Listen To Me (Rizzoli & Isles #13)(9)

“I’m afraid someone did,” said Jane.

“Then it was someone who didn’t know her. God, the world has gone nuts.”

The circle of nurses nodded in sad agreement. For those who pledged to save lives, the taking of a life, especially the life of one of their own, must indeed seem like an act of insanity.

The door to the unit hissed open and a doctor strode in, white coat flapping around his long legs. He made no move to shake their hands; in this postpandemic world, keeping one’s distance had become the new normal, but he stood close enough for Jane to read the name on his ID badge. He was in his midfifties with tortoiseshell glasses and an earnest face. That was what stood out most for Jane, his earnestness. She saw it in his furrowed brow, the anxious gaze.

“I’m Mike Antrim,” he said. “ICU director.”

“Detectives Rizzoli and Frost,” said Jane.

“We kept hoping they got the name wrong. That it was someone else,” said Mary Beth Neal. “A different Sofia.”

For a moment no one spoke, and the only sound was the whoosh of a ventilator in one of the patient cubicles.

“Tell us how we can help,” said Dr. Antrim.

“We’re trying to get a time line of what happened on Friday.” Jane looked around at the staff. “When did you all last see her?”

Fran Souza said: “It was the end of evening shift. We sign over our patients to the night shift at eleven p.m. We would have finished that around eleven-fifteen.”

“And then?”

“I headed home after that.”

The other nurses nodded, with echoes of “Same here.”

“And you, Dr. Antrim?” Jane asked.

“Friday I was here, covering the unit.”

“What time did you see Sofia leave the hospital?”

“Actually, I didn’t see her leave. I was busy with the patient in bed seven. He kept crashing on us. We tried for hours to stabilize him, but I’m afraid he was gone by morning.” He paused, his gaze drifting toward cubicle number seven.

“Bad luck bed,” said Mary Beth softly. “It’s where Tony died.”

Frost looked up from his notebook. “Tony?”

“Sofia’s husband,” said Dr. Antrim. “He was a patient in this unit for almost a month, after his operation. Poor Sofia, working her shifts in here, while Tony was vegetating in that cubicle. He was like part of our family.”

“They both were,” Mary Beth said.

Another silence. Another round of sighs.

“It’s true, we really are a family here,” said Antrim. “When my daughter was admitted a few months ago, Sofia was her nurse and she treated Amy like her own daughter. We couldn’t have asked for better care.”

“Your daughter—is she all right?” Jane asked. Almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Oh, Amy’s fine now. She was hit in a crosswalk by some maniac driver. It fractured her leg in three places and she needed emergency surgery for a ruptured spleen. My wife and I were terrified, but the nurses here, they all helped her pull through. Especially Sofia, who…” His voice faded and he looked away.

“Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm her? An ex-patient, maybe? A patient’s family member?”

“No,” the nurses said simultaneously.

“No one would want to hurt her,” said Antrim.

“That’s what everyone keeps telling us,” said Jane.

“Well, it’s true,” said Mary Beth. “And she would have told us if she was being threatened by anyone.”

“Was she seeing anyone romantically?” asked Frost. “Any new man in her life?”

Clearly offended by the question, Mary Beth snapped: “Tony died only six months ago. Do you really think she’d be seeing another man?”

“Did she seem worried about anything lately?” Jane asked.

“Just quiet. Of course, she would be, after losing Tony. That’s probably why she stopped coming to our monthly potlucks.”

Jane noticed that Antrim was frowning. “Doctor?” she asked.

“I’m not sure if this means anything. It just struck me as odd at the time, and now I wonder.”

“About what?”

“It was last Wednesday, as I was leaving the hospital. I saw Sofia in the parking lot, talking on her cell phone. This would’ve been just before her shift started so maybe around two-thirty in the afternoon.”

“What was odd about that?”

“She seemed upset, as if she’d just heard some bad news. All I heard was, ‘Are you sure? Are you sure that’s right?’?”

“Did you hear any more of the conversation?”

“No. When she saw me she hung up. As if she didn’t want anyone to hear the call.”

“Do you know who she was talking to?”

He shook his head. “You’d have access to her phone records. Couldn’t you find out?”

“We’re still waiting for the call log from her mobile carrier. But yes, we’ll find out.”

“It just struck me as odd, you know? We’ve all known her for ten, fifteen years, ever since she came to work at Pilgrim, and I have no idea why she’d be so secretive.”