Free Angels on the Night Shift by M.D. Robert D. Lesslie Page B

missing,” she explained. “And Lori Davidson brought it to my attention. We’ve had that happen occasionally in the past, and it usually shakes out in a couple of days. Once the pharmacy made a mistake in their count, and another time the pharmacist found the missing vials stored in another location. I was hoping that would be the case this time, since there was just one vial unaccounted for. But this morning, three more turned up missing. We’ve looked everywhere, but nothing so far. I just wanted to make you aware, and ask that you keep your eyes open for any unusual activity or behavior. I’ve notified the administration, and they will have to start their own investigation.”
    Great! I thought. That’s all we need, someone from admin poking around the department, creating a stir and solving nothing.
    “I’ll do that, Virginia,” I told her, dispirited by this development. “I hope it turns out to be something simple.”
    “I don’t believe it will, Robert.”
    Virginia left the department, and as the shift wore on, Darren Adler’s color improved and he seemed to be getting stronger. It looked like he would be fine.
    “Dr. Lesslie, the CT scan on the kid in room 4 is back,” the unit secretary told me, not looking up from her work.
    I had forgotten about the child. It had taken longer to get his scan done than Liz had anticipated. It was almost nine o’clock when I went into the room with the radiologist’s report in my hand.
    Glancing down quickly at the name on the chart I said, “This must be Clark.” I walked over to the stretcher where the three-year-old boy was quietly sitting. He looked up at me as I said his name, but didn’t smile. He gave a quick, furtive glance at his parents, and then he looked down again at his hands.
    Odd , I thought. And it was a little odd that he was sitting alone on the bed, his feet dangling over the edge, bare-chested.
    I looked over in the corner of the room. A young woman, his mother I presumed, was sitting on the lone stool. She looked over at me and smiled. The man beside her stood with his arms folded across his chest, scowling.
    “This has certainly taken long enough,” he muttered, looking down at the small child.
    “And you are…?” I questioned them.
    “We’re his parents, Lewis and Erica Springs,” he told me bluntly. “Tell us about the CT so we can get home.”
    He still hadn’t looked at me, and I studied him for a moment. He was probably in his mid-thirties, dressed in a starched shirt and bright red tie, and wearing expensive shoes. His wife, Erica, was neatly dressed as well, and sat with her hands politely folded in her lap. She had glanced up at her husband when he said this, and then turned her head away.
    I turned my attention back to Clark.
    “Tell me, son, what happened to you today?” I asked him, stepping over and sitting down beside him on the stretcher. Without looking up, he quickly slid a few inches away from me.
    “We’ve already gone over this,” Lewis Springs interjected. “With that other doctor, the woman.”
    “Lewis, please…” his wife implored. “Let him—”
    “She wrote everything down on that chart,” he cut her off, his voice now raised a little. “Just tell us about the scan.”
    “Before we go over that,” I said, looking over at the two of them, “I need to know exactly what happened.”
    Lewis exhaled loudly and turned a little, facing away from me.
    “He was just running through the house this evening,” Erica explained. “He must have tripped and fallen and hit his head. As I told Dr. Kennick—I believe that’s her name—he didn’t get knocked out, but he quickly got a big hematoma on the back of his head, and he vomited once. We were just concerned and wanted him checked out.”
    “I understand,” I told her, looking now at Clark. Gently, I felt the back of his head and the large swelling there. I couldn’t feel any bony defect, and there was no active bleeding. I knew the scan was