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“There are four tablets here,” Jillian murmured as she stared down at the Percocet. “A week ago, there were twelve tablets of percocet missing from the narcotic cabinet.”
Twelve? Alec forced his attention to the facts she was providing. “So it's not just a couple of pills here and there?”
Jillian shook her head. “No. The time frame from when the drugs were restocked until the time they were noticed missing was almost three hours. At first the nurses thought the pharmacy tech who'd stopped the drawer had miscounted, entering the wrong amount of medication being placed in the drawer by mistake. But when they questioned him, he was adamant he had not made an error. Their nurse who signed off on the tech who’d stocked the drawer also verified the medication was there. A few people went into the machine for medication, but then cancelled their transactions. Management thinks maybe one of those nurses went in to take the pills and didn't record it, but the nurses involved swore they didn't take them and there's no proof any of them did.” She shrugged. “For now, the administrators are downloading information from the computer every day, watching for more trends.”
“The narcotics are locked in a computerized system?” He grabbed that tidbit of information.
“Yes.”
Interesting. He would have loved to see the machine for himself, but that would have to wait. He took a small notebook out of his pocket. “What are the names of the nurses who cancelled their transactions?”
She hesitated. “I really think you should get the information from hospital administration. For all we know someone may have gotten the password of one of these nurses. They could be innocent.”
“Okay, then, I'll take a list of all the nurses who are working that day.”
Jillian looked apologetic. “The emergency department nurse manager, Rose Jenkins, gathered all the information together for the risk management department. I don't have the list, you'll have to get it from her.” His concern must have shown on his face, because she quickly added, “I'd like to help you, Alec, truly. But I really need clearance from hospital administration. There is always a risk manager on call.” His nerves tingled when her fingertips brushed against his in the process of handing the evidence bag back to him. “I have to admit, I don’t believe this is a coincidence.”
No, he didn't believe in coincidences either. As Jillian toyed with her pen, his two-way radio let out a squawk. His partner was no doubt trying to figure out what had happened to him.
He spoke quietly into the speaker and then stood. Jillian—no, Dr. Davis, he quickly amended—glanced up at him. “You need to go?”
“I'm afraid so.” He didn't bother to hide the pang of regret. “Would you mind if I called you tomorrow? Are you working?”
“I'm not working but you can always page me, there’s a pager app on our phones now and I carry it twenty-four/seven.” Jillian rose to her feet and handed him a slim, white business card. “Give me a few hours tomorrow morning to speak with the administrator on call. I'll do my best to help you.”
“Sure, that would be great.” He stared at the number on the embossed card, understanding her commitment to her job was as deeply ingrained as his. Was she married? Did she have children, too? For some reason, and not just her ringless fingers, he did not think so. “Thanks again, Dr. Davis.” He moved toward the door.
“Alec?” The husky way she said his name sent goosebumps down his arms.
“Yes?” He turned toward her, stealing himself against the surge of awareness.
“Please, call me Jillian.” Her smile held a note of uncertainty.
Despite his efforts to keep his distance, warmth seeped through his chest at her request. “Pretty name, Jillian. It suits you.” He couldn't help grinning when she blushed. He slid her card into his breast pocket. “I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
He flashed her one last smile, before walking outside to meet his partner. Deep down, he was looking forward to seeing Jillian again.
Work related or not.
* * *
Jillian got up earlyas she usually did and went for a three-mile run. At least her legs seem to be working all right, no sign of weakness there. Afterwards she paged the hospital administrator on call. After she showered and changed, she stood and stared at her closet, desperately searching for something to wear.
When she realized what she was doing, dressing in anticipation of Alec's phone call, she turned away from the dressy clothes and grabbed a pair of comfortable jeans paired with a casual short sleeved T-shirt, her normal attire for her days off.
She probably wouldn't see Alec anyway, unless the hospital administrator returned her call soon. Over an hour had passed and she hadn't gotten a response yet. Likely, she wasn't going to be able to help him after all.
She hoped Alec wouldn't be upset with her. Although why she cared was a mystery. It wasn't as if she was going to see him on a regular basis or anything. Would she? Her heart gave an expectant leap until she squashed the sensation with cold hard common sense. No, of course not. Their paths wouldn't likely cross again.
The tingling sensation returned to her fingers. She stopped in her tracks and stared accusingly at her right hand. The numbness and tingling came and went without warning. Her initial doctor's appointment had been almost six weeks ago. The neurology specialist, Dr. Juran, had ordered a broad-spectrum lab panel, and thankfully the results had come back normal. When her symptoms hadn't returned right away, she'd put off scheduling her MRI scan. Until Dr. Juran had called again, urging her to get it done.
She'd had the MRI yesterday. She'd logged into her computerized medical record but hadn't seen any results. Then she'd called the clinic and had been told the results wouldn't be available until Monday.
Dr. Juran had been noncommittal when she'd asked him about multiple sclerosis. Her mother had suffered from the autoimmune disorder. In the beginning, Angela Davis hadn't suffered much impact from the disease. Yet over time she had grown weaker and weaker until she finally hadn't been able to take care of herself. Since Jillian’s father had died of a heart attack when she'd been in her early twenties, Jillian had been left to be the sole provider of care for her mother, until Angela had finally passed away as well.
Jillian caught her lower lip between her teeth. Dr. Juran had explained that MS wasn't hereditary so she needed to stop making herself crazy by thinking she had the same disease as her mother.
