He heard Violet’s sharp intake of breath. She knew exactly the impact that must have had on him.
“So, for a couple of hours it was just me treating the kids. You know how it is, Violet. That’s the way it’s got to be. I’ve had my smallpox vaccination. Now I just need to wait.”
“I don’t like this. I don’t like any of this. I’ve waited months to hear from you again—eight measly texts in six years—and now this? All I’ve ever wanted to know is that you were safe, Sawyer, but when I finally hear from you, you’re in the most dangerous place of all. It just doesn’t seem real.”
Sawyer felt himself bristle. He didn’t want to get into this with Violet. He didn’t want to answer a million questions about where he’d been or what he’d been doing. That was a conversation for another day—and maybe not even then.
And even though he could hear the note of desperation in her voice, he just couldn’t go there.
“How’s Callum? Have you heard if he’s okay? I tried to call the hospital earlier, but they wouldn’t tell me anything.”
There was hesitation at the other end. She was obviously trying to decide what to tell him. “He’s had a massive MI. They took him for angioplasty hours ago and apparently it went well.”
There it was again. That tightening feeling around his chest. The way it always came when things were outside his control.
He hated the fact that even though he was a doctor he couldn’t always help the people he loved.
He changed the subject.
“What do you know about Callie Turner? She seems a little out of her depth.”
“You think?” Violet’s answer was snappy, verging on indignant. She was obviously suffering from the same lack of sleep that he was. He was forgetting what time it was. “Callie’s one of the best doctors I’ve worked with. She does everything to the letter. She’s very focused, very ordered. Don’t get in her way, Sawyer, she won’t like it.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” In a way he was surprised. Violet was always honest with him. She would tell him if she had any doubts about Callie. The fact that she hadn’t mentioned even one was interesting. He decided to take a new tack. “What about her scars?”
“What scars? Callie has scars?”
She sounded genuinely surprised. Didn’t the women in the DPA locker room look at each other? Maybe he should call them all on their observation skills.
“Yeah. A big one, snaking right down her leg. She didn’t get it at work, then?”
“How come you’ve seen Callie’s scars? Ah...the protective clothing. I get it. No, I had no idea Callie had a scar. She definitely didn’t get it at work. She’s never had any accidents here. It must be from years ago.”
He leaned against the wall just outside the children’s room again. All of a sudden he was embarrassed. He hadn’t had a proper conversation with his sister in the last few years and he was asking her about other people? He should be ashamed of himself. He took a deep breath, “How are you, Violet? Are you okay?”
“How do you think I am? The biggest potential outbreak in who knows how long and, oh, yeah, my brother’s in the middle of it. The DPA’s in an uproar. Some rooms are deathly silent and in others you can’t even hear yourself think. We’ve got another couple of outbreaks in other places but none like this.” She lowered her voice, as if she was hiding her conversation from someone near her. “What do you think? Do you really think it’s smallpox?”
He blew a stream of air out through his lips. “That’s the million-dollar question. I’m sure it’s a pox—and it definitely isn’t chicken pox. But am I sure it’s smallpox?” He shook his head. “I just don’t know, sis. That’s for the lab rats to tell us.”
He heard her laugh at his affectionate name for his friends who worked down in the labs. “By the way, Frank says hello. He also cursed a little. He was just about to start his vacation when your lab samples arrived. He says you owe him and his wife a trip to Hawaii.”
Memories started to come flooding back into Sawyer’s mind. Memories he’d blocked out for a long time. He’d worked with Frank Palmer for six years. They were the same age and had got married around the same time. When Helen had died, he just hadn’t been able to stay in touch. Everything was a permanent reminder.
Frank’s wife Lucy was a petite, gorgeous blonde who had probably had her suitcase packed with a different bikini for every day of their vacation. She would have been mad.
Helen and Lucy had been good friends. They’d made plans together and enjoyed each other’s company. Lucy had been heartbroken when Helen had died.
His heart gave a little squeeze. It wasn’t just his sister he hadn’t considered.
He hadn’t considered other people. Other people who had been devastated by Helen’s death. He’d been too busy focusing on his own grief to allow anyone else’s to touch him.
“Tell Frank I’m sorry—no, tell Lucy I’m sorry.” He hesitated for a second then asked, “Frank and Lucy—do they have any kids?”
It had been another of Helen and Lucy’s grand plans, that they would all have kids at the same time. They’d always joked that their imaginary offspring could be prom king and queen together.
He heard Violet take a deep breath and her voice had a new edge to it, a harsher edge. “You’ve been away too long, Sawyer. Frank and Lucy lost their daughter last year to stillbirth. It was an extremely traumatic time—Lucy nearly died and had to have a hysterectomy. They can’t have any more children.”
He felt as if someone had just twisted a knife in his guts. For a few fleeting seconds he’d been jealous. Jealous that Frank still had Lucy. That he still had a future with his wife.
Violet’s words sent chills across his body. It just showed you—you never knew. You never knew the minute when things could come crashing down all around you.
And now he was feeling something else. Disgust with himself. He hadn’t been there to support his friends in their time of need. People who had reached out to him when he’d been at his lowest ebb.
It didn’t matter that he’d walked away and ignored everyone. He could still remember every card, every phone call, every email, every handshake.
Helen would have been livid with him. He could almost hear her reading him the Riot Act.
Touching reality again was making him realize that her death hadn’t affected only him. It had affected everyone around them.
Some of the contact tracers in the team could barely look at him today.
And it wasn’t a reflection on them. It was a reflection on him.
They had no idea how he would react to them. How he would react if they brought up the past and expressed their sympathies about Helen—even after all this time
Violet cleared her throat at the end of the line and he snapped back to attention. “I take it you’re still flying under the radar in there? They haven’t made the connection between us?” he asked.
“No. No one knows.” He heard her breathe a sigh of relief. “Or if anybody knows, they’re not saying anything. Evan Hunter’s walking around here like a bear with a sore head. I’ve spent the last few hours trying to avoid him. He didn’t take it well that you’re involved in this.”
Sawyer couldn’t help the smile that automatically spread across his face. “He’ll get over it,” he murmured. He looked at his watch. “Hate to say it, sis, but I need to go. I might have a chance to get my head down for a couple of hours. One of the pediatricians has just arrived to share the responsibility of the kids. We’ve just had to intubate one of them. This might be the only chance I get to sleep in a while.”
“Okay, Sawyer. Stay safe and keep an eye on Callie. She has lots of good qualities. And keep your phone switched on. If I call and you don’t answer...”
“I get it, s
is. Keep your head down and stay out of Evan Hunter’s way. He’ll find something else to gripe about soon.”
He stared at the phone as he heard her hang up, puzzled by her parting shot about Callie. It was almost like a little beacon, glowing orange in the dark sea. She knew exactly how to play him. Some things never changed.
CHAPTER SIX
VIOLET HAD ONLY just replaced the receiver when Evan Hunter came stomping across the room, shouting orders as he went. They might be an hour ahead of Chicago but hadn’t anyone told him it was six o’clock in the morning and most of the staff had been up all night?
“Somebody get that man a coffee,” she grumbled as she slid her chair under the desk and pulled up the screen she’d been reviewing. It was a distribution model of the potential spread of the smallpox virus. They’d started working on this while they had still been trying to determine if the passengers on the plane had been exposed or not.
“Violet! Violet!”
Rats. It was almost as if he had an internal radar and could hear her thoughts.
“What?” She turned to face him as he hovered above her, obviously irritated by her lack of instant response. “What’s happened?”
“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you?”
Darn it. She’d only ducked out for five minutes to speak to Matt. How on earth could he have known that?
There was only way to shut him up. “Ladies’ room.” She gave him a sarcastic smile. That was all the information he would need.
He scowled at her. “I need you to get some background on Matt Sawyer for me. Find out where he’s been for the last six years. Find out how he managed to end up in an E.R. in Chicago.”
She was stunned. It was the last thing she had been expecting. A few hours ago it had been a whole hullaballoo about a graph of the potential spread of smallpox. And, well, yes, she could almost understand it. That was just the kind of thing he wanted to appear instantly before his eyes. Stuff the grunt work. He practically expected people to work at the speed of light. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d told him in no uncertain terms that data needed to be checked and rechecked, assimilated and analyzed beyond any shadow of a doubt.