Saving Meghan(38)

The woman with the burgundy scrubs hurriedly typed something into the computer. “I’m sorry,” the woman said, sending Becky a sidelong glance. “But we don’t have a Meghan Gerard here.”

Becky’s pulse started racing, and even Carl began to show some real concern.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Of course she’s here.”

Burgundy Scrubs shook her head. “No, I just checked. She may be at White, but she’s not here in the ER.”

Becky’s heart plummeted into her stomach. Carl got out his phone.

Becky glared at him hard. “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling … I’m calling the hospital,” he said, stammering. “I’m trying to find her.”

“We are in the hospital,” Becky snapped at him. Turning to Burgundy Scrubs, Becky shouted: “Where is my daughter!”

Becky’s outburst caught the attention of an armed security guard standing nearby. He hurried over. As he approached, Carl moved away, still with his phone pressed to his ear.

“A doctor at your hospital brought my daughter to the ER, and now she’s missing,” Becky told the guard. It terrified her to think Meghan could be anywhere in the massive White Memorial Hospital complex. With so many buildings, a person could vanish here and never be heard from again.

“When did you last see your daughter?” the security guard asked.

“When Dr. Nash took her away from us over three hours ago,” Becky said, her tone asking: Where could she be?

Searching for Carl, Becky spied him as he slipped out of view into the adjacent hallway. She went that way, hands on her hips, taking shallow breaths to force back a tide of rising panic. She stopped halfway to the hall.

“Meghan!” Becky called out, spinning in a circle like a mother who’d lost her child on the playground. “Meghan, baby, are you here? It’s Mom. Where are you, sweetheart?”

The security guard approached again, but this time his expression was more severe. “Ma’am, you need to calm yourself.”

Becky whirled to face him. “You need to help me find my daughter.”

She was bewildered, bathed in sweat. People were coming toward her now, all looking a bit uneasy, as if they were approaching a wild horse. She pulled at her hair as if that could calm the canter of her heart. Every fiber in her being told her something was dreadfully wrong.

“You have no right to keep her from me!” The shrillness of Becky’s voice startled even her.

From the direction where Carl had gone, two additional armed security guards entered the ER. Patients and their worried families began poking their heads out from behind curtains. Becky resisted the urge to go into each of those bays.

“Which doctors were treating your daughter?”

Doctors, thought Becky. That’s right. What’s the name of that other doctor Nash mentioned? And where the hell is Carl? Becky would address him later. She searched her mind, and eventually the name came to her.

“Dr. Peter Levine,” she said.

Burgundy’s eyes lit up. “I know Peter,” she said with a smile that brought Becky a measure of calm. “He’s a child psychiatrist here.”

Becky felt the air leave her lungs. “He’s what?” Alarm bells rang loudly in her ears.

“He’s a staff child psychiatrist. Works in the Behavioral Health Unit. I can give you directions there.”

Becky vigorously shook her head. “No … no … she came here to have a medical procedure. It was an emergency exam.” Becky cupped her hands over her mouth again and started to pace. “I shouldn’t have let her go.… I should have asked for more details … but … I thought, I thought…” She stopped and looked Burgundy Scrubs in the eyes as though she were a confidant. “I trusted her.”

And it was true. When she got the second doctor’s name, Becky had assumed he was a GI specialist, same as Nash. And Nash was the one in charge. She was the one Becky had to know about, not Levine. Becky’s thoughts had been so fogged with fear, a certainty that it was cancer, stress eclipsing her disciplined approach, that in an unforgivable lapse of protocol, she had lost sight of the other doctor involved.

Just then, Carl appeared, but he was not alone. Nash was with him, as was a man Becky did not recognize. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a finely coiffed mane of silver hair and swarthy good looks that would make him stand out in almost any crowd. He wore a well-tailored blue suit, and his shoes were shined to a mirrored finish. She figured this was Dr. Levine.

Becky sighed with relief. She shifted her gaze over to Carl and noticed his grave expression. Fear wormed into her gut again.

“Who is that with Dr. Nash?” Becky asked Burgundy Scrubs.

“That’s Knox Singer. He’s the hospital CEO.”

Singer, not Levine, thought Becky. What the hell is going on?

Carl worked his way through the small crowd of people gathered around Becky. He took hold of Becky’s arm, pulling her in close. His touch, the familiar lemony scent of his aftershave, brought her no comfort.

“They want to speak with us in private,” Carl whispered in her ear. “There’s a serious problem.”





CHAPTER 18


Crammed into a room off the ER, Becky, Carl, Dr. Nash, and Knox Singer sat at a round table facing each other. Becky wondered if this was the place doctors retreated to when they had to break bad news. The framed pictures of ships at sea looked cheap enough to grace the walls of a second-rate motel. Equally cheap lighting made everyone look washed out and slightly ghoulish. The tight quarters forced Becky into close proximity with a woman she wanted to pummel with her fists.