Ellen had checked and was dismayed, though not entirely surprised, to discover that none of this had been included in the weekly clinical- trial reports being forwarded to the National Institutes of Health. (Which in itself was a flagrant violation of procedural requirements.)
And now this. Kristen's own mother showed up deranged and carrying a pistol, looking for her. How much longer would it be before the NIH, or the police, found out that something funny had gone on?
Right now the first thing to do was to get the three senior nurses in the room to put a lid on the rumors. They were her lieutenants; it was their job.
Elise Baker, single and sharp and acerbic, was in charge of the second floor; Mary Hinds, a kindly mother of two, had responsibility for the third floor, and May Gooden, the queen of communication skills, handled the reception and oversaw the staff responsible for the dining room. All three were in their forties and they reported to Ellen O'Hara, who reported to Karl Van de Vliet.
"Elise, could you please close the door."
"Sure." She was getting up. "Is this the quorum? You don't want anybody else here?"
"We have to decide what to do about Katherine Starr," Ellen began. "In my opinion, the absolute first thing we have to do is make sure the story of what just happened never leaves this building."
"Well, I think Dr. Vee should call the police and have her arrested" Elise said as she quietly shut the door. "The very idea. Barging in here with a loaded gun."
"I don't feel safe in the lobby anymore," May Gooden declared. Her face was lined and she had streaks of premature gray. "We're all exposed out here in the middle of nowhere. I think Charles should have a pistol. What good is it having a 'security guard' if you're still not secure."
"Mary, what do you think?" Ellen asked. She knew Mary would always try to split the difference and reconcile differing opinions.
"I don't know. Maybe it was just the case of one crazy person. It's probably not going to happen again."
Okay, Ellen thought, that's three different votes. Call the cops, beef up security, or put our collective heads in the sand.
She worried about the others, but she was also worried about her own situation. Her husband Harold left her eight years ago for a younger woman, and after reclaiming her maiden name, she'd raised their two young sons on her own. Now the oldest, Eric, was ready to start college and she had no idea how she was going to pay for it if she lost this job.