A Doctor-Nurse Encounter

Nailed her.

She turned to the detective. “Detective Chu, should I notify Dr. B’s surgical nurses? His bookkeeper works off-site. I should notify her, too.”

“You need to give us those names and addresses, and we’ll notify them. We have to interview them, anyway. Do you want an officer to accompany you to your car?”

“I’ll walk her down.” Nick stepped forward. “Get those names for Detective Chu while I pick up a few things from my office.”

Her eyes widened, but she kept her mouth shut for a change. Seems his take-charge attitude could overwhelm even Lacey Kirk, Nurse Know-It-All. He’d developed that attitude years ago, even before he became a doctor. It was an essential component in keeping things from spinning out of control.

By the time he got back, Lacey was waiting for him, clutching her blood-stained shirt in her hand.

“I’ll replace that for you.”

“This?” She waved it in front of her. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a Target special.”

He draped his suit jacket over his arm and gestured her ahead of him into the hallway.

Her gaze dropped to the Armani jacket, and then meandered up his silk tie and tailored shirt, now ripped and smudged with blood.

“I suppose you didn’t realize Target even had a clothing line, did you?”

Definite porcupine. He grabbed her arm and lied. “Yes, I did know that. Is the SFPD going to lock up Dr. Buonfoglio’s office?”

“Yeah.” She shook him off. “They’re putting one of those lock boxes on the door, like Realtors use. A cop’s going to be waiting for me tomorrow to unlock it when I come in to check things out and notify Dr. B’s patients.”

When they got into the elevator, Lacey leaned her forehead against the wall, her shoulders slumping. “I can’t believe this happened.”

“Dr. Buonfoglio was a good man and a good doctor. He’ll be missed.” He rubbed her back, and although she stiffened beneath his touch, she didn’t pull away.

The elevator landed on the second floor of the parking garage, and the doors rumbled open. Empty stalls yawned before them, and Lacey’s heels resounded through the cavernous lot.

Her small red Jetta stood alone in one row. Lacey took out her keys, and the Jetta’s lights flashed once.

“What’s this? Did I get a ticket for being in the parking structure too long?” She strode ahead of him and plucked a piece of paper from beneath her windshield wipers.

Holding the scrap of paper in her hands, she glanced back at Nick, her mouth dropping open. “D-do you think he left this?”

His stride devoured the space between them, and with a muscle ticking in his jaw, he snatched the paper from her hand.

Two circles with dots in the middle, resembling a pair of eyes, stared back at him. The blood pounded in his head, his wound beneath the paramedics’ expert bandage throbbing with each beat. He crushed the piece of paper in his fist.

They’d come back.

They meant business.

And they wanted his brother.

Chapter Two

“Nick?” She ran her fingers over his white knuckles. “Are you all right? Do you need to sit down?”

He jerked his head up, his dark eyes focusing on her face, as if he’d been in a place far away.

“I’m okay. Just felt a little dizzy.” He unwrapped the crumpled piece of paper and smoothed it out on the hood of her car.

“Do you think it’s a message from the man who murdered Dr. B? I know this paper wasn’t on my car when I came down here before.” Her gaze slid to the circles, and a chill snaked up her spine.

“It could be.”

His color had returned to its normal olive complexion, but his tight jaw signaled some distress. The stubborn oaf should’ve let the paramedics take him to the hospital. Doctors always thought they knew better than every other medical professional…especially Dr. Perfect.

To keep from smoothing her hands across his worried brow, she slid the piece of paper from beneath his hand and lifted it between two fingers. “Looks like eyes. Do you think that means he’s watching me?”

She looked over her shoulder, peering into the dimly lit recesses of the parking garage. Her heart fluttered, and she tried to beat back the fear. She’d never lived her life in fear, even when her dad left the family, and she didn’t intend to start now.

“How’d he pick out my car, anyway?” She rolled her shoulders. “Maybe this is just a coincidence, a joke.”

“It’s not hard to figure out.” Nick pointed to the office-suite numbers painted on her parking space and the two empty ones beside her car. “Yours is the only car here, and even if the guy doesn’t know that the doctors park on the first level, I don’t know many doctors who drive Jettas.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are such a snob. Even in times of crisis, you don’t forget the medical hierarchy.”

He slammed his fist on the roof of her car. “Can you forget your own insecurities for two seconds while we work this through?”

She swallowed. The suave Dr. Perfect just morphed into this Nick Marino character with flashing dark eyes and a hard jaw. Like steel encased in velvet. It suddenly became clear why nobody messed with him at the hospital. Apparently, he possessed weapons other than charm in his arsenal of persuasion.

“Sure, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” He rubbed his eyes and dragged his long fingers through thick, dark hair. “You’ve been through a lot today, and I’m standing here yelling at you.”

He opened her car door for her and nudged her back. “Go home and get some rest. Do you still have the Xanax I gave you? Take one.”

“What about this?” She waved the paper in his face. “Shouldn’t we tell Detective Chu about this?”

“I’ll go back up to the office and give it to him. The guy may have done it to scare you. Detective Chu’s probably right. He’s a drug addict hopped up on something.”

“I hope so.” She hugged herself, pulling her sweater tight. “I’m no threat to him. I can’t identify him, but if he left any evidence on the note that can be traced, it’s important that Chu see it. I want this guy caught. I want him to pay for what he did to Dr. B, and I’ll help any way I can.”

Nick put the note in the pocket of his slacks. “I doubt this piece of paper will help the detectives, but it’s worth a try. Get some sleep. I’ll check in on you tomorrow at the office, and remember, send Dr. B’s patients to me. If I can’t help them, I’ll refer them out.”

She slid onto the seat of the car and locked the doors. As she cruised out of the parking structure, she saw Nick in her rearview mirror, following her on foot. She drove slowly, and as she pulled up to the parking arm and slid her card key into the slot, Nick caught up with her bumper and slapped the trunk.

She wheeled onto the rain-slicked street. Nick lifted his hand, and she waved back.

Nick showed some real guts and heart today. Maybe Dr. Perfect had more depth than she ever imagined…and he was even better-looking up close and personal.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Lacey dragged her feet down the hallway toward the office with the yellow police tape criss-crossed over the doorway. A uniformed officer lounged nearby, talking to one of Nick’s office nurses, Petra. Lacey squared her shoulders. After yesterday’s terror and a sleepless night, she didn’t need one of Petra’s inquisitions. She wanted to get away from this office and return to the safety of her own home.

“Oh, my God, Lacey, you must’ve been terrified. Are you okay?” Petra hugged her, patting her back.

“My throat’s a little sore, but other than that, I’m fine. Dr. B didn’t fare so well.” Tears stung her nose and she rubbed it with a tissue.

“I know. I feel just awful….”

Petra trailed off. Dr. B was not known for his sparkling personality or great wit. He kept to himself, a morose, solitary man. The police notified his daughter in New Jersey, and Lacey had spoken with her on the phone this morning. She planned to fly his body back to Jersey for the funeral and burial.

The young officer cleared his throat. “Are you Lacey Kirk?”

“Yeah, do you need to see some ID or something?” She fumbled in her purse and drew out her wallet with her driver’s license.

He looked it over and unlocked the box attached to the office door.

“Can you believe that Nick came into the office today?” Petra shook her head. “He told us all about how he came to your rescue and chased off the bad guy, and he came in to work today even with that bandage on the side of his head.”

“He didn’t exactly chase off the bad guy.” Leave it to Dr. Perfect to put the perfect spin on the story. She blew out a breath. But he probably saved her life, and she never even thanked him for it. “He did come to my rescue, though.”

Petra sighed. “Must be nice.”

“To be choked by a murderer?”

“Oh, no, of course not.” Petra blinked and flapped her hands.

Lacey ducked under the police tape. She licked her lips as she surveyed the upended furniture and bloodstains in the reception area. Nick’s blood.

“Can I straighten this out now?”

The cop answered, “Sure. They’re done collecting evidence.”

“Are you going to wait in the hallway? You’re welcome to hang out here.”

“I’m okay.” He grinned at Petra.

She snapped the door shut. Great, the murderer could be lurking in here, and her only protection was flirting with a nurse in the hallway.

Her gaze darted to the door leading to the back rooms. When did Dr. B hear the intruder? If he had a gun, why didn’t he just shoot him when the guy came into his office? Maybe the murderer came in with his gun pulled first. Thank God he didn’t shoot her…or Nick.

Holding her breath, she crept through the door. The fax machine started churning, and she jumped. She watched a piece of paper slide into the fax tray. She froze. What if the killer faxed her a set of eyes?

She tiptoed to the fax machine and lifted the paper. An ad for a medical supply company. She shook her head and crumpled the single sheet. Get a grip.

Avoiding Dr. B’s office, she entered the supply room. Shards of glass from the cabinets littered the floor, and a caustic aroma rose from the sink, cluttered with broken bottles of medicine. Time to make that list of missing drugs for Detective Chu.

She returned to the reception area and pulled out the chair at her desk, perching on its edge. She’d never feel comfortable in this office again, which didn’t pose much of a problem since she’d probably never come back.

Dr. B worked alone, no partners. His two surgical nurses had been with him for years, as had his bookkeeper. Lacey had spoken to both of his nurses, Debbie Chase and Jill Zombrotto, last night. Detective Chu had already notified them, so the initial shock had worn off—at least for Debbie, the stoic one. Jill had always been more emotional, and she was still crying when Lacey spoke to her.

Their dedication to Dr. B never wavered, and Lacey wasn’t quite sure what they got in return. They probably could’ve earned more money at a busier practice, and they didn’t stick around for Dr. B’s jovial personality.

Dr. B valued privacy, especially after his wife, Rose, died. Lacey’s mom and Rose shared the same oncologist and became friendly in the waiting room. When Mom found out Rose’s husband needed a receptionist, she suggested Lacey. Rose had asked them to dinner a few times, so Lacey could meet Dr. B. She needed the job while she finished her last year of the hospice program, which she began after Mom’s cancer came back.

Mom passed away first, and Rose followed six months later. Dr. B didn’t need Lacey for emotional support after his wife died, but he still needed her office and nursing skills. He always kept to himself and frustrated her efforts at caretaking…even at the very end. She couldn’t do a thing to save him.

She powered on her computer and opened the database containing all of Dr. B’s patients, except the top-secret ones. Jill and Debbie could handle those.

After printing out an inventory of drugs in the office, she made several calls to give his patients the bad news. Many of them had already heard about the murder on TV or read about it in the newspaper. When they asked for a referral, she gave them Dr. Nick Marino’s name. He’d offered, hadn’t he?

She took care of other details to close down the office. His daughter could handle the logistics of his practice…and her sister. Dr. B’s other daughter, Abby, had Down syndrome and resided in a group home in Santa Cruz. She hoped the police would leave it to her sister to tell Abby the news.

She reached for her keys in the purse she’d hung on the back of her chair. Damn, she never did lock her desk last night. If she hadn’t forgotten, she never would’ve come back up here. The guy never would’ve attacked her. Nick never would’ve saved her.

She jerked open the middle desk drawer and frowned. She’d left the appointment book right on top last night. Not that she needed it. The book simply duplicated the database, because Dr. B preferred reviewing his appointments on paper rather than logging on to his computer. And Dr. B wouldn’t be reviewing appointments anymore.

“I’m going to grab some lunch downstairs. Are you okay?” The uniformed officer poked his head in the door. “Do you want me to get something for you?”

The thought of eating anything in this office turned her stomach. She declined his offer and searched the next drawer for the appointment book. Maybe Dr. B took it to his office last night.

She took a deep breath and pushed out of her chair. It felt as if her ankles had chains attached to them as she dragged her feet to Dr. B’s office.

The red stain on the carpet in front of his desk still looked damp. She edged around the other side, nudging his chair out of the way with her knee. The filing cabinet next to his desk, the one he kept locked, had been pried open. It contained the blue file folders for the doctor’s special patients, the ones who didn’t want to be identified. She ran her fingers along the tabs, but couldn’t tell if the intruder took anything from the cabinet.

She turned toward his desk and opened each drawer, searching through the contents. Dr. B kept a messy desk, but the disorder in the drawers topped anything she’d seen before.

The killer had searched the filing cabinet and the desk. If he wanted drugs, why look here? Maybe he wanted money or a prescription pad, too.

“Looking for something?”

She jumped, jerking the drawer out, its contents spilling on the floor. Nick’s large frame filled the doorway as he propped a shoulder against the doorjamb. His white coat billowed open to reveal another expensive shirt and silk tie. The man could grace the cover of GQ.

“You scared me.” She crouched to gather the junk from the drawer off the floor. “How’d you get in here?”

“The officer in the hallway let me in. Seems he and my nurse, Petra, have formed a close bond.”

She thumbed through the papers and notebooks before dropping them back in the drawer and picking up another stack. No appointment book.

“Petra works fast.”

“So do you.”

She sliced her finger on a paper edge. “What?”

“You’re back in here so soon after the murder to take care of everything. Where are Dr. Buonfoglio’s surgical nurses?”

“They were with him a long time.” She shoved the drawer back into the desk and stood up, sucking on her finger. “I spoke with them last night, and they’re shocked. They need a few days to recover before coming in here.” Especially Jill.

“Did you hurt your finger?” He stepped forward and held out his hand.

“It’s just a paper cut, Doc.”

“Let me see it, anyway.” He cupped his outstretched hand and gestured her forward.

Might as well humor the guy. He obviously had no problem taking charge of a situation, and recalling the way he flew through the door of the office last night to attack the intruder, she didn’t have a problem with it, either.

She held out her hand, and he wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and peered at the slice on her finger that sported a tiny drop of blood. He had beautiful hands—surgeon’s hands—strong, capable, deft. She stopped. The surgeon’s hands last night delivered punishing blows, showing strength of another kind…brute strength.

“Dab some antiseptic on this and get a Band-Aid. The man last night didn’t steal all your Band-Aids, did he?”

She snatched her hand back. “I’m sure we have some in the examination room.”

“So what did he steal?”

She skirted past him and rounded the corner into the examination room. He followed.

“I’m sure he stole some drugs. I still have to compare my inventory against the mess he left behind and give a list to Detective Chu.” And the appointment book? She hadn’t found it among Dr. B’s clutter, either.

She grabbed a Band-Aid and spun around, meeting Nick’s dark eyes.

“Something else?” His brows rose.

“Last night you said the man was wearing a jacket big enough to conceal anything. Big enough to hide an eight-by-eleven notebook?”

“What kind of notebook?” Nick shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat and leaned against the wall, as if to strike a casual pose. The gestures failed. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, indicating anything but casual.

What did she expect? He was minding his own business last night, heard her scream and jumped into a life-and-death struggle.

“An appointment book.” She squared her hands in front of her. “I can’t find my appointment book.”

His shoulders relaxed. “You still keep an appointment book? Don’t you have a database on your computer?”

“I keep both. Dr. B liked to see his appointments on paper, all collected in one book.”

“Just names and dates, that kind of thing?” He flicked a piece of lint off his spotless sleeve.

Why was Dr. Nick Marino suddenly developing an interest in Dr. Buonfoglio’s method of keeping appointments? Well, even if he cultivated pretense, she didn’t.

“Yeah, names and phone numbers penciled in on a calendar. Why are you so interested?”

His eyes widened. “Why wouldn’t I be? A doctor on my floor, another cosmetic surgeon, is murdered and I’m supposed to take it in stride? Shrug it off?”

She bit her lip. He had a point. She was supposed to be the caring hospice nurse and he the coldhearted, money-grubbing cosmetic surgeon.

“I’m sorry, Nick. You have every right to be concerned, and I never even thanked you for saving my life.”

He shrugged. “As a cosmetic surgeon, I don’t get to save a life every day. Do you need help with the inventory?”

“What about your patients? Don’t you need to get back to work?”

“I canceled all my appointments for the rest of the day.” He pointed to the bandage on his head. “I’m afraid this didn’t inspire much confidence in my patients this morning.”

She accepted his help, and after she grabbed the inventory list off her desk, they snapped on matching rubber gloves to sort through the mess in the supply room. She checked off each item and quantity on her list as Nick pieced together broken bottles and smashed containers.

When Nick swept up the last of the glass from the floor, Lacey sat back on her heels and frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“What?” He dumped the contents of the dustpan into the trash bin they’d ordered from Facilities.

“There’s really not that much missing from this list.” She tapped the pen on the paper. “It just looked like he stole a lot because he trashed the place.”

“Maybe he grabbed the easy-to-steal sample packets. Do you keep an inventory of those? I don’t. Maybe you interrupted him before he could get down to business.”

“Why did he smash everything if he was looking for drugs to steal? Unless…” She stood up and lodged a shoulder against the doorjamb.

“Unless what?” Nick looked up sharply.

“Unless he just wanted it to look like he was after the drugs.”

He banged the lid on the trash can and leaned over it, not turning around to look at her. “What was he after, Nancy Drew?”

Why did he sound so angry with her? The fumes must’ve gone to his head. “I don’t know, but he thought he might find it in Dr. B’s desk.”

“Was anything missing other than the appointment book?” He turned slowly, still gripping the trash can behind him.

“Not that I could tell. Are you okay? Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea for you to be crouching over for an hour cleaning up with that head injury.”

He plowed a hand through his hair, careful to avoid his bandage. “I’m starving. How about you? Do you want to join me for lunch?”

“Sure, but let me pay since you helped me out here…and for last night. I can’t face Antonio’s. Can we walk down the street a little to the Chinese place?”

“It’s a deal.” He peeled off the gloves and dropped them into the trash.

When Nick opened the office door for her, the cop on duty stepped to the side, still talking to Petra. Petra’s gaze darted between the two of them, a red tide washing across her face.

“I didn’t know you were in there, Dr. Marino. Since we don’t have any patients today, I figured I’d return some calls and phone in a few prescriptions. I’m just taking a break.”

“No problem.” He shrugged out of his lab coat. “Can you hang this up for me when you get back to the office? Lacey and I are grabbing some lunch.”

Hugging the coat to her chest, Petra raised her brows over a pair of inquisitive blue eyes that Lacey could feel burning into the back of her head until she turned the corner to the elevator. Nick generated a lot of interest and speculation among the women at the office and the hospital.

Well, let them speculate. The least she could do was to buy him lunch. He came to her aid last night and helped out again today. Who would’ve suspected Dr. Marino of having a chivalrous streak?

They trudged uphill on the damp sidewalk, and a slice of blue San Francisco Bay rewarded their efforts when they got to the top. Last night’s rain rinsed the sky clean, leaving a few puffy white clouds tumbling in the breeze.

The afternoon lunch rush had long since cleared out, and only a few tables of tourists remained in the restaurant when they got there.

Keeping that chivalry thing going, Nick pulled out her chair. It had been a while since a man pulled out her chair on a date. Who was she kidding? It had been a while since she’d been on a date. Not that she considered this a date.

“Do you like it spicy?”

He quirked a brow, looking ten kinds of suave, and warmth flooded her cheeks. Good thing this wasn’t a date.

“The food…I mean, do you like spicy food?”

“Yeah, I do.” He shook open the plastic menu. “I’ve never been here before. What do you recommend?”

She rattled off a few dishes, careful to stick to the lunch menu. Either he took the hint about her budget, or his mama raised him right, because he ordered one of the cheapest lunch specials.

She poured tea for both of them. “Did you grow up in the Bay Area or are you a transplant like so many others?”

“I’m afraid I’m a transplant but an early one. I moved here when I was eleven. How about you?”

“California native. My parents moved here from Chicago.”

“Does your family still live here?”

“No. My mom died almost a year ago, and my brother, Ryan, is a marine stationed with a peacekeeping force in Kosovo.”

He put down his teacup, keeping his hands wrapped around it. “I’m sorry about your mom. What about your dad?”

She’d never met a man who asked so many questions, especially a doctor. Usually they blabbed on about themselves and their marvelous achievements.

“Do you really want to hear my sad story?”

“Only if you want to tell it. I respect people’s privacy. That’s part of my job.”

She looked into his dark eyes, eyes that invited confidences but gave nothing back. Eyes that encouraged patients to open up about their fears and insecurities about their looks and their deepest desires for love, acceptance and eternal youth.