The Nitrogen Murder(55)

“Knock, knock,” Tanisha says.

“God, not again,” Dana says, grinning in spite of herself.

Tanisha nudges her. “Come on, Dana. Knock, knock.”

Dana sighs. “Who’s there?”

“Jamaica.”

“Jamaica who?” Dana holds back a laugh.

“Jamaica cake today?” Tanisha belts out a laugh; Dana gives in and joins her.

Dana ran her tongue around the rim of the handleless ceramic cup, savoring the sweetened tea, and smiled at the memory.

A group of rowdy kids from the junior high school across the street entered the shop and headed for Dziva’s famous oversized snickerdoodles. Dana couldn’t remember having a ten o’clock cookie break when she was in junior high, but the interruption was just what she needed to shake her into the present.

Julia wasn’t being pushy, but Dana knew she couldn’t put off work forever. She needed to be doing something, not dwelling on this last, upsetting week. As if it weren’t bad enough to lose her friend, there’d been a murdered patient, too. Plus the stolen medical supplies in Tanisha’s home, a dead man’s ID in Robin’s closet, and Julia’s questionable billing practices.

And now her father might be missing. Dana’s head hurt. To think, a few days ago she’d considered working and getting ready for a wedding a lot of stress.

Now, work was the answer to relieve stress, even if it meant partnering with Tom Stewart for a while. She wished Tom would get over being nosy about her personal life and, more important, the idea that he and Dana could be an item. When she’d broken up with Scott—five minutes after she realized he had a “best friend” on every shift—Tom had seen it as an opportunity. In his dreams.

Matt had convinced Dana to say nothing to Julia about finding the phony invoices, and Dana was just as glad to let him handle it with the Berkeley PD. She knew she’d miss Matt when he went back east. Hanging around with him made her realize how totally young and immature all her boyfriends had been. Matt was out of circulation, but there might be other guys her father’s age Dana should consider. Or maybe Dana would wait until she was her father’s age before getting involved again.

Thump. A backpack swung into Dana’s arm, rattling the small black metal table and sending her cup to her lap. The few drops left of her tea spilled onto her jean shorts.

“My bad,” said the kid attached to the pack. He and his buddies sauntered away without looking at her.

Dana packed up her tote and went out into the bright sun. Julia had told her to come by anytime and pick up a shift, whenever she was ready.

It was time to go back to work.



Dana had so much energy, she offered to help change the oxygen tanks in the ambulances that were on-site at Valley Med. Julia played it straight when it came to this kind of regulation. She’d trained her EMTs to follow the strict fire department guidelines and not let the tanks go below about five hundred psi of oxygen.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the rookie Melissa asked her. “The dirty jobs are supposed to be for newbies.”

“Just this once,” Dana said. She gave the young woman’s back an affectionate pat, remembering her own first days on the job. Melissa was hardly any bigger than Jen, but Dana knew better than to judge someone’s strength by appearance.

The two women opened the side door of the first ambulance. Dana turned off the valve and unscrewed the head, and she and Melissa lifted the nearly empty five-foot tank from the cabinet behind the backseats. The tank was covered in dust, which was immediately transferred to the women’s black uniforms.

“Good thing dirt is sexy,” Melissa said with a smile, as she and Dana inserted a new tank. “Two thousand psi and ready for action.”

They worked together, checking that all the ambulances had small tanks attached to the gurneys, plus the larger ones needed for longer transports. As Dana had guessed, Melissa was quite able to handle her share of the physical load.

“I’ll take the old ones to storage,” Melissa said, but she didn’t budge. She cleared her throat, and Dana felt something heavy in the air. Sure enough, it came out. “I know it’s none of my business, but I just want to tell you, I don’t believe the stories about Tanisha.”

“What stories?” Dana asked.

Melissa put her hand to her head, shading her eyes, pulling at her wispy brown bangs. “Well, the coke and the meds and—”

“Good. Don’t believe them,” Dana said. She brushed off her uniform and stormed into the building, heading straight for the employee lounge, no doubt in her mind who was operating the rumor mill.