For a while Cassi lay in her bed watching the sky change from pale orange to a silvery violet. She wasn’t sure why Thomas was being so nice to her.
But whatever the reason, Cassi was infinitely thankful.
As the sky finally became dark, Cassi began to wonder how Robert was doing. She didn’t want to call in case he was still asleep. Instead she thought she’d run up there and see for herself.
The stairwell was conveniently opposite her room, and Cassi climbed quickly to the eighteenth floor. Robert’s door was closed. She knocked quietly. A sleepy voice told her to come in.
Robert was awake but still groggy. In response to Cassi’s question, he assured her that he had never felt better. His only complaint was that his mouth felt like a hockey game had been played in it.
“Have you eaten?” asked Cassi. She noticed the computer printout had been moved to his night table.
“Are you kidding?” asked Robert. He held up his arm with his IV. “Liquid penicillin diet for this guy.”
“I’m having my surgery in the morning,” said Cassi.
“You’re going to love it,” said Robert, his eyelids resisting his attempts to keep them open.
Cassi smiled, squeezed his free hand, and left.
The pain was so intense Thomas almost cried out. He’d stumbled against the antique trunk Doris kept at the foot of her bed. He was searching for his underwear in the dim light.
Deciding he didn’t care if he did wake her up, he switched on the lamp.
No wonder he hadn’t been able to find his shorts. She’d thrown them all the way across the room, where they had caught on one of the knobs on her bureau.
After finding all his clothes, Thomas switched off the light and tiptoed into the living room, dressing rapidly. Being as quiet as possible, he let himself out. When he reached the street, he checked his watch. It was just before 1:00 A.M.
He went directly to the surgical locker room, took off the clothes he’d just put on, and donned a scrub suit. Walking down the corridor, he paused outside the one OR that was in use. He tied on a mask and pushed through the door. The anesthesiologist told Thomas that the patient had suffered a dissecting aneurysm following a catheterization attempt that afternoon.
One of the staff abdominal surgeons was the attending on the case. Thomas went up behind him.
“Tough case?” asked Thomas, trying to see into the incision.
The doctor turned around and recognized Thomas. “Awful. We haven’t determined yet how far up the aneurysm goes. May extend into the chest. If it does, you’d be a Godsend. Will you be available?”
“Sure,” said Thomas. “I’ll probably catch a little sleep in the locker room. Give me a call if you need me.”
He left the OR and wandered back down the hall to the surgical lounge.
Three nurses who’d just finished a case were taking a break there. Thomas waved at them and continued on to the locker room.
Cassi’s evening had passed pleasantly enough. She’d given herself her insulin, eaten a tasteless dinner, showered, and watched a little television. She’d tried to read her psychiatry journal but finally had given up, realizing she could not concentrate. At ten o’clock she’d taken her sleeping pill, but an hour later she was wide awake trying to analyze the consequences of Robert’s findings. If there really was sodium fluoride in Jeoffry Washington’s vein, then someone in the hospital was a murderer. Given the fact that she would be coming back from the OR tomorrow groggy and helpless, it was not surprising the thought kept her from sleeping.
She was restlessly turning from side to side in the dark when she heard a sound. She wasn’t positive but she thought it had been the door.
Cassi lay on her side, holding her breath. There were no more noises, but she felt a presence as if she were no longer alone in the room. She wanted to roll over and look, but she felt irrationally terrified. Then she heard a very definite noise. It sounded like a glass object touching her night table. Someone was standing directly behind her.