Nightwatch

Guy ran a hand over his face. “So you had no idea where she was? Who she was with?”

“No.”

“Tammy—”

“Wait, stop right there. Don’t you dare use that tone with me, not now. Not when…”

He listened to her weep and cursed himself for being an insensitive fool. “We should call Walter. Find out what he knows.”

She sniffed. “Yes, right. But she was really pregnant?”

“She had a baby boy.”

“Oh, God.”

“And, I’m sorry, Tammy, but he’s not doing all that well.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure, except that he has jaundice and his blood pressure isn’t stable.”

“What do you mean, you’re not sure? You’re a doctor, for God’s sake—that’s all you’ve ever cared about. And now your grandchild is ill and you don’t know why?”

Guy’s first thought was that the boy wasn’t his grandchild, but he said nothing. His second thought was that he was a complete ass. “I’m sorry. I’ve been having a tough time with this, too. I’m going from here to the NICU.”

“I’m going to call Walter. And then I’ll get on a plane. Please, Guy. You have to take care of the baby. Please.”

“Of course.”

She wept quietly for another moment. “I have to clear things with Ted. He’s got this…It doesn’t matter. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“You have my cell. Call me if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

He heard her hang up, and he listened to the dial tone for a second, then put his phone in the cradle. He had to go see the baby, make sure everything was being done to save him. A baby boy that Heather would never know. Who the hell was the father, and where had he been last night? Where had he been during the whole pregnancy?

A knock jerked him out of his thoughts and his sister, Natalie, poked her head in. “Can I come in?”

He nodded.

She stepped into his office, closing the door behind her. Six years his junior, she bore the distinctive Giroux high cheekbones and dark eyes. Natalie was a burn specialist, and their brother, Alec, worked in the E.R. with Guy. “I heard about Heather, Guy. I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Does everybody know?”

She smiled the way she did with her patients. Kind, concerned, ready to listen. “This isn’t L.A. County General, Guy. These things get around pretty fast.”

His head dropped into his hands. “She deserved better, Nat. I don’t know how it happened.”

She walked behind him and massaged his tense shoulder muscles. “Things happen, Guy. Mom—Dad. You have to believe there’s a reason.”

“Don’t get all metaphysical on me. Does Alec know yet?”

“He’s already left for Cabo with Janice and the kids. But I’ll call him. Let him know what’s going on. I know he liked Heather a great deal. We both did. She was a sweet girl.”

Guy’s throat tightened, and he had to change the subject before he made a fool of himself. His sister had recently married the city’s fire chief, Dan Egan. “How are things with you and Dan?”

Natalie walked to his side and smiled. “Really good. Thanks. In fact, why don’t you come for dinner tomorrow night?”

Guy appreciated the invitation. He liked Dan, and was happy that Nat had found herself a good man. Both his siblings had been through so much in the last year, and yet they’d come out stronger, better. In love. And he’d never felt so distant from them. “Thanks, Nat, but I’m going to stick close to the hospital. I’ll take a rain check.”

“Anytime, big brother.”

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I swear it.”

Her beeper went off. Natalie sighed, patted his still-tense shoulders and headed for the door. “You’re an incredible doctor, Guy, and a pretty decent man. I know you’ll do the right thing, whatever it is.” With a final smile, she left his office, closing the door behind her.

CALLIE BAKER SET ASIDE the damage report and her master list of what had to be done to get the hospital back to perfect working order, even though she hadn’t even started on the delegation sheet. It was time for rounds.

She knew most chiefs of staff didn’t go on master rounds, but for her it was a sacred ritual. Although she could only manage it once a week, twice if she was lucky, it was the one duty that kept her heart and her mind completely focused on who she was and what her job was all about.

Above all else, she was a doctor, and she liked to think she was a damn good one. The administrative duties would swamp her if she let them, and that wasn’t going to happen as long as she had something to say about it.

It had taken her a long time and a hard road to get where she was, and one of the key ingredients to her success was her ability to see the big picture while never losing sight of the details.

Before she left the office, she stopped in the small restroom and made sure she was put together. After a quick application of lip gloss and a readjustment of the hummingbird pin on her jacket lapel, she straightened her white coat and headed out to the front lines.

Everything went according to plan until she hit the ICU. Callie read through Bruce Nepom’s chart three times. His prognosis wasn’t good. In fact, it was a miracle that he was still breathing. His injuries had been severe, especially the cranial damage. That’s what had caught her attention. Something didn’t fit. A deep, focused trauma at the back of the skull.

She looked at the man, swathed in bandages. His blood pressure was so low as to be a hint instead of a statement, and she knew it was only a matter of time. A short time. She wondered why he was here alone.

After making a note on the chart that she wanted to be updated on his progress, Callie continued her rounds. Bruce Nepom’s injuries lingered in her mind, however. A fuzzy question that had to be answered.

RACHEL WOKE UP SUDDENLY at two-thirty from a dream. Guy Giroux had been to her house. But unlike the real event, this time he’d come in and he’d wept like a child. In her dream she’d tried to comfort him, but her own discomfort made her awkward and jerky. He didn’t seem to notice, but Rachel was beyond mortified. It was like seeing the man naked, or walking in on him making love.

Guy had a place, and it was at the hospital. He had a role, and that was as her boss. Anything that disturbed that picture was uncomfortable and to be avoided at all costs.

Only, the picture was disturbed now. Guy had lost his stepdaughter. Someone he cared about, loved. He’d been married, which Rachel had known but never thought about, and there had been a little girl in his life. It was altogether too personal.

At work, Rachel was an attending physician and little else. She listened to her staff, joked with them, even went for the occasional drink after a tough night. But she kept her private life to herself.

She’d learned early that, as a doctor, emotional objectivity was a good thing. Not that she didn’t care what happened to her patients. In fact, that’s where all her nurturing went—to the people who needed her. The truth was, she was too emotional. Things affected her deeply, and she cared way too much when confronted with pain and suffering she could do nothing about.

Rachel had been that way all her life, and it had made for a roller-coaster puberty. Her friends’ lives all became larger than life, their joys were hers to share, and their pain cut her to the core.

Her decision to become a doctor was born from a deep need to make things better. Not just for others, but for herself. She couldn’t stand feeling helpless.

In grade school she’d had a dear, wonderful friend. Molly had moved two houses down when they were both in fourth grade, and it had been love at first sight. They lived at each other’s houses, played together constantly, dreamed big dreams. Molly was like a sister to Rachel, only they fought less.