He was nodding slowly. It was one of the first things that Callum had asked him. It was one of the most immediate priorities for the DPA: to try and determine the source.
“I need you to look over the rest of the evidence the contact tracers have collected. I have to phone Evan Hunter in the next half-hour. It’s my professional opinion that this isn’t a terrorist act.” Her voice was wavering slightly. This was one of the most crucial decisions she would make in her lead role for the DPA.
Everything she was saying made sense and he knew that she would have read and analyzed the evidence to the best of her abilities. But time was pressing. If there was any threat to the general population, they had to know now.
He understood what this meant to her. And he understood why she was asking him.
It wasn’t just that he’d told her to delegate. It was that this could impact on everything. The actions and reactions the world would have to this outbreak.
She had to be right.
She had to be sure.
If Callum had been here, this would have been on his head. But even then, he would have had Callie to bat things back and forth with. To agree with his decision-making.
She didn’t have that.
She didn’t have anyone.
So she was asking the one person here who might have those skills.
He laid his hand over hers. “I’ll make the phone call. It will take two minutes and then I’ll close this office door and look over all this information. If I have even a shadow of a doubt, I’ll let you know.”
Her shoulders sagged just a little. As if she’d just managed to disperse a little of their weight. “Thank you,” she said as she walked out the door.
Sawyer watched her leave, trying not to look at her rear view in the pink scrubs. He couldn’t work out what was going on. One minute she was driving him crazy. The next?
He slumped back in the chair a little, the mound of paper in front of him looking less than enticing. His phone slipped from his pocket and clattered to the floor.
It was like an alarm clock going off in his head.
Violet. He really needed to contact Violet.
His sister worked at the DPA and must be going crazy. She would have heard his name bandied about by now and know that he must be in the middle of all this.
His phone had been switched to silent for the last few hours and he glanced at the screen and cringed. He’d known as soon as he’d called the DPA that his number would have been logged in their system.
It made sense that she’d tried to get in touch with him—after all, he’d changed his number numerous times in the last few years—only getting in touch when he could face it.
He really didn’t want to know how many missed calls and text messages he’d had from her. It just made him feel even guiltier.
When his wife had died and he’d walked away from the DPA, he’d also more or less walked away from his family.
It had been the only way he could cope.
He couldn’t bear to have any reminders of Helen, his wife. It had been just too much. He’d needed time. He’d needed space.
On occasion—when he’d felt guilty enough—he’d send Violet a text just to let her know that he was safe. Nothing more. Nothing less.
She deserved better and he knew that. He just hadn’t been in a position to give it.
The one saving grace was that no one in the DPA knew they were related. She’d started just after he’d left. And the last thing any new doctor needed was to live in the shadow of the family black sheep.
He turned the phone over in his hands and looked at his watch. The mountain of paper on the desk seemed to have mysteriously multiplied in the last few minutes.
He would phone Violet. He would.
But right now time was critical. He had to do this first.
* * *
Callie was mad.
But she was trying not to show it.
Everything he’d said was right.
The doctor who was apparently bad-tempered and temperamental was making her feel as if she was the problem and not him.
The worst thing was he’d sounded clear-headed and rational. He was right, she did need to delegate. No matter how alien the concept seemed to her.
So she’d delegated the most obvious duty to him. Evan Hunter would have a fit.
But she was in charge here. Not him. And since Callum wasn’t here, she had to rely on the one member of staff who had some experience in this area—whether Evan Hunter liked it or not.
“Callie?”
She’d reached the treatment room. One of the second-year residents was emptying the refrigerated container of vaccines.
“What is it?”
“How many of these do you want me to draw up?”
She shook her head. “None—yet.” She glanced at the face of the resident, who was obviously worried about doing anything wrong. A few years ago that would have been her.
“Have you used the ring vaccination concept before?”
The resident shook her head.
In the midst of all this madness Callie had to remember she had a responsibility to teach. To help the staff around her learn their roles. To lead by example.
The words started repeating to a rhythm in her head.
“Ring vaccination controls an outbreak by vaccinating and monitoring a ring of people around each infected individual. The idea is to form a buffer of immune individuals to prevent the spread of the disease. It’s a way of containment.”
“And it works effectively?”
Callie gave a small smile. “We thought it did. Ring vaccination was held as essential in the eradication of smallpox. For the vast majority of people, getting the smallpox vaccine within three days of exposure will significantly lesson the severity of the symptoms.”
“What about people who were vaccinated before against smallpox? Aren’t they already protected?”
Callie shook her head. “It’s a common misconception. Why do you ask?”
“One of the men in the waiting room said he’d had the vaccination as a child and he wouldn’t need anything.”
Callie smiled. “Last time ring vaccination was used for smallpox was in the late seventies. But if he was vaccinated then, he would only have had protection for between three and five years. There might still be some antibodies in his blood but we can’t assume anything.”
“Would we vaccinate him again?”
“It depends where he falls at risk. In the first instance, we vaccinate anyone who has been, or may have been, exposed to someone who has the infection.”
“He was sitting next to the family in the waiting room.”
Callie nodded. There was so much about this that wasn’t written entirely in stone and open to interpretation. “Then we need to assess how much contact he had with the family—and for how long.”
“And that’s where all the guessing games start.”
The deep voice at the door made her head jerk up. Sawyer was standing with her file in his hand. He walked over and held it out towards her. “You’re right, Callie. It didn’t take long to review the information.” He shook his head. “There’s absolutely nothing there to hint at anything other than a natural outbreak—the very thing the DPA declared could never happen.”
The sense of relief that rushed over her body was instant. She’d been scared. Scared that she’d missed something—that she’d overlooked something important. Something her sister would never have done.
It was the first time today she actually felt as if she might be doing a good job.
She took the file from his hand. “I guess we don’t know everything, then,” she murmured.
He gave her a lazy smile and raised one eyebrow at her. “Really? You mean the DPA
hasn’t managed to find its way into every corner of the universe to see if there are any deadly diseases left?”
Her eyes were scanning the sheets in front of her. She shrugged. “It makes sense. The Keatings said that it was the first time the locals had come into contact with outsiders.”
“First contact. Sounds much sexier than it should.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Sounds like a whole can of worms.”
The resident lowered her head and busied herself in the corner of the room. In some ways Callie wanted to do that too.