Nancy smiled sympathetically. “What about—” she began, but stopped in midsentence when Trevor shook his head.
“The Deverly file wasn’t in Dr. Rayburn’s office. In fact, it seems to be missing entirely. Dr. Rayburn is really upset about everything. He’s furious that you were in his office and that someone purposely sedated you. And he’s fit to be tied about the missing file.” Trevor grimaced. “The chief of staff’s in a real state, too. We had to order a new file made up.”
Nancy hoped Dr. Wicks wouldn’t pull her off the case. It was certainly within his power. “Whoever attacked me didn’t want me to see that file.”
“Then it won’t surprise you that Dr. Shaw’s file is missing, too,” Trevor added. “I told you, Nancy—it’s a plot. Someone’s trying to ruin my career!”
This time Nancy didn’t argue. Someone had attacked her. And that meant someone thought she was a threat. “Who would want to ruin your career?” Nancy asked. “Have you got any enemies?”
April and Trevor quickly exchanged looks, but neither responded right away. “Well, maybe,” he said finally.
“Who?”
“Suzanne Welles,” April answered for him. “She’s an administrator here at the hospital, and she—uh—doesn’t really like Trevor—or me.”
Nancy asked, “Why?”
“Suzanne and I were dating,” Trevor explained. “We were pretty serious for a while. Then she talked about getting married, but I didn’t think I was ready. We broke up, and then right after that, I met April.” He shot his fiancée a quick, affectionate glance. “The rest is history,” he added softly.
“Do you think she would carry a grudge this far?” Nancy asked skeptically. “I mean, not only is Trevor’s reputation suffering, but whoever’s changing the patients’ charts is also endangering their lives. That’s criminal.”
Trevor seemed to consider. “No, I don’t think so,” he answered. “Suzanne’s angry, but she’s not vindictive. She wouldn’t risk patients’ lives or her career.”
April opened her mouth, then clamped it shut again; clearly she had wanted to disagree with Trevor. Nancy sensed the hostility April felt for Suzanne. She wasn’t sure what to believe, but she made a mental note to find Suzanne Welles as soon as possible.
Nancy left a few minutes later to check at the administration building to find out where Suzanne worked. She learned Suzanne had her own office on the fourth floor.
Nancy took the elevator and stepped out into a hallway. A dark gray carpet deadened the sound of her steps. The lighting was indirect and tasteful. Unlike the hospital, which was designed for efficiency, the administration building—at least this floor—was decorated for comfort.
Suzanne’s name was embossed on a bronze nameplate recessed in the oak door. Nancy knocked softly, and a young woman let her in.
“Yes?” she inquired politely, taking in Nancy’s candy striper uniform.
“I’m looking for Suzanne Welles,” Nancy explained. “My name is Nancy Drew. Are you Suzanne?”
“I’m Suzanne’s secretary,” the young woman explained. “Do you have an appointment?”
Nancy hadn’t understood the importance of Suzanne’s position. It was clear Suzanne was high up to be awarded such a luxurious office and her own secretary. “No. I’m a friend of Dr. Trevor Callahan’s.”
The young woman hesitated, then shrugged and lifted the receiver on her phone. She explained who Nancy was to the person on the other end.
“Go right in,” the secretary said, her voice tinged with surprise.
“Thank you.” Nancy opened the door to Suzanne Welles’s office.
A woman in her twenties sat in a leather chair behind a massive oak desk. Her dark hair was swept up, and the suit she wore was simple and expensive.
“All right, Nancy Drew,” she said. “What’s your angle?”
Her directness surprised Nancy. “Angle?”
“I have a budget meeting in fifteen minutes with the administrative director. I don’t have time to waste. What have you got to do with Trevor Callahan?”
“Maybe I should come back another time,” Nancy murmured.
“Did Trevor send you?”
“No, I—” Nancy stopped to collect herself. Suzanne Welles certainly had a way of making her feel ill at ease! “Trevor said you’re a friend of his,” Nancy spoke up, deciding to fight fire with fire. She could be as direct and bold as Suzanne. “He’s in trouble now, and I thought you could help.”
“What kind of trouble? And how are you involved?” Suzanne drew her brows together.
Nancy quickly explained everything. Suzanne visibly softened.
“But Trevor didn’t actually ask for my help, did he?” she guessed. Sighing, she said, “Okay, let me be honest. I thought I was in love with Trevor once, but I wasn’t. That’s over.”
“You don’t know anyone who might want to hurt him?”
Suzanne’s face flushed. “Is that why you’re here? Because you think I want revenge?” She rose, crossed the room, and opened the door. It was a clear invitation to leave, and Nancy reluctantly turned toward the outer office.
“If someone’s making mistakes, it might be Trevor himself, you know,” Suzanne said. “He’s the most logical choice, isn’t he?”
She closed the door behind Nancy with more force than was necessary.
• • •
It was late afternoon by the time Nancy returned to her post in the emergency room. Her head was swimming with thoughts of Suzanne Welles. She was certain Suzanne still had feelings for Trevor, no matter what she said. Why else would Suzanne have agreed to see her unless she hoped Trevor had sent Nancy as a way of breaking the ice between them again? When Suzanne had seen that Nancy was merely trying to help Trevor, her hopes had obviously been dashed, although she’d tried to deny her feelings.
She must still love Trevor. But how could she be involved in ruining his reputation? She had seemed genuinely concerned for Trevor until she found out why Nancy was there.
In the emergency room, a young girl in a softball uniform was slumped in a chair beside her mother. The sticker on her T-shirt said her name was Carla. Nancy smiled at her and asked, “Can you fill this form out?”
Carla lifted her left hand, pointing to her right one. “I can’t,” she said, heaving a huge sigh. Her right hand was wrapped in a white terry-cloth towel.
“We think Carla’s finger is broken,” the woman beside her said, taking the clipboard from Nancy.
“I might be out for the season!” Carla wailed.
“Maybe it’s not that bad,” Nancy said consolingly. She stared at the sticker on the girl’s T-shirt, and something clicked inside her head. White sticker. Penicillin. “Excuse me,” she said, striding toward the emergency room desk. On top of the counter were several patients’ binders. Nancy opened one. A chart had just been started. A white paper marked Standard Orders lay on top, the patient’s name typed across the page.
“Hey, Nancy! I thought your shift ended at three.”
“Ned!” she cried excitedly, grabbing his arm, and dragging him toward an empty corner of the emergency room.
“Well, if I’d known I was going to get this warm a reception, I would have been here sooner,” he teased.
“It gets better.” Nancy’s eyes sparkled. “I just figured out how someone tampered with Trevor’s patients’ files!”
Chapter
Seven
NED STARED AT HER in amazement. “You did? How?”
“I got a quick look at Mrs. Deverly’s file this morning before I was attacked. On the doctor’s Standard Orders page Mrs. Deverly’s name was on one of those white labels stuck on the chart. Normally the patient’s name is typed on. Don’t you see? Someone covered up the real name. Trevor’s orders weren’t for Mrs. Deverly at all!”
Ned whistled.
“Those orders were for some other patient,” Nancy went on. “That’s why Trevor’s handwriting was on it! Someone substituted those orders into Mrs.
Deverly’s file. Trevor had really ordered penicillin for another patient!”
“Wow.” Ned shook his head. “But what about the red tape warning against an allergic reaction?”
“It had to have been ripped from the file and later replaced.”
“But weren’t Trevor’s orders dated?” Ned asked, thinking fast. “They date everything around here.”
“I bet the dates were altered, too. Those orders could have been for any patient since Trevor’s been a resident. No one really looked at the dates. It was Trevor’s handwriting on the file ordering the penicillin that put everything in an uproar.”
“Nancy”—Ned gripped her arm—“if what you’re saying is true, then some maniac is running around the hospital switching files!”
“Switching Trevor’s files, and putting patients’ lives in danger! He or she is after Trevor.”
Ned nodded, his handsome face grave. “Why would anyone be out to get Trevor?”
Nancy thought of Suzanne. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “And what about Dr. Shaw’s body? Whoever took it must have had a powerful motive. I can’t believe it hasn’t turned up by now.”
They headed for the seventh floor to look for Trevor in cardiology. As they rounded a corner, Nancy nearly ran into David Baines. The surly orderly was trying to follow Dr. Rayburn into his office.
“Excuse me, Mr. Baines,” Rayburn said patiently but firmly. “I have work to do.”
“Work to do. Right. Like in Saint Louis?” David asked, his tone nasty. He anxiously twirled a set of keys around one finger.
Rayburn just shook his head and strode into his office. David, noticing Nancy and Ned for the first time, said with a short laugh, “Well, if it isn’t the girl detective and her flunky.”
Ned bristled, but Nancy put a hand on his arm. “Who told you I was a detective?” she asked David.
“No one had to tell me. You’re asking all kinds of questions about Trevor Callahan.” He twirled the keys again before he walked past them.
“Did you see those keys?” Ned demanded. “Those were Porsche keys. I recognized them.”
“Porsche keys,” Nancy repeated, staring down the empty hallway where David had disappeared. “Tell me, how can an orderly afford a Porsche?”
“I don’t know,” Ned replied thoughtfully.
Ten minutes later they found Trevor in Room 721, speaking with a young boy whose chest was bandaged. Trevor was holding a soccer ball and smiling at his patient. “So, you’re a soccer player,” he was saying. “How long have you been playing?”
“A few years.” The boy plucked at his sheets. “I won’t play this year.”
“Oh, you never know. You’ve got six months until fall season. You’ll be as good as new by then.” He glanced over his shoulder, spying Nancy and Ned in the doorway. “Be back later,” he told the boy with a wink.
“What’s up?” he asked, joining them in the corridor.
Trevor listened attentively while Nancy told him about her theory regarding the altered charts. “Nancy, you’re fantastic! So that’s how it was done!”
“We don’t know for certain,” Nancy reminded him. “It’s just a theory.”
“I’m going straight to the chief of staff to straighten this out,” Trevor said, already in motion.
“Trevor, I—”
“Catch you later,” he yelled, running through the closing doors of the elevator.
“Now what?” Ned asked.
Nancy pushed back a strand of hair from her face. The way Trevor jumped to conclusions made her uneasy. “How about food?” she suggested.
“You read my mind. But let’s get out of this place, okay?”
“Okay.”
They rode the elevator down to the first floor and headed for the exit. Ned held the door, and the cool evening air stirred Nancy’s hair.
“You know, I should talk to April before we leave,” Nancy said. “I want to know more about David Baines.”
Ned clutched his stomach as if he might die of starvation,
Nancy laughed. “Bring the car around to the front of the hospital. I’ll be right back. I promise.”
“Okay.”
Nancy walked quickly down the corridor toward the front desk. It was quite possible April had already left for the day, and if so, Nancy was going to have to call her dorm room.
“Could you page Dr. April Shaw?” she asked the woman wearing the headset.
Recognizing Nancy, the woman smiled and complied. Within moments a call came back through. “Dr. Shaw’s in the cafeteria, Ms. Drew. She asked you to join her.”
When Nancy entered the cafeteria, she found April seated in the corner, an untouched plate of food pushed aside. She was holding a photograph in her hands as Nancy sat down beside her.
“Hi,” Nancy said, looking at the photograph. “How’re you doing?”
“This is a picture of my dad.” She handed it to Nancy. Tears suddenly filled her blue eyes. “It’s all so terrible,” she said, her voice cracking. Suddenly she covered her face with both hands and sobbed. All the emotion she’d been bottling up came pouring out. “I feel so guilty!”
“April, I’m really sorry about your father,” Nancy murmured softly.
“No. No.” She shook her head, sniffing. “I miss him, but his death was a blessing. Now it’s Trevor I’m worried about.”
“Listen, don’t worry about Trevor. Everything will be fine as soon as I—”
“You don’t understand.” April dropped her hands, staring at Nancy through scared, tear-drenched eyes. “I think—I think . . .” She stopped, as if she couldn’t go on.
“You think what?” Nancy probed gently.
“Nancy, I think Trevor’s got serious problems. It is his fault that my father’s body is missing! He’s the one making the mistakes!”
Nancy stared at April in disbelief. “What do you mean?”
“These things that have happened—they’re not coincidences. There’s only one explanation that makes sense: Trevor arranged everything! We only have his word that he didn’t.” April’s eyes swam with fresh tears.
She’s really distressed and not thinking clearly, Nancy thought. “April, listen to me. I think I know how Trevor’s patients’ charts were tampered with.” Quietly and calmly she explained her theory.
But April shook her head. “Nancy, there’s more.” With a supreme effort, April collected herself. People at other tables were starting to stare, and she pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Nancy, the CCU nurse reported a conversation she overheard between Trevor and my father. My father was depressed, and he told Trevor it would be better if he just died. Nancy, he even suggested ways Trevor could arrange it.”
“The CCU nurse told you this?” Nancy asked quickly.
April nodded. “Uh-huh. She reported it to Dr. Rayburn, too. What if Trevor did kill my father?” she asked in a low, shaky voice. “Oh, Nancy, what if Trevor thought he was doing me and my dad a favor?”
Chapter
Eight
NANCY WANTED to cover her ears. She’d just seen what a wonderful doctor Trevor was. Could what April was suggesting be true?
“Maybe that’s why he’s hidden the body,” April said, clapping her hand over her mouth in distress. “He’s afraid an autopsy will reveal the truth!”
“You’re talking murder, April,” Nancy warned quietly. “A mercy killing is still murder.”
“I know,” she murmured miserably. “Why do you think I’m scared to death?”
Ten minutes later Nancy walked April through the cool spring evening to her dorm. She signaled to Ned, indicating through hand motions where she was headed. Ned turned on his lights and drove ahead of them toward the dorm.
April was like a zombie. “You don’t have to baby-sit with me, Nancy.”
“You’re in no condition to be alone tonight. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
“No, there’re a lot of people in the dorm. And Trevor will stop b
y later.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t know what I’m going to say to him.”
Realizing April had half convinced herself of Trevor’s guilt, Nancy saw it was becoming even more important to find out who had tampered with the files. I’ve just got to find them, figure out who did it, and why, she thought. Then Nancy remembered something she had wanted to ask April. “I ran into David Baines today,” she said. “Does he drive a Porsche?”
“Umm. I don’t know. No, wait a minute. Somebody said something about a red sports car. I think he does drive a Porsche.” She stared blankly at Nancy. “Why?”
“Well, how can he afford one on an orderly’s salary? Does he have another job?”
“I don’t know.”
Nancy tried another tack. “I overheard him say something about Saint Louis to Dr. Rayburn this afternoon. Didn’t you say your father was from Saint Louis?”
“Oh, I know what that’s about,” April answered. “Saint Louis is where David flunked out of med school. He told one of the staff he got thrown out by mistake, but knowing David, I doubt it.”
“Is that how he knew your father was a doctor?” Nancy was fishing, but she thought there might be some connection. “Could that be why David was so bitter toward him? Because your father taught at the med school that tossed him out?”
“Maybe.”
They stopped in front of the door to the dorm. “Thanks, Nancy,” April said with a small smile. “See you tomorrow.”
• • •
On Thursday morning Nancy smiled as she parked her car near the emergency room entrance. The now familiar buildings of Westmoor University Medical School looked solid and secure, not like the home of the mad killers who had filled Nancy’s dreams.
Spotting the reflection of her pink and white uniform in the hospital’s glass door, Nancy made a face. She had to find time away from her candy striper duties to do some investigating.
She’d barely begun recording new patient information when Trevor appeared. He was in jeans and an open collared shirt. “Nancy,” he said. “Could I talk to you?”