When he was ready to leave, Angela asked him if he was planning on taking the brick.
"Hadn't planned on it," Bill said.
"What about fingerprints?" Angela asked.
Bill's eyes went from Angela to David and then back to Angela. His face registered surprise and confusion. "Fingerprints?" he asked.
"What's so surprising?" Angela asked. "It's possible at times to get fingerprints from things like stone and brick."
"Well, I don't know if we'd send something like this to the state police," he said.
"Just in case, let me get you a bag," Angela said. She disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned she had a plastic bag. Turning it inside out, she reached down and picked up the brick. She handed the bag to Bill.
"There," Angela said. "Now you people are prepared if you happen to decide you want to try to solve a crime."
Bill nodded and went out to his cruiser. Angela and David watched it disappear down the driveway.
"I'm losing confidence in the local police," David said.
"I've never had any," Angela said.
"If Robertson is the only person you spoke to about Hodges today, it makes me wonder who's responsible for this brick coming through our window."
"Do you think the police might have done it?" Angela asked.
"I don't know," David said. "I can't believe they'd go that far, but it makes me think they know more than they're willing to say. Officer Bill certainly wasn't excited about the incident."
"I'm beginning to think this town is not quite the Utopia we thought it was," Angela said.
David went out to the barn and cut himself a piece of plywood to fit over the hole in the bay window. When he returned to the house, Angela was eating a bowl of cold cereal.
"Not much of a dinner," he said.
"I'm surprised I'm hungry at all," Angela said.
She accompanied him into the living room and watched him struggle to open the stepladder.
"Are you sure you should be doing this?" she asked.
He flashed her an exasperated look.
"You haven't told me about your day," Angela said as David climbed up the ladder. "What about Jonathan Eakins? How's he doing?"
"I don't know," David said. "I'm not his doctor anymore."
"Why not?" Angela asked.
"Kelley assigned another doctor."
"He can do that?"
"He did it," David said. He tried to align the piece of plywood, then get a nail out of his pocket. "I was furious at first. Now I'm resigned. The good part is that I don't have to feel responsible."
"But you will still feel responsible," Angela said. "I know you."
David had Angela hand him the hammer, and he tried nailing the plywood in place. Instead, one of the other window panes fell out and shattered on the floor. The noise brought Rusty out of Nikki's room to bark at the head of the stairs.
"Damn it all," David said.
"Maybe we should think about leaving Bartlet," Angela said.
"We can't just pick up and go. We've got mortgages and contracts. We aren't free like we used to be."
"But nothing is turning out the way we expected. We both have problems at work. I got assaulted. And this Hodges thing is driving me crazy."
"You have to let the Hodges affair go," David said. "Please, Angela."
"I can't," Angela said with new tears. "I'm even having nightmares now: nightmares about blood in the kitchen. Every time I go in there I think about it, and I can't get it out of my head that the person responsible is walking around and could come here any time he chose. It's no way to live, feeling you have to have a gun in the house."
"We shouldn't have a gun," David snapped.
"I'm not staying here at night when you go off to the hospital," Angela said irritably. "Not without a gun."
"You'd better be sure Nikki understands she's not allowed to touch it," David said.
"I'll discuss the gun with her tomorrow," Angela said.
"Speaking of Nikki," David said, "I happened to see Caroline in the emergency room. She's in the hospital with a high fever and respiratory distress."
"Oh, heavens no," Angela said. "Does Nikki know?"
"I told her this evening," David said.
"Does she have something contagious?" Angela asked. "She and Nikki were together yesterday."
"I don't know yet," David said. "I told Nikki she can't visit until we know."
"Poor Caroline," Angela said. "She seemed fine yesterday. God, I hope Nikki doesn't come down with the same thing."
"So do I," David said. "Angela, we've got more important things to think about than this nonsense involving Hodges' body. Please, let's let it go, for Nikki's sake if not our own."
"All right," Angela said reluctantly. "I'll try."
"Thank goodness," David said. Then he looked up at the broken window. "Now what am I going to do with this mess?"
"How about tape and a plastic bag?" Angela suggested.
David stared at her. "Why didn't I think of that?" he questioned.
19
Neither David nor Angela slept well. Both were overwrought, but they responded differently. While Angela had trouble falling asleep, David woke well before dawn. He was appalled to see the time: four A.M. Sensing he would not fall back asleep, David got up and tiptoed out of the bedroom, careful not to disturb Angela.
On his way to the family room, he paused at the head of the stairs. He'd heard a noise from Nikki's room and was surprised to see his daughter appear.
"What are you doing awake?" David whispered.
"I just woke up," Nikki said. "I've been thinking about Caroline."
David went into his daughter's room to talk with her about her friend. David told her that he thought Caroline would be a lot better by now. He promised to check on her as soon as he got to the hospital. He said he'd call Nikki and let her know.
When Nikki coughed a deep, productive cough, David suggested they do her postural drainage. It took them almost half an hour. When it was over, Nikki said she felt better.
Together they went down into the kitchen and made breakfast. David cooked bacon and eggs while Nikki prepared a batch of drop biscuits. With a fire in the fireplace the meal had a festive quality that felt like a good antidote for their troubled spirits.
David was on his bike by five-thirty and at the hospital before six. En route, he made a mental note to arrange for someone to fix the bay window.
Several of David's patients were still asleep and David didn't disturb them. He went over their charts, planning to see them later. When he peeked into Donald's room he found the man was wide awake.
"I feel terrible," Donald said. "I haven't slept all night."
"What's the problem?" David asked, feeling his pulse quicken.
To David's dismay, the complaints were disturbingly familiar: crampy abdominal pain along with nausea and diarrhea. In addition, just like Jonathan, he complained of having to swallow continually.
David tried to remain calm. He spoke with Donald for almost half an hour, asking detailed questions about each complaint and ascertaining the sequence in which the complaints had appeared.
Although Donald's complaints certainly reminded him of his other deceased patients, there was an aspect of Donald's history that was different: Donald had never had chemotherapy.
Donald had been initially diagnosed as having pancreatic cancer, but surgery had proved this not to be the case. He'd undergone a massive operation called a Whipple procedure which included the removal of his pancreas, parts of his stomach and intestines, and a good deal of lymphatic tissue. When pathology examined the tumor it had been determined to be benign.
Since he had had such extensive surgery on his digestive system, but had not had chemotherapy to compromise his immune system, David was hopeful that Donald's complaints were purely functional and not harbingers of whatever afflicted David's other unlucky patients.
After finishing his rounds, David called admitting to find out Caroline's room number. On his way he had to pass the ICU. Steeling himself against what he might learn, he went in to check on Jonathan Eakins.