"Detective Logan, I have something to show you." Gwen, wearing her tactical uniform, exuded power and control as she walked the enamored cop to the Post-it room.
"Sweet Jesus." Danny Logan's shoulders rose as he turned 360 degrees, taking in the swirls of Post-its.
"Detective, look at this." The most current notebook sat open on the table. Logan pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket and turned the pages. A picture of Elizabeth Reed stared up at him. Underneath, someone detailed how they murdered Knox and Whelan. The outline also described how they framed her.
"I need to make a call." In the corridor, he whispered to Blake and Riggs, "Put out a BOLO for Dr. Hailey Ullman. Armed and dangerous. Suspicion of multiple homicides. Find her."
The team awaited the arrival of District Attorney Loren Ragan. Assistant District Attorney Jacob Krebs walked in on Ragan's shirttails. Terry Newsome and Cleo Nolan arrived minutes before.
"Logan, show me this convincing evidence," Ragan's voice tried to demonstrate leadership. Instead, it betrayed he was about to be force-fed crow.
The four attorneys breathed a collective horrified breath. A tight-lipped Ragan leafed through the album. “I'll remedy the situation the minute I return to the office, Terry."
"You will also call a press conference. After this morning's defamatory speech by her father, Dr. Reed deserves that."
A perfect politician wave later, Ragan grumbled—within earshot of the attorneys and the Chase personnel—to the three detectives and Krebs, "This is a mess. Who in your division is responsible for this? The Chase brothers will eat us alive."
The text message vibrated his phone. Martin's smile filled the room with light as he read,ELIZABETH IS CLEARED.
Elizabeth's room became a de facto command center. Martin viewed photographs from Hailey Ullman's house. They found canning jars, honey, and cigarettes soaking in a watery solution.
Martin swiped at his weary face. "Slater and Ullman are connected to Elizabeth's poisoning. By the photos, Pietra Hahn was involved as well. Technical analysis was attempting to identify the others in the photos. “We know McAllister is involved too. Troy has identified many of the guards, but too many holes remain. On the medical side, I don’t think Knox, Ullman, and Slater did this on their own—more staff has to be involved. With no sign of explosives, the bomber remains elusive too.”
Eric drew blood from Elizabeth. "We should note a significant drop."
"If it doesn't?" Martin’s voice cracked.
Jamie crouched beside him. "Be patient and think about positive things. Tess notified us at shift change that Austin's kidneys are waking up."
Martin smiled. "Sunshine, you gave me and my family such a gift. In high school, you cared about everyone and everything. Abandoned animals to Vietnam veterans. Some of the kids thought you were only like that because you were a Reed. You were the real deal. Who took care of you all these years?"
Patrick's hand rested on the crest of Joyce's hip as they entered the room. "We took care of each other,” she answered. “Hey, Beth, you need to move it, girl. You’re making Marty crazy." She sat on the bed beside her friend and grabbed her latest knitting project. "This is for Lissa." She held up part of a hot pink sock.
Joyce was an animated storyteller. "Beth and I both matched for Hopkins—a mammoth modern center attached to this ancient building plopped into the middle of Baltimore poverty. The surrounding neighborhood is, well, let's just say all you alpha men would freak.
“We go through the normal orientation, all the usual BS. Then it was time for the first lecture of substance. We’re sitting as a group in a lecture hall, sixty of us, two women. Birds of a feather... Dr. Coolidge, Head of Orthopedics, stands at the podium. He quotes, of all people, Stephen Stills from Crosby, Stills, and Nash." She impersonated him. “‘Stephen Stills said,There are three things men can do with women: love them, suffer for them, or turn them into literature.Nowhere does it say women should be surgeons.’ I was ready to walk out that minute. Beth turns to me and says, 'Being a woman is a terribly difficult trade since it consists principally of dealings with men.’ She told me it was from Joseph Conrad'sChance. She is half the man's size and twice the human being he ever will be. He rode everyone hard, but Beth harder. Made her hold a retractor for hours until her arms went numb. Gave her the worst assignments.” She bent down toward Elizabeth. “How many bowels did you disimpact? And you never gave in. Not once. Even the day you had the flu. You aren’t going to give in to this either. Do you understand me?" Joyce lay across Elizabeth, wrapping her arms around her, her composure dissolving into bitter tears.
Patrick moved around the bed. "Joyce, come here. Don't cry." He brought her to sit with him in a lounge chair.
"I'm sorry, Marty. I'm not making you feel better,” she sniffled.
"Tell me more." Martin's eyes smiled.
"We were on our oncology rotation. A young guy came in with advanced colon cancer, only twenty-eight years old. Bald from chemo, but his eyes were just like yours. At the time, I didn't understand why Beth reacted the way she did, but he became her cause. A tumor blocked his liver. He had little time. The attendings decided they wanted to free the blockage, make him comfortable. Beth spent every spare minute with him, but he never made it off the table. Nobody's fault—his disease won. I found her tucked into a ball, crying her eyes out. We all lost our first patient weeks before, but this was more. She confessed her love for a man back home whom she didn't keep her promise to. She told me it hurt like losing you again. Marty, she loves you. Don't ever doubt it."
He stretched over the bed to kiss her. "I don't. I love you too. Right, Sunshine?"
Eric let out a huge breath. "Doc, the level is down by a third."
Patrick nodded, rising from the chair and letting Joyce rest while he washed his hands. He listened to Elizabeth's heart. "Eric, call cardiology and repeat the cardiac work-up. Page me when Norton gets here. I'll see everyone later."
Trask and Lola's nurse, Laverne Waverly, sat with Dennis Bailey, who kept his large, weathered hand on Lola. Dressed in a crocheted purple hat and booties from her grandmother, she slept now in a radiant warmer. Indira joined him. "Oh, I thought you were her dad."
"I'm her grandfather, Dennis Bailey. This is her Uncle Trask and her nurse, Laverne. How is my granddaughter doing?"
"Slow progress. We’re weaning her from the sedation. I hoped to speak to her father."
"He’s visiting another patient. Do you need something?" Dennis stood.
