Live to Tell - Lisa Gardner [127]
Karen gaped at her. “That’s insane.”
“Twelve dead and one injured. All connected with this ward. You’re right—can’t get much more insane than that.”
“Stop it! We are not those kind of people—”
“What kind of people?” D.D. asked with interest.
“Murderers. Dr. Deaths or Angels of Doom.”
“Medical caretakers who convince themselves that their patients—i.e., their troubled young charges—would be better off dead?” D.D. volunteered helpfully.
Karen glared at her. “Myself, my staff, we are committed to healing children. Not hurting them.”
“People change.”
“No!” Karen blazed. “You don’t get it. This is a pediatric psych ward. We work as tightly together as any trauma team. And we succeed precisely because we know one another that well, we believe in one another that much. I’d trust anyone here to hand me a drink right now and I would down it without hesitation.”
D.D. waited to see if anyone would take Karen up on that offer. No one moved.
“Maybe that just proves you’re the guilty party,” D.D. said.
“I was the first to help him.”
“Maybe because you already knew something bad was going to happen.”
“How dare you! I’m a nurse—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” D.D. interrupted. “So you’ve said. Fact remains, someone drugged Lightfoot’s iced tea, and I’m guessing that someone is standing right here, unless you believe the unit’s negative energy suddenly grew a pair of hands.”
No one said a word, which D.D. took as a sign of agreement. She continued briskly: “Now, seems to me, problems here are growing bigger, not smaller. Meaning, it’s time for my team to take a crack at your team, and meaning no one’s allowed off this floor until personally cleared by a member of my squad. No trips to the cafeteria. No five-minute break to catch a smoke. Are we clear? Let’s get this party started. And candidate number one will be …” D.D. glanced around the common area, spotting her target of choice: “Gym Coach, follow me.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
Greg didn’t look happy. The big guy trailed down the hallway toward the BPD’s makeshift command center, his gaze glued to the carpet, his high-top sneakers dragging. It made D.D. feel warm and fuzzy all over. Always nice to know she wasn’t losing her touch.
Inside the classroom, Alex had set up the pizzas across one table. The scent of melted cheese, fresh-baked dough, and spicy pepperoni made D.D.’s stomach growl. There was probably something ironic about stuffing one’s face right after watching a grown man get poisoned, but D.D. was starving. Alex and several of the other guys had already dug in, munching away. They looked up with interest as D.D. closed the door behind her and Greg then headed straight for the pizza. She found the fully loaded pie and slid two cheesy slices onto a paper plate.
“Want some?” she asked Greg.
He shook his head.
“Soda, water, iced tea?”
He gave her a look. “No. Thank you.”
“I bet the food’s safer in here than out there,” she told him.
“I’m with Karen on this one,” he answered stiffly.
“Loyal to the Corps?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“’Course not. Cops. Hell, what could we possibly know about the importance of teamwork?”
The classroom door opened. Danielle walked in.
“Not your turn, chickadee,” D.D. informed her, through a mouthful of pizza. “Go back and play with your other friends.”
“Can’t,” Danielle said. “I’m on leave, right? Can’t stay out there, so Karen sent me in here.”
“Wanna talk? Fine. Alex will take you next door. Alex.” D.D. gestured to him, just as Danielle said:
“Nope.”
“Yes.”
“Nope.”
D.D. frowned, set down her paper plate, and strode over to Danielle. She stood right in the nurse’s face. Heightwise, D.D. had only an inch on the woman, but she knew how to use it. “This is a private party. Out.”
“No.”
“What the fuck is your problem?”
The nurse shifted edgily. “You. Him.” Danielle jerked her head toward Greg. “The whole fucking unit. You think you need answers? I need them even more. Meaning Greg has got to start talking.”
D.D. snapped around to glare at Greg. “Do you know what she means?”
He shook his head.
“Yes you do,” Danielle