Courting Death - Carol Stephenson [13]
Regaining her composure, Dr. Cruz nodded. “We pride ourselves on the rapid handling of patients who have passed away here. The bereaved relatives need to be able to make their arrangements. We’re quite lucky to have an efficient pathology department with Dr. Hassenfeld heading it.”
“Speaking of efficiency.” The doctor glanced at his watch. “I have a patient on his way down here from the hospice unit. I need to get ready.” He shut off the music.
“Of course. We can continue this discussion in my office.” Dr. Cruz indicated the door. Sam and I exited, followed by the two doctors.
Slipping on his coat, Dr. Hassenfeld nodded. “I hope you find the bastards who mutilated that poor little baby.” Then whistling he went down the hall, disappearing through another set of doors. Moments later, the song “War” blared out.
Dr. Cruz’s lips twitched. “Dr. Hassenfeld may be a bit unorthodox, but we’re lucky to have him.”
“I’m sure,” I said politely as I walked beside her to the main hallway. Spotting a restroom, I gestured toward it. “If you would excuse me, I’ll catch up with you. Your office number is…”
“Four twelve.”
Sam looked like he wanted to wait for me, but the administrator urged him forward, saying she had another appointment shortly.
Stepping inside the restroom, I waited a minute or two before cautiously opening the door. I glanced down the corridor and saw the elevator doors slide shut. Good.
I crept toward Hassenfeld’s office. Not once during our interview had the doctor bothered to check the files overflowing his desk for Rebecca’s chart so I was going to do it for him. Music still blasted from the examination room.
So long as his office door remained unlocked… Yes.
I stole inside. It wouldn’t be an illegal search and seizure if I’d happened to have left my medical release on this desk and in looking for it found the chart as well. I could merely point out its location and request my copy.
I went to the side closest to the door and began shuffling through the stacks. My anal nature shuddered. This was a worse mess than my partner Carling perpetually created. How people could work in such a state of chaos was beyond me. None of the folders were in alphabetical order. I paused, hearing only the throbbing beat from the radio in the other room.
Shifting to the next stack, I picked up a sheaf of documents and a pink slip fluttered free. I crouched to pick it up and saw the name Colin Depp scrawled on a phone message dated the same day Rebecca had died.
The fine hairs on my neck stirred as I sensed someone behind me. Before I could rise or stammer an explanation, blinding pain exploded in my head. I fell forward in a sea of papers.
Fighting the dizziness, I rolled over to see my attacker, but only caught a glimpse of a white sleeve before another blow sent me plunging into a dark, dreamless oblivion.
Chapter Four
A sledgehammer slammed away at the back of my head as if it hadn’t been split apart already.
While I yearned to slide back into unconsciousness, the pain demanded that I get up and take an aspirin or something stronger.
Groaning, I lifted a hand toward my forehead and hit…metal. Other aches and pains made themselves known, my back complaining about the hard surface beneath it. My eyes flew open and saw only total darkness. Where was I?
I raised both hands this time and slowly traced the cool metal surface encasing me.
Oh God. I was in a coffin. Panic shoved aside pain as the bitter taste of bile lined my mouth. My chest heaved and I struggled to breathe. I pounded my fists against the surface over my head and then pushed as hard as I could.
What was that?
I steadied my hands on the metal and this time rocked. The bottom shifted ever so slightly before rolling back. Not a coffin. The pressure in my chest eased.
Think, Nicole.
I’d been standing in Dr. Hassenfeld’s office