Chapter 88

Dana grippedher seatbelt as Richter tore through another intersection, sirens blaring. If she was right, time was their enemy. But so was every car on the road with the way Richter was driving.

"We can't help anyone if we're dead!" Dana yelled as they narrowly swerved around the car in front of them.

"I still think you're wrong," Richter replied. "There's no way Dvita or anyone else can get to Meredith. She's in a secure psychiatric facility."

"Dvita's a doctor. He's treated her before and can easily get access."

"Well right now he's locked up. The only person he has access to for the next twenty-four hours is his attorney."

"He could've set this plan in motion already. It was written in his planner two days ago. I'm not taking any chances."

"Then I suggest you let me focus on the road, while you get a hold of someone over there."

Dana dialed St. Elizabeth's again. This time someone picked up. "Hello, this is Dr. Dana Gray, I need to be transferred to the floor nurse on two."

"Hold, please."

Dana bit her lip while the smooth jazz of the hold music filled the car. The juxtaposition of the slow instrumental sound and the speeding car was jarring. Dana felt like she'd been suddenly transported into an action movie. Particularly the scene right before the car careens off the road in a series of slow-motion flips and fireworks.

Finally, the music cut off and another voice filled the car. "Floor two, Avery speaking."

Dana sighed in relief. She knew Nurse Avery! The level-headed floor nurse was as old as St. Elizabeth's and had been on Meredith's floor since Dana first started visiting her. "Avery! It's Dana Gray. I need a favor."

"Dr. Gray? What can I do for you, baby?"

"I need you to check on Meredith Kincaid."

"What about her?"

"Is she in her room?"

"Sure was last I checked."

"When was that?" Dana asked.

"Just finished up rounds about five minutes ago."

"And Meredith was fine?"

"Yes, baby. What's going on?"

"Can you check again for me?"

Avery exhaled deeply. "Give me a moment."

The sound of jazz filled the car again, as Dana pictured Nurse Avery slowly waddling down the hall, her white Crocs squeaking on the linoleum.

A minute later, Avery's voice came back on the line. "She's there, baby. What's this about?"

"I need you to put Meredith in a different room."

"Swap rooms?"

"No. It's imperative that no one is in room 241."

"Dr. Gray, I'd love to help but we're pretty full up here on two, besides, moving patients from one room to another even on the same floor is considered a transfer, and I'm not authorized to do patient transfers."

Shit! Dana caught Richter's eye and he motioned for the phone.

"This is SSA Grant Richter, FBI; I'm authorizing this patient transfer. Meredith Kincaid needs to be moved out of room 241. It needs to be done ASAP. This is a matter of life and death."

"Agent Richter, I'd love to help, but moving patients isn't something we take lightly here. There's a mountain of paperwork. And even then, it's not that simple. We're dealing with patients, not inmates. They have peculiar proclivities and superstitions we have to accommodate. Some hate the number 13 or have to face West. Life is hard enough for ‘em. It's my job to do what I can to make it easier. Which means not disrupting them by playing musical rooms."

"I understand," Richter replied, "But we have reason to believe Meredith Kincaid is in imminent danger. Failure to facilitate this request may result in the end of life. Are you prepared to accept responsibility for that?"

"Sir, I already told you. I can't move anyone without the proper authorization. Period."

"What if you don't have to move Meredith?" Dana interrupted.

Avery sucked her teeth, then said. "I'm listening."

Dana laid out her plan step by step. When Avery begrudgingly agreed, she hung up.

"Think it'll work?" Richter asked.

"It has to."