Chapter 60
David and Diane sat in perfect silence at their ends of the telephone. Listening to the quiet hum of the line, David watched the minute hand of the bronze clock in his study make a full rotation, then another. He was running late for his morning shift.
Diane had just relayed the news of her near-rape, leaving him stunned. For the first time, the thought of Clyde elicited in David a cold, vengeful rage. The perfect dark outside his bedroom window mirrored his mood.
'I'm leaving now for the hospital,' he finally said. 'Can I come see you?'
'No. I don't want to see anyone right now.' A long pause before she spoke again, her tone more recognizable. 'You've got the night shift tomorrow, right? You can come upstairs and see me then. I'm the new permanent addition to the ninth floor. Me and a bad Monet print they hung across from the elevators.'
'And the wounds?'
'Reopened. It set me back a few days, that's for sure. Won't help with the scarring either.'
'No. No, it won't.'
'He told me to be sure to tell you about his attacking me. He's using me to threaten you. To hurt you. To get you to back off.'
'I wish more than anything he'd come after me.'
'That probably would have been less effective.'
He considered this.
'Hey, David? I know that what you found out about the study has replenished your store of empathy, but don't expect that from me. The first time, with the shower, well that was awful. But this. This was so much more personal. His smell, his dead eyes. There was nothing there behind those eyes. Nothing. He's already dead. Death masked in flesh and bones.' He heard her breathing for a moment on the other end of the line. 'I think if the police found him first and shot him, well that might be all right with me.'
'Right now,' he said, 'I'd have to agree.'
'You don't mean that.'
He wasn't sure if objecting would have been specious, so he didn't.
'With all my involvement since his escape, I don't know how much good I've done,' he said. 'It seems like I've only made things worse.'
'I guess it's better to make a mistake than do nothing. Isn't it? Isn't it?'
'Yes,' he said slowly and with little conviction.
They breathed together for a few moments.
'I'm thinking maybe I should leave things in the hands of the cops,' he said. 'They're used to this game, these stakes. I have an ER to run. If I'd just focused on that from the beginning, neither of us would be in this mess.'
'Well, you do what you have to do.' Diane sounded disappointed, though he couldn't tell if that had to do with him or the miserable position in which she'd found herself. Again. 'I have to change my wrappings. I'll talk to you later.'
He hung up the phone and felt the bitter, distinct sensation of defeat settle over him like a noxious rainfall.
The cockatoo immediately became animated when David withdrew the drape from the bronze cage, preening itself and gnawing at its black claw. Dressed in his white coat, ready for work, David regarded the bird with weary irritation.
'M amp;M's,' it squawked. 'M amp;M's. Where's Elisabeth?'
'Resurrecting the Russian economy.'
David angled the seed carefully into the cup, but some fell anyway. Grumbling to himself, he crouched and tried to pinch it up off the floor.
'Where's Elisabeth?'
David brushed his hands off above the small metal trash can in the corner. 'Leading a nudist hike on the Appalachian Trail.'
'M amp;M's,' the cockatoo squawked. David headed from the room as the bird continued to hop about the cage. 'Where's Elisabeth? Where's Elisabeth?'
David paused by the door, hand on the frame. 'She's dead,' he said.
Chapter 61
The ER was a madhouse. Broken arms. Unusual rashes. A few flu cases. Three patients asked David about the cut on his lip. Carson still hadn't returned-when David called, he got his machine. 'I wanted to check in on you and remind you we're a med student short,' David said, after the beep. 'We need you here. I hope we'll see you soon.'
David's alienation was high-school apparent. His colleagues only spoke to him in brief, informational exchanges, and the nurses and interns had taken to not meeting his eyes when they spoke with him. He'd always been a popular attending, so he'd found his rapid estrangement from his own staff over the past five days to be unsettling. With both Carson and Diane missing from the ER, he felt suddenly without allies. And the press had ensured that his plight in the division was mirrored elsewhere. Alienated. Vilified. His reputation shattered.
David barely had time to update the board before a family of five came in on stretchers after their van overturned. Don was supposed to be providing double coverage, but David had to dispatch a nurse to find him in the cafeteria. By the time Don showed up, David and the two residents had everyone stable. Without apologizing, Don retreated to the CWA, where he lounged at the back counter, checking his stocks in a twice-folded section of the LA Times. Knowing that his general stress level had stretched his own patience to the point of snapping, David elected not to confront him.
Despite his vigorous efforts, he had trouble finding his way back into his routine. He continued seeing patients, somewhat distracted, thinking of Clyde's flat eyes sunk in his doughy face, the way he'd stood in the abandoned lot and calmly watched David drive away. He was relieved that Ed planned to install security devices in his house.
The sleeplessness caught up with him eventually, making him irritable and more intolerant than usual. A wailing toddler came in with a pro wrestling action figure's head wedged up his nose. An overwrought Beverly Hills mom with tonsillitis droned on at adenoid pitch. David found himself taking less time with patients than he ordinarily did.
Jill caught up to him washing his hands in Trauma Twelve. 'That urine came back for McKenzie in Six, you've got a-'
'Slow down, Jill.'
'— food poisoning in Two, and there's a football player with a ruptured spleen in Four.'
'I have my hands full, Jill. Where's Dr. Lambert?'
'We haven't seen him for about fifteen minutes.'
'Fifteen minutes? Again? Are you kidding?'
Throwing his stethoscope across his shoulders, David stormed toward the doctors' lounge, drawing several stares from workers and patients. He flung the door open, and it struck the wall with a bang. Black marker in hand, Don was standing by the far wall near the composite of Clyde. Target rings were drawn around Clyde's face, beneath which was written: wanted dead or maimed-$1000 reward.
Don's deep blush grew visible even beneath his five o'clock stubble. He cleared his throat, lowering the marker. 'Look, Dave-'
'You've been missing from the floor for fifteen minutes-again-and I catch you drawing pictures like a sadistic little bully.'
Still flushed, Don slid the marker into his pocket. 'I didn't write that,' he said.
David felt drunk with fury. 'Don't insult my intelligence.'
'You've been a bit on edge lately, Dave. Let's not jump to hasty conclusions.'
'Get the fuck out of here.' Gripping Don firmly around the biceps, David pulled him toward the door. 'I want
