There had been a few times during her first year in college when she’d found herself in mildly problematic situations involving the potential of sexual assault, thanks mostly to alcohol, but she’d never suffered an actual episode. Actually, it had never even come close until last night. The mere thought of how close made her feel almost nauseous. Never had she felt quite so thankful and appreciative of Michael’s friendship, size, and strength. If he hadn’t thrown caution to the wind the night before when he couldn’t get ahold of her on her mobile and when he attacked the intruder, she knew she’d be feeling very differently at that moment.
After sticking her head into Michael’s steamy bathroom to yell at him that she’d be ready to head over to the hospital in a half hour, she carefully collected the beer bottles Vladimir had handled and went back to her own room. Making sure not to touch the bottles, to avoid messing up any of the Russian’s fingerprints, she put them on her desk before getting into the shower herself.
On the way from the dorm to the hospital, Lynn and Michael talked about the paranoia that came with the worry that they were possibly being watched. To both of them, everyone who eyed them looked suspicious, even a couple of the gardeners working in the flower beds who happened to glance up as they passed.
For the first twenty minutes of the ophthalmology lecture, Lynn had tried her best to pay attention, but it wasn’t working. When the lecturer turned off the lights once again to go through another series of slides, this time showing fluorescence angiography studies of the back of the eye, she leaned over to Michael, who was sitting next to her as both had taken seats near the door: “I’m outta here,” she whispered.
“I thought the deal was that you were going to make it look like you were back to being a full-time medical student.”
“My mind’s going a mile a minute. I can’t sit still and can’t concentrate worth a damn. I’ve got a couple of errands to run.”
“What I’m worried about is what you might do. Don’t try to get yourself into the Shapiro without me or you and I will be having one hell of a beef!”
“I wouldn’t think of it. Take good notes for me!”
“Screw you! You gotta stay and take your own goddamn notes. It’s not like I’m enjoying myself. This guy is trying to put us to sleep.”
Lynn had to smile. After a quick glance at the lecturer, who had his back to the audience while using a laser pointer to indicate a subtle detail, she stood up and headed for the nearest exit. To make it look like she would be returning, she left her spiral notebook on the arm of her chair. She knew Michael would bring it back without having to be told.
Once outside the lecture room, Lynn went directly to the restroom. Her thinking was that if anybody was watching her, going to the bathroom wouldn’t raise any suspicions. As she walked, she tried to see if anyone in particular took note. No one did.
As long as she was in the restroom, Lynn decided to use the toilet. Afterward she looked at herself in the mirror, thinking she looked like death warmed over. There were dark circles under her eyes and her split lip was crusted with a small scab. There were also a few broken capillaries over her cheekbone that she had tried to cover up with a bit of makeup. She used a damp paper towel to get rid of the crust on her lip.
After combing out her hair and putting it back into her barrette in an attempt to look as presentable as possible, Lynn walked out of the restroom. At first she headed in the general direction of the lecture hall, all the while scanning the busy clinic area for anyone paying even the slightest bit of attention to her. Except for a few waiting patients who responded to her white coat in hopes it meant the ophthalmology clinic was about to begin seeing patients, no one seemed to give her a second look.
Deciding she was in the clear, Lynn headed over to the hospital. Since she’d awakened that morning she had given a lot of thought to the “looping” she’d discovered in the anesthesia records. She knew it had to be seriously significant and that someone had to be told, and the sooner the better. Initially she’d thought of Dr. Rhodes, but had quickly nixed the idea after remembering his ranting the day before. It also occurred to her that if there was a major conspiracy there was a chance that Rhodes, as head of Anesthesia, might possibly be involved on some level. She thought the chances small, but not nonexistent. Ultimately she settled on letting Dr. Wykoff know. After a lot of thought, she’d come to agree with Michael that the woman was shaken by what had happened to Carl, and if that were the case, the chances of her being involved in some grand conspiracy seemed nil.
Once in the crush of the hospital, Lynn wasn’t as worried about being observed. There were just too many people. Going to the information booth near the front door, she got a piece of hospital stationery and wrote a short explanation of the looping she’d found in the three cases. There was nothing else in the short note, not even a signature. She folded the paper and slipped it into a hospital envelope and sealed it. On the outside she wrote simply: Dr. Wykoff.
With the envelope in hand she went back to the main elevators. In the packed car, she felt a touch of paranoia and wondered why in hell she hadn’t taken the stairs. One of the passengers was a uniformed security guard who seemed to be staring at her. She wasn’t certain, but it made her uneasy. She had always found the strained silence of packed elevators mildly unsettling. On this particular day it was even more so. She was glad that the man didn’t get off with her on two.
Lynn’s plan had been simple. She would find out which room Dr. Wykoff was in and then find a circulating nurse to take the message to the doctor. Lynn even went so far as to take her name tag off her white coat to remain anonymous.
Gazing at the monitor in the surgical lounge that listed all the morning cases, Lynn searched for Dr. Wykoff’s name. When she didn’t see it, she started at the top again. Only then did she decide it wasn’t there. Apparently Dr. Wykoff was not scheduled that morning.
Lynn cursed her luck under her breath. It had been her understanding that all the more junior anesthesiologists, like Dr. Wykoff, were scheduled every day. She couldn’t understand why it wasn’t to be today. Instead Lynn walked down to the anesthesia office, where she and Michael had met Dr. Wykoff the previous day. When no one responded to her knocking, Lynn opened the door and looked in. The room was empty. What she did find was a bank of cubbyholes with one for Dr. Wykoff.
For a moment Lynn debated what to do. She wanted to make sure that someone actually put her note in Dr. Wykoff’s hand rather than just leaving it, in hopes she might get it. Finally accepting the inevitable, Lynn went back to the woman’s locker room and changed into scrubs.
Although most people didn’t put masks on until they were in an operating room with a case under way, Lynn put one on in the locker room to mask her identity just as she had done Monday, looking for Carl. She didn’t know if she was being excessively paranoid, but she didn’t care. With her note in hand, she pushed into the OR proper and went to the hectically busy main desk. At that time in the morning, a number of the ORs were in the process of moving from their first cases to their second. Everybody was busy.
Lynn had to wait several minutes. She knew that Geraldine Montgomery, the OR head nurse, would be the best person to ask about Dr. Wykoff, but she was already being besieged by several other people. In the meantime, Lynn checked the white board in case there had been a change. Dr. Wykoff still was not listed. When Lynn finally had an opportunity, she said she was looking for Dr. Wykoff.