Disclaimer: Not mine - Still
A/N: I am a very fortunate girl. I have the best group of beta's on this planet. A special thank you to each and every one of them for all they have contributed. This would be a useless bunch of words without them. :D
Chapter 9
December 15, 2007
E. Bethune was a heavyset woman with very short hair which had been dyed the black of shoe polish. She had thin lips that all but disappeared into her fleshy face. Her florid complexion was devoid of makeup and her gray eyes were deep set and dull. Ms. Bethune hung up the phone and Grissom pasted on his friendliest smile as she turned her annoyed gaze on him. When she merely stared at him without a word, he cleared his throat and introduced himself.
"Hi. I'm Gil Grissom with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I need to speak with the charge nurse, please." Grissom tried to keep his tone pleasant as he addressed the woman.
"That'd be me," she snapped. "How'd you get up here?"
Drawing in a steadying breath, Grissom contemplated using the elevator line again. One look at her humorless expression convinced him it would be pointless. "I need to ask you a few questions."
Elizabeth glanced at her watch and then looked back up at Grissom. "It's almost end of shift. I have a lot to get done. What did you need?"
"Elizabeth, may I call you Elizabeth?" At her nod, he continued, "I just wanted to talk to you about some of your patients."
"Which patients?" Again she glanced at her watch and then stared at him pointedly.
Up until this point, Grissom hadn't thought about how he was going to ask these questions without making the woman think he was accusing her of something. Throwing caution to the wind, he decided to be blunt. "It has come to my attention that you have had several unexplained deaths at this hospital over the past six weeks. All of them on this floor."
Immediately her hackles rose. Pushing herself out of the chair she was occupying, Elizabeth stood tall and met his eyes. "What are you implying, Mr. Grissom?"
Holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender, Grissom took a step back from her fury. "I'm not implying anything. I merely want to find out what happened to those women."
Indignation poured off her in waves as she walked around the desk to stand in front of him. "Nothing happened to them."
"Look, all of the women were twelve to thirty-six hours post-op." He reeled off the facts emotionlessly. "All of them had a hysterectomy due to cervical or uterine cancer. All of them were Caucasian, between the ages of thirty-five and forty-five." Grissom paused for a moment, his ice blue eyes boring into her. "That's a little too much coincidence for my peace of mind."
"The fact that those women died is horrible." For a moment her eyes softened and she slumped a little under the weight of those lives and her responsibility for them. Then, drawing herself up to her, she continued, "But I can promise you that no one on this shift has any idea what happened. Didn't your medical examiner determine that they died of natural causes?" The woman's jowls quivered with the force of her words.
His brow furrowed in annoyance and his words were clipped. "Actually, he's the one who brought this to my attention." She merely stared at him, her disbelief obvious. "He seems to find it odd that these apparently healty women are dropping dead."
She planted her hands on her hips and gave him a scathing look. "Obviously, Mr. Grissom, if they had been healthy they wouldn't have been here."
Grissom dipped his head in acknowledgment of the truth in her statement. "Touché."
The corner of Elizabeth's mouth twitched, but she managed to suppress her grin. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
"I appreciate that." At her look of skepticism, he repeated, "I do. I just need a few answers and then I'll get out of your way."
Huffing out a frustrated breath, she crossed her arms over her substantial bosom and nodded. "Fine."
"Thank you." Now his voice became softer, even a little seductive. "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the hours before the women were discovered. Nothing is too small or insignificant. Anybody on the floor that shouldn't have been?"
Nailing him with a cutting glance, she shook her head. "You mean like you?"
Once again she had cut him off at the knees. Obviously, she was one book he shouldn't judge by its cover. "Yes. Like me."
"Honestly, no." She brought a hand up to rub across her eyes. "It's very quiet here at night. That's why I like it. You're our first visitor, aside from the usual distraught family member, in months."
"These distraught family members? Who are they?" He gave her a ghost of a smile, encouraging her to keep talking.
Meeting his gaze, she shrugged. "Husbands, mothers, daughters. The usual. But they tend to stay in their loved-one's room. And that's only for a night or two."
Nodding thoughtfully, Grissom asked, "No one else? No maintenance people, orderlies, doctors?" His mind drifted to Natalie and Sara for a moment, but he pulled it back ruthlessly.
"I'm not sure what you're looking for, Mr. Grissom. This is a hospital."
Grissom ran a hand through his hair, his frustration rising at a rapid rate. "I know it's a hospital, but I also know that sometimes we tend to overlook the people we see every day. I was just hoping that something stood out."
"No. Nothing." Suddenly, her gaze locked on something over Grissom's shoulder. She broke into a beatific smile. "Here's Dr. Rosenthal. Maybe you should ask him your questions.
Grissom turned just in time to see the stairwell door close behind a man in dark blue scrubs and a bright white lab coat.
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…When I pull open the door from the stairwell that leads to the fifth floor, I see an unfamiliar man standing in front of the nurses' station chatting with Elizabeth. I hesitate before stepping out into the hall…
Elizabeth Bethune, fifth floor charge nurse, is very possibly one of the laziest people I've ever met. She is one of the reasons I chose this particular floor for my work. According to the nurses who work for her, she has the disposition of a rabid skunk. She is fat and sluggish, moving through life like molasses in winter. The mere sight of her makes me feel a little nauseous. The fact that she looks at me like I would imagine she stares at a rare steak is enough to make me avoid her at all costs.
Elizabeth says something to him, giving me that moony smile of hers, and the man turns. I can feel his gaze like a physical touch. Maybe it is the fact that he isn't supposed to be here at this time of night that has me so out of sorts. Maybe it is the way he is looking at me. Regardless, I am unnerved by him.
He gestures and Elizabeth leads him along the hall in my direction. My steps falter a bit when I realize I am wearing gloves. Nothing can be done about it now. Hopefully, he won't notice. If he does I will explain it away as having forgotten to remove them. As the two come closer, I get the feeling I've seen him somewhere before. I can't help but stare at him.
Before I realize it, they are standing before me. Elizabeth is still smiling at me with that same sappy expression. I cringe at the naked adoration in her eyes. I am so consumed with disgust at the sight of her that I almost miss what she's saying.
"…man is with the crime lab. He was asking me some questions." Her voice grates across my nerves like fingernails on a chalk board.
"Dr. Gil Grissom." he says in a well-modulated voice.
I recognize his name immediately. In an effort to conceal my nervousness, I extend my hand and reply, "Dr. Malachi Rosenthal." When he doesn't return the gesture, I look down and pretend to be surprised by the glove. There is something in Dr. Grissom's eyes as he stares at my latex covered hand. I'm not sure what it is and it is gone almost as quickly as it appeared. "Oh, sorry. I forgot to take them off."
He pins me with his eyes and I feel the cold finger of fear skitter along my spine. "No problem. I'd just like to ask you a few questions."
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The doctor was tall, well over six feet, and trim. He was attractive as far as men went, with a square jaw and prominent cheekbones. His lips were full, bordering on feminine, his hair was dark and thick and curly. He had dark brown eyes that had been known to make women swoon. But there was something about those eyes that didn't match the rest of him. They were cold and…lifeless.
Grissom didn't normally resort to the use of the title. He'd always thought it seemed a little pretentious and he preferred to demonstrate his intelligence rather than brag about it. But for some reason he couldn't quite explain Dr. Rosenthal had caused that tickle on the back of Grissom's neck.
"Do you mind if I ask what your doctorate is in?" Malachi asked, in an effort to give himself time to calm his nerves.
Grissom's voice betrayed his annoyance. "Biology." His eyes never left the other man's face. "Is that important?"
Malachi shrugged. "I suppose not. I just wanted to understand if you were a medical doctor or a...," his voice trailed off and he waved a hand dismissively.
Grissom's right eyebrow slid up and he studied the man like a specimen. "I have a PhD in Biology from UCLA." His cool tone matched his demeanor. "Now that we've established that I'm not a medical doctor can you answer some questions for me?"
Maybe it was something about the way the good doctor looked at Elizabeth Bethune, as if she were sub-human that made Grissom's hackles rise. Maybe it was the flicker of recognition in his eyes when he heard Grissom's name. Maybe it was the latex gloves that he couldn't quite explain away. No matter the reason, the fact remained that something about Malachi Rosenthal made Grissom want to know more about him.
"What can I do for you Mr. Grissom?" Malachi smiled as he peeled off the gloves and shoved them in the pocket of his lab coat.
"As I explained to Elizabeth, I'm here regarding four deaths over the past six weeks." Grissom studied the man carefully as he spoke. "The women were all in-patient here at the time of their deaths."
"Ah, yes." Dr. Rosenthal's eyes moved from Grissom to Elizabeth and back. "I've heard about them, of course. Everyone here has." Shaking his head he continued, "But those women died of natural causes. Didn't they?"
Grissom gave a self-deprecating shrug. "Actually, I'm not positive they did. There are just too many similarities to be written off as mere coincidence."
"Well, I'll be glad to help in any way I can." His gaze moved to Elizabeth. "Is there any of your wonderful coffee left, Liz?"
She blushed and all but simpered, "I'm sure there is. And, if not I can make some."
Malachi shook his head and gave her a boyish grin. "I don't want you to go to any trouble. We'll just walk down there and see. I'm sure Dr. Grissom would like a cup."
Grissom saw the ploy for exactly what it was; a way to buy time, but he followed along. "That would be good, if it's no trouble."
Moving down the hall without waiting for them to follow, Malachi assured, "It's no trouble at all. Besides, Liz makes the best coffee in the whole hospital."
When the men were in the small break area behind the nurses' station, coffee cups in hand, Grissom studied the other man before speaking. "So, I asked Elizabeth about seeing people on the floor who shouldn't have been here. It seems that you come in either very early or very late. Do you remember seeing anyone who was out of place?"
His eyes lost their focus as he dug through his memory. Finally, Malachi met Grissom's gaze. "No," he shook his head, "Not that I can think of."
Grissom watched the man carefully, looking for any sign of a crack in the façade. "How about orderlies, janitors? It doesn't have to be someone from outside the hospital."
"Mr. Grissom, I'm afraid that would be an impossible task. This place employs over three hundred people, not including the physicians on staff." He barked out a laugh at the enormity of such a task.
There was something about that sound, coupled with Grissom's hyper-awareness of the young man, that had his pulse rising and his temper flaring. "You may find this amusing, Doctor, but there are four dead women that didn't have to die. Every one of them died here, in this hospital, on this floor." Grissom words were cold but his eyes shot blue fire.
Taking a step back, Malachi shoved his hands into his pockets, his fingers closing around the syringe hidden there. Realizing too late that he could draw the man's attention there, he casually moved his hands up to tug at the ends of the stethoscope draped around his nekc. "I didn't mean to imply that I find this humorous. It's a nervous habit." The moment the words left his mouth, he wished that he could retract them. He watched as Grissom absorbed them and filed them away.
Grissom's mouth tilted up in a smirk and his eyes held the glitter of a promise. "Thank you for your time, doctor. I don't want to keep you but I will be back." Turning on his heel, he strode to the elevator and punched viciously at the button. Silently he made Dr. Rosenthal a promise. If I find one thing, just one thing, pointing to foul play I won't stop until I find out who is responsible.
He didn't notice the thoughtful look Dr. Rosenthal was giving him or the way Elizabeth Bethune watched Malachi with fierce protectiveness.
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"Can't sleep?" Heather's warm breath slid over his skin and he sighed.
"I'm worried about Gil." His voice rough with sleep, Jim spoke softly.
"Mmmmmmmm," she pressed her lips against his chest. "He's not handling Sara's departure well?" Her voice was quiet as if she were afraid to break the spell of the moment.
A soft chuff of laughter escaped him. He slid his hand up and down her arm and pulled her tighter to his side. "That's an understatement. He plays it well but I know he's barely hanging on."
"Do you think I should try to talk to him?" She felt him tense against her and sighed. "Jim, don't."
He placed a kiss on the top of her head. "Sorry." With a sigh he continued, "I don't know if it would help. He won't talk to me or Catherine. I'm not sure he would talk to you. Besides, how would you explain it?"
Heather thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. But after what he did for me, I feel like I should try."
"Yeah, he's a good guy. But this has him twisted in knots." He yawned and then gave a chuckle. "Not that I don't understand. I know I'd be a total mess without you."
"Really now?" Rising up on her elbow, Heather smiled before silencing him with a kiss.