He slowly brought his beam to it.

Stewart's swollen, purple face stared back at him, eyes protruding from their sockets, the whites crisscrossed with broken veins, the pupils so huge they seemed filled with a starless night.

Chapter 16

That same Wednesday night, 9:35 p.m. ICU, St. Paul's Hospital

You're doing fine," Janet said. A quick check of J.S.'s vital signs and abdominal and chest incisions assured her that the young woman remained stable. Sitting on the side of the bed, Janet leaned closer to her, determined no one would listen in on what she had to say next. The curtains that ringed the cubicle from ceiling to floor and the vertical shadows caught in their folds might make the place feel as claustrophobic as a jail cell, but the easily heard conversations from all the other beds dispelled any illusions of privacy. She also chose her words carefully, so as not to frighten the girl. "How are you feeling?"

"As expected, I guess." Her voice sounded frail, as if her struggle in the OR had drained all the fight from her.

But she must be warned. "J.S., I need help with a problem that's completely unrelated to your being here. Are you up to answering a few questions?"

"My help?" She seemed incredulous that anyone would ask anything of her.

Janet nodded, already wondering if it would be better to stop.

But a sudden spark of interest in J.S.'s eyes said otherwise. "I'll try."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Shoot."

"I must insist this stays absolutely hush-hush."

The caution further ignited J.S.'s pale brown irises toward far warmer tones, and her black eyebrows inched upward with curiosity. "Of course."

"Have you discussed your schedule in ER with anyone recently, even casually?"

"What?" Her forehead relaxed, and she frowned, looking disappointed.

"Just answer, please. Believe me, it's important."

"My schedule? Not at all. Work's the furthest thing from my mind."

"You're sure? Not with a visitor here, or anyone else even before today?"

"Before today? You mean at work? Probably. You know how it is with nurses. People want to switch all the time. And of course we all discuss what shifts we want with Susanne. But what do you want to know for?"

"Just bear with me. Do you have any particular criteria about when you choose to work, especially at night?"

"Not really. Why?"

Janet hesitated, still not sure how much to say. Even if Jane hadn't accidentally tipped anyone off, could she identify the killer? "Have you noticed anybody who always works when you do?"

"I think I'd like to know what this is about," she said, her voice hardening.

Janet noticed the change. Had she struck a nerve? "J.S., you've heard about the trouble Dr. Deloram is in?"

"Who hasn't?"

"And you're aware he may be tied to a rise in the death rate on the Palliative Care ward."

J.S. scowled. "Yablonsky ought to be shot, spreading that kind of garbage against him. Hell, I told Thomas a week ago I thought there were more codes being called up there lately, but it's probably a function of her bad nursing, the bitch. I sure as hell don't think Dr. Deloram has anything to do with it. I mean, he helped save my life…" The angry flash in her eyes extinguished itself.

Janet guessed that she'd realized the man's heroics didn't exclude him from being a killer. "Look, J.S., none of us wants him to be guilty," she whispered, "but to help him, we need evidence, not only that he didn't do it, but of who did. I won't tire you with the details now, but at least half of those deaths, if not all, were murders. So Thomas, Dr. Garnet, and I were looking at shift schedules, trying to see if any single person in the hospital had been around when people died unexpectedly in Palliative Care."

"You're doing a cluster study, like the one Dr. G. always gives a lecture about?" Her eyes sparkled with excitement, their washed-out appearance vanishing. "What a great idea! And Thomas is helping? That's wonderful." She made an effort to raise her head and sit up. "Who'd you find? Yablonsky?"

Janet gently motioned her to lie flat. "Easy, girl," she whispered, "or you'll pop a stitch. And remember-" She paused to hold a finger to her own lips. "Keep it down. No, we didn't get Yablonsky, or anyone else on the ward. So I threw the search open and ran a program on the entire nursing roster for St. Paul's."

The anticipation in J.S.'s stare sharpened. "And?"

Janet hated what she had to do. "Now, I assure you that Dr. Garnet, Thomas, and I know it's some kind of fluke, that there's no link whatsoever with anything illegal."

The young woman's eager gaze became guarded in a blink. "What is it?"

"We got your name."

J.S.'s face remained absolutely motionless, at least the part Janet could see. Yet everything changed. A grayness seeped through her eyes, covering her emotions like a lead shield, and she seemed to shrink in on herself. Even her breathing became less pronounced.

"Listen, J.S. We understand the deaths have nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with you. But somehow your schedule corresponds to the killings, and we need to know why. Most important, you need to be careful."

J.S.'s expression didn't so much as flicker. It might have been frozen in ice. But after a few seconds a subtle transformation took place, no more substantial than the play of light and shadow on her skin, yet her features became haggard again, and her eyes, already sunk deep within their sockets, appeared to retreat further into her skull. "But those kinds of associations convict someone these days," she said. With her lips hidden behind the mask, her voice seemed to float out of her head.

"Trust me, we won't even mention your name in connection with the investigation. The worry is, this killer apparently operates the same nights you're on duty."

J.S. looked dazed, as if having difficulty comprehending it all. "I see," she finally said. "You think someone I always work with is a murderer." Her words still had an eerie, disembodied sound.

"Do you know anybody who's always taking shifts when you are, and not necessarily just in nursing? It could be a clerk, a porter, a secretary, perhaps an orderly, maybe a doctor-"

"In ER we're all together one time or another," she interrupted. "Even Dr. G. would fit that criteria."

The sudden sharpness in her tone surprised Janet. It had a harsh bite. "But we're mainly talking nights," she explained, trying to mute her own intensity so as to come across less like an inquisitor. "That ought to narrow it down. Think of someone who's around more than anyone else."

J.S. said nothing, her stare far away.

Janet again second-guessed the wisdom of having even discussed the problem. "I know it's a hell of a thing to dump on you, especially now, but-"

"No, no, it's good you told me. Absolutely the right thing to do. I had to know." J.S. spoke with the singsong cadence of someone reciting a cult mantra.

Alarmed, Janet gave her a moment to collect herself, then said, "Please understand, I'd do this all with a computer, but it could take forever and might even miss the person we're after."

J.S. didn't respond. The soft sounds of ICU at night reverberated from beyond the curtains- the hiss and pop from ventilators, murmuring voices, a steady chirp of monitors like birdsong in a forest of wires and IV tubing.

Might as well press on and try to get the answers we need as quickly as possible, Janet decided, there being no way to take back the upset now. "So any ideas who-"

"None," J.S. said, her voice at a slightly higher pitch.

Janet also noted the quickness of her reply and sensed that the interview had been terminated. "Do you want me to order you a sedative?" she asked as gently as possible, not wanting her to withdraw further. "All this is understandably upsetting."