Scratchgravel Road (Josie Gray Mysteries #2)(63)

She pulled her head back and frowned in surprise. “You think he was over-radiated?”

“Not from a hospital. He worked at the Feed Plant. He was on the cleanup crew.”

Sheila grimaced. “The old nuclear weapons plant?”

“We’re concerned he may have been poisoned at the plant, but it’s all conjecture,” Josie said.

“Have you had any community members with strange wounds, or ailments that you can’t explain?” Otto asked.

“Honey, people would be amazed at some of the strange things that can’t be explained in here. But, outside of one patient, I haven’t had any kind of sores like you’re describing.” She stood from the table and pulled a manila folder out of a filing cabinet behind her desk. She sat down and rifled through the folder and laid a photograph in between Josie and Otto. “Is this what you’re referring to?”

They both nodded. Josie was certain they were looking at Juan Santiago’s arms in the picture. She also knew HIPPA laws would prevent Sheila from confirming Santiago’s identity.

Josie glanced at the photo and asked, “Can you tell me when this patient was seen?”

Sheila looked at the folder again. “The patient came in last Wednesday afternoon. I dressed his wounds and asked him to come back on Friday to let me reexamine him. I hoped to see him again, but you never know.”

“Why not?” Otto asked.

She laid the folder down and crossed her arms on the table in front of her. “We see some people on a weekly, almost daily basis. Some of them are old and don’t have any other contact with people. Some are lonely or social misfits. They just need to interact with people. Then there’s the other side of the spectrum. There’s a group of people who so mistrust us that they would choose death over receiving proper care. They associate us with the government, and they figure we’re out to get them.” She lifted both shoulders and turned her palms up. “What can you do?”

“Obviously the patient we’re referring to was in the second group,” Josie said.

“Hard to say. He was very nervous. I tried to reassure him. Tried to make him feel comfortable, but it didn’t work. It was as if he thought the police would bust in the doors at any minute to cart him off to jail.”

“Or back to Mexico,” Otto said.

“I hate to admit it, but I think the pictures I took—only of his arms—freaked him out.” She squinted at Josie as if feeling guilty. “But that’s standard for anything we fear might be communicable.”

“What was your diagnosis?” Josie asked.

Sheila grinned. “You know I can’t tell you that. Nice try though.”

Josie smiled in return. “Have you filed any reports to the CDC in the past month?”

She put a finger in the air. “That I can tell you.” She stood again and rifled through her filing cabinet, and then laid a paper in front of Josie. “That’s the CDC list of Nationally Notifiable Infectious Conditions for this year. We only report to them confirmed cases. Mystery diseases, like what we saw last week? There’s nothing to report.”

There was a quick knock, then the receptionist opened the door and stood back as Mitchell Cowan entered.

“Afternoon,” Cowan said. “My apologies for being late.”

Sheila stood and scooted a chair out for Cowan, who eased his considerable weight into the chair and sighed heavily as he hit the seat. Josie noticed Sheila smiling fondly at Cowan and wondered if there might be some interest outside of work.

“You look like you need a shot of caffeine. Can I get you coffee?” Sheila asked.

He looked up from the briefcase he was opening in front of him and smiled, although it was a sad, tired look. “That would be wonderful.”

Sheila bustled out of the room and Cowan said, “I assume you’ve got her up to speed.”

“We gave her the basics on Santiago. She showed us pictures of a man that was examined last Wednesday here at the clinic.” Josie slid the picture over to Cowan, who glanced at it and scowled. “She couldn’t provide much information, other than she didn’t have any idea what the sores were caused by.”

“And, she tried to convince him to come back for followup, but he didn’t come back,” Otto said. “She said that he seemed afraid, or at least mistrustful.”

Sheila came back in and placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of Cowan. Josie was glad to see the cream in the coffee. She had known how to fix the drink without asking.

Cowan thanked her and opened a small laptop in front of him. His expression turned grim. “This morning I talked to a contact at the CDC who is quite knowledgeable about radiation diagnosis and treatment. He’s sending us help tomorrow. We need to get a radiation assessment of the body, my lab, and each one of us. We’ll need to include Cassidy and Danny as well.”

Josie and Otto both looked at him in surprise. “What does that mean?” she asked.

Cowan pulled up notes on his computer and read from them. “Here’s the crux of it. From what I was able to provide the CDC this morning, the scientist I spoke with confirmed a strong possibility of acute radiation syndrome. Considering the speed with which Santiago died, there is a chance he was hit with a massive dose.”

Josie broke out in a cold sweat. “We stood right over the body and examined it. Are we in similar danger?”