“A cocktail?”

“Several different psychiatric medications given together. They were prescribed by Dr. Oberlin, and divvied out to Conrad each day, a few of them two to four times a day. The pills and dosages were strictly administered by licensed nurses. Medication was never left in his room.”

“Okay.” Casey digested that information, and then turned her gaze, once again, to Patrick. “So the police think he did what—chose not to take the medication until he’d stored up enough to kill himself?”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“No.” Madeline dragged a hand through her hair. “Conrad would never take his own life. He spent too much time saving others. Life was precious to him. Besides, he was doing better. I saw him right after Ronald was pronounced dead. He was shattered. If he was going to do something stupid, he would have done it then. He didn’t. As for now, there were absolutely no signs of this. Dr. Oberlin adamantly agrees.”

“So do I, for what it’s worth,” Casey said. “I’m just a layperson, but when I met with Conrad, I didn’t see a man on the verge of suicide. I saw someone who was trying to reconcile himself to the past and move on.” She frowned. “The problem is, the police will never believe that someone got past the security at Crest Haven. That residential treatment center is like Sing Sing.”

“I know.”

Patrick cleared his throat. “It may be Sing Sing, but it’s also a hospital. So is Manhattan Memorial, which is filled with professionals who know just what types and dosages of medication are prescribed for Conrad’s condition.”

“And how much it would take to kill him,” Casey finished for him. “So if this was attempted murder, our killer could be a doctor or nurse who found a way to get through security and blend in.”

“Or pay off a Crest Haven employee. That might be an easier in.”

Madeline pressed her palms to her face. “In which case, whoever broke into my apartment and then tried to kill me could be the same person who tried to kill Conrad. And that person works at my hospital.”

“We have no concrete evidence to go on, but my gut instincts say yes, that’s where we’ll find our perp,” Casey said. She glanced at her watch again—4:20 a.m. “Is there any chance that I’ll be able to talk to Conrad?”

“No.” Madeline shook her head hard. “Even if he wakes up soon, he’ll be too groggy to talk. It’ll be a while. Plus, he shouldn’t be overtaxed. Not until it’s absolutely necessary.”

“I’d like to talk to his doctor. Who’s Conrad’s health care proxy?”

“That would still be me. We never had the opportunity or the reason to change it.”

“Then would you authorize my speaking with Dr....?”

“Ger

aldine Lacy,” Madeline filled in. “And yes, I’ll authorize you to speak with her.”

* * *

Casey emerged from the meeting not knowing much more than she had earlier. Conrad had overdosed on antidepressants, mood stabilizers and antianxiety medication. Fortunately, an aide had discovered him unconscious soon enough to take instant emergency action, which had probably saved his life. Dr. Lacy had looked blankly at Casey when she’d asked if there was a way to tell if someone else had administered those meds to Conrad, or dissolved them in a liquid he’d consumed.

“Are you actually suggesting foul play? In an institution like Crest Haven?” The doctor had sounded as taken aback as if someone had just told her she had a marmoset on her head.

“Not suggesting. Just asking,” Casey had qualified. “I’m an investigator. I’m just doing my job.”

Dr. Lacy had shaken her head. “The medical staff—including myself—concur with local law enforcement that this was an attempted suicide. There is absolutely no evidence that someone forced these meds on Dr. Westfield. They were all prescribed specifically for him, and administered directly to him.”

“Thank you.” Casey paused. “Do you have any idea when Dr. Westfield will be awake?”

“I’m not certain.” This time Dr. Lacy had stared Casey down. “And when he does awaken, I won’t be allowing him outside visitors, particularly those who want to interrogate him.”

Casey shut her mouth and left. There was no point in shoving harder against a brick wall. Only Conrad could supply the answers they were looking for.

As Casey headed to the elevators, she got a text from Madeline saying that she and Patrick were now in the waiting area near Conrad’s room. Meet us on the fourth floor. Make a right-hand turn from the elevators and walk down that corridor.

Casey complied. When she reached the waiting room, she saw Madeline fidgeting in a chair, and Patrick standing beside her, scrutinizing the area attentively.

Madeline’s head came up as Casey approached. “Well?”

“I learned nothing,” Casey replied. “Other than the fact that if I show up in the hallway down there—” she pointed to the corridor “—I’ll probably be tossed out on my ass.” Casey’s sigh was filled with frustration. “I’m not going to be stone walled.”

Tags: Andrea Kane Forensic Instincts Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net