The Surgeon's Secret Read online

  Jordanne sighed thankfully and smiled at him. ‘Whew! At least that’s the way I left it.’

  Alex’s laughter rumbled from deep in his chest. ‘You’re one amazing woman, Jordanne McElroy,’ he told her as he watched her make them coffee. ‘To make light of the situation at a time like this.’

  Jordanne was glad for something to do as she put three sugars into her coffee. She needed it tonight—or rather this morning. ‘Who’s kidding? That’s the way I usually get dressed. I can never make up my mind what to wear, especially when I’m seeing you.’

  ‘How long did it take you to choose that red dress you wore last week?’

  ‘Ah, now, that was different. My bedroom looked quite tidy that night.’

  ‘Well, from what I could see, your jewellery boxes are all still there, although I didn’t check the contents.’

  ‘Should I do that before the police arrive?’ She sipped at her sickly sweet coffee. ‘You know, get together a list of what’s missing?’

  ‘Might be an idea,’ he said. ‘Just try not to move things too much.’

  There was a buzz from the external intercom. ‘Could be them now,’ Jordanne said, her previous nervousness returning.

  Alex answered the intercom and let the police in. They took a brief look around the room before asking questions, especially about why Jordanne was dressed in theatre garb. An hour and a half later Jordanne and Alex said goodbye to the police, who had filled in so many forms they’d decided it was worse than hospital red tape.

  ‘I don’t think I can face this right now.’ Jordanne shook her head, still gazing in wonderment at the mess before her.

  ‘Pack some things and come back to my place for the night,’ Alex suggested. When she looked at him quizzically he held up his hands in defence. ‘I’m exhausted—you’re exhausted. We’ll just sleep,’ he emphasised.

  Jordanne smiled gratefully at him. ‘Thank you.’ She ventured back into her room, still amazed that she hadn’t found anything missing. The police had been certain that whoever had broken in had been looking for something very specific. ‘But what?’ she whispered to herself as she packed a small bag of clothes and toiletries. Jordanne reached for her long coat as it was quite cool outside and put it on. It would also disguise the theatre clothes she was still wearing.

  ‘Ready,’ she said as she re-entered the room. She stood by the front door and glanced sadly around the mess once more before she and Alex left.

  It was dawn when they arrived at his place. Jordanne was feeling a little nervous at accepting his suggestion. ‘You go first in the bathroom and get into bed,’ he instructed. ‘I’m going to make you a soothing milk drink to help you sleep.’ With that he disappeared into the kitchen.

  She’d half expected him to show her to a guest bed and had been surprised when he’d indicated his own bed. ‘It’s the only one in the house,’ he’d told her. ‘You’re the only overnight visitor I’ve ever had.’

  That in itself told Jordanne a lot about his previous relationships. She tied up her hair, deciding that at this time of the morning it would not be a good idea to wash it. It took ages to dry. After taking off her clothes, she stepped under the shower and began to soap her body. Slowly her tired muscles started to relax beneath the hot spray of the water.

  Jordanne thought about Alex and the way he kept a part of himself distant from everyone and everything. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what was wrong but she sensed it was there. She’d been very surprised when he’d told her he’d been divorced. Jed had never said anything but, then, it was hardly a topic to bring up in casual conversation.

  The knowledge that he’d also never had an overnight guest before made her feel…special. Turning off the water, she dried herself before dressing for bed. After brushing her teeth and hair, she climbed between the sheets of the king-size bed and snuggled down. She could smell Alex’s scent on the pillows and her insides fluttered at the thought of him sleeping beside her.

  When he returned, he placed the drink on the bedside table and looked down at her. ‘Jordanne,’ he whispered, and reached out a hand to touch her hair which was fanned over the pillow.

  Her eyes closed at his touch and she sighed. She heard him straighten and clear his throat. ‘Don’t fall asleep just yet,’ he said when she didn’t open her eyes. ‘I want that drink all gone by the time I’ve finished in the bathroom,’ he told her as he disappeared behind the door.

  Jordanne forced her weighted eyelids to open before wriggling up to take a sip. It was delicious and she could easily taste the brandy he’d added. Obeying his orders, she finished the drink, snuggled back down beneath the covers and closed her eyes. Sleep claimed her instantly.

  The ringing of a telephone penetrated Jordanne’s hazy mind and she struggled to wake. There was something around her, holding her tight. Was it the sheets? Moving her fingers, she came into contact with hard muscled torso and her eyes snapped open in alarm. Then her memory returned with a thud.

  Her apartment had been wrecked and she was at Alex’s house. In Alex’s bed. With Alex’s arms securely around her. The ringing of the phone persisted and she tapped him quickly.

  ‘Alex. Phone,’ she whispered as she moved from his grasp.

  ‘Hmm?’ He breathed in deeply. ‘Jordanne.’ Her name was like a caress on his lips and she smiled.

  ‘Wake up, sleepyhead. Your phone is ringing.’ No sooner were the words out of her mouth than it stopped.

  ‘See. Leave it long enough and the answering machine can do its job.’

  ‘You’d better check it,’ Jordanne said as she plumped the pillows up and leaned back against the bedhead. In the next instant, there was a chorus of ringing phones. ‘That’s my mobile,’ she said as she flipped back the sheets and padded over to the chair where her bag was.

  ‘Mine, too,’ he said, and followed Jordanne’s example. ‘Something must be wrong,’ he stated as they both answered their mobiles. Jordanne walked into the hallway so she could hear properly. After ending the call, she returned to his room.

  ‘No rest for us this morning,’ he told her as his gaze quickly scanned the generous amount of leg revealed beneath her thigh-length T-shirt. ‘How long will it take you to get ready?

  ‘A few minutes. What’s the time?’ she asked, glancing at his bedside clock. ‘Ten a.m.!’

  ‘Relax, Jordanne. It’s Saturday. I didn’t think it was necessary to set the alarm as neither of us had any clinics or meetings to go to.’

  ‘Instead, we now have to return to Theatre with Mr Miner,’ Jordanne said as she gathered up her clothes and headed towards the bathroom.

  Seven minutes later, both of them were in Alex’s Jaguar, heading for the hospital. ‘Volkmann’s ischaemic contracture. I haven’t seen one of them for a while.’

  ‘Compartment syndrome of the upper arm,’ he clarified.

  ‘All the symptoms the ICU staff reported point to it. Progressive pain, not being relieved by analgesics…’

  ‘Can’t extend fingers properly,’ Alex added.

  ‘Mild numbness and tingling,’ Jordanne finished. ‘Did you request they do a urine test?’

  ‘Yes. I also said I wanted a rush on the results. We need to relieve the pressure immediately. You go to ESS and organise the theatre and I’ll head to ICU.’

  ‘OK. I’ll stay down in ESS so page me when you’re ready.’

  Alex pulled into the emergency parking bay and tossed his keys to an orderly who would park it in the doctors’ car park for him. Both he and Jordanne went about their respective duties and soon Oswald Miner was back in Theatre, the police still standing guard outside.

  ‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,’ Alex said to the staff. ‘Mr Miner has a complication from his earlier surgery and it’s our duty to remedy it. An incision to relieve the excessive pressure from his muscles will be needed to restore the circulation.’

  ‘You’re in a good mood this morning, Alex,’ theatre sister said as the last drape was put in plac
e.

  ‘Is that a complaint, Sister?’ Alex asked.

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Glad to hear it. I’m ready to make the incision,’ he said, and soon they were well into the operation. Jordanne smiled beneath her mask as she concentrated on her work.

  Less than an hour later Mr Miner was wheeled out of Theatre and into Recovery, the ever-present policeman guarding him.

  ‘What’ll happen next?’ the officer in charge of the case asked Alex and Jordanne.

  ‘The incision in his arm will remain open for the next few days to allow the area to heal properly. Then we’ll take him back to Theatre and close the wound,’ Alex explained.

  ‘So he’ll make a full recovery.’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Let’s have another brainstorming session about this research project,’ Alex suggested when he and Jordanne had been left alone.

  ‘Good idea,’ she replied as she headed for the female changing rooms.

  ‘I’ll meet you in my office. Do you want me to get those test results from my car?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks.’ They stopped in exactly the same place they’d been when Alex had first kissed her. He looked down the corridor and saw a theatre nurse heading in their direction. His gaze returned to Jordanne’s and he simply nodded and went into the males’ changing rooms.

  Jordanne sighed as she changed back into her clothes. She’d seen the few raised eyebrows when they’d arrived together but hoped that the brother-and-sister rumour she’d started would protect them. Ironic, she thought as she brushed out her hair before quickly braiding it. She’d started that rumour to get closer to Alex but now it was serving as a cover for what was really going on between them.

  He was in his office, just about to open the test results, when she walked in. At least the department was deserted on the weekend so they were assured of peace and quiet. Jordanne brought a chair around and sat beside him.

  She pointed to the first set of results ‘Look at these,’ she said. ‘These were the first lot I looked at. Everything appears normal.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Then I opened the next envelope and again they’re blood test results for Ethan Hoe. Dates and times are the same but look at these results.’

  ‘His red blood cell count has dramatically increased,’ Alex commented.

  ‘Why do you think we have two lots of test results showing a massive discrepancy? What’s your gut reaction?’ Jordanne asked.

  ‘Doping,’ he stated quietly, and she nodded in agreement.

  ‘That’s what I thought. Someone is trying to cover up doping.’ A picture of Coach Cooper formed in her mind and she scowled. ‘Ordinarily, I’d say that it might have been a misprint, but to receive two lots of test results, both taken from the same blood sample—’

  ‘We can’t be sure of that,’ Alex interjected. ‘Look at the X-rays.’

  ‘Good point but, again, why were the X-rays falsified if someone wasn’t trying to cover something up? With professional athletes, doping seems the obvious answer.’

  ‘They’d be asked to leave the IAS and their careers as professional athletes would be over.’

  ‘Why are we getting all this information? From the few things that Coach Cooper said to me, it was obvious that he didn’t appreciate his athletes spending time taking part in this study.’

  ‘It must have something to do with our study.’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘Let’s start from the beginning.’ Alex stood and paced around his office. ‘The research project is to monitor the healing process of long bones. When I was applying for funding, the pharmaceutical company almost jumped on the bandwagon. I thought it was good that they were eager—now I’m not so sure. I also required funding to pay your wage,’ he pointed out. ‘If there’s anything illegal going on here, we both need to realise that by blowing the lid off it you’ll lose your job.’

  A lump of lead thumped into Jordanne’s heart at his words. She’d have to leave Canberra unless she could get a job somewhere else, but contracts weren’t due to be offered for at least another three to four months.

  ‘Putting that thought aside, we have falsified X-rays and now falsified test results—but only from the athletes that the pharmaceutical company have recommended.’

  ‘Perhaps the tablets we’re giving them are being doctored in some way? Taking part in the study might be just the cover-up they need.’

  Alex nodded. ‘The X-rays were our first clue. How was the company to know that Dylan Foster was a patient of ours? They didn’t. Someone at the radiography company must be working for them, but it was a pretty stupid error to make as your name would have been on Dylan’s films as the referring doctor.’ He crossed to his desk and picked up the test results. ‘And now these.’ Alex exhaled slowly as he sat down again and linked his fingers behind his head. ‘All of this is pure speculation. We need evidence. I’ll check the internet to see who’s listed as the parent company for the pharmaceutical company. That might help. You could take a look at Ethan Hoe’s medical history, which should be in the IAS database.’

  Jordanne stood. ‘I might have brought the notes I made on him back to my office here, I can’t remember. Let me check.’ Jordanne retrieved her keys and headed down the corridor to her office. Unlocking the door, she crossed to her desk and riffled through a few piles of papers. ‘Maybe in the filing cabinet,’ she murmured to herself. She went to unlock it but found it already open. ‘Odd.’ When she pulled the drawer open she gasped, before yelling, ‘Alex!’ Her tone carried disbelief and anger.

  ‘What is it?’ he called as he came quickly down the corridor.

  ‘My files are in different places and the cabinet was unlocked.’ Jordanne glanced around the room as Alex came over to check it out. ‘The Monet’s moved.’ She pointed to the wall where the Monet had previously hung opposite her desk so she could relax when sitting down. ‘The paintings have been switched. The Monet is supposed to hang there, not the painting my sister did.’

  ‘Right. Don’t touch anything. I’ll call the police—again.’

  They managed to get hold of Senior Sergeant Dorne, who had conducted the investigation at Jordanne’s house. He came down to the hospital and checked out her office.

  ‘Do you own a car?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jordanne hadn’t even thought about her car. The last time she’d driven it had been home on Friday after she’d finished work. Since then she’d been chauffeured around by Alex.

  ‘Any other places of residence? Offices?’

  ‘I have an office at the IAS,’ Jordanne offered.

  ‘We’ll need to have a look at that, too. As I said before, it looks as though someone is looking for something specific and it’s something they’re almost positive you have.’ He pointed to Jordanne as he said it.

  ‘Why don’t you take the sergeant to the IAS and check things out there?’ Alex suggested. ‘Then come back here and we can have a debrief—try and see if we can’t sort this thing out.’

  ‘You have some ideas of who might be doing this?’ Dorne asked Alex.

  He nodded. ‘We’ll talk about it when you return,’ he said.

  Jordanne’s office at the IAS looked almost as bad as her apartment. At least her office at the hospital hadn’t been annihilated. ‘Can you think of anything these people might have been looking for?’ Dorne asked.

  ‘Let me just check something out on the computer,’ she said, avoiding his question. He watched her closely as she navigated through the files, bringing up Ethan Hoe’s record. She printed the information out and picked up the X-rays—both those of Dylan Foster and, supposedly, Ethan Hoe.

  As they returned to the hospital, Dorne received a call about Jordanne’s car. It had been broken into but nothing appeared to be missing.

  ‘Just as I’d suspected,’ he told her.

  When they were all seated in Alex’s office, his gaze met Jordanne’s. She read regret and anguish in h
is eyes and wondered what was going on. Alex explained their earlier suspicions to the senior sergeant, who took notes and looked at the evidence of falsified blood tests and X-rays. They definitely had his attention now.

  ‘How did Ethan’s previous medical history check out?’ Dorne asked, and Jordanne handed him the printout. They carefully scanned it together.

  Alex nodded as though he was reading exactly what he’d expected to see. ‘A perfect blood test every time. Look at his red blood cell count after the last doping test—perfect.’

  ‘You mean he’s already been tested for doping?’ Dorne asked.

  ‘All of the athletes,’ Jordanne explained, ‘undergo a test every four months. The Institute of Australasian Sport prides themselves on a zero dope policy. Unfortunately, a lot of athletes and coaches know how to get around the system.’

  ‘So what does his red blood cell count have to do with it?’

  ‘If an athlete is taking a performance-enhancing drug, their red blood cell count is dramatically elevated. In Ethan Hoe’s case, as we have two sets of differing test results, we’d like him to provide a urine sample so we can clarify it.’

  ‘But if he’s taking any performance-enhancing drug, there’s no way in the world he’ll be willing to do that,’ the policeman said.

  ‘Correct. By looking at his previous medical history, we can see what a normal blood count is for him. If you look at the first set of results Jordanne looked at on Friday, you can see they’re exactly the same as the test he had done four months ago.’

  ‘Is that rare?’

  ‘It’s rare for all of the numbers to be exactly the same. His red and white blood cell count is exactly the same as the previous test,’ Jordanne said.

  ‘Indicating that the results have been falsified.’ Dorne nodded, finally catching on. ‘So where is this Ethan Hoe now?’

  ‘Probably training at the IAS.’

  ‘I might go and have a word with him.’

  ‘Would you mind postponing it until Monday?’ Alex asked.

  ‘Why?’ The policeman narrowed his gaze.

  ‘As soon as word gets out that we’re onto them, there’s no telling what might happen. The hospital, the IAS and the athletes federation will all be involved. This is high media stuff.’