"Good," he replied. "Because I don't see you doing it, either."

Bracing herself for what she felt was the inevitable round two, she was pulled up short. Nika blinked. "You don't?"

"No."

He studied her for a long moment. The stare was known to cause people with guilty consciences to start confessing. His grandmother's attending physician, he noted, merely returned his gaze.

The only thing she was guilty of, he concluded, was invading his imagination and raising his body temperature every time he thought of that trim, supple body climbing over his.

"Should I?" he asked mildly.

"No!" Realizing she was all but shouting, Nika lowered her voice. "I mean, the thought is so ridiculous I don't see why it even has to be addressed-"

"It has to be addressed," he informed her, his tone still without any emotion, "because everyone is supposed to be a suspect until they're cleared. But don't worry-I already asked around. You were with my grandmother when Sergeant Kelly suffered his so-called heart attack. So unless you can do it by remote control, that pretty much puts you in the clear. Besides, I've seen you with my grandmother. You're not the killing type. Anyone who'd go out of their way to catch a spider in order to set it free wouldn't kill another human being."

Their eyes met. She knew that he hadn't been there when she'd removed the spider from his grandmother's room. Mrs. Baker's alarmed cry had brought her hurrying into the woman's room, only to discover that there was a spider crawling across the blanket at the foot of her bed.

Mrs. Baker had expressed surprise when, instead of killing the spider, she'd opened the window and allowed the "intruder" to glide out on a breeze. She'd obviously relayed the incident to him.

Nika breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Just following the evidence," he told her simply. "But someone apparently did kill Mr. Mayer, and by your own admission you seem to believe that he's not the only one. Who else do you think was killed-and why?"

"I can get a printout of the deaths that have taken place in the last twelve months in the Geriatrics Unit and give it to you. As to why-" Nika raised and lowered her shoulders, the motion echoing the helpless feeling she had when it came to an explanation or a motive. "I have no idea."

"Well, the list's a start." And maybe she was wrong. He'd rather believe that than think that there was a homicidal maniac running around loose in the hospital, especially since G was here. "I'm also going to want a list of anyone who's died while in the hospital in the last year."

Her eyes widened. "You think it's gone beyond just the Geriatrics Unit?"

"Maybe, maybe not. The second list can be our control group until proven otherwise." He took a breath, then asked a question that was far more personal. "By the way, how is my grandmother doing?"

She knew he'd been to see the woman last night, so what he was asking for was an update as of this morning. Something she wasn't able to give him yet. "I was just about to check on her this morning when I was summoned down here."

"Well then, let's get you back to your floor," he suggested.

She was all for that. "Oh, I think you should know," she began as they walked to the elevator, "my uncle claimed Sergeant Kelly's body and he agreed to request an autopsy."

"What's your uncle's connection to Kelly?" Cole asked.

"My uncle said Kelly trained him when he came on the force. The man doesn't seem to have anyone. So many of the people in the Geriatrics Unit don't," she added. "It's really very sad. You live your whole life working, thinking you're making a difference, and in the end, it's like n.o.body noticed."

They reached the elevator bank. Cole looked at her for a long moment. "That's pretty pessimistic for you."

So he had been paying attention, she thought, a smile springing to her lips. "Just an observation. Anyway, I told Uncle Josef what I suspected. Until now, there've been no autopsies. The bodies were either claimed by family and buried, or the city stepped in and had them cremated. Mrs. Silverman wouldn't allow me to voice my suspicions and try to get someone to give us permission to exhume a body.

"When my uncle came to claim Kelly's remains, I thought it was a chance to find out if anything was actually going on, or if all this was just a horrible set of coincidences. I was hoping for the latter, but I couldn't just go on not knowing. I have an obligation to protect my patients from any harm." She paused, waiting for him to say something.

Cole had begun to wonder if she was ever coming up for air. "Have you always been such a crusader?" The elevator arrived and they got on. Reaching past her to push the b.u.t.ton, he realized that she'd become rigid.

Probably remembering the other day, he thought. He debated rea.s.suring her that the odds of having the elevator get stuck again so soon in the same building were incredibly small, but he decided to let it go. She was smart enough to figure it out for herself. The woman, he noted almost against his will, was pretty much a total package: brains and looks. That didn't happen very often.

"Actually," she was saying, "my mother always thought of me as a rebel."

"Really?" He couldn't readily envision her in that role. She was far too much of a do-gooder. "And what is it you rebelled against?"

Nika smiled. "My mother."

Her unexpected answer made him laugh.

Nika found herself warming to the sound. There was something deep and rich in his laughter and if she hadn't known better, she would have said it wrapped itself around her.

"Sounds pretty normal to me," he told her. And normal, he added silently, was to be envied. "So tell me more about your suspicions."

The doors opened on the first floor and several people came in. Nika and Cole moved to the back of the car, but they were still crowded, pushed up against one another. She could feel her body tingling in response. She stole a side glance, wondering if he felt anything as well. Probably not.

"What do you want to know?"

He felt her drawing in a breath. Felt her body move against his and realized it was making more of an impression on him than it should have. What was it about this woman that kept getting to him? "For starters, when did you start having these suspicions?"

"Just with the last death," she confessed.

Why was she having this trouble concentrating? They were in an elevator, for G.o.d sakes. With a whole bunch of other people. Why did her skin insist on tingling like this? She forced herself to concentrate on her answer to his question.

"It didn't feel right to me. Then I remembered that we'd just lost someone a little more than two weeks ago. And there was a death the first day I came to work in this unit. I remember how hopeless it left me feeling until I snapped out of it. So I started going through the files of all the people who'd recently died in the unit. I kept going back, hoping what I saw as a trend was actually just a fluke. But it wasn't. And the number was a lot higher than the national average."

The elevator doors opened on two and, while one person got off, three others got on. Nika was forced to move even closer into Cole. It didn't go unnoticed by either of them.

Their eyes met and held and, for a moment, everything else faded away.

Cole forced his mind back on the topic. "The dead people had a lot going against them," he told her in a low voice as he pointed out the obvious. "They were old, they were sick, otherwise they wouldn't have been here, and there are more deaths among old people than in any other age bracket."

"I know all that," she insisted. "But I had this gut feeling-"

"A gut feeling," he repeated. By now, he was whispering the words into her ear because there were too many people around.

"Yes." She said the word defiantly, waiting for him to make fun of it and her. Instead, she was aware of him nodding his head. And acutely aware of the way his breath touched the side of her face. She could feel her stomach muscles contracting.

"I've always had the utmost respect for gut feelings," he told her.

Nika struggled to keep the sound of his voice from completely blotting out everything else.

Had to be the effect of riding in a crowded elevator, she silently insisted.

Or hoped.

Chapter 8.

Taking the long, slender hand in both of his, Cole stood on one side of his grandmother's hospital bed and asked, "How are you today, G?"

Though it was muted, it was difficult to miss the affection in his voice. Difficult, too, to miss the disappointment that washed over his features when he realized that his grandmother was looking at him blankly, as if she was trying to place who he was.

And then the fog must have lifted from her brain, because in the next moment Ericka Baker smiled at her grandson, however fleetingly.

It took longer for the detective's features to relax. His grandmother's dance with dementia, however temporary those moments were, was. .h.i.tting him hard, even though he said nothing.

These two were people, Nika guessed, who were part of a world where affection wasn't demonstrated, it was simply a given. And understood.

"Restless," his grandmother replied to his question. "How else would I be, sitting around and waiting?" The older woman looked at Nika. "How much longer do I have to stay here?"

"You're going to make me feel that you don't like my company, Mrs. Baker," Nika said as she secured the blood pressure cuff on the woman's arm. a.s.sured it was fastened, she began to inflate it.

"I have a life to get back to," Ericka responded sharply. She looked pointedly at her grandson, obviously seeking an ally. "And I've got canasta games waiting to be played. G.o.d knows the maid probably stripped the entire house and sold everything by now."

"You have a maid?" Nika watched as the arrow on the gauge kept rising. "I'm impressed."

"It's a housecleaning service," Cole told her. "Matilda comes by every two weeks to clean. She's been doing that for the last ten years," he said, trying to make his grandmother admit that the woman was incredibly trustworthy.

"She has nothing to clean," Mrs. Baker told her proudly. "I keep a spotless house. You're wasting your money, Coleman."

This was an old argument. "I wouldn't be if you let her do her job and stop trying to outdo her, G," he replied patiently.

Ericka raised her chin. She was nothing if not a woman of old-fashioned values. "A woman who can't clean her own house doesn't deserve one."

"You really should let Matilda do her job," Nika advised, deflating the cuff again. "It'll make your grandson feel as if he's finally able to help you, for a change. You know, paying you back for all the times you were there for him."

Ericka Baker looked from her attending physician to her grandson. Had there been no noise, Nika was fairly certain she would have been able to hear the wheels turning in the woman's head. And grinding to an abrupt halt.

Her eyebrows touched as she narrowed her eyes. "You've been telling her about us, boy?"

"I'm your attending physician, Mrs. Baker," Nika reminded her before Cole had a chance to say anything. "I ask questions, he answers. It's all confidential," she a.s.sured the woman. "Meant strictly for patient history."

Ericka tossed her head. "I'm the patient. Talk to me about my history," she instructed.

Nika shook her head with a laugh. "You are a pistol, Mrs. Baker."

"And she doesn't shoot blanks," Cole warned with just a hint of a smile. He noticed that his grandmother seemed to preen at the warning.

Despite the conversation, his grandmother didn't lose sight of what was really important to her. "So? How is it?" the older woman wanted to know. "My blood pressure. Is it low enough for you yet?"

Nika replaced the cuff where it belonged. "Not yet, but we're getting closer."

Ericka scowled. "How much are they paying you to keep my body in this bed?" she wanted to know.

Nika bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. She knew Ericka would take offense. "Not nearly enough, trust me. And if you're curious, your blood pressure is 146 over 95."

Ericka tilted her head, weighing the numbers. "It's been higher. Isn't that low enough for you?" she demanded.

Nika knew the woman was trying to intimidate her. Sorry, Mrs. Baker, I cut my teeth on Ella Silverman. And Mama. "I'm afraid it has to be lower." Her tone was firm.

Mrs. Baker frowned and looked up at her grandson. "You had to get me a stubborn doctor? You couldn't pull a more easygoing one out of the elevator?" she asked.

Nika laughed at the question. "Luck of the draw, I'm afraid. I was the only one in the elevator at the time." When she glanced in his direction, she saw that the detective was studying her. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments. Tiny shivers raced up and down her spine.

"I think she's very good for you, G," Cole told his grandmother, his voice low, patient. "She's not afraid of you. That's a plus."

Ericka sighed and then waved him out. "Go, do your police work. Be a detective. I don't need you here if you're not going to back me up."

He laughed and kissed Ericka's forehead. Nika found that the sound seemed to burrow right into her. She was going to have to find a way to block that. She was far too old to be reacting like a teenage girl with her first major crush.

"See you later, G," Cole promised.

"You bet you will," she called after him. "They'll probably shackle me to the bed next!"

Nika left the room with him, easing the door closed behind her. The sound of his grandmother's voice followed them out.

"How much longer do you think it'll be before she can have that biopsy?" he asked once they were outside in the corridor.

The blood pressure readings were going down, but not fast enough to suit any of them, Nika thought. She fully sympathized with their frustration. "At this rate, hopefully a week."

The news didn't please him. "That long? Will her insurance cover her staying here for that amount of time?"

"With the right reports filed and the extenuating circ.u.mstances spelled out, yes." She knew how iffy the health insurance world was. Apparently, so did he. "If not, Patience Memorial has provisions for senior citizens and people who don't have any health insurance to begin with." She flashed him an encouraging smile. "Don't worry, it'll be taken care of," she promised him. And then she remembered what they had talked about prior to going to Ericka's room. "Meanwhile, I need to get you that list."

At the moment, Cole had several cases pending. With his partner down and out with the flu-it had hit the man late yesterday, according to the phone call he'd gotten this morning-it felt as if his work had suddenly tripled on him rather than just doubled.

"You don't have to get it this second," he told her. "Why don't I pick it up when I swing by to see my grandmother tonight?"

That sounded good to her. So did seeing him again. G.o.d, she really was acting like an adolescent, she thought, even as she nodded.

"It's a date-" Nika stopped abruptly, realizing what she'd just said. "I mean..." Her voice trailed off as she hunted for a way to gracefully backtrack from the slip.

She kind of looked cute, fl.u.s.tered like that, he thought. Taking pity, he came to her rescue. "I know what you mean, Doctor," he said, getting her off the hook. "Besides," he added, "that isn't an entirely bad idea."

He wasn't sure which of them was more surprised to hear that, her or him. The words had just slipped out.

Nika stared at him. Was the detective actually asking her out? Had she missed something just now? "It's not?"

He liked the way her eyes widened when she was surprised. Liked, he found himself admitting, the whole package that comprised the young, eager doctor. After all, he wasn't made of stone. Only his heart was. But he found he did just fine without involving it, in the scheme of things.

"No law says that there can't be food around when you give me your input about the deceased patients," he told her. "I'm a.s.suming that the patients were your patients."