Unintended Consequences - By Marti Green Page 0,38

see who’d draw first. Cornwall suddenly sat up erect in his seat. “Wait a minute. Maybe we can go about this a different way. You said she was treated here in 1989 or ’90. Maybe the treating doctor is still on staff here.” Cornwall opened a drawer in his desk, took out a sheet of paper, and looked it over. “I think we may be in luck.” He picked up the phone on his desk and punched in four numbers. “Is Dr. Samson available?” Minutes went by before he spoke again. “Gary, I’m glad you’re here. Were you on staff in ’89? Good. By any chance, do you remember treating a little girl back then for leukemia—her name was Angelina Calhoun, about three or four years old?” Cornwall nodded and smiled. “I’m going to send someone up to see you, if you have a moment now. His name is Thomas Noorland. He’s an investigator and has a signed release from the girl’s father.” He hung up and turned to Tommy. “You’re in luck. Dr. Samson is the head of our pediatric oncology unit now, but back then he was a staff physician. He remembers the Calhouns. I’ll have someone bring you up to his office and he’ll tell you what he knows about their daughter’s condition back then.”

Tommy had to admit his surprise. He’d expected the hospital to be a dead end, certain that Calhoun had fabricated the story of his daughter’s illness. Now it seemed that at least one part of his tale was true. As for the rest, Tommy remained skeptical.

Cornwall buzzed his secretary on the intercom. “Vicky, is Billy around? Good. Send him in here, please.”

Moments later a middle-aged man in workman’s clothes entered Cornwall’s office.

“You need me, Mr. Cornwall?”

The man’s slow speech and shuffling gait suggested some degree of developmental disability. “Yes, Billy. I’d like you to take this man up to see Dr. Samson. His office is in Room 521. You remember how to get there, right?”

Billy nodded.

Tommy thanked Cornwall before he left his office and followed Billy as he wound his way around the corridors to the elevator. “How long have you been working here, Billy?” Tommy asked, just to make conversation.

Billy stopped to think about the question. “A long time.”

“You like it here?”

He nodded. “I like the children. I like making them laugh.”

They took the elevator to the fifth floor and made their way through another labyrinth of corridors to Room 521. “Here’s Dr. Samson’s office,” Billy said before leaving. “He’s a real nice man.”

The door was open, so Tommy knocked once to announce his arrival and stepped inside. A thin man, who looked to be in his early fifties, with sprouts of gray hair at his temples and wire-rimmed glasses over his eyes, sat behind a desk. The small office contained only a metal desk at the far end, two chairs in front of it, and file cabinets along a side wall.

“You must be Mr. Noorland,” the doctor said as he looked up from his papers.

“Please, call me Tommy.”

“How can I help you?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost sad.

It must be the worst specialty for a doctor, Tommy thought. Having to deal with children with cancer. The tragedies he saw every day had to take a toll, and the doctor’s hunched back and expressionless eyes seemed to confirm Tommy’s expectations.

“I understand you treated Angelina Calhoun,” Tommy said as he sat down and slid a signed medical release over to Dr. Samson. “It was way back in ’89, maybe ’90. I was hoping you might remember something about her condition and, well, how she did.”

“I remember Angelina very well. I treated her for leukemia.” Tommy thought he detected moisture in the corner of the doctor’s left eye. “Every child I treat here is special to me, the ones I save and the ones I lose,” he continued, his voice barely audible. “But some get to me deep inside.” He paused and shook his head. “Angelina was such a beautiful child, always smiling, always brave. All of the staff here were so taken by her. They talked about taking up a collection to help pay for her treatment, but it never would have been enough. I waived my fee but the hospital wouldn’t. I lobbied hard for that, but they’re a business and you know how it is with businesses, always looking at the bottom line. Her parents were hard-working folks, but they didn’t have health insurance. It’s different now. The times have