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“Humor me,” Dodds said, opening a notebook. “We have a killer at large.” Again Cheryl Beth told how she had returned to the hospital for a patient and had then been summoned to Christine’s office.
“And she called you?”
“She left a message at the nurses’ station.”
“Why do that? Why not page you?”
Cheryl Beth shrugged and shook her head.
“Did you keep the message?”
A flustered sigh escaped her mouth. “No.”
She watched him closely but he said nothing. He regarded her with large brown eyes. Finally, “Why would you go into pain management? Do you have a drug problem? Does this make it easier to score?”
“No.” She tried to keep her face calm. She knew he was trying to rattle her. “I have a great record. I’ve never had drugs go missing. You can check it.”
After a long pause, Dodds said, “I have.” He raised his head and studied her anew. “Why do you wear a lab coat?”
“I get cold, and I need all the pockets.”
He fell silent for what seemed like an hour. Maybe it was five minutes. He just watched her, his eyes not quite kindly, not quite hostile. If he talked again it would seem as surprising and sudden as a stopped heart that suddenly began beating on its own.
Finally: “And it gets you more respect?”
“The coat? Maybe. I guess.”
He made a humming sound, looking at her for a long time before returning to the notebook and leafing through it. She sat back in the seat, then squirmed forward again.
“Were you wearing a lab coat on Friday night?”
She nodded.
“Is this it?”
“No.” She explained that lab coat had been smeared with blood and she threw it away in a hazmat container.
“Why would you do that?” His voice was even, but his eyes were large with suspicion. This was a man who did most of his talking through his eyes.
“It was ruined. What should I have done with it?”
“It was evidence. You should have given it to the police.”
“It would have been nice if the police had told me that.” She heard the defensiveness and stress in her voice.
He made notes—an impossibly long paragraph—and sat back studying her. He spoke after a long pause.
“So how long have you been seeing Dr. Nagle?”
“Damn it.” She spoke quietly but vehemently. “Who told…?” She stopped herself, feeling small and off balance. “We saw each other for about a year.”
“While he was married?”
“He was separated.” She sighed. “Part of that time, but, shit, sure, he was married.”
“Did Dr. Lustig know??
??
