Timmie thought about it a minute. "I guess I am."
"How's your dad?"
She considered the question and realized she could answer it almost free of guilt. Was this all it took to free yourself of that kind of turmoil? Turn down one murder-for-hire offer? Maybe she could share this with other Alzheimer's children.
"He's okay," she said, and damn near meant it.
Barb sounded as if she were smiling. "Good. Now, how can we prove who called you?"
"How the hell do I know? Whoever it was called from Alex's office, which was locked tight when we got there, and I couldn't identify his voice again if my life depended on it."
"Fingerprints?"
"I'll suggest it to Micklind, but who says he'll be allowed to investigate? We don't have the tape with the offer on it. Besides, what do you bet Landry has the perfect alibi?"
Barb snorted in disgust. "This stuff sure looks a lot easier when they do it in the movies. Well, what about Ginny?"
"Ginny? The night operator Ginny?"
"Sure. Anybody using the doctors' lot has to punch in with his ID card. When they do, their name flashes up on the night operator's board in case she has to page them."
Timmie almost couldn't breathe. "And the administrators park in the doctors' lot?"
"You think they're gonna park with the peons? Tell you what. I'll get Ginny's number and call her."
"You get the number. I'll call. I need to know more than you do."
Ten minutes later, a sleepy but agreeable Ginny was on the phone. "Honey, what can ole Ginny do for you?"
Timmie worked very hard to keep her tone level. "Last night when I called you about Dr. Raymond's phone number?"
"Sure, sugar."
"About that time, did you notice anybody check in from the doctors' lot?"
Ginny thought about it for almost five minutes longer than Timmie could tolerate. "Couple o' OBs," she said. "We had twins this mornin', didya know?"
"No, I didn't. Anybody else?"
"You want somebody in particular?"
"Mr. Landry?"
"Aw, heck no, sugar. I woulda remembered. Last time I saw him here on nights he pulled a surprise inspection, got four people fired. He wasn't here."
"How 'bout Dr. Raymond?"
"No. Like I told you. He's been away. In fact, I saw Miss Arlington heading out to pick him up at the airport. Evidently somebody's borrowing his car."
Then he hadn't been home. He had an alibi. He was safe.
At least for that. Timmie let out her breath. She'd have her talk with him when he came to pick up the car she hadn't even used.
"But that other doctor was there," Ginny said, grabbing Timmie's attention.
Timmie gulped. "Other doctor?"
"Sure. I noticed because I didn't see his name on the board. But I saw him at the elevators about two, and I thought, why, that's the second time I've seen him in two days. You know?"
Timmie held her breath. "Who, Ginny?"
"Why, Dr. Raymond's partner. Dr. Davies?"
* * *
Timmie was still sitting in the same place ten minutes later when the doorbell rang. She almost didn't get up to answer it.
Davies had offered to kill her father? Davies was their angel of death? Timmie didn't know how to feel about that. She didn't know him well enough to feel disappointment or anger. She just wanted to know how this affected Alex. How it was going to affect the unit. She wanted to know how they were going to prove it.
The doorbell rang again. Timmie held off answering it until she made a quick call to Murphy, who wasn't there. She left the message on his machine.
"Get everything you can on Dr. Davies. I think he was the one who called me. Call me at work this afternoon."
By the time Timmie reached the front hallway, the jabs on her bell were starting to sound frantic. She thought to look through the glass in the door, and then remembered she hadn't replaced it yet. So she checked through the window and got the third or fourth surprise of her day. Talk about her work coming to her. She yanked the door open so fast her guest took a surprised step back.
"Alex," she greeted him. "Come in. You and I have to talk."
* * *
He didn't know. Timmie just couldn't believe it, even seeing the reaction set in on his lovely golden features when she told him what was happening up in his beloved unit. He really didn't comprehend the fact that those lovely old people who were dying in Restcrest weren't just filling a heavenly transportation quota.
"How could you not figure this out?" Timmie demanded, suddenly furious. "Everybody in town knows but you. And it's your unit!"
Alex Raymond sat in stunned silence on her couch. "You have to be imagining this, Timmie."
Timmie was pacing. She'd had her fill of sitting in one place for a lifetime, evidently, because suddenly she couldn't hold still. "Am I?" she asked. "Then I imagined Daniel Murphy being beaten half to death to get him to stop investigating. I imagined somebody phoning me last night who might be your partner, offering to kill my father if I'd just shut up and leave everything be. Hell, Alex, I must have imagined Victor Adkins being murdered because he believed Charlie Cleveland when he said his father had been murdered. Charlie came to you and you didn't even listen to him!"
Alex paled. Clasped his hands together. Bent his head. Timmie thought he was praying. He wasn't. He was just frozen.
"What did you think those patients were dying of?" she asked.
He didn't budge. "They were frail. They were sick. It wasn't such a surprise, Timmie."
"It was an answer to a prayer, Alex," she accused, having recited a similar version herself more than once. "It was an answer to a lot of prayers."
And it was just easier to pretend it was all okay.
God, she'd lived with that one most of her life. She just couldn't do it anymore. Not simply because her father had been threatened. Because she'd almost been seduced into killing him for her own comfort.
"There's something I don't understand, Alex," she said, standing before him. That forced a laugh from her, a short, sharp sound that made him flinch. "Hell, there are a lot of things I don't understand. But one thing in particular. I don't know Davies from Adam. And yet, he knew me. He knew my dad. He said things..." She stopped for a second, pulled herself up straight, as if that could help her reassert control. "He talked about my dad like he'd known him his whole life, Alex. How could he do that?"
Alex looked up at her, his face ashen and still. His smile, when it came, was wistful, just like it always was when he discussed her dad. "Peter Davies is my partner, Timmie. And your dad... well, you know how I feel about your dad. I talk about him all the time...." He shook his head, tentative acceptance of Timmie's words dying. "It couldn't have been Peter. It simply couldn't. And he is not committing euthanasia just to get research material. I mean, my God, what kind of man do you think he is?"
"You need to find out," Timmie said, and saw him flinch again.
She guessed Alex figured that Alzheimer's was enough reality for him in this lifetime. If he paid his dues to reality there, maybe he wouldn't have to set his feet in it anywhere else.
Well, Timmie waded hip deep in reality every time she set foot in an ER. But reality also waited outside those doors for her, just like it did for everyone else. Everyone else who wasn't Joe Leary or Alex Raymond, evidently.
"Help me, Alex," she said. "Protect the people you've spent your whole life trying to help."