harried.
Still, many paused for brief gestures of caring toward the patients-a touch or a word. And within the shadows surrounding their eyes was a snap and intelligence that made Laura feel she would enjoy working with these people. Several of the letters of inquiry she had sent out were to programs in physical therapy and rehabilitation. At that moment, heading her life in that direction felt right. Perhaps after she had found Scott…
'No luck.'
'Huh?' The emergency ward clerk was standing beside her. 'Oh, I'm sorry. I guess my mind was wandering.'
'I understand,' the man said. 'I've been working here almost twenty years now, and sometimes I still find myself hypnotized by the whole thing. But I'm afraid there's no record of your brother ever having been here- inpatient or out. I checked both names on that poster of yours.'
Laura stood.
'I really appreciate your help,' she said. 'Do you think you could put up the posters anyhow? I'm pretty desperate to find him.'
'I can show the picture around. But posting things out here is against hospital regs unless they're approved by- Wait a minute. The place you really want to put this up is in the residents' lounge. If anyone would remember seeing him, it would probably be one of the residents.' He turned and called across to one of the doctors. 'Eric.
Hey, Eric. Got a second?'
The doctor seated at a desk near the triage nurse turned and looked over at them. Of aD those Laura had been watching, he was perhaps the most interesting, and, she acknowledged as he rose and came toward them, the handsomest as well. He was tallsix feet or a bit more. His face was dark and sharpfeatured, reminding her a bit of Omar Sharif.
And although Laura usually disliked moustaches, his seemed right. But what had impressed her most about the man were the little things she had watched him do with the patients-the warm smiles and reassuring touches.
'Eric,' the clerk said. 'I think you might be able to help this woman here. Miss..
'Enders,' Laura spoke up. 'Laira Enders.'
'This here's Dr. Najarian. He's our chief resident, and the best doc I've seen come through this place.
I'll leave you with him.'
'Thank you,' Laura said.
The clerk looked from one to the other of them.
Then his mouth turned up in a quick, knowing smile before he headed back to his post.
Eric Najazian reached out and shook her hand.
'Pleased to meet you,' he said.
Laura was staring at his face, and actually missed a beat in her response. His eyes were wide and dark and held a special attraction for her. And in the moments that followed, she realized why. They were like Scott's,eyes, at once sensitive and intense; eyes that spoke of caring and of wanting to know.
'I… um… I'm looking for my brother,' she managed to say.
'Is he lost?' Eric asked.
'What. I mean yes. I mean he's missing.' Sensing her cheeks beginning to redden, she quickly thrust a poster at him. 'I flew up here three days ago to try and find him.'
'From where?'
Eric continued studying the photo of Scott. For a moment Laura thought she saw something in his eyes-a flicker of recognition. Then, just as quickly, the look disappeared.
'Little Cayman Island,' she said. 'It's in the Caribbean.'
'I know. Just south of Cuba. The best diving in the world, I hear. You dive?'
'As a matter of fact, I'm an instructor. That's what I do there.
Do you dive?'
'I wish. In fact there are a whole bunch of things I wish I had time to do-or at least try.'
'I was watching you with the patients a while ago. Believe me, you do plenty.'
'Thanks.'
I.For a second there, I thought you recognized Scott's picture.
Did you?'
Eric shook his head. 'Something about his face is familiar, but nothing really clicks. I'll be happy to post this in the residents'lounge, though.'
'I'd appreciate that.'
'Where are you staying?'
Before Laura could answer, a young resident came racing up to them.
'Eric,' he said breathlessly, 'that GI bleeder in Four has really opened up. The stuff's pouring out of him, and his pressure's beginning to drop.'
Instantly, the softness in Eric's eyes vanished.
'Is blood off?' he asked.
'Off, but not cross-matched for another twenty minutes.'
'What is he?'
'B-negative-I, 'Jesus. Okay. Have them continue the crossmatch and send up three units of type-specific. use O-negative if they're short.
I'll sign for them.'
'You coming back there?'
The resident hurried off.
'Look,' Eric said, 'I've got to go. Let me leave you with someone who can help. Come on.'
Before Laura could tell him not to bother, he had led her to a nurse who was standing across the receiving area.
'I've got trouble in Four,' he said. 'Do me a favor and see what you can do to help this woman out. Nice to have met you, Laura. Good luck with your brother.'
'Thank you,' she said. But he had already hurried Off.
The nurse, a woman in her early fifties, watched him go, and then turned to Laura.
'Now then,' she said. 'I'm the shift supervisor here. My name's Norma Cullinet. How can I help you?'
It was all Norma Cullinet could do to maintain a la4;made of detachment and to concentrate on what Laura Enders was saying. Her hands were shaking so, that at one point the fliers she held in them actually began to rustle.
'What did you say your brother did for a living?' she asked.
'Computers. Scott's a computer genius. He works-I should say worked-for an international communications company. He traveled a lot in his work. The last time I heard from him was in February.
The last card he sent me and the few before it were mailed from Boston.
I'm leaving these all around the city, including the police stations and hospitals.'
'I see… Well, I'll be happy to put one of them up for you in our nurses' lounge.'
'That would be great. Dr. Najarian also suggested the residents' lounge. Do you think you could tack one up there as well?'
'Of course.' Najarian. He was on that day. He handled the Code 99!
'Thanks a lot. You've all been great.'
'No problem,' Norma Cullinet said. 'No problem at all.'
'Well, I'm off to canvass some computer stores,' Laura said.
'I wish you luck.'
Norma turned away as Laura was leaving, and then turned back to be sure she had gone. She stared at the face on the flier. Computer genius?
With a sister?
How could that be? The man with this face was a burn with no family. A wino. Perhaps she was wrong, though. It had been several months, and the snapshot wasn't all that clear. Perhaps it was coincidence-a marked similarity but nothing more. 'Two years, and dozens of cases without a hitch. Now this.
