Chapter Forty-One
A warm hand held mine, and I opened my heavy eyelids. The world refocused. I was lying in a hospital bed with Patrick sitting beside me, my hand in his. There was an IV in my arm. I felt so tired.
“P—” I tried to say his name.
“Shh,” he said. “Rest, my love.”
****
The sound of chatter and activity from outside the room woke me. I stared at the plain beige ceiling and struggled to remember everything that had happened in Dr. Crawford’s office.
A nurse came into my room. “Good morning, June,” she said in a soft tone. “Do you mind if I turn the light on?”
“No, not at all.”
She pulled the cord to turn on the wall light and then peeled the tape from the back of my hand. She removed the IV needle and pressed a gauze pad over the small puncture. “How are you feeling, dear?” she said.
“I feel well,” I said, surprised by how well I actually felt.
“No dizziness or nausea?”
“None,” I said and looked at the empty chair beside me.
“He never left you all night.”
“Who?”
“The officer.” The nurse taped up my hand. “Your bloodwork is normal. After the doctor signs your release papers, you’ll be free to go.”
“Do you know what happened to me?”
“Apparently, you were drugged. We gave you fluids to help flush them out. There’s no rush, but when you’re ready to get dressed, you’ll find your belongings in the locker.”
“Thank you,” I said. When she left, I swung my legs over the bed and adjusted my hospital gown. In socked feet, I made my way to the locker and washroom. I supposed I’d call a taxi to take me home to my duplex. The sooner the better.
Had Patrick really been here?
After dressing, I stepped out of the washroom, and there he was, standing beside my bed. A thousand hummingbirds fluttered in my chest. My legs became shaky, and I put my hand on the back of a chair. He rushed to my side.
“I’m fine.” I made my way to the bed and sat on the edge. I was afraid to ask the next question. I didn't enjoy seeing him frown. “Why are you here?”
Patrick cleared his throat. “Since the night you left my house, I haven’t stopped being concerned about your safety. How are you feeling?”
I shrugged. “Still alive.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn it, June. I was worried sick. Why the hell didn’t you call me?”
Heat rose in my face. “Why would I have called you? To tell you the door hit me on the way out?”
“May I sit?” he said.
“If you want.”
He pulled a chair closer. “The other night, I never wanted you to leave.”
“Funny, your actions showed otherwise.”
There was a knock on the door. A slim, middle-aged man in a coffee-colored suit walked in. He looked at me with sympathetic brown eyes.
Patrick took my hand. “Are you up for a visitor?”
“I think so.”
“Hello,” the man said in a soothing voice.
“Hi.” I wondered who he could be.
“Hello, Officer.” The man shook hands with Patrick. “June, I’m Stan Fulthorpe.”
“Dr. Fulthorpe,” I said, stunned. The elusive Dr. Fulthorpe. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I, we, have so many questions.”
“I’ll do my best to answer them. I owe you that.”
“Please have a seat, Doctor,” Patrick said.
The doctor sat in Patrick’s vacated chair while Patrick stood.
“First,” Dr. Fulthorpe said. “I want to apologize for how you’ve become involved in these tragic circumstances. This whole situation went awry quickly.”
“How did this all happen?” I asked.
“It happened because I shouldn’t have trusted someone, a colleague, a friend. Or so I thought.” The man appeared distraught. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be vague. Long story short, my ex-partner jeopardized the health of patients and defrauded insurance companies.”
Few things angered me more than a person of power taking advantage of the vulnerable. “I’d like to hear the entire story, if that’s okay.”
Dr. Fulthorpe nodded. “As you know, Gideon Crawford and I run the hospital’s hematology clinic. We see our own regular patients and often cover for each other. About five years ago, I followed up with one of Gideon’s patients. After reading the case history, I was startled to see how Gideon had treated this patient.”
I shifted. “In what way?”
“I’d describe the treatment as unethical and risky.”
“You mean like inappropriate use of clinical trials?”
Dr. Fulthorpe raised his eyebrows. “Along with performing excessive, expensive procedures, that’s absolutely what I mean.”
It was exactly what Aram had surmised.
“Dr. Crawford didn’t follow treatment protocols. When I approached him about the matter, he agreed with my sentiments, but continued using unconventional methods. I decided then and there I wouldn’t co-treat patients with him. That’s when I started documenting cases.”
“And transferred the information onto the USB drive?” Patrick said.
“Yes, onto three USBs, actually. And onto the cloud,” Dr. Fulthorpe said. “I hid the USBs in the ceiling tiles of my office, my home, and rental house.”
“That’s why David hid the drive in the ceiling tile at my place,” I said. “But why did he choose my place?”
“He was being pursued and needed a safe place to hide the USB, and himself. Your place foot the bill.”
The pieces were falling into place. It seemed nothing happened by accident, but by design or some reason.
“I had confronted Gideon about his malpractice. This time, he didn’t admit any inappropriate care. He even attacked my methods. I told him if he didn’t report himself to the College of Physicians and Surgeons, I would. As long-time colleagues, and the godfather to my daughter, I made the mistake of giving him a few days to get things in order. That night my house and office were ransacked, and two of the three memory sticks were stolen, and somehow the information on the cloud was erased. Gideon had certainly hired hard-core mercenaries. I’m sure they’re the ones who burned down my rental home to ensure no evidence remained. And then hunted down poor David.”
My mouth had become dry, and I tried to swallow.
“Would you like to rest, June?” Dr. Fulthorpe asked.
“No, please go on,” I said and took a sip of water. “Who was David Moreno?”
The doctor continued. “He’s a young man I’d been caring for, for over a decade.”
I glanced at Patrick and frowned.
“David struggled to pay for his medications, and more times than not, I hadn’t charged him. He had insisted on repaying me somehow, so on a whim I asked him to retrieve the last and only remaining USB drive from my rental home. I scribbled my address on a card for him. And then when he went there, well, you know what happened next. Evidently, he and I were being watched. When the thugs tried to steal the USB from him, it ended in a deadly struggle. David bled profusely because of his illness, and that’s when you and the officer came on the scene. He knocked you down and snatched the bloody towel, reclaiming his own DNA evidence. Trying to protect me from being implicated.”
“Poor guy,” I said.
“I never would have asked him if I’d have known of Gideon’s malevolence. That’s when I knew my life and my family’s life were in jeopardy and I had to stop Gideon from hurting his patients. My wife, daughter, and I escaped to Florida, and from there, I reported Gideon and arranged for his arrest while clearing my name. Thanks to the help of Officer Verbeek.”
“I respect what you did, Dr. Fulthorpe.” Patrick put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not easy being a whistleblower.”
Patrick’s gesture warmed me inside. I knew he referred to what I had done, too.
“I appreciate that, Officer. And thank you for all your help. June, I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this. I should have handled it better.”
“I believe you handled as best as you could,” I said.
“I should be on my way and let you rest,” Dr. Fulthorpe said.
“Thank you for telling us everything,” I said.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Patrick said. “I’ll walk you out.”
I took another sip of water. In a few minutes, Patrick returned and sat next to me.
“The man is carrying a lot of weight on his shoulders,” Patrick said.
“He has a conscience.”
Patrick nodded. “Yes, he does.”
“Well, this really is all over now.” I glanced at my bag on the ground. “I guess I’ll be on my way home.”
“June, wait.”
I remained still, unable to guess what he was about to say. His expression hadn’t betrayed him in any way.
“June, I want to beg for your forgiveness.”
Air rushed from my parted lips. “My forgiveness?”
“I don’t know what happened between you and Doc Hamid, and I don’t care. I mean, I care, but not enough to lose you.”
I wanted to cry with joy. Even when Patrick didn’t know what had happened between Aram and I, his feelings for me hadn’t wavered.
“You just have to tell me, June, which one of us do you want? I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you choose Hamid. He is obviously a great guy. Highly scholastic. Not bad looking.”
This was the first time I heard Patrick ramble. I put a finger to his lips to stop him from talking.?”You were right about what you said. Aram was the one who had ‘effed me up.’”
Patrick lowered his head. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you were right. Aram and I used to be involved. I thought we were happy until he broke it off. I hadn’t seen it coming. It happens, right?”
Patrick nodded. “It happens.”
“That’s when I decided it wouldn’t happen to me ever again and I focused on work, not dating.”
He thought for a bit and then shook his head. “And all those times I had asked you out, I thought you didn’t like me.”
“It wasn’t personal.”
“Why did you finally agree to go out with me?”
I shrugged. “Because I missed my bus.”
“Yes, I recall that well. I have to thank that bus driver for running ahead of schedule that day.”
I thought for a moment about an enormous revelation. “Patrick, until that day, I’d been holding out on life, on love, on you. I have to thank that bus driver, too.”