"Did you go to the boiler room yourself?" Rick asked the doctor.

"No. She was brought to me. When Booty Weyman found her, he had the sense to call for two orderlies. Scared to death." Bruce remembered Booty's face, which had been bone white.

"Well, if you won't be needing me I'll go back to my office." Jordan moved toward the door.

"Not so fast." Rick stopped him in his tracks. "I want the blueprints to the hospital. I want every single person's work schedule. I don't care who it is, doctors, receptionists, maintenance workers. I want the records for every delivery and trash removal for the last year and I want all this within twenty-four hours."

"Uh." Jordan's mind spun. "I'll do my best."

"Twenty-four hours!" Rick raised his voice.

"Is that all?" Jordan felt like he was strangling on his voice, which got thinner and higher the more nervous he became.

"No. Have you had any patients die under mysterious or unexplained circ.u.mstances?"

"Certainly not!" Jordan held his hands together.

"You would say that." Rick got right in his face.

"Because it's true. And I remind you, Sheriff," Jordan found a bit of courage to snap back, "whatever has occurred here has occurred in the bas.e.m.e.nt. There are no patients in the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"Get out." Rick dismissed him with a parting shot. "Twenty-four hours, on my desk."

"I'm glad he left before he peed his pants," Bruce snorted.

"I did not pee my pants," Harry thickly said.

"Not you, Harry. Just relax." Cooper reached for her hand.

Rick whispered to Bruce, "Do you think Harry is in danger?"

"No. Her pulse is strong. She's strong. She's going to have a tender spot on her head." He pointed to the three tiny, tight st.i.tches. "These will drive her crazy."

"The blow was that hard?" Cynthia carefully studied the wound.

"No. If it was that hard, Deputy, we'd have seen a fracture in the skull. Whoever hit her knew just how hard to hit her, which is interesting in and of itself. But the skin on the skull is thin and tears quite easily. Also, as you know, the head bleeds profusely. If I hadn't st.i.tched up what was a relatively small tear, the wound would have seeped for days. She might scratch it, infecting it or tearing it further. Something like this doesn't throb as much as it stings and itches." He smiled warmly. He had a nice smile, and it was a pity he didn't smile more often.

"Do you have any idea what she was doing here? Did she mention coming to the hospital at the meeting?" Cynthia asked.

"No."

Rick sighed, a long, frustrated sigh. "Mary Minor Haristeen can be d.a.m.ned nosy."

"Drugs." Harry tried to raise her voice but couldn't.

"What?" Cooper bent low.

"Drugs. I bet you someone is stealing drugs."

Bruce sighed. "It's as good an explanation as any other." He rubbed his hands together.

"I'd like to keep her here overnight for observation."

"I'll bring her home and stay with her," Cynthia declared.

"You said she was in no danger." Rick, understanding Cynthia's concern, stared at Bruce.

Bruce cupped his chin in his hand. "From a medical point of view, I don't think she is. She might suffer a bit of dizziness or nausea. Occasionally vision will be impaired. Again, I don't think the blow was that hard."

"She has a hard head." Rick smiled ruefully.

"You got that right, Sheriff." Bruce smiled back at him.

18.

"Ow." Harry touched her st.i.tches as Cynthia Cooper drove her home in her own truck.

As they walked through the kitchen door the two cats and dog ran up to their human, all talking at once. She knelt down, petting each one, a.s.suring them that she was fine.

"We can skip breakfast, Mom, if you feel punk," Tucker volunteered.

"No, we can't." Pewter meowed so loudly that Cynthia laughed, walked over to the kitchen counter, and opened a can of food.

"I'll do that."

"Harry, sit down. I can feed the cats and dog."

"Thanks."

Mrs. Murphy, now on Harry's lap, licked her face. "We were scared. We didn't know where you were."

"Yes, don't leave us. You need a brave dog to guard you." Tucker's lovely brown eyes shone with concern.

Harry rose to make a pot of coffee. Mrs. Murphy walked beside her.

"Sit down. I'll do it." Cynthia laughed to herself. Harry had a hard time accepting help. "Besides, I need to know what happened and your full concentration is necessary."

"I can concentrate while I make the coffee."

"All right." Coop put out the food as Pewter danced on her hind legs.

She then put down Tucker's food.

"Thank you." Tucker dove in.

"Okay. I went to the G.o.d's Love meeting. Regular cast of characters. On the way home I thought, why not cruise the hospital." Harry noticed Mrs. Murphy sticking to her like glue. "Murphy, I'm fine. Go eat." The tiger cat joined Pewter at the food bowl.

"I'm with you so far." Coop smiled, wondering how Harry would explain nosing around the bas.e.m.e.nt.

"Well, I zipped into the parking lot and I don't know, the idea occurred to me that I might go around the back. I did that and then, uh, no one was around so I thought, 'Why not just take a peek?' I wasn't being ghoulish. I just wanted to see the room where Hank was killed."

"What time was this?"

"Um, eight-thirty or nine."

"Go on." Cynthia began frying eggs.

"Okay. I parked the truck. I got out. The door was unlocked. I opened it. Boy, the lights are dim down there. Cheapskates. Well, I walked down the hall. I pa.s.sed a closed door on my right and up ahead, a wash of light spilled out onto the hallway and I heard voices. Low. Sounded like men's voices. I froze. I couldn't hear too much because I was outside the boiler room. Anyway, I kind of slid down, peeked into the room and no one was there. They left but I don't know how. I mean I noticed doors in there but I didn't hear any open or close. I tiptoed over to the chalk marks for Hank's body. Not much of them left. I knelt down and I looked over to the wall. At least I think that was the wall where the blood splashed. The light is pretty good in the boiler room. There's discoloration on that wall. I started to get up and-that's all I remember."

"Whoever hit you, hit you hard enough to knock you out but not hard enough to do damage, real damage. That tells me something."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Coop slid the eggs onto a plate Harry handed to her. "Either your a.s.sailant is a medical person who knows his stuff, or your a.s.sailant knew you and didn't want you dead. Or both. Everyone who knows you knows you can't resist a mystery, Harry. But the fact remains that the a.s.sailant was merciful, if you can stand the term, given your st.i.tches."

"Ah." Harry hadn't thought of that, but then she hadn't had time to think of anything.

"Merciful, h.e.l.l," Tucker growled. "Wait until I sink my fangs into his leg."

"I'll scratch his eyes out," Mrs. Murphy hissed.

"I'll regurgitate on him," Pewter offered.

"Gross!" Mrs. Murphy stepped back from the food bowl as Pewter pretended to gag.

"Ha ha," Pewter giggled.

"Lot of talk around here," Harry teased her animals.

Coop, now sitting at the table, leaned across it slightly. "Harry, just what in the h.e.l.l did you think you would find?"

Harry put down her fork, her eyes brightened. "I asked myself-what goes on in a hospital? Life or death. Every single day. Right?"

"Right." Coop shook pepper on her eggs.

"What if there is an incompetent doctor or technician? One false move on the anesthesiologist's part and-" She snapped her fingers to signify the patient dying instantly. "One misapplied medication to a critically ill patient or one angel of death." Noticing Coop's noncomprehension she hastened to explain. "A nurse who wants to ease patient suffering or who decides old people can just die and get out of the way. There are hundreds of secrets at a hospital and I would imagine hundreds of potential lawsuits. We all know doctors cover for one another."

"Yes." Cynthia thoughtfully chewed for a moment. "But given that they have to work together and cooperate closely, I suppose that's natural. Cops cover for one another, too."

"But you see where I was heading. I mean what if there's a problem person, an inadequate physician?"

"I understand. I'm still trying to link this to Hank Brevard."

"Yeah, me, too. The head of maintenance wouldn't exactly be in the know if the problems were medical." She paused. "Unless he had to hide evidence or bury it or he was stealing drugs."

"Be pretty d.a.m.n hard to cart a body or bodies out of the hospital. Or down into the bas.e.m.e.nt. Now, drugs, that's another matter."

"Then, too, people do just fall into things. Pop up at the wrong place at the wrong time." Harry jabbed at her eggs.

"True."

"Or maybe Hank had a problem. Gambling. Just an example. They nailed him at work. It might not have anything to do with the hospital but I think it does. If he owed money I'd think a killer would shoot him somewhere else. There are easier ways to get rid of somebody than the way he was killed."

Coop reached for the toast. "That's what I think, too. Rick isn't saying much. But we're all traveling down the same path."

"I even thought it might have something to do with harvesting body parts. A patient dies. Okay, now how would the family know if the liver or kidneys have been removed?"

"The undertaker would certainly know if there'd been an autopsy but-he wouldn't necessarily know if any body parts or organs had been removed."

"If the family requests an autopsy, and most do, it would be so easy. And in some hospitals aren't autopsies a matter of course?"

"I don't know. They aren't in Crozet." Coop tapped her fork on the side of the plate, an absentminded gesture.

"Let's go with my thesis. Organs. A healthy kidney is worth five thousand dollars. In any given week a hospital the size of Crozet, a small but good place, will have, I would think, at least three people die with healthy organs. I mean that's not far-fetched. A black market for body parts."

"No, I guess it isn't far-fetched. We can clone ourselves now. So much for reproduction." Her light eyes twinkled.

"Don't worry. Old ways are the best ways."

The two women laughed.

"Where to hide the organs before shipping them out?" Cynthia knew how Harry thought.

"I've seen those containers. They're not big. They're packed with dry ice. They'd be pretty easy to stash away in the bas.e.m.e.nt. A nurse or doctor might find that kidney upstairs but who goes into the bas.e.m.e.nt? Hank was in on it. The key is in the bas.e.m.e.nt. Maybe it really was part of the Underground Railroad once. There'd be lots of places to hide stuff in then."

"Well, it's a theory. However, I don't think organs last very long. And donor types need to match. Still, it's something to investigate."

"And I can help."

"There she goes again." Tucker shook her head.

"What I want from you is: keep your mouth shut. Don't you dare go back into that hospital without me. Whoever hit you knows you, I think. You show up again and the blow might be-" Coop's voice trailed off.

"Is Rick mad at me?"

"Of course. He'll get over it."

"Who found me?"

"Booty Weyman, new on the job. Poor kid. Scared him half to death."

"Who st.i.tched me up?"