Part 3 : Hospital food!
Jesse stood at the doorway and stared into the ICU room. He could hear the faint beep from the heart monitor and the click and swish from the ventilator as it moved up and down. He could see the slight form of the young woman her torso swathed in bandages, but he couldn't bring himself to enter the room or get any closer.
This wasn't one of his patients, Mark had treated her, he had just come to see how she was. He had checked on his own patients without problems, managing to control his feelings, covering them in a veneer of normality. As long as he was working, he could concentrate on the injuries, the diagnosis, the patient and not how they came to be there, that was how he had coped in the ER, but now he was faced with a victim that wasn't his patient, that he had no good reason to be seeing except for a need to find out how she was, and he couldn't go into the room.
A barrier of guilt and responsibility blocked his path. If it hadn't been for him, if he hadn't written that story, she wouldn't be lying there now. He stood and stared as his eyes defocused and the rhythmic pattern of sounds faded from his consciousness. She was still critical. She could die. He had already caused two deaths and now she could die too. Faintly echoing in the background of his thoughts were the assurances of Steve and Mark that it wasn't his fault, but the voice of guilt was stronger. It was his fault, he had written that story and now that it was really happening, it had to be his fault.
Then the questions started. Who was doing this? Why were they doing this to him? Why her? Why had she chosen that Diner to eat in today? Why couldn't she have gone somewhere else? Why him? Why his story? What had he done? The questions came rapidly, randomly, not leaving him time to consider any of them, before they repeated.
"Dr. Travis," the nurse repeated for the third time. As Jesse turned to look at her, she repeated his name one last time to pull him out of the trance like state he seemed to be in. "Dr. Travis are you all right?" the question was tinged with concern.
"What?" Jesse asked still slightly distracted. "I..er.. yes I'm fine," he replied, forcing himself to focus. "I just.." he nodded towards the bed, "I just wondered how she was doing?"
"Well I'm just about to check, but she's holding her own I think," the nurse said, "Dr. Sloan seemed confident that she will recover," she added recognising Jesse's concern. She watched as Jesse continued to stare into the room. "Do you know her?" She asked, curious as to why the young doctor was interested in another doctor's patient.
"I.. er.." Jesse began to reply, still distracted by his spiraling thoughts. "No," he turned to face the nurse. "No I just helped treat her down in the ER," he added using the lie to avoid having to answer any more questions. He suspected that the hospital grapevine would soon have his part in all this spread around but he wasn't going to help it.
"You could go in and check her chart," the nurse suggested, still confused by Jesse's uncharacteristically distracted behaviour
"No," Jesse replied, looking at his watch. "I have to get back to the ER." He started to move away "Thanks, I'll check with Dr. Sloan later." He completed, walking backwards as he spoke and then he turned and hurried off.
The nurse shook her head as she watched Jesse hurry away and then continued into the room.
Steve took out his notebook and began to make a few notes as a means to occupy himself whilst he brought his temper under control. He avoided looking at Amanda and Mark who sat on the couch at the other side of the room, trying to bring a very different set of emotions under control. They were finding it considerably more difficult because each time they managed to control the laughter, a glance at each other and the obvious struggle to be serious would set them off again.
As Steve calmed down and reread the story so that he could note the details in each chapter, he was forced to reevaluate the offending comments and he had to admit that, even though the humour was at his expense, he could see the funny side, not that he would ever let Jesse know.
Finally he looked up. "If you two have quite finished," he said with mock disdain. "I could use your help in trying to work out exactly what is going on here before somebody else does get killed."
Amanda and Mark, sobered up at the comment and adjusted their positions.
"Sorry son," Mark said. "So, have you read all of it?"
"Yes, and, not that I ever doubted yours and Jesse's opinions, but, now that I've read it for myself, it's clear that someone is mimicking every detail from Jesse's story." He looked at Amanda, "I'm assuming that your autopsy matches your preliminary findings?"
"Yes and that matches exactly with the method of murder in the story."
"Then we don't have long to figure out who could be doing this and why?" Steve said. "I'm going to call the captain and see if we can't get some extra personnel assigned to the case and I'll get someone to pull all of the cases that Jesse has helped out on. See if there is anyone in amongst them that might have a grudge against him."
Amanda looked at him. "Do you think someone is going to all of this trouble, is killing people, just to get at Jesse?"
Steve nodded. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Why else would someone match the details so accurately."
"I agree," Mark said, "but it doesn't have to be someone from one of the murder investigations. It may be the relative of a patient or an ex patient themselves who feels they were misdiagnosed or wrongly treated." He looked across at his son. "It doesn't matter how good a doctor you are, when people don't get cured there are always some who believe that you could have done more."
"I'll check into that," Amanda said. "If they have a grudge this strong, then it's more than likely that they will also have made a complaint against the hospital."
Steve picked up the phone to call the station, swapping places with Amanda who moved over to the computer and began to access the patient files.
Jesse entered the locker room and was relieved to find it empty. He really needed to pull himself together. Talking to the nurse had made him realise that this was going to get a lot worse before it got better. At the moment he could get away without explaining his strange behaviour and reactions, by using the odd white lie and half truth, but he knew how things worked in the hospital and if Mark was right, and half the staff had indeed already read his story, it wouldn't be long before they put the pieces together and realised that the events were being played out for real. As soon as word of that spread, there would be no escaping the mixture of sympathetic and accusatory looks, he wasn't sure which would be worse, and no way to avoid the inevitable questions.
He sank down on to the bench and put his head in his hands trying hard to sort his thoughts.
Mark was thinking, trawling through his thoughts for anyone who they had come across either through the hospital or through the cases they had worked on, who would have a reason for hating Jesse. As Jesse's boss, mentor and friend, he was in a unique position. No one knew the young doctor better. If there was anyone out there with feelings this strong then Mark would know about them too.
He was so deep in thought that he did not notice his office phone ring as soon as Steve had put it down. Seeing that his father was distracted Steve answered it. The agitation in Steve's voice, however, attracted Mark's attention.
"Jess?" Steve said "It's OK just tell me." there was a pause whilst he listened. "We'll be right there."
Mark and Amanda were already standing, looking expectantly at Steve for more information.
"He didn't say what was wrong but he wants us down in the locker room," Steve said, heading for the door.
Steve burst in through the door at a run. Jesse hadn't indicated that he was in any direct danger but he still instinctively had his hand on his gun. His momentum carried him into the middle of the room and he quickly took in the details. Apart from Jesse sitting in the middle on one of the benches, the room was empty, surprisingly, his friend barely reacted to his dramatic entrance and Steve was left, breathing slightly heavily and staring at his friend, to make the opening remark. "Jess?" he asked.
Jesse finally looked up at him. "In my locker," he said quietly.
Steve moved cautiously over to the slightly open door and pulled it back. It took him a moment to scan the interior. Jesse had moved up by his elbow.
"In chapter 4 they find the weapon that was used to knock out the first victim, a heavy screwdriver, it still has the victim's blood on it." He pointed at the large screwdriver sitting diagonally across the bottom of the locker. "I didn't touch it, but in the story it was wiped clean of prints so I doubt you'll find anything."
Mark and Amanda had joined them in the room and they came over to the locker, both also slightly out of breath.
"Looks like we can identify the blunt object used to render the victim unconscious," Steve said pointing at the item in question.
"We could have done that anyway, it was in the story remember," Jesse said his tone bitter.
"No Jess, at least not in the part that you've posted," Steve said, the details were still fresh in his memory and all that had been revealed to that point, was that it was the classic 'blunt object.' "All I've read so far is that he was knocked out, no mention of what was used."
"How closely does that match your description," Mark asked.
"Exactly," Jesse replied, "Even down to the colour of the handle." Realising the implications he met Mark's gaze, "but that means."
"That if the blood on that screwdriver matches the first victim then whoever is doing this has had access to later parts of your story, before your laptop went missing." Mark completed for him.
Jesse felt the need to sit down again and sank back onto one of the benches.
"Where do you normally keep your computer Jess," Steve asked.
"Locked in here if I bring it in to work, but I don't always have it with me," he replied as his mind tried to take in this latest information. "Not that that matters," he added cryptically. He looked up at Steve and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "I'm sorry I found this too. I picked it up I'm afraid, didn't think about prints."
"Your cell phone Jess?" Steve asked confused, recognising it as the make and model that Jesse owned.
"Yes," Jesse replied, "It was in the bottom of my locker but I didn't put it there." He swallowed looking at each of them as he spoke. "I had it when I got home last night but I couldn't find it this morning. I figured that it had fallen down somewhere, so I came in without it."
"You're sure," Steve asked, realising the even greater implications of what his friend was now telling him.
"Positive, looking for it almost made me late." Jesse, hesitated before continuing, "and I don't recognise the last number it was used to call."
Steve took the phone from him and looked at the number on the display. He looked back at Jesse. "I don't know if there is any way of tracing the number used on the bomb at the diner but I'll get on to the bomb squad and find out if this number is a possible." The concern in his tone grew. "You do realise what this means?"
"Oh yes," Jesse replied, his own tone strangely flat. "It means that the killer has access to my apartment, my computer, my whole life. They even used my own phone to detonate a bomb." He locked gaze with Steve. "What am I going to do now?" he asked, with a vulnerability that frightened his friends.
Mark replied with the confidence and slightly forced joviality that the situation demanded. He needed to prevent Jesse from dwelling on his situation. "What you are going to do is get that shower and freshen up, whilst Steve gets forensics up here and Amanda and I go back to trying to figure out who is responsible for all this." He fixed Jesse with a 'I'm not going to take no for an answer look.' "You can join us when you're ready."
Jesse nodded reluctantly.
"I'll wait here until you're done," Steve said, taking out his own cell phone so that he could get people working on the latest clues, "and escort you up there."
Part of Jesse wanted to protest that he didn't need to be looked after, that he wasn't in danger, it was other people, the people he'd written about, but a larger part of him was grateful that his friends didn't want to leave him alone. The invasion of privacy, the fact that someone had been in his apartment, had taken his phone, accessed his computer, all without his knowledge, left him feeling exposed, vulnerable, and he was grateful that his friends were there for him.
Around twenty minutes later, feeling slightly better for the invigorating effect of the hot shower, Jesse joined Steve in the hall. He was just finishing talking to one of the crime scene officers who noticing Jesse's arrival, graciously took his leave.
Steve looked at his friend, noting gratefully that he seemed less dejected than he had earlier. "OK, ready to go and see if Dad and Amanda have anything?" Steve asked.
"Well we've given them twenty minutes," Jesse said, forcing the negative emotions down, "Your dad's probably got it solved by now."
Steve was relieved that Jesse could still attempt a joke, although he could see the lines of strain on his face, the fact that he was trying to remain positive despite what was happening was a good sign. "No you need to add on at least ten minutes for him to discuss theories with Amanda," he replied smiling.
They walked the rest of the way to Mark's office discussing what forensics had said and when they would have the results of any tests. They were just rounding the last corner and Steve had turned to look at Jesse so wasn't watching where he was going or, more accurately, what was coming at him. The food trolley caught him at an angle mid stride and as he attempted to keep his balance he grabbed for it at the precise moment that Nurse Johnson, shocked by the collision, let go of it. He fell heavily to the floor pulling the entire contents of the trolley down on top of him.
Jesse just managed to dodge out of the way as the trolley narrowly missed his legs as it went over.
"Oh my God," Nurse Johnson said, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
Jesse's immediate concern was that Steve might be hurt. He lifted the trolley out of the way with nurse Johnson's help. "Steve, Steve are you all right?"
Steve struggled to help lift off the trolley, "I'm fine," he grumbled, "just bruised I think." He added rubbing the leg he had landed on. He looked up, realising that the concern and the apologies had stopped, to see the pretty young nurse who had burnt him earlier, and his friend attempting to do what his father and Amanda had failed so spectacularly to accomplish less than an hour ago. They were trying to avoid laughing at him. Great, that was all he needed, to be the centre of yet another joke. He looked down at himself and realised that he was something of a hospital banquet, Meatloaf, potatoes, gravy, peas, salad, tomatoes, Jell-O and ice cream all adorned his shirt and pants in a vivid mixture of colours. He sat up and picked a lettuce leaf out of his hair.
Jesse could control himself no longer and he burst into fits of laughter, grateful for the release of tension.
Mark and Amanda who had heard the commotion came out to see what had happened, as nurse Johnson, still desperately trying not to laugh, after all this was her fault. Did her best to clear up the spilt plates and trays.
"Steve," Mark said, grinning, "I know you like hospital food but don't you think you are taking this a bit too far?"
"Very droll," Steve said getting to his feet and attempting to brush himself off. He looked down at one of the stains on his jacket and getting a bit on his finger he absently licked it off. "Meatloaf," he said, "What a waste, tastes like a really good batch," he added without really thinking what he was saying.
He looked up to see the mock horror on the faces of the others
"Steve," Amanda said incredulously, "How did you ever get so little taste in food."
"It's a throwback to a cousin on my father's side," Mark said, still grinning, "came from a long line of army cooks."
"Really?" Amanda asked.
"Oh yes I was researching the family genealogy, it must be where it comes from,"
"Dad," Steve interrupted before his father got too distracted down this line of conversation. "Let's just help get this cleaned up."
Mark nodded and between them they helped clear the corridor of debris, Nurse Johnson, apologising all the while.
They were all still smiling as they watched her walk away when Steve suddenly became more serious, "Dad did you get a good look at her?"
Mark was slightly confused by the question. "Yes, but."
"Describe her." Steve instructed.
Still not understanding Mark began, "Blonde hair, blue eyes, around 25 years." he tailed off, of course, Jesse's description of the second victim.
The four friends looked at each other, then Steve looked down at his watch. "Eight O'clock, we've got less than ten hours."
The happy mood had disintegrated, grimly the four of them headed for Mark's office.
Jesse stood at the doorway and stared into the ICU room. He could hear the faint beep from the heart monitor and the click and swish from the ventilator as it moved up and down. He could see the slight form of the young woman her torso swathed in bandages, but he couldn't bring himself to enter the room or get any closer.
This wasn't one of his patients, Mark had treated her, he had just come to see how she was. He had checked on his own patients without problems, managing to control his feelings, covering them in a veneer of normality. As long as he was working, he could concentrate on the injuries, the diagnosis, the patient and not how they came to be there, that was how he had coped in the ER, but now he was faced with a victim that wasn't his patient, that he had no good reason to be seeing except for a need to find out how she was, and he couldn't go into the room.
A barrier of guilt and responsibility blocked his path. If it hadn't been for him, if he hadn't written that story, she wouldn't be lying there now. He stood and stared as his eyes defocused and the rhythmic pattern of sounds faded from his consciousness. She was still critical. She could die. He had already caused two deaths and now she could die too. Faintly echoing in the background of his thoughts were the assurances of Steve and Mark that it wasn't his fault, but the voice of guilt was stronger. It was his fault, he had written that story and now that it was really happening, it had to be his fault.
Then the questions started. Who was doing this? Why were they doing this to him? Why her? Why had she chosen that Diner to eat in today? Why couldn't she have gone somewhere else? Why him? Why his story? What had he done? The questions came rapidly, randomly, not leaving him time to consider any of them, before they repeated.
"Dr. Travis," the nurse repeated for the third time. As Jesse turned to look at her, she repeated his name one last time to pull him out of the trance like state he seemed to be in. "Dr. Travis are you all right?" the question was tinged with concern.
"What?" Jesse asked still slightly distracted. "I..er.. yes I'm fine," he replied, forcing himself to focus. "I just.." he nodded towards the bed, "I just wondered how she was doing?"
"Well I'm just about to check, but she's holding her own I think," the nurse said, "Dr. Sloan seemed confident that she will recover," she added recognising Jesse's concern. She watched as Jesse continued to stare into the room. "Do you know her?" She asked, curious as to why the young doctor was interested in another doctor's patient.
"I.. er.." Jesse began to reply, still distracted by his spiraling thoughts. "No," he turned to face the nurse. "No I just helped treat her down in the ER," he added using the lie to avoid having to answer any more questions. He suspected that the hospital grapevine would soon have his part in all this spread around but he wasn't going to help it.
"You could go in and check her chart," the nurse suggested, still confused by Jesse's uncharacteristically distracted behaviour
"No," Jesse replied, looking at his watch. "I have to get back to the ER." He started to move away "Thanks, I'll check with Dr. Sloan later." He completed, walking backwards as he spoke and then he turned and hurried off.
The nurse shook her head as she watched Jesse hurry away and then continued into the room.
Steve took out his notebook and began to make a few notes as a means to occupy himself whilst he brought his temper under control. He avoided looking at Amanda and Mark who sat on the couch at the other side of the room, trying to bring a very different set of emotions under control. They were finding it considerably more difficult because each time they managed to control the laughter, a glance at each other and the obvious struggle to be serious would set them off again.
As Steve calmed down and reread the story so that he could note the details in each chapter, he was forced to reevaluate the offending comments and he had to admit that, even though the humour was at his expense, he could see the funny side, not that he would ever let Jesse know.
Finally he looked up. "If you two have quite finished," he said with mock disdain. "I could use your help in trying to work out exactly what is going on here before somebody else does get killed."
Amanda and Mark, sobered up at the comment and adjusted their positions.
"Sorry son," Mark said. "So, have you read all of it?"
"Yes, and, not that I ever doubted yours and Jesse's opinions, but, now that I've read it for myself, it's clear that someone is mimicking every detail from Jesse's story." He looked at Amanda, "I'm assuming that your autopsy matches your preliminary findings?"
"Yes and that matches exactly with the method of murder in the story."
"Then we don't have long to figure out who could be doing this and why?" Steve said. "I'm going to call the captain and see if we can't get some extra personnel assigned to the case and I'll get someone to pull all of the cases that Jesse has helped out on. See if there is anyone in amongst them that might have a grudge against him."
Amanda looked at him. "Do you think someone is going to all of this trouble, is killing people, just to get at Jesse?"
Steve nodded. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Why else would someone match the details so accurately."
"I agree," Mark said, "but it doesn't have to be someone from one of the murder investigations. It may be the relative of a patient or an ex patient themselves who feels they were misdiagnosed or wrongly treated." He looked across at his son. "It doesn't matter how good a doctor you are, when people don't get cured there are always some who believe that you could have done more."
"I'll check into that," Amanda said. "If they have a grudge this strong, then it's more than likely that they will also have made a complaint against the hospital."
Steve picked up the phone to call the station, swapping places with Amanda who moved over to the computer and began to access the patient files.
Jesse entered the locker room and was relieved to find it empty. He really needed to pull himself together. Talking to the nurse had made him realise that this was going to get a lot worse before it got better. At the moment he could get away without explaining his strange behaviour and reactions, by using the odd white lie and half truth, but he knew how things worked in the hospital and if Mark was right, and half the staff had indeed already read his story, it wouldn't be long before they put the pieces together and realised that the events were being played out for real. As soon as word of that spread, there would be no escaping the mixture of sympathetic and accusatory looks, he wasn't sure which would be worse, and no way to avoid the inevitable questions.
He sank down on to the bench and put his head in his hands trying hard to sort his thoughts.
Mark was thinking, trawling through his thoughts for anyone who they had come across either through the hospital or through the cases they had worked on, who would have a reason for hating Jesse. As Jesse's boss, mentor and friend, he was in a unique position. No one knew the young doctor better. If there was anyone out there with feelings this strong then Mark would know about them too.
He was so deep in thought that he did not notice his office phone ring as soon as Steve had put it down. Seeing that his father was distracted Steve answered it. The agitation in Steve's voice, however, attracted Mark's attention.
"Jess?" Steve said "It's OK just tell me." there was a pause whilst he listened. "We'll be right there."
Mark and Amanda were already standing, looking expectantly at Steve for more information.
"He didn't say what was wrong but he wants us down in the locker room," Steve said, heading for the door.
Steve burst in through the door at a run. Jesse hadn't indicated that he was in any direct danger but he still instinctively had his hand on his gun. His momentum carried him into the middle of the room and he quickly took in the details. Apart from Jesse sitting in the middle on one of the benches, the room was empty, surprisingly, his friend barely reacted to his dramatic entrance and Steve was left, breathing slightly heavily and staring at his friend, to make the opening remark. "Jess?" he asked.
Jesse finally looked up at him. "In my locker," he said quietly.
Steve moved cautiously over to the slightly open door and pulled it back. It took him a moment to scan the interior. Jesse had moved up by his elbow.
"In chapter 4 they find the weapon that was used to knock out the first victim, a heavy screwdriver, it still has the victim's blood on it." He pointed at the large screwdriver sitting diagonally across the bottom of the locker. "I didn't touch it, but in the story it was wiped clean of prints so I doubt you'll find anything."
Mark and Amanda had joined them in the room and they came over to the locker, both also slightly out of breath.
"Looks like we can identify the blunt object used to render the victim unconscious," Steve said pointing at the item in question.
"We could have done that anyway, it was in the story remember," Jesse said his tone bitter.
"No Jess, at least not in the part that you've posted," Steve said, the details were still fresh in his memory and all that had been revealed to that point, was that it was the classic 'blunt object.' "All I've read so far is that he was knocked out, no mention of what was used."
"How closely does that match your description," Mark asked.
"Exactly," Jesse replied, "Even down to the colour of the handle." Realising the implications he met Mark's gaze, "but that means."
"That if the blood on that screwdriver matches the first victim then whoever is doing this has had access to later parts of your story, before your laptop went missing." Mark completed for him.
Jesse felt the need to sit down again and sank back onto one of the benches.
"Where do you normally keep your computer Jess," Steve asked.
"Locked in here if I bring it in to work, but I don't always have it with me," he replied as his mind tried to take in this latest information. "Not that that matters," he added cryptically. He looked up at Steve and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "I'm sorry I found this too. I picked it up I'm afraid, didn't think about prints."
"Your cell phone Jess?" Steve asked confused, recognising it as the make and model that Jesse owned.
"Yes," Jesse replied, "It was in the bottom of my locker but I didn't put it there." He swallowed looking at each of them as he spoke. "I had it when I got home last night but I couldn't find it this morning. I figured that it had fallen down somewhere, so I came in without it."
"You're sure," Steve asked, realising the even greater implications of what his friend was now telling him.
"Positive, looking for it almost made me late." Jesse, hesitated before continuing, "and I don't recognise the last number it was used to call."
Steve took the phone from him and looked at the number on the display. He looked back at Jesse. "I don't know if there is any way of tracing the number used on the bomb at the diner but I'll get on to the bomb squad and find out if this number is a possible." The concern in his tone grew. "You do realise what this means?"
"Oh yes," Jesse replied, his own tone strangely flat. "It means that the killer has access to my apartment, my computer, my whole life. They even used my own phone to detonate a bomb." He locked gaze with Steve. "What am I going to do now?" he asked, with a vulnerability that frightened his friends.
Mark replied with the confidence and slightly forced joviality that the situation demanded. He needed to prevent Jesse from dwelling on his situation. "What you are going to do is get that shower and freshen up, whilst Steve gets forensics up here and Amanda and I go back to trying to figure out who is responsible for all this." He fixed Jesse with a 'I'm not going to take no for an answer look.' "You can join us when you're ready."
Jesse nodded reluctantly.
"I'll wait here until you're done," Steve said, taking out his own cell phone so that he could get people working on the latest clues, "and escort you up there."
Part of Jesse wanted to protest that he didn't need to be looked after, that he wasn't in danger, it was other people, the people he'd written about, but a larger part of him was grateful that his friends didn't want to leave him alone. The invasion of privacy, the fact that someone had been in his apartment, had taken his phone, accessed his computer, all without his knowledge, left him feeling exposed, vulnerable, and he was grateful that his friends were there for him.
Around twenty minutes later, feeling slightly better for the invigorating effect of the hot shower, Jesse joined Steve in the hall. He was just finishing talking to one of the crime scene officers who noticing Jesse's arrival, graciously took his leave.
Steve looked at his friend, noting gratefully that he seemed less dejected than he had earlier. "OK, ready to go and see if Dad and Amanda have anything?" Steve asked.
"Well we've given them twenty minutes," Jesse said, forcing the negative emotions down, "Your dad's probably got it solved by now."
Steve was relieved that Jesse could still attempt a joke, although he could see the lines of strain on his face, the fact that he was trying to remain positive despite what was happening was a good sign. "No you need to add on at least ten minutes for him to discuss theories with Amanda," he replied smiling.
They walked the rest of the way to Mark's office discussing what forensics had said and when they would have the results of any tests. They were just rounding the last corner and Steve had turned to look at Jesse so wasn't watching where he was going or, more accurately, what was coming at him. The food trolley caught him at an angle mid stride and as he attempted to keep his balance he grabbed for it at the precise moment that Nurse Johnson, shocked by the collision, let go of it. He fell heavily to the floor pulling the entire contents of the trolley down on top of him.
Jesse just managed to dodge out of the way as the trolley narrowly missed his legs as it went over.
"Oh my God," Nurse Johnson said, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
Jesse's immediate concern was that Steve might be hurt. He lifted the trolley out of the way with nurse Johnson's help. "Steve, Steve are you all right?"
Steve struggled to help lift off the trolley, "I'm fine," he grumbled, "just bruised I think." He added rubbing the leg he had landed on. He looked up, realising that the concern and the apologies had stopped, to see the pretty young nurse who had burnt him earlier, and his friend attempting to do what his father and Amanda had failed so spectacularly to accomplish less than an hour ago. They were trying to avoid laughing at him. Great, that was all he needed, to be the centre of yet another joke. He looked down at himself and realised that he was something of a hospital banquet, Meatloaf, potatoes, gravy, peas, salad, tomatoes, Jell-O and ice cream all adorned his shirt and pants in a vivid mixture of colours. He sat up and picked a lettuce leaf out of his hair.
Jesse could control himself no longer and he burst into fits of laughter, grateful for the release of tension.
Mark and Amanda who had heard the commotion came out to see what had happened, as nurse Johnson, still desperately trying not to laugh, after all this was her fault. Did her best to clear up the spilt plates and trays.
"Steve," Mark said, grinning, "I know you like hospital food but don't you think you are taking this a bit too far?"
"Very droll," Steve said getting to his feet and attempting to brush himself off. He looked down at one of the stains on his jacket and getting a bit on his finger he absently licked it off. "Meatloaf," he said, "What a waste, tastes like a really good batch," he added without really thinking what he was saying.
He looked up to see the mock horror on the faces of the others
"Steve," Amanda said incredulously, "How did you ever get so little taste in food."
"It's a throwback to a cousin on my father's side," Mark said, still grinning, "came from a long line of army cooks."
"Really?" Amanda asked.
"Oh yes I was researching the family genealogy, it must be where it comes from,"
"Dad," Steve interrupted before his father got too distracted down this line of conversation. "Let's just help get this cleaned up."
Mark nodded and between them they helped clear the corridor of debris, Nurse Johnson, apologising all the while.
They were all still smiling as they watched her walk away when Steve suddenly became more serious, "Dad did you get a good look at her?"
Mark was slightly confused by the question. "Yes, but."
"Describe her." Steve instructed.
Still not understanding Mark began, "Blonde hair, blue eyes, around 25 years." he tailed off, of course, Jesse's description of the second victim.
The four friends looked at each other, then Steve looked down at his watch. "Eight O'clock, we've got less than ten hours."
The happy mood had disintegrated, grimly the four of them headed for Mark's office.