Chapter 2 - THE WOUND WAS DEEPER THAN IT LOOKED
Dominic Rossi did not die in the ambulance.
He complained about it.
That seemed encouraging.
The paramedic placed him on cardiac monitor, started IV fluids, and tried to ask pain questions.
Dominic answered approximately half.
Nora sat on side bench.
Not his employee anymore.
Temporary escort.
Important.
The private hospital belonged partly to Rossi Holdings.
Of course.
But the emergency department was staffed under separate physician group, which Nora considered a blessing.
The attending, Dr. Mina Patel, read triage and immediately ordered blood cultures, labs, lactate, imaging, broad IV antibiotics after cultures, and surgical consultation.
Dominic objected to every second item.
Nora said nothing.
Not her patient assignment.
Good.
Dr. Patel did not need help.
She had the kind of calm voice people mistook for softness until she said no.
“Mr. Rossi, you have signs concerning for sepsis from an infected wound.”
“I know.”
“No, you know someone used the word.”
Dominic glared.
Nora almost smiled.
Dr. Patel continued.
“Your blood pressure is low. Your heart rate is high. You have fever. If imaging shows abscess, surgery may need to wash it out.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“I have meetings.”
“No.”
Dominic stared.
Dr. Patel moved on.
Beautiful.
Nora sat until hospital nurse, Janelle Price, arrived.
Handoff.
Nora gave information:
Gunshot right shoulder.
Private procedure with bullet removal.
Discharged three days earlier.
Fevers.
Oral antibiotic.
Questionable medication administration logs.
Saturated dressing.
Possible foreign material under dressing.
Janelle listened.
No judgment.
“Any allergies?”
Nora looked at Dominic.
He answered.
Good.
“Last oral intake?”
Dominic.
Good.
The patient could speak for himself.
Nora finished.
Then:
“That’s all I know.”
Janelle nodded.
“Thank you.”
Nora picked up bag.
Dominic looked.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“You don’t have car.”
“Apparently Leo moved it somewhere less visible.”
Dominic’s mouth moved.
He remembered.
“I’ll have someone bring it.”
“Fine.”
“You’re not leaving until—”
Nora raised eyebrow.
He stopped.
Good.
“Would you stay until imaging?”
She looked at him.
Why?
Fear?
Maybe.
Not say.
“I can stay one hour.”
“Fine.”
She sat.
That was first negotiated boundary.
At forty minutes, CT showed deep soft-tissue abscess near posterior shoulder extending around surgical tract.
No obvious bone involvement.
Good.
Bad enough.
Surgery recommended urgent washout.
Dominic said no.
Again.
Nora closed eyes.
Dr. Patel said:
“Then you may worsen rapidly.”
“I want second opinion.”
“Reasonable.”
Good.
Not battle.
Second surgeon came.
Same recommendation.
Dominic looked at Nora.
She did not speak.
He frowned.
“What?”
“You asked doctors.”
“What do you think?”
“You need washout.”
“Why didn’t you say?”
“You didn’t ask me.”
Silence.
Then:
“Fine.”
Surgery.
Consent.
No heroics.
Nora left once he was transferred.
Actually left.
Her car had been towed by Rossi mechanic to hospital.
Also repaired?
No.
Battery jump only.
Good.
If Dominic bought new car, she would refuse.
She drove home to apartment that smelled like radiator dust.
Eviction notice still taped inside door.
Rent due Monday.
She had enough for maybe half.
Her phone showed message from agency.
ASSIGNMENT STATUS: TERMINATED BY CLIENT.
Of course.
No pay beyond first day minimum.
Nora stared.
Then laughed.
She had worked one hour and gotten fired by a mafia boss.
Excellent career strategy.
She showered.
Slept four hours.
At 2:14 p.m., unknown number.
Leo.
“Ms. Hayes.”
“Did he die?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Procedure finished.”
“What did they find?”
Pause.
“You’re no longer assigned.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Boss asked me.”
Of course.
Nora sat up.
“What did surgeon say?”
“Abscess drained. Debridement.”
“Anything else?”
“Foreign material in tract.”
Her pulse changed.
“What?”
“Small piece of fabric.”
That could happen with gunshot through clothing.
Not conspiracy.
Common enough.
“Shirt.”
“Probably.”
“Culture?”
“Pending.”
Leo continued.
“And hospital pharmacy tested his home antibiotic capsules.”
Nora went still.
Already?
“Why?”
“Dr. Patel saw your note.”
Good.
“And?”
“Bottle contains two medications.”
There.
“What kind?”
Leo hesitated.
“Most are prescribed antibiotic.”
“And others?”
“A blood-pressure medication. Low dose.”
Nora closed eyes.
Not poison.
But in someone already septic, could worsen hypotension.
“How many?”
“Four.”
“Could dispensing error.”
“Yes.”
“Same pharmacy?”
“Rossi clinic.”
“Any harm?”
“Unknown.”
Good.
No dramatic certainty.
“Who prepared?”
“Clinic pharmacy.”
“Licensed?”
“Yes.”
“Police?”
Silence.
Leo said:
“Dominic does not want—”
“No.”
Nora stood.
“No what?”
“No private handling.”
“Ms. Hayes.”
“You have medication tampering or dispensing failure in a bottle given to a patient with sepsis.”
“We don’t know tampering.”
“Exactly. So somebody independent should determine.”
Leo sighed.
“You sound like him.”
“Who?”
“Dominic when he thinks everyone else is stupid.”
“Terrible insult.”
Leo almost laughed.
Then:
“He asked you to come back.”
“No.”
Pause.
“Because he fired you?”
“Because I don’t work for men who throw lamps at nurses.”
Silence.
Good.
Leo said:
“He did.”
“Did what?”
“Throw lamp.”
“I know.”
“Not at her.”
Nora closed eyes.
There it was.
The excuse.
“Leo.”
“Yes.”
“If you throw glass in a room with another person and they need stitches, intent is not the only thing that matters.”
He went quiet.
“Fair.”
Good.
“He broke another nurse’s wrist?”
“No.”
That was new.
“What?”
“She fell on east stair after leaving his room.”
“Why did I hear he broke wrist?”
“House rumor.”
“Did he threaten her?”
“Yes.”
“Then still problem.”
“Yes.”
At least Leo could say yes.
“What does Dominic want?”
“You.”
“No.”
“To return under contract.”
“No.”
Leo was patient.
“Name conditions.”
Nora laughed.
“You think this is bargaining.”
“It is.”
Fine.
She thought.
“Independent clinical supervision.”
“What?”
“If I return, I report medically to outside physician, not Dominic.”
“Fine.”
“Medication comes from independent pharmacy.”
“Fine.”
“No weapons in treatment room.”
Pause.
“Fine.”
“No throwing objects, threats, blocking exits, or ordering unsafe care.”
Leo exhaled.
“I will word professionally.”
“Word exactly.”
Silence.
Then:
“If violated, I leave immediately with full day pay.”
“Fine.”
“My rate doubles.”
Leo almost laughed.
“From triple minimum?”
“Yes.”
“Still cheap.”
Nora frowned.
“Then triple the agency rate.”
“Better.”
She had accidentally negotiated better.
Good.
“And one more thing.”
“What?”
“I get copies of my own nursing notes. No altered chart.”
Leo went silent.
That one hit.
“Why?”
“Because someone is signing medications nobody gave.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m not becoming signature under someone else’s story.”
Leo said:
“I’ll send contract.”
Good.
“What about rent?”
Not asked.
She hung up.
At five, he sent draft.
Nora reviewed with free legal clinic? Too fast. She had friend maybe fellow nurse. Better she used union nurse friend. But agency contract maybe can review herself. She amended language.
At six-thirty, Dominic called directly.
She almost didn’t answer.
“Hello.”
“You made Leo put ‘no throwing objects’ in contract.”
“Yes.”
“I am not a toddler.”
“Then clause should be easy.”
Silence.
Then he laughed.
Painful sounding.
“How are you?”
The question surprised him maybe.
“Alive.”
“Fever?”
“Lower.”
“Blood pressure?”
“Better.”
“Pain?”
“Six.”
Good.
“You agreed to surgery.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Silence.
Then Dominic said:
“The pills.”
“Yes.”
“You think someone did it.”
“No.”
“You don’t?”
“I think somebody needs to determine whether it was dispensing error, charting error, or tampering.”
“You always talk like report.”
“ER habit.”
“What would make you think tampering?”
“Pattern, access, motive, chain of custody.”
He was quiet.
“Motive.”
“Not my department.”
“It may become.”
“No.”
“Ms. Hayes.”
“Dominic.”
He paused at name.
“I need someone I trust.”
She almost laughed.
“You have known me six hours.”
“You called ambulance.”
“That is low bar.”
“Not in my house.”
There.
His house rewarded obedience.
Nora understood problem.
“Trust me to be nurse.”
“Fine.”
“Not investigator.”
He didn’t answer.
“Dominic.”
“Fine.”
Good.
Then:
“Will you come back?”
“When hospital discharges you appropriately.”
“Tomorrow.”
“No chance.”
“Surgeon said maybe forty-eight hours.”
“Then forty-eight.”
“You sound pleased.”
“I like when infection does not kill people.”
He breathed.
“Contract will be ready.”
“Independent pharmacy.”
“Yes.”
“Independent doctor.”
“Yes.”
“No weapons.”
“Painful.”
“No objects.”
“Humiliating.”
“No threats.”
He sighed.
“You remove all joy.”
“Medical necessity.”
Then she said:
“Also apologize to nurse you hit with lamp.”
Silence.
“No.”
There.
Pride.
“Then no.”
“What?”
“I don’t return.”
His voice hardened.
“You are conditioning medical care on apology.”
“No.”
“I am conditioning my employment on whether you understand violence against staff is unacceptable.”
“I didn’t hit her.”
“Glass did because you threw it.”
Silence.
“You are impossible.”
“Seven nurses in six days soon.”
He hung up.
Nora stared.
Fine.
Ten minutes later Leo called.
“He asked for nurse’s name.”
Nora blinked.
“Elena Ward?”
“No. Lamp nurse. Julia Chen.”
“And?”
“He wants contact.”
Nora sat.
“Did she consent?”
Leo paused.
“No.”
“Then do not give.”
Silence.
“Send apology through agency.”
“Of course.”
Good.
Maybe he could learn.
At eight, hospital called Nora? Not appropriate due privacy. Dominic texts maybe.
Dominic:
Apology sent.
She does not have to accept.
Contract tomorrow.
Nora looked at screen.
Then replied:
Good.
He responded:
That word again.
She smiled.
Then another message from Leo arrived.
Photograph of medication administration record.
Five days.
Initials.
Six nurses.
Sabrina Vale.
But one pattern stood out.
Every documented antibiotic dose administered by actual bedside nurses corresponded with Dominic’s fever decreasing briefly.
Every dose documented remotely by SV occurred on mornings Dominic’s blood pressure had been unusually low.
Could be coincidence.
Could be because wrong pills were mixed into bottle and self-administered? Wait oral antibiotic twice daily maybe nurses gave from bottle. How remote SV? Maybe she documented "dose prepared in blister pack". Need make more coherent. Let's say Sabrina delivered prefilled med packets to bedside cabinet, and night staff used them. Some remote entries indicate "medication prepared". Hmm.
Nora zoomed.
Batch numbers.
There.
The mixed capsules all came from one refill date.
Three days ago.
Who accepted delivery?
Vincent Rossi.
Name on receiving log.
Dominic’s cousin.
Acting operations chief while Dominic recovered.
Nora stared.
Not proof.
Just access.
She forwarded nothing.
She was not investigator.
Then she noticed something else.
Vincent Rossi.
She knew the name.
Not from newspapers.
From St. Matthew’s Hospital.
Three years ago.
The night Nora had lost her job was not actually a downsizing alone.
Her unit had been cut after hospital sold.
But before that, one patient had arrived under false name after a nightclub shooting.
A man Nora treated for a hand wound.
Vincent Rossi.
He had offered cash.
She refused.
He had laughed and said:
“Everyone takes something eventually.”
Nora looked at the medication log.
Maybe coincidence.
Maybe not.
May you like
But Dominic’s world had just reached backward into hers.
And suddenly the contract felt less like a job and more like a door she needed to decide whether she was willing to open.
