Fatal Reaction by Belinda Frisch Read Free Book Online Page A

Stephanie to have a look at her right hand and arm. “You stuck her, what, four times?”
    “Five, by my count,” said Jared, shaking his head. “Set her up in room one. Get an IV in her other arm and I’ll be right there.” Monica, one of several unit clerks, rushed past him, and he called out to her. “I need an overhead page. Call for Dr. Carmichael. I need him here, stat .”
    “You got it.” Monica jogged to the nearest phone and placed the call.
    Wilson and Ethan wheeled Stephanie away.
    Jim rubbed his eyes and handed Jared his copy of the prehospital care report. “Her husband should be here any minute. His name is”—Jim flipped the sheet on the clipboard—“Riley Martin.”
    Jared reviewed the list of Stephanie’s symptoms—fever, malaise, abdominal pain—and formulated a list of differential diagnoses from infection to organ rejection.
    The latter spelled disaster.
    Jim’s radio announced another call, and he waved for Ethan to join him. “No rest for the weary, right? Pulling a double shift after two days of visitation with Kayla, I’m beat. Who would have thought a three-year-old could be so draining? After what happened, though, I mean, I had to cover Ana’s shifts.”
    “What do you mean, ‘what happened’? Is she all right?”
    Wilson called from the doorway of room 1. “Line’s in.”
    Ethan rolled his eyes as he pushed the empty gurney toward the ambulance.
    “Jim, is Ana okay?” Jared ignored Wilson’s repeated attempts to get his attention.
    “She is, but her sister was found dead at the Aquarian last night.”
    Jared didn’t know Sydney well, but he had met her at a couple of medical community functions and knew she and Ana were very close.
    Wilson grabbed Jared by the sleeve and all but dragged him toward Stephanie’s room. “I said we’re ready .”
    The overhead page called Dorian to the ER for the third time.
    Monica shrugged and shook her head, a sign that he wasn’t answering.
    “Keep trying.” Jared turned at the sound of fast-approaching, high-heeled footsteps.
    Noreen Pafford, wearing a white lab coat over a fitted, blue dress, hurried toward him. A section of folded newspaper stuck up from her pocket and left a dark smudge where the melted snow smeared the ink. She ran her hand through her short hair and narrowed her eyes with obvious anger. “Where’s Dorian?”
    Jared, already on edge, fired back. “That’s a good question, and one I’ve been trying to have answered for the past ten minutes.”
    Noreen checked her watch. “His case got out a half hour ago.” She tapped away at the keys on her cell phone.
    Jared started a triage sheet and went into Stephanie’s room, noticing her increased heart rate on the vitals monitor.
    “Stephanie, my name is Dr. Monroe. Can you hear me?”
    The ebony-haired woman rolled her head toward him and groaned in pain. The fever had her sweating, and her hair clung to her flushed face. She appeared thin, too thin, and barely lucid.
    Noreen stormed into the room and interrupted. “Why didn’t you tell me that Stephanie Martin was the emergency?”
    “Because you’re not a doctor.” Jared pulled a penlight from his pocket and continued his examination. He’d dealt with Noreen enough to know that she didn’t believe in limitations. “Wilson, get her out of here.”
    Noreen stood her ground. “I’m not leaving until Dorian gets here.”
    “And I’m not going to ask again.” Jared turned to Wilson. “Count to three, and if she still isn’t out of here, call Security. I have a patient to treat.”

CHAPTER 11
    Dorian slipped off his surgical cap and rubbed his tired eyes. Hours under the intense operating room lights, of staring through the magnifying loupe, had a drying effect that no drops could quench.
    PACU nurses moved fluidly around the recovery room, answering the alarms of the monitors connected to a row of patients coming out of anesthesia. Emily Warren remained sedated among them.
    Dorian headed to the