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  “How did the medical board react when you reported him?” he asked and glanced up at her.

  She studied the backs of her hands where they rested on the desk. “I-I didn’t go to the board.”

  Bryce started in surprise. She was bright and confident and far from a pushover. In fact, she said she’d turned the doctor down flat. It couldn’t have been easy if what she’d told him was true. And yet, she hadn’t reported the incident.

  “Did you tell anyone at all?”

  “Yes, but not right away.”

  “Why not?”

  She shook her head again with increasing agitation. “I don’t know. I guess I was in shock. I just wanted to forget it happened and concentrate on getting through the program. Then, later, I didn’t think anyone would believe me, least of all the medical board. Where else could I go?”

  “So, who did you tell?”

  “First, I called my sister, Josie Barrington. She lives with her husband in northern New South Wales, up near Grafton. She’s a psychologist. Well, she treats children, but I needed someone to talk to.”

  “Okay and how long after the incident with Doctor Baker did you talk to your sister?”

  “I don’t know—maybe a fortnight later?” I don’t really remember. I just knew I had to tell someone.”

  “What did your sister say?”

  “She told me to report him to the medical board.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No.”

  “What made you come to the police?”

  The woman took another deep breath and let it out slowly. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and measured.

  “I have five older brothers who are all in law enforcement. My father was a District Court judge. They live and breathe fairness and justice every single day of their lives. Last night, I visited my oldest brother.

  “Tom lives in Sydney. He knows me well. He guessed something wasn’t right. He urged me to tell him what was troubling me, so I did. He wanted to come with me today and file a report, but I told him no. I needed to do this on my own.”

  Bryce stared at her. The blueness of her eyes reminded him of a clear summer day. There wasn’t a hint of guile. In his previous dealings with her, she’d come across as genuine and honest and yet, his gut urged him to be cautious.

  “Where does your brother work?”

  “He’s stationed at Chatswood. He’s a police negotiator. He’s been there for years.”

  Bryce started in surprise. Detective Senior Sergeant Tom Munro. Of course. He was well known in the ranks. A good guy and a highly respected police officer.

  “So, Tom was upset to hear a high-profile doctor, old enough to be his sister’s father, had hit on her. Is that why he was anxious for you to file a police report?”

  The woman looked up from where her hands now lay twisted in her lap and met his gaze straight on.

  “No. After I told him about Doctor Baker’s sexual harassment, he wanted to tear the man from limb to limb. The reason he insisted I file a report with the police was because I also told him I thought Doctor Baker or someone close to him might have intentionally caused the deaths of some of his patients.”

  Shock waves ricocheted through Bryce’s gut, but he schooled his face into an expressionless mask. No need to alert her to the degree of his surprise.

  “That’s a pretty serious statement, especially about such an eminent physician.”

  Her eyes narrowed and he caught a flash of anger. “Do you think I don’t know that? Why do you think I’ve tossed and turned all night trying to decide what to do? It’s like the complaint of sexual harassment. Who’s going to believe me? But I’ve now seen two of Doctor Baker’s patients die—patients who had no business being dead. I can’t stand by and let it happen again.”

  “I take it you have some proof that these deaths weren’t from natural causes?”

  Anger flashed in her eyes. “No, I don’t have any proof. Do you think I would have lain sleepless all night if I had proof? That’s your job. All I can tell you is that Amelia Arncliffe and Robyn Evan, both patients under Doctor Baker’s care, died in the last month or so of strangely similar symptoms.”

  She drew in a deep breath and continued. “I’ve asked around. Nobody can tell me what killed them. Everyone assumes we’ll have the answers from their autopsies, but Amelia Arncliffe died a month ago and I haven’t yet heard about any autopsy findings.”

  “She died in a hospital. I take it the death didn’t occur within twenty-four hours of surgery?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it’s not an automatic coroner’s case.”

  “I understand that, but why can’t anyone give me a cause of death?”

  She made a noise of frustration at the back of her throat and Bryce looked at her sympathetically.

  “Did you know the patients?”

  “Yes. They were both lovely women, elderly and not in the best of health, but nowhere near death. It shouldn’t have happened.”

  “And yet it did. Tell me,” he said, changing tack, “why do you think Doctor Baker or someone else at the hospital is involved?”

  “I don’t know for sure that he is, but they were his patients. The investigation must start with him.”

  “If there is an investigation.”

  Her eyes widened in shock and he could see tiny, darker blue flecks in the irises of her eyes.

  “What do you mean, if? Surely you’re going to look into this? I can’t be the only one who thinks the deaths of these women are suspicious?”

  His non-committal shrug sparked fresh anger. Her eyes narrowed.

  “You mean to tell me I’ve scrounged up the courage to come in here and you can’t even reassure me you’re going to investigate? What kind of detective are you?”

  Her harsh accusation stirred his temper, but he stared at her without flinching.

  “If you have a complaint about the doctor and his treatment of you, I suggest you start with the medical board. As to the other, I’ll consider what you’ve told me and decide whether there’s enough to warrant me spending more of my time on it. If there is, you can be assured, I’ll give it my utmost attention.”

  He made a show of gathering his pen and notepad. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a number of pressing matters to attend to. If you’ll give me your contact details, I’ll be sure to let you know when I decide how to proceed. If I do open an investigation, you’ll be notified of the outcome. Will that be all, Doctor Munro?”

  She opened her mouth as if to throw more words at him, but then closed it again without speaking. With every taut line of her body shouting her anger, she snatched her handbag off the floor and stalked out of the room. In silence, he caught up and directed her to the stairwell and then turned away before she began to descend. When she brushed past him, he swore he could hear the grinding of her teeth.

  * * *

  Chanel couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so furious. Even her ears burned with the harsh disappointment of the last hour. She’d spent so much time guessing and second guessing her decision to go to the police station and now, looking at the outcome, it had all been a waste of her time.

  Okay, so the detective had listened to her and plied her with questions, but in the end it seemed he’d decided there wasn’t enough evidence to investigate the matter. What irritated her the most was that he was probably right.

  No one else at the hospital appeared to be worried about the deaths of those elderly patients. Even Tanya hadn’t thought much of it. But after talking it through with Tom, she’d expected the detective to take her concerns a little more seriously. The problem was, unlike her brother, Detective Sutcliffe barely knew her.

  It was obvious her failure to complain to the medical board about Doctor Baker’s harassment had counted against her. If what she said were true, it was only logical to assume it would have been reported. They were living in the twenty-first century. Nobody tolerated sexual harassment in the workplace.
r />   The fact that she hadn’t filed a complaint raised questions about the truth of her claim. That was inevitable. She could tell from the detective’s body language that he didn’t believe her. And then she’d complicated the harassment matter by claiming two of Doctor Baker’s patients had been murdered—okay, she hadn’t actually said the “m” word, but she as good as said as much.

  It was possible Doctor Baker didn’t have anything to do with the deaths. The women were under his care when they died, but he wasn’t the only one who had access to those patients during their time in the hospital.

  The truth was, the deaths could have been caused by anyone—if it were proved the deaths were suspicious at all. So far, it appeared everyone was treating the deaths as resulting from natural causes. Doctor Baker had certainly intimated as much when he’d spoken to her about Amelia Arncliffe.

  Chanel needed to find proof of wrongdoing, tangible proof. Any kind of proof would be good. She wondered if her instinctive desire to blame her superior had anything to do with his treatment of her. She wanted to follow that thought with an instant denial—but she couldn’t.

  If she were fair, she would admit, if only to herself, that if he’d lived up to her expectations of the kindly, brilliant doctor, humbly and generously sharing his wisdom with his dedicated students, her attitude toward him would have been far different. Instead, his lack of integrity, questionable morality and personality flaws made her skin crawl and angered her beyond belief.

  Were those the reasons she was so quick to suspect he could be the one behind his patients’ deaths? Was it something as simple and humiliating as spite? She didn’t think so, but she couldn’t say for sure and the knowledge that she could be so vindictive toward a fellow human being left her deeply ashamed.

  Her parents had raised her to be a better person than that. She was a better person than that. With a deep breath, she crossed the street and headed toward the train station. If the police didn’t believe there was anything worth investigating, then so be it. She’d accept that and move on. She’d put her energies into getting through the program and learning as much as she possibly could.

  At the end of the day, all she wanted to be was the best doctor she was capable of.

  * * *

  Back at his desk, Bryce read over the notes he’d made during his interview with Chanel Munro. He’d Googled her family and confirmed her story that she was indeed part of the reputable Munro family. Five brothers in law enforcement and an older sister who was married to a cop. Her father was the first aboriginal District Court judge appointed to the bench in New South Wales.

  It was an impressive lineage and one that also explained her golden-tanned skin, although the Google images of Judge Munro had shown a man as dark as Bryce. Chanel’s mother was the fair one. From photos he’d seen on the Internet, it was clear Marguerite Munro was Caucasian.

  It was an interesting combination and one that would have garnered its fair share of critics in the past. That Chanel had grown up in a biracial household might explain her confident and forthright attitude. She was used to fighting for what was hers and defending her basic rights. He wondered again why she hadn’t filed a complaint against her boss.

  The thought that the man might be using his position to solicit sexual favors from his students turned Bryce’s stomach and sent a flash of anger burning through his veins. It only added to the already low opinion he had of members of the medical profession.

  It was time he had a chat to Doctor Baker. Reaching across his desk, he picked up the phone and dialed the number he’d found on the Internet. It was answered after the second ring by a woman with a throaty voice that called to mind whiskey and sex and late night parties.

  “Doctor Baker’s office. How can I help you?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Bryce didn’t need directions to the location of Doctor Baker’s private medical rooms. He’d dropped his grandmother outside the building a month earlier. This time, he was fortunate to score a car park only a few doors down and after a quick ride in the elevator to the tenth floor, he knocked on the door that identified itself as Doctor Leo Baker’s.

  The same throaty female voice he’d heard on the other end of the phone bade him enter and he opened the door. Behind a high counter sat a well-put-together blonde, somewhere in her mid-fifties. He’d read on the Internet that despite coming from a very wealthy and influential family, Susan Baker liked to divide her time between her many charitable projects and overseeing her husband’s busy medical practice. That involved running the office in his private rooms and in his rooms at the Sydney Harbour Hospital. She greeted Bryce with a wide smile,

  “You must be Detective Sutcliffe. We spoke on the phone.”

  Bryce nodded in surprise. “How did you know it was me?”

  “When Doctor Baker heard you wanted to see him, he cleared his schedule. You’ll have his undivided attention.”

  Once again, Bryce was filled with surprise. That explained why there were no patients lining the waiting area. Clearing the doctor’s afternoon schedule must have involved contacting and rescheduling a significant number of people. Bryce knew, through his grandmother, how difficult it was to obtain an appointment with the busy physician. It seemed half of Sydney wanted him to treat them.

  The fact that he’d rearranged his patients to suit Bryce’s visit seemed a little odd. After all, Bryce hadn’t even told him what he wanted to speak with him about. For all Doctor Baker knew, Bryce’s visit could be nothing more than requesting patronage at an upcoming police fundraiser.

  Unsure what to make of it, Bryce took a seat in the waiting room and idly selected a glossy sailing magazine from the pile stacked on the coffee table. He was impressed to see it was the latest edition. Most clinics leaned toward magazines that were years old—sometimes even decades.

  A door to the left of Bryce opened and he looked up. A man with a thick head of graying hair, wearing a navy suit that looked custom made to fit his impressive physique, appeared in the doorway.

  “Detective Sutcliffe?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Doctor Leo Baker. Please, come in.”

  Bryce stood and followed the man into his office. The walls, painted a tasteful pale gray contrasted with crisp white architraves. Prints of brightly colored beach scenes decorated the walls. On closer inspection, Bryce could see they were originals. An Aram lily sporting a profusion of creamy white flowers stood in a large ceramic pot by one corner, its glossy green leaves looking healthy and clean. A gentle gust of cooling breeze came from the vents of the air conditioner.

  Doctor Baker closed the door behind them and strode across the room. He took a seat behind a large cedar desk that was scrupulously tidy and clean. Apart from a large computer monitor, a blotter pad and two Montblanc pens, the entire surface was bare.

  “Detective, please take a seat.” The doctor motioned to one of the two leather chairs opposite the desk.

  Bryce seated himself in one of them and pulled out his pen and notebook.

  “I must admit, I was surprised to hear of your call, Detective, but you have me intrigued. I assume you’re here on police business?” Without giving Bryce a chance to answer, he continued. “What could you possibly want to see me about?”

  Bryce held his gaze. “There’s been a complaint from one of your students about sexual harassment, among other things. She wants to press charges,” he lied smoothly. “Given that the alleged offender is you, a man held in the highest regard, I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt and speak to you first, before the matter went any further.”

  While Bryce was speaking, the doctor’s face went from pale to red. Anger suffused his cheeks and his face puffed up with self-righteous indignation.

  “A complaint of sexual harassment? You must be kidding!”

  “I’m afraid I’m not, Doctor Baker. Would you care to explain?”

  “Explain? There’s nothing to explain. The very idea is ludicrous. Which one of my students
was it? They’ll be cut from my program tomorrow.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say, Doctor Baker, but I’m curious. Why would one of your students make such an allegation? Surely, they have a lot to lose by spreading lies? You’ve just told me you’ll have them removed from your program—a program I believe is held in very high esteem.” Bryce frowned and shook his head. “Why would a student take such a risk? They’d be forever tainted and their career would be in ruins.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Detective. I have no idea what goes on in the minds of some of these girls. It wasn’t that long ago when women weren’t even allowed to study medicine. Maybe our forefathers were onto something back then…”

  The last was said as a bit of an aside, but Bryce couldn’t help but respond. “Surely you don’t believe that? We have many brilliant female doctors.” Bryce recalled another snippet of information he’d found on the Internet and added, “In fact, your own daughter is following in your footsteps, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, and she’s doing very well, I might add. Her mother and I are very proud of her.”

  “Justifiably so, from what I understand. She’s the Head of Neurosurgery at St Vincent’s Hospital, just a stone’s throw from here.”

  “Yes, and she’s worked hard to get where she is. She deserves everything that comes her way.”

  Bryce adjusted his weight in the chair. “Getting back to my question, Doctor Baker: Why do you think a student would accuse you of something they can’t prove?”

  The doctor shrugged and looked toward the window that framed an enviable view of the park Bryce had enjoyed the previous month.

  “As I said, I have no idea what goes through the mind of some of these women. Take Chanel Munro, for example.”

  Bryce stilled. How had Baker guessed the complainant was Chanel? Unless what she’d told Bryce was true. He forced another breath in his lungs and drew his notepad closer.