his time, not hers.

This was actually their first real date. Although they had worked together at the hospital for more than a year, it had been only weeks since they had become more than casual friends. In April, she had been affected by abuse, an accident, and by the loss of work after the hospital was closed. In spite of her injuries, Anne looked fine to him now. Along with the other staff, she was back at work in the newly remodeled hospital. Anne was the best charge nurse he had ever known, and he counted on her. But it was more than her nursing skills that Curtis liked.

Friendship seemed to suit Anne fine. A coffee or cold sandwiches in the rebuilt hospital cafeteria, brisk walks around the park where she shot hoops, and innocent chats on the internal medical unit where she was in charge. Of course, the fact he was the medical director of the unit, and she was a nurse, lent itself to careful maneuvering. Since the hospital had just reopened after the April terrorism, everyone was on edge, anxious about working inside the same place where dozens had died and a terrorist left with an augmented virus. It also seemed that most of the staff was trying to forget what had happened there. Curtis couldn’t forget, of course, not ever.

None of it seemed real, even three months out, and Curtis couldn’t pretend that it was any easier for Anne. Their relationship felt like an andante tempo, walking together but at a slow pace. It hadn’t begun that way, not when they first realized they were attracted to one another, but the allegro of early knowledge reverted soon to the mild tempo of polite friendship. He glanced at Anne again. She wore a royal blue silk dress, wrapped at the bodice, which accented her chin-length auburn hair, fair skin, and firm breasts, quite nicely.

Oh, the hell with hesitating. Curtis reached over and curled his fingers around her soft hand. He felt her tremble slightly and then entwine her own fingers in his. It was a triumphant sensation. A simple embrace of their hands spoke volumes. At least that’s what he hoped.

Too soon, the music fell silent and applause erupted. The break of their warm hands was requisite in order to not appear daft to the elite crowd. While he clapped, Curtis felt his stomach aching again and knew he wasn’t ready to face the large crowd. He anticipated many questions about PMH, with everyone pointing at him while they wore phony smiles. He stood up and was ready to bolt out of the hall as the elderly couple on his left moved out of their seats.

Anne had grabbed his hand. Elizabeth wants us to meet the old doc who used to run 5 North, and his son, our new attorney.

Curtis turned toward Anne, but now she was leaning across Steven Whitlock. His wife pointed toward the aisle.

He’s with his dad, Dr. Milliken, who retired from PMH about four years ago, right, Steven? Elizabeth Whitlock tapped her husband on the arm.

The lanky hospital pathologist nodded. He retired right before Webb came on board. Steven glanced at Curtis. Did you ever meet Richard Milliken, the first doc in charge of internal medicine? He was on staff when PMH opened its doors way back in the fifties or sixties.

Curtis gazed where Elizabeth pointed. None of the older men looked familiar. Never met him, but I know that half of McKenna’s patients used to be Dr. Milliken’s. He winced. I’m afraid I need to get some fresh air. You go ahead and talk while I step outside. Curtis turned once more to his left.

Elizabeth reached across Anne and grabbed his jacket. Hey, take it easy. It’s important you meet both of the Milliken men.

Curtis closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing and fast pulse. He never used to have this much trouble with large groups before and knew the April disaster and resulting sequelae had affected him more than he could acknowledge to anyone. In fact, he felt quite crazy. He followed Anne and the others out of the room. The chandeliers and sconce lights shone brightly as they moved to the entrance hall, causing Curtis to squint. The crowd broke off into clusters, leaving small clearings. It was the typical symphony menagerie, and in the past, Curtis had enjoyed it. As a piano-playing physician, he wouldn’t mind being a member of the orchestra. It was a harmless fantasy. But now, there was no way he would be in an orchestra. It was hard enough playing in the Grunions, consisting of mostly amateur musicians.

Steven clapped a white-haired man on the shoulder. Then he turned to a well-groomed tall man with shiny black hair and clear blue eyes that seemed to take in all around him. His face, though not dark, had more of a Latino tone and was accentuated by thick lashes and brows.

The older man did the introductions. Dr. and Mrs. Whitlock, this is my son, David. Richard Milliken smiled, his voice wavering with age.

Curtis stared at David. How could the old Anglo doc have a Latino-looking son? Their eyes were both bright blue, but the son’s seemed much more dramatic than his dad’s.

Our pleasure, David. Steven motioned toward Anne. Anne Winters is the 5 North charge nurse, Richard. Works on your old playground.

Anne stepped forward and shook the elder man’s hand. I’ve heard good stories about you from nurses on our unit. I’m sure they must miss you.

Richard smiled and laughed quietly as he listened to Anne. I tried not to be a terror.

As she turned to David, she looked up and paused, and Curtis saw their eyes lock. David took her hand, raised it slowly, and kissed the back of her hand. Anne’s cheeks were pink as David covered her hand with his other hand. Light reflected off a gold wedding band.

Pleased to meet you, Mr. Milliken. Anne’s voice shook.

My bonita senorita, the pleasure is all mine. David Milliken’s voice was rich and low, with the warmth of a Latino dialect and slight Texas drawl. Por favor, call me David. After a moment, he released Anne’s hand and nodded at her. That’s my favorite blue.

Anne touched her dress self-consciously and smiled. Mine too.

And this is the PMH and Chapman Hospital epidemiologist, Dr. Curtis Webb. Steven pat Curtis on the back and nodded at Richard. Infectious disease wizard. Really likes bugs.

The elder doctor nodded. Ah, the name in the news. I thought you were suspended, Dr. Webb.

Shit! Curtis bit his tongue so he wouldn’t say something he would regret before he cleared his throat. No way. I wasn’t suspended, but Randy Freeport was. I was on probation a short while. They added another hospital to my workload, so I actually got a promotion.

Really? That’s not my understanding of what has happened.

Excuse me. Curtis couldn’t face this sort of debate, not tonight. He turned away and hurried toward the restrooms.

To his annoyance, he heard Steven coming behind him and his comments to the group.

Excuse me, but I’m going to go check on my friend. Be back shortly.

Even though he hurried, Curtis knew he was right behind him, and Steven wouldn’t give Curtis a moment alone. He turned around to face him.

Can’t a man go to the restroom without someone following him?

You going in there to snort a line, Curtis? Steven’s dark eyes bore into him.

What? Curtis felt anger surge inside.

I know you’re using. It’s not a good way to handle your anxiety. Steven shook his head and stepped closer.

I want to leave. There are just too many people here. Curtis felt his pulse rate climbing. Of course, he needed his coke, didn’t he understand?

Steven grabbed his arm. You need help, my dear friend. It’s written all over your face.

Anne watched Steven follow Curtis and knew he was worried about his friend. Curtis was under a lot of stress from the PMH mess. She tried to step into his shoes, to understand why he was so upset, but Anne didn’t know why he was worried when most of the staff was happy to be back at work this month. And happy to be alive.

As she sighed, Anne felt someone touch her arm.

Senorita? Are you here with us? David Milliken laughed quietly and looked at her. Once more, his blue eyes stunned her for a moment.

Oh. I just wonder why some of us are doing okay after the horrible things that happened at our hospital in April. She paused. Maybe you don’t even know what I’m talking about.

The tall man nodded and leaned closer. Of course I do. As the hospital attorney, I’m hoping to help Parker Memorial Hospital handle future plans.

Anne was surprised.

Oh, our new PMH lawyer? Wow, you have a lot to deal with.

The tall man smiled, and small laugh lines showed near his eyes. She even noticed each light blue eye had a dark blue circle around the iris, making his eyes beautiful to look at.

That’s for sure. Hope I get to see you at the hospital sometimes too.

Anne stopped staring at him and stepped back. Excuse me. She hurried away and saw Steven arguing with Curtis near the restrooms. Anne leaned low to drink from the fountain while the crowd milled about.

Now it sounded like Steven was begging Curtis. You need to lighten up, Curtis. If you leave now, it will look bad. How do you suppose Anne feels?

Anne closed her eyes. Oh no, not another panic attack. He’d had one at work on Tuesday and spent a long time in the men’s room before he hurried down the stairs, away from the fifth floor. Anne wasn’t sure what had triggered it. The staff had been talking about the redesigned unit and comparing it to the old walls and flooring that had been destroyed in the April fire. The staff was also talking about how hard it was trying to manage the new technical programs that required they swipe their IDs to access medications, online charting, and lab work. Anne had watched Curtis go pale, just like tonight. Now, she didn’t hear Curtis’s mumbled reply to Steven as she hurried into the ladies’ room.

By the time she returned to the group, old doc Milliken offered her a glass of red wine, which she graciously accepted while keeping one eye on Curtis. The doc’s son was talking with some other PMH staff and Steven’s wife, and Anne was relieved. David had seemed too interested in her, which surprised her considering he was wearing a wedding band. As she sipped her wine, Steven pulled her aside.

We’re leaving before the second half. Steven sighed as though exasperated.

I figured we would. Curtis isn’t doing well, is he? Anne leaned close to talk quietly.

Steven shrugged. He needs help. You know that and so do I. He’s a stubborn guy.

Anne nodded as Curtis walked toward her. She grabbed his arm and pulled him close. Hey, are you too tired to stay? Let’s just go get some coffee and relax a while.

Curtis leaned against her as though grateful that Anne was not upset. Sounds okay. He reached inside his tux jacket pocket and pulled out an Almond Joy. He glanced at Anne. Hey, I’m hungry.

While they spoke quietly, The Milliken men stepped toward them.

Old doc Milliken laughed and nearly wheezed. Curtis, my son David had a promotion as well. He’s the new PMH general counsel. Just moved back from Austin, Texas, thank God.

Curtis finally shook David’s hand and noted the power in the attorney’s grip. Texas? I went to med school at the U of Texas at Austin. Finished up about ten years ago.

David studied his face. I thought so. I landed in Austin about twelve years back. Is bueno to be home, even though home was recently Austin.

Anne laughed. What an odd coincidence that you both lived in Austin at the same time. She paused and tapped Milliken’s arm. How’d you know Webb was an Austin grad?

The man glanced at Anne and shook his head. We don’t need to go into that tonight.

Curtis felt on edge hearing the man’s comments. Hey, I don’t know why you’re being so mysterious. I’ve never met you before. Curtis shrugged as Milliken only stared at him. His eyes were hard and unfriendly.

Anne waved her hand as though to save him. California is my home now too. I’m from Minneapolis, and Curtis is a Boston native. Neither of us miss the cold weather. She laughed, but no one seemed to notice.

Curtis felt his stomach aching. On top of Milliken’s comments, the fact his father had hinted at his ridiculous probation didn’t help. You have an accent and darker coloring than your father, ever live in South America?

Milliken shook his head. Traveled there a lot. My mother was a Velasco.

Velasco, hey? Curtis knew the name. Is that a Chilean or Argentinean surname?

My mother’s family lived in the stunning seaport Valparaiso, Chile.

Chileans speak Spanish, don’t they? I learned that while studying Spanish.

Si, senor. Hablar Espanol? David glanced at Anne.

Si, hablar Espanol. Necessito pero trabajo el medico en Texas.

Milliken nodded. A Latino accent and all. I’m impressed.

Steven laughed and punched Curtis on the shoulder. He’s an impressive dude.

After a few more rounds of who was from where, the lights dimmed and the intermission ended. As they parted, Curtis saw David once more gaze at Anne. Anne turned and stopped and watched David as he took his father’s arm and escorted him back to the concert hall.

Anne laughed. What an odd couple of men. I wonder where their wives were.

Besides his job as the PMH counsel, he’s probably here to watch out for his old man. Curtis paused as they walked. I wondered where his wife was too. He wore a wedding band.

He wore a law school ring too. Anne shrugged. Maybe she was in the restroom. As they walked toward the exit doors, Anne pulled Curtis aside. What was Milliken talking about?

Once more, he felt his pulse racing.

I have no idea. In fact, that man scares me.

Anne gave him a sad look. Hey, lately, everything seems to scare you. Then she pulled him close and gave him a warm hug.

Settled into a corner booth at the java house near the symphony hall, Steven nodded at Curtis. You seem to do much better in smaller settings, Curtis. Steven waved his hand around the coffee shop. Smaller place, less noise. South America Andes music played overhead.

Curtis stared at him. Are you implying I have problems in public?

Not at all. Steven laughed. I’m just acknowledging your stress in larger settings.

Curtis shook his head. No one understands what I have been going through.

Elizabeth reached across the table to touch his hand. You know we care for you, Curtis.

He wiped his eyes with his fingers. Caring about me won’t change what happened.

Elizabeth pulled her hand back. I’m sorry you feel that way.

Steven sighed. You know, Tim was shot and killed outside the morgue while a stray bullet got me.

Oh, Steven. Elizabeth covered her mouth and began to cry.

While Steven hugged and comforted his wife, Curtis made a despondent noise. Now why the fuck would you bring that up, Steven? We sure as hell can’t bring Tim back, can we?

His best friend looked about ready to break.

Fuck you, Webb. Talking about it helps.

Anne waved her hand in the air. Hey, both of you. Fighting doesn’t make this any better. She gave Curtis a sideways hug. Let’s talk about the concert we just heard. It was a wonderful gift from Citrus County.

She kept her eyes on him, certain Curtis was going to say, I need to go home. Steven was talking about the symphony and how most of the staff had planned to attend. Anne leaned back and looked at the man she was already falling in love with. Curtis’s trim black hair with touches of silver at his temples was stunning with his black tuxedo and white shirt. His expressive grey eyes were wonderful to look deeply into, although Anne had not yet found a way to look deeply into them. When he had reached for her hand tonight, she felt almost an electric current and wondered if he had noticed it too.

As the delightful Andes music filled the air, Anne sipped her hot tea, closed her eyes, and thought about the past few months that had brought them to this moment. The PMH outbreak had changed everything. She knew Curtis’s stress was not that odd. When she first joined PMH the year before, the nurses and docs were a friendly team to work with. During the outbreak, Anne had been part of the infectious disease team, but at the end of the horrific event, Curtis had accused her of having a role in the bioterrorism. Everyone had been affected by the terrible outbreak, with several staff dead now, and Anne had hoped to leave California by the end of April. But none of the staff had been allowed to leave when released from the UC Irvine Medical Center and lived for six weeks in apartments that the FBI and police watched around the clock.

Living so close together, Anne and Curtis had had time to get to know each other better, along with several other staff. It wasn’t like they would all be best buddies after their weeks together, but they had all agreed that they would support each other after they were released from the Feds. When the FBI let everyone go back to their own homes, Anne had expected to be killed as soon as the FBI stopped their surveillance.

It had been about four weeks since she’d moved home, and nothing had happened. Sure, she looked over her shoulder all the time and left neither her front door open nor the windows open to enjoy cool nighttime air. Her sister had bought her a guard bird that squawked when anyone came into Anne’s condo as though he could defend her. It was hard to be so worried, but she was happy to be alive and well. Not at all like what had happened to Larry, a doc she had known.

Larry was now in London, enduring intense rehabilitation for injuries from respiratory arrest and brain damage during the outbreak. Her British friend was relearning how to dress and feed himself and spent most of his day in a wheelchair. Larry’s mother wrote notes that said her son was doing poorly and would not be returning to La Sierra. Larry had been a good doctor but someone who took risks, like gambling on genetic research.

Anne sighed. Curtis was a delightful, humorous, and innocently sexy man who had her pulse racing with his touch. Well, usually delightful. Since April, he’d not really been himself. They realized they cared for each other while living in the apartments, but Anne had not been able to let Curtis inside her heart. Not then, and not until it was clear whether Larry would ever return. And there was dear Alex to consider, the head of the PMH medical staff.

But she had worked with Curtis before everything changed and was working with him again. Three months had passed with a growing friendship that Anne had relied on for a sense of sanity. Now, Curtis worked long hours, two hospitals to cover and his clinic, but he didn’t complain. Of course, he seemed depressed. He forced himself to join her, when he could, while she practiced basketball and made sure she took coffee breaks as he listened to her worries about working in the updated unit with several new nurses. It was funny that he liked her so much. She was said to be forthright and at times too honest. Curtis didn’t seem to mind.

She knew he’d suffered a broken engagement several years ago and probably hadn’t dated much since. The fact they had finally gone on a date and had held hands at the symphony was a big step for her attentive doctor friend, and Anne had no desire to minimize its importance.

Anne shifted in her seat and leaned toward Curtis until her mouth was near his ear. I’m having a wonderful time, and you’re the best-looking man I’ve seen all night.

He turned toward her and looked confused. What?

Elizabeth laughed. She was giving you a wonderful compliment, Curtis. Listen to her.

Steven shook his head. We were talking about the orchestra, and Anne just whispered something in his ear. Can you share that with us? He smiled and pulled his wife closer.

Although she felt her cheeks getting pink, Anne nodded. Yes, I was trying to tell my friend right next to me here—she leaned against his shoulder—that he is fun to be with.

To her surprise, Curtis laughed. I take that as a great accolade, Anne.

Anne clasped Curtis’s warm fingers. Good.

Elizabeth leaned forward to touch their hands on the table. Hey, you make a cute couple. Maybe it’s time to do something about that. Neither of you is getting any younger.

Curtis let out a sigh and looked at Anne. I’m afraid I couldn’t agree with you more, Elizabeth. Curtis shrugged.

Steven laughed. Are you going to ask Anne to marry you?

Maybe when I’m feeling a bit better about myself. Curtis laughed.

Curtis? Anne was surprised and touched his chin. Let’s work on that.

The Whitlocks were a fun pair and obviously fond of Curtis, almost their next-door neighbor. Steven was the head of pathology at PMH while his wife took care of their active four-year-old son. It sounded as though the married couple was trying to bring Curtis and her into the marital fold. When Anne tried to imagine being married again, she ran into a blank wall. Her first marriage, back home in Minneapolis, had started out well and then ended eighteen months later after her husband beat her and accused her of betrayal. It would take considerable emotional safety for her to be fully committed to one man again.

You ought to feel just fine. Steven shook his head. I thought the Grunions’ Fourth of July gig was great. Your band has tremendous harmony, and you play piano like a fiend.

Curtis dropped his eyes and studied his mug of decaf coffee. He felt Anne squeeze his shoulder. Her left breast was pressing against his right arm again, and he tried not to notice. Of course none of it could be ignored. Anne was touching him more than he would have expected tonight. But it was time for both of them to be more relaxed with each other, wasn’t it?

You’ve seen Curtis move his hands over those ivory keys. It’s energizing and hypnotic. Anne paused and looked at him. Don’t be so humble, Curtis. You have so much talent it still makes me wonder why you’ve stayed in medicine.

Hey, he’s one of the best docs I’ve worked with, Anne, so don’t go trashing his medical practice. And there’s no money in music. Most of the Citrus County Philharmonic members hold other jobs just to survive. Steven tapped Anne on the shoulder and smiled.

No money in music. The same words his dad had said dozens of times as he pushed his eldest son toward medicine. Money wasn’t everything, he’d told his dad, and Dad had slapped him. Raised as a privileged New England son of a dentist and teacher, Curtis knew better than to veer off course from his parents’ expectations.

Curtis chuckled and let his eyes scan the faces of his friends. I get satisfaction from my place in the Grunions. We’re all professionals with second lives as musicians.

Anne laughed. Hey, if you want to be a professional musician, we could certainly live on my salary. Do you realize how much nurses make these days?

Yeah, a heck of a lot more than I made in my first years as a doc. Steven laughed. I bet you don’t even have college loans hanging over your head anymore, either.

Nope. Thing is, I’ll probably work on my master’s degree and then need loans again.

Curtis listened and sighed. Save some money then, so you don’t need to be loaded with debt if you go back to school, Anne.

She looked at him and grinned. Hey, you didn’t comment about my offer. I could support both of us with my current salary.

That she would even offer him something like that surprised Curtis. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

If it comes to that, I would be happy to accept your offer.

Anne took his chin in her hand and put her lips on his. Good. I don’t want to be a stay-at-home woman. After the kiss, Curtis leaned back and felt his cheeks getting warm while his friends watched them.

It’s okay, Webb. You should show more affection for her too. Elizabeth smiled.

The thought of showing more in front of others made Curtis fidget. Anne’s arm dropped toward his waist, and she leaned against him.

You have good reason to work, Anne. Steven pulled his wife close. Even so, soon there will be even more reason for Elizabeth to stay home.

The attractive blonde with fine features and light green eyes seemed to be glowing. She nodded. I was going to wait until more time had passed, just to be sure, but we’re expecting.

Curtis watched the women chat about babies and tuned out their words. He had no idea what to offer to the conversation. He hadn’t considered having children since Meg broke their engagement four years earlier. He had two cats that seemed to fulfill his parenting desires.

Steven checked his watch. Time to let our babysitter go home. She has school tomorrow. He eased out of the booth and took his wife’s hand. You folks can party all night.

Anne slid out of the booth. I’m glad we made it a foursome. She hugged Steven and kissed his cheek, then hugged Elizabeth. Give Danny a kiss for me, if he’s still awake.

He’d better not be. Steven laughed, and his thick black hair fell toward his forehead. He waited while Elizabeth picked up her purse, then put up his hand. Don’t rush out on our account. You two need some time alone. Steven nodded and then escorted Elizabeth out.

Curtis watched his best friends exit the coffeehouse and then looked at Anne. She stood by the booth, watching them leave. As she turned toward Curtis, she raised her eyebrows.

Well, here we are, alone, sort of, on our first authentic date. Anne’s eyes were bright.

Right. Curtis cleared his throat and slid out of the booth. As he did, Anne’s purse fell to the floor. They bent down at the same time and bumped their heads together. Curtis got the soft black velvet bag and took Anne’s hand. As they straightened, her bodice was inches from his face. Are you okay?

Anne rubbed her forehead. You’ve got a hard head, mister.

He saw her smile and laughed as he gave her the purse. So do you. We’ll have matching goose eggs. He knew he was blushing and felt silly.

Your cheeks are pink. Anne nudged his knees as she sat down again.

Curtis slid over to make room. I feel like I’m seventeen, and we’ve just left the prom.

Anne giggled. If you’re seventeen, that makes me about fourteen.

Curtis threw his arm around her shoulders. Robbing the cradle.

Anne shook her head and kissed his cheek. She paused and studied Curtis’s face, and suddenly he liked having her that close. Do you really think about being a musician full-time? Her left hand was on his knee, and her right fingertips hovered near his face.

Curtis swallowed and put his left hand over the hand on his knee. I do, all the time.

Would you ever give up full-time medicine if you had the chance to change?

He turned his head to gaze at Anne. Her green eyes were intense but warm. Medicine’s my life. I can’t imagine not being who I am, a doctor who heals infected people.

Even after what happened in April? Anne’s voice was quiet as she looked at him.

The horror of that month, the unethical behavior of my peers… Curtis paused. I’m responsible for it all. I feel terrible when I think about it. Some nights I barely get any sleep.

Anne removed her hand from his knee and ran her palm over his back. You did the best you could under horrible circumstances. We all know that.

He trembled beneath her hands.

Anne touched his face. Hey. Might be time to talk with a psychologist, get a new perspective on the outbreak and your role in that thing.

Shit, talking about it won’t change the facts. Curtis groaned.

Stop that. Anne leaned her head against his. You’ve got a lot of stuff packed inside.

Curtis leaned back and looked at her. So? We all had appointments with them this summer, after we were released from UC Irvine.

Yes, and did you go to any of your appointments? Anne sighed.

I went to one. Total waste of time. Curtis shook his head.

Well, I went to all five of my appointments, and it helped. Besides, it was required before we could go back to work when PMH reopened. She touched his nose. How the heck did you go back to work without the psychologist signing you off?

Curtis shrugged. I guess they looked the other way.

Anne ran her hand along his knee and thigh, gave his leg a gentle squeeze. As she kissed his ear, she whispered, Let me hold you tonight. You are in need of some tenderness.

His body was reacting in ways his mind had not yet comprehended. Curtis smiled. It’s late, let me take you home.

I’m not worried about my night, just you. You need some compassion.

Curtis hesitated. It’s just that… I’ve been working through things. He kissed her cheek. Your friendship has made a big difference.

I care about you. Anne tipped her head forward so that their foreheads touched.

Curtis inhaled the sweet scent of her hair. That’s why I can’t possibly change. I couldn’t imagine not seeing you at work every day. Especially in your purple scrubs. Hmm.

Flatterer. Anne touched his nose. My heart jumps whenever you walk onto 5 North.

Ah, so let me stay in medicine. Music will just have to remain my hobby.

Anne nodded slightly. It would be hard, wouldn’t it? It’s like we all have these dreams of a different life, but making it work isn’t as easy as we’d expect.

Yes, that’s it exactly. Curtis lowered his eyes. It was quiet talks like this that made him feel close to Anne. She cared for him and helped him talk about his life. He already knew it but had not yet told Anne that he loved her. Saying those words meant taking a huge risk.

Curtis pushed his coffee mug aside and offered his arm. Let’s go.

It was a short drive to Anne’s condo, and they talked about her Saturday basketball game.

When Curtis pulled his Acura up to the curb, he shut off the engine. He turned to Anne and reached for her hand. He felt his mouth go dry. After months of a casual friendship, I’m feeling really close to you. We even finally got all dressed up for a real date. He paused. Are you feeling close to me?

Anne’s mouth opened and she smiled. Come here. She pulled on his hand.

Curtis leaned across the console. Anne’s right hand went behind his neck, and she let her lips touch his. Once, twice, three times, then a solid connection as he pressed himself to her and pushed her toward the door. Her tongue moved with his, and Curtis let his hands move over her. When her other hand dropped down to his belt, Curtis pulled back.

What are we doing? Curtis cleared his throat.

Pardon? Anne looked confused and as though she was about to laugh.

Curtis felt his heart drop as her hands slipped away. It’s late.

Anne sighed. Who gives a damn how late it is? You asked me if I felt close to you. Did you misunderstand my answer?

He swallowed and knew he hurt her feelings. I didn’t expect that, I guess.

Before she answered, tears wet Anne’s eyes. Are you not ready for a relationship with me, Curtis? Is that what you are trying to say?

His pulse pounded with fear and compassion for her. I want that more than anything in the world. You don’t know how many months, or years for that matter, I have wanted this.

Anne nodded. Then let’s not waste our time together.

Headlights swung through the rear window. Curtis leaned back and squinted at the lights.

Anne peered over the seat. It’s my neighbor. She works the late shift at Nordstrom’s.

The windows were steamed up, and Curtis felt silly. Anne adjusted her dress and hair. A car door slammed, and a woman walked past. Anne looked at him. Are you coming inside?

His pulse was still clipping along. I don’t mean to—

She put up her hand. I’m inviting you. I want you to be with me.

It had started to move so fast, he felt that he was losing control. He checked his watch.

It’s almost eleven. I hate to keep you up so late.

Anne closed her eyes and exhaled. When she looked at him, her eyes were soft. I told you I don’t care how late it is. This is important for us.

Another time? Curtis got out of the car to walk Anne to her door.

Curtis walked, hesitant to hold her close. After her lock clicked open, Curtis pressed himself to her and kissed her. There was something wild going on between them.

Anne wrapped her arms around him and pressed her mouth to his ear. Your kisses are extraordinary. Please don’t let me go in by myself after what we were just doing.

There will be other times, Anne. He kissed her cheek and then whispered against her ear, You’re the only one I want.

After they said good night, Anne had a wistful smile on her face as she stepped inside and closed the door. Curtis stood on the steps for a moment, imagining he was following her to her bedroom, in her arms all night. He took a breath of the night air, turned, and hurried to his car.

He needed to snort a line. But not in his car. There were too many cops driving around La Sierra. Maybe he needed time with Anne after all.

As she headed to the bathroom, Anne kept smiling. She realized Curtis was a bit shy and not feeling great about himself and was possibly the only man who could step back after they had been touching each other like that. In her bedroom, she kicked off her shoes and tried to decide which scrubs to wear tomorrow. As she reached back and unzipped the back of her dress, she noticed his scent on her dress. Anne sighed and closed her eyes while she slipped into her pj’s. It was a bit strange that they were dating now, after weeks of not yet, Curtis from her. Alex, the medical chief, had asked Anne to marry him during the illness outbreak and then broke it off when he heard things about Anne that he apparently could not handle. He’d visited Anne in June, and they were close as though they would start their relationship again. But it had crumbled again with his worries and troubles with the FBI. No, things with Alex were not good. It was getting difficult seeing him at work.

Her pajamas on, Anne decided to check on her parakeet, which had been asleep when she came home. As she turned on the kitchen light, someone knocked on her front door. Anne jumped back, not expecting anyone this late at night. She peeked through her peephole and laughed. She swung the door open. Curtis stood there, leaning against the doorjamb in a sexy manner, his tuxedo collar open and a small smile on his lips. Lipstick was smudged on his cheek.

Oh my gosh! You’ve been standing here all this time? Here I was in the bathroom, then picking my uniform for tomorrow, and you were here this whole time? Anne laughed.

Curtis grinned. I stood here getting up the nerve to knock.

She pulled on his hand. Get away from those moths flying around your head. As he stepped inside, Anne closed the door and looked at him. Why did you come back?

Anne. He held his arms out to her. You’re right. I need you.

Yes, I know you do. Anne took his hand. Well, as nice as you look in that sweet tux of yours, considering I’m already in my pajamas, you need to get out of your clothes.

His face looked stunned as she pulled him toward her bedroom. I do?

Yes. At the door to the bedroom, Anne stopped. Shall I remove them?

She saw his Adam’s apple work and then he nodded.

That would be nice.

Nice? Anne slipped off his tuxedo jacket, tossed it on her bed. Just wait and see. She unbuttoned his tuxedo shirt. It’s going to be downright wonderful.

CHAPTER 2

Friday

Anne slept well and was not as tired as she expected when she arrived at work. The flowers and lilac trees were in full midsummer bloom, emitting rich aromas along the path from the parking garage to the hospital. The sun was hidden behind the morning fog but would be intense as the day wore on. In spite of the early hour, birds were chirping in the branches of the olive and eucalyptus trees, and bees buzzed in the pansies and vinca outside the basement door. The African gazania flowers were still closed tight, waiting for the sun to embrace them.

The birds and the bee’s story came to mind, and Anne saw her passion for Curtis in a new light. Was her longing just a physical desire borne out of the genetic need to procreate? Was that all it ever was between a man and woman—feelings mingled with physical need?

She had finally been intimate with him. Anne shook her head and sighed. That want had been around them for months, and it was such a surprise to realize they were now a couple. Or were they? She had sought to comfort him last night and knew the way she comforted him was good. Curtis had seemed unprepared, and Anne was thinking about that all morning. He had seemed surprised most of the evening and went home after midnight. Funny thing was he’d spent a little time in the bathroom before he would stay in her bed and then seemed happier or almost high when he joined her again. She hadn’t asked him why but suspected he might be using.

None of his response had been much out of character. Curtis was a gentleman who had been persistent and patient as he spent months getting to know her. She liked almost everything about him. Anne entered the hospital and waited for the elevator in the basement. Curtis was impeccably groomed, wore conservative but expensive clothing and gorgeous leather shoes. If she thought about it, the only thing that bothered her was his tendency to change the subject when Anne tried to find out about his last relationship. A broken engagement was no small matter, and Anne wanted to understand that part of him. She was trying to be open with him. She had told him that she was still recovering from the abuse of her first marriage. She had not told him about Jack or said much about Alex and did not think either of those relationships held any bearing on her current or future life. Jack, in particular, was a blip in her past, an imperfection best left alone.

Anne winced. Curtis tried not to be so intense, but he was. Lab reports on charts when he expected them; Anne ready for their coffee breaks, without delay. Shoes off before entering his home, at all times. Curtis disliked tardiness and confusion. Characteristics that didn’t help him get along with others.

The elevator doors opened, and Anne stepped inside. It stopped on the main level and half a dozen staff joined her, yawning and mumbling their good mornings. When she got to the fifth floor, she hurried to the desk to check her day shift staffing ticket.

The night-shift charge nurse was sitting near a stack of charts and greeted Anne with a weary smile, Morning, Anne. You’ll have an easy day, got a bunch of discharges.

As expected, two nurses had been called off due to the low census. The PMH census always nose-dived during the summer, and it was a great time to take a vacation. Anne hoped to travel, if only to Disneyland, maybe after the hospital’s fiftieth anniversary later this month.

The only patients on their unit now were those with flare-ups of chronic health problems or new cancer diagnoses. Occasionally they had surgical patients when the fourth floor couldn’t take them all. During the summer, most of the surgeons took vacations.

To her dismay, Suzie Martinez was one of the nurses staying home today. Her nursing peer was also on her basketball team. She wanted to have a chance to tell her about her date with Curtis before they met for practice at Alamo Park tonight. Maybe the day would go quickly.

Soon after the nurses finished shift report, Dr. McKenna did his morning rounds and stopped at the desk to check the lab reports. Anne liked the older physician and the fact he worked on the same floor of the clinic as Curtis and his partners. While she poured her own coffee, Anne also poured one for McKenna. Unlike some physicians, he truly appreciated courtesies like that and was known to reciprocate.

Thank you, Anne. Dennis took the steaming cup and set it on the counter near his reading glasses. Tchaikovsky sounded pretty good last night, didn’t it? He smiled and turned from the computer. His large brown eyes were set off by bushy brows that drooped at the corners. His brown hair was streaked with liberal amounts of silver, and his white lab coat was well-worn and looked comfortable, almost permanently so, over grey slacks and an oxford cloth shirt.

Pretty good, yes. Anne sipped her coffee. It was hot. Didn’t see you or Emily.

We were clear across the hall with several of the ICU staff.

Oh. Anne studied his solemn eyes. I met Dr. Milliken and his son.

Dennis nodded. David was a teenager when I started here. Hard to believe he’s in his early forties already. Makes me feel awfully old. He sighed and shook his head. It was so sad when he and his own boy left suddenly after his first wife was killed.

What happened to her?

A tragic car crash. Seems he couldn’t cope with the rumors that his wife committed suicide, so he took a job offer in Austin, Texas. What a shame.

Anne felt a chill run up her spine. He’s come back. Must be okay.

Dennis stared at her as though gauging his next words. Almost. His second wife is in rough shape. Dennis paused, then glanced away, and busied himself at the computer.

Anne sighed and turned to the memo board. About to ignore the usual reminders about time cards, she stopped at the memo from the hospital CEO. It discussed David’s new role and the fact he replaced the attorney Miriam Wong incapacitated since injuries sustained in an assault three months ago. He had lived in La Sierra before assuming significant roles in Austin, Texas, twelve years back, including a law firm, nonprofit centers, and a Latino attorneys association, and had practiced law since 1988. It mentioned he was married and had a son attending Princeton University. His special focus for PMH and Chapman was dealing with the managed care market and other healthcare issues in the broadening legal environment.

Anne laughed. What a bunch of gobbledygook. Bud O’Brien must be trying to make sure the new attorney won’t leave after learning how horrible the bioterrorism ended this spring.

Dennis turned to look at her over his glasses. Excuse me?

This memo on the wall about Milliken. Makes him sound like an executive who’s here to perhaps save us.

The old doc stared at her. He is an executive. Be careful what you say about our new attorney.

Anne waved her hand. Well, okay, if you’re going to be that way about him.

He’s a good man, in his own way. Lived here a long time before he left for Texas. Dennis nodded.

Have you met his second wife yet, the one you said is in rough shape? We didn’t see her at the concert last night.

I’m her internal medicine doc. He punched a key and gazed at the computer screen. I better get rounds done. I have patients to see at the clinic.

What a strange comment from a friend of the Milliken family. Anne wondered what was going on. When it was clear he would say no more, Anne dumped her coffee in the sink. Three of her own patients were going home, and she had discharge teaching to finish.

After a while, she was down to only one more patient and family to get ready to go home. The last two had needed guidance on some herbal therapies they wanted to use, and Anne felt obligated to find out what they were expecting. As she neared the nursing station, she heard Dennis’s voice behind her as though he were hurrying down the hall.

Anne, can I have a word with you before you disappear in another room?

As she turned around, Anne saw the grave look on his fatherly face.

What happened?

Dennis waved his hand.

You are not licensed to recommend herbal medicines.

I know that. Are you? Anne let the question slip before she could stop it.

He pulled his reading glasses off his nose. As a licensed physician, I can choose to recommend whatever medications make sense. He frowned. St John’s wort does not.

Anne exhaled. I didn’t tell Mrs. Crow to take St John’s wort, Dennis. She asked me if it was safe and did I know anyone who had used it with good results. I do.

Dennis exhaled sharply. You sound like Emily, spouting off about herbal teas and ways to spend your cash on pricey bottles of nonsense.

Anne stepped back. I take offense at that. I’ve used herbal supplements for many years and have rarely been ill. In fact, that’s how I stayed healthy during the pneumonia outbreak in April. Do you realize that?

He shook his head. Lay off the testimonials with my patients, okay?

The old docs were taking it hard. Complementary therapies were big business, cutting into their practices as more and more people chose noninvasive ways to stay well. Maybe Dennis didn’t know any better. He’d been trained the old way, diagnose and treat, at any cost.

If patients ask me questions, I’ll answer them. Okay? Anne nodded to encourage him.

Dennis threw his hands in the air. You’re so stubborn. Why do I even try to influence you? He swung his stethoscope off his neck, twisted it like a rope, and stuffed it into his lab coat pocket. Then he disappeared down the hallway.

While she made her way to the desk to finish her charting, Anne decided Dennis would be a physician she should avoid for a while. He was acting peculiar about a simple issue.

Curtis was surprised to see the new attorney at the Chapman Hospital management meeting at eight o’clock. David was introduced as the new general counsel, and the management team applauded him. The heavyset COO, Roger Marquis, stood and nodded.

Mr. Milliken will receive his formal introduction at the PMH anniversary bash on July 20. I expect you all to be there, in support of David and also our alliance with PMH.

Murmurs of assent gave way to the meeting and all its dry, boring details. Curtis tried to enjoy his coffee, nodding appropriately when the pharmacist gave the updated pharmacy and therapeutics report on total parenteral nutrition orders and comorbidities. Curtis’s ears didn’t really open until he heard someone mention pneumonia. He would never be able to hear that word without flinching, not since the bioterrorism pneumonia he’d faced in April. Curtis glanced around the room, checking to see if anyone noticed his anxiety. He was certain everyone knew he’d failed. The only one looking at him was David Milliken. He wore a good poker face.

When the agenda was done, the hospital managers and supervisors shuffled out of the room. Roger Marquis shook David’s hand and then thanked Curtis for attending the meeting.

Curtis nodded as he shook Roger’s hand. I was surprised to hear your census still hasn’t dropped this summer. PMH could close an entire floor this time of year.

Roger chuckled. Not out here. We’re the hot spot for all the hill towns and freeway accidents. And our outpatient surgery suite is big business for those out-of-town visitors who want that added touch of anonymity.

Ah, that last part I had forgotten. Curtis laughed.

The COO stared at him. Hey, we make good money helping folks when they need it.

Sure. Curtis was surprised by the COO’s comment.

Good to see you. Roger raised his hand as though in a salute and nearly knocked his glasses off with his manila folder. I’ve got to run.

So we meet again, less than twelve hours apart. David grinned at Curtis. I wonder if you could clarify something for me. The Latino-Texas accent was more subtle now.

I’ll give it a shot. Curtis, at five nine, was certain David was well over six feet tall.

Por favor, what were you put on probation for? David’s voice was low and even.

He knew a clever attorney would jump on that one. It was an unfair probation. This past April the PMH pneumonia went too far too fast, and I was in charge.

David tipped his head. And PMH blames you for that?

Of course. The state and federal officials cited PMH for the deaths and for the fake CDC group. Alex Regis, our chief of staff, was forced to handle me. The medical licensing board looked over complaints and findings. I was on probation for about eight weeks. It’s been a terrible time.

I’d heard about that on the national news. Possible bioterrorism research, huh? You honestly didn’t know it was going on right next door? Milliken looked baffled.

Curtis shook his head. He felt his eyelid wanting to twitch. It was a benign genetic lab. My only link to the place was my pulmonary medicine coworker. He was suspended, period. I imagine he may need to find a new field. Poor Randy.

Milliken coughed. Webb, in fact, you and other PMH staff have been under constant FBI surveillance due to fears that the group who stole the vaccine will come after you.

Not anymore. They stopped that when we were released from the Fed prison, I mean, apartments early in June. Curtis sighed. None of us feels safe, to tell you the truth.

Milliken frowned. They’ve stopped nothing of the kind. Each of you are being watched, your homes, your work, where you drive. Everywhere you go. Do you understand?

Curtis stepped back. I’ve suspected it, but why would the Feds bother?

Because what you know and what you saw is very important to the Feds, the CIA, and the DHS. Milliken nodded.

The DHS? Do you mean the Department of Health Services? Curtis felt confused.

Milliken shook his head. Think farther than your own state.

Oh. The Department of Homeland Security? When Milliken nodded, Curtis felt as though he could hardly breathe. Wait. How do you know so much about this?

I network with the real Axis Health, the name all over the terrorists’ trucks and helicopters. He paused. One of the reasons I am here.

What? That news scared Curtis more than he had expected. Axis Health? We don’t need you digging into what happened any more than the FBI did after the outbreak. Curtis paused, felt his eyes hurting. Want to know what it’s like feeling like a criminal? We could barely leave the apartments for six weeks. Each day, someone in a dark suit woke me up and asked me questions, or ran me through situations, until I thought my head would burst. After the first two weeks, I sincerely hoped someone would put a gun to my head.

Milliken was watching him and leaned back on his heels. And it’s not over yet.

Curtis shook his head. Sometime in the next month or so, I expect to hear what the next step is. In other words, will I remain an essentially free man or, well, you know.

Comprendo. Milliken nodded. I was hired to be here about the same time the PMH doors opened again. I came a few weeks late, and you’re all back to work as though nothing happened. The units are updated with new walls, new floors, better lighting, computers, and phones. He paused. There are cameras on every floor, phones everywhere, and security staff watching and listening to whatever happens at PMH. To protect all of you, nothing more.

Hearing those facts made Curtis feel worse. We don’t talk about that, Milliken. Life has to go forward, with patients to worry about and nurses who don’t need to be scared at work.

You’re not really off probation, are you? Eight weeks is far too short according to the CMA.

The words were flung so fast, it caught him off guard. How would you know that?

Medical practice regulation is one of my strong points, Webb. I mean no harm in this discussion. You must realize that for the most part, consumers know exactly what happens to docs when they make a complaint. I bet you haven’t even received the decision from CMA yet.

While he rubbed his hand on his face, Curtis sighed. If you know so much, then you tell me. He felt so angry, he was ready to fight with this man.

Milliken laughed. Have you always been this argumentative?

Look, it seemed that the CMA had enough evidence, including family complaints, after a few weeks, and quickly gave me their first decision. Curtis felt his stomach tightening.

Which was? Milliken smiled and waited.

As he said the words, his pulse ran so fast, Curtis thought his heart would burst. Revocation of my license was stayed, and I was put on probation for two years along with conditions I have to meet before the end of my probation. Curtis felt his knees almost shaking. The reason you’re here is because Ms. Wong was attacked, probably silenced.

Why would the PMH counsel be silenced? Milliken looked angry.

Curtis felt his neck