“Excuse me.” She said it louder this time, imagining how she might try to kick him in the groin and run past, or at least scream like hell. Inside she was shaking. He raised his right arm and leaned a hand against the doorjamb, further blocking her exit.
“You’re the one who discovered her body.” He looked her over. He displayed no sympathy or even the expression of a man who was attracted to her. His features were flat and immobile. “Had she suffered?”
She spoke quietly. “I’m going to go now.”
“You were spying on my car last night,” he said, his voice even and calm. “At first, I didn’t know who you were.”
“I wasn’t spying on anything,” Cheryl Beth said, using her best tough voice for standing up to a blockheaded doc or nurse. The problem was that she might be standing up to a killer.
“What were you looking for?”
“I wasn’t looking for anything.” She studied his face, reading nothing. “You worked with Dr. Lustig, didn’t you?”
“Are you the police?” The same steady voice, neither angry nor friendly.
She wanted to say, no, but the police will want to see you very soon. That was, if she could get out of this room with the purloined letter that was in the bottom left pocket of her lab coat. She looked past him into the corridor. Deserted. Not a sound. Only fifteen feet away was the busiest trauma center in southwestern Ohio. If only she could walk through walls.
He raised his arm and stepped aside. She walked past him, making herself move at a normal pace.
“You didn’t know her.” She heard his voice behind her. “I did.”
She turned and faced him. He was leaning against the wall, still staring at her.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
His lips turned up. “You were sleeping with her husband, but I guess all’s fair.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Cheryl Beth braced her shoulders as a sudden rage overcame her. No-she made herself cool down. She had the entire hallway behind her now, the entire hospital. He was more than an arm’s length away. She tried to take stock. He had obviously seen her looking into his car. He might even have surmised that she saw the letter-but maybe not. He didn’t realize she had it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We should talk. If you’d write down your number and a good time to call you, we can sort this out.”
“Hmmpf.” He shook his head. “You can find me. I’m in the directory.”
“I hear you used to work in the OR with Christine. What was that like?”
