The Sisterhood - Michael Palmer [46]
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m okay. Thanks,” David said, resting his chin on the counter and studying the Styrofoam cup at close range. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“I’m sorry she didn’t make it through for you,” she said.
David continued staring at the cup, as if searching for the answer to some kind of cosmic mystery.
“Potassium!” he exclaimed suddenly.
Christine, who had moved to leave the uncomfortable silence, turned back to him. “What about potassium?”
He looked up. “Something wasn’t right in there, Christine. I mean over and above the obvious. I’m probably wrong, but I can’t remember handling a cardiac arrest where I couldn’t get a flicker of cardiac activity back—even when quite a bit of time had elapsed between the arrest and the Code Ninety-nine. Shit! I wish there had been time to get a potassium level on her. Potassium, calcium—I don’t know what, but something felt like it was out of whack.”
“Can’t you get a potassium level done now?” Christine asked.
“Sure, but it won’t be much help. During the resuscitation and after death potassium is released into the bloodstream from the tissues, so the levels are usually high anyway.” He clenched his fists in frustration.
Christine felt an ache building inside her. “How could her potassium level have gotten out of line in the first place?”
“Lots of ways.” David was too distracted to notice the change in her expression. “Sudden kidney failure, a blood clot, even a medication error. It makes no difference now. I’m probably way off base anyway. Dead is dead.” He realized the anguish that she was feeling. “I … I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean that. I’m afraid the pleasant task of calling Dr. Huttner on the Cape has me a little rattled. I don’t think this is the sort of news he’d be too happy about having me save until he gets back. Look, maybe sometime we can sit and talk about Mrs. Thomas. Okay?”
Christine looked away. “Maybe sometime …” she whispered to herself.
David fished out the number Huttner had given him. After the usual hassles with the hospital switchboard operator, his call was put through. Huttner’s hello left no doubt that he had been asleep.
“Great start,” David muttered, looking upward for some kind of celestial help. “Dr. Huttner, this is David Shelton,” he said into the receiver.
“Yes, what is it, David?” Even his first words held an edge of impatience.
At that moment David knew that he should have waited until the next day to call. “It’s Charlotte, Dr. Huttner, Charlotte Thomas.” He felt as though his tongue was swelling rapidly and had already reached grapefruit size.
“Well, what about her?”
“About an hour and a half ago she was found pulseless in her bed. We worked on her, a full Code Ninety-nine for nearly an hour, but nothing. She’s dead, Dr. Huttner.”
“What do you mean you worked on her? What in the hell happened, man? I checked on her before I left this morning and she seemed stable enough.”
David had not anticipated an easy time of it with Huttner, but neither had he expected a war. His tongue passed grapefruit and headed toward watermelon.
“I … I don’t know what happened,” he said. “Maybe hyperkalemia. She had a brief period of fine fibrillation on her cardiogram, then nothing. Flat line. No matter what. Absolutely nothing.”
“Hyperkalemia?” Huttner’s tone was now more one of bewilderment than anger. “She’s never had problems with her potassium in the past.”
“Do you want me to call Mr. Thomas?” David asked finally.
“No, leave that to me. It’s what he wanted anyway.” Huttner’s voice drifted away, then picked up with renewed intensity. “What you can do for me is to get in touch with Ahmed Hadawi, the chief of pathology. Tell him there’s going to be a postmortem on this woman tomorrow. I want to know exactly what happened. If for some reason Thomas won’t consent, I’ll notify Hadawi myself that it’s off. You tell him we’ll be at the Autopsy Suite tomorrow morning at eight sharp with a signed permission from Peter Thomas. Good night.”
“Good night,” David said a minute or so after Huttner had