sample site. “I’m a freshwater biologist. I started out studying Þ sh populations
and got interested in the effects of environmental alterations on breeding and
population dynamics.”
“So that’s how you ended up with the DEC.”
“Technically, I’m an independent consultant, but I’m heading up a joint survey
this summer with the Derrin Freshwater Institute and the state.”
“Fish, huh?” Natalie shook her head and laughed. “If you don’t mind my asking,
how the hell did you ever get interested in Þ sh?”
Dev wondered if it would make any sense if she told her the truth.
If she explained that she’d grown up a stone’s throw from where they had
collected the Þ rst sample. That the lake had been her Þ rst and, in the end, her
best friend. That for as long as she could remember, she’d never Þ t in
anywhere. Not at home, not at school. She’d spent hours on the water, in the
water, from the time she’d been old enough to walk.
She’d found peace in those quiet alone times as she’d lain on the dock in the hot
summer sun watching the small schools of Þ sh circle in the
• 19 •
RADCLY fFE
shallows. She had wondered then what it would be like to be part of a group
like that, moving so easily together, effortlessly attuned. To be accepted, to
belong. She didn’t know then. She still didn’t, but she didn’t wonder any longer.
She didn’t know Natalie well enough to share those secrets, and even if she
had, she wouldn’t have answered any differently. Those times were long past. “I
spent so much time in the water when I was a kid, I guess I thought I was part Þ
sh.”
“Well,” Natalie said, deciding to Þ re the Þ rst shot as she gave Devon a slow,
appreciative once-over, “you look to be all woman now.”
Dev took a quick read and added up the Þ ndings. The answer was pretty
clear. Natalie was very attractive, she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and it was
forecast to be a long, hot summer. Dev leaned back with a smile. “Nice to know
you noticed.”
• 20 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
CHAPTER TWO
By the time the EMTs arrived, Leslie felt almost normal again.
Certainly no worse than she had on quite a few occasions in recent weeks.
She’d been working hard and sleeping even less than usual. It was nothing more
than that.
“Look, really,” she protested as a husky young blond with shaggy hair and a
deep tan, who might have been called a surfer dude in another time and place,
lifted her into a wheelchair with the help of his intensely serious female partner,
“I feel perfectly Þ ne now. Obviously I had a little dizzy spell, which has passed.
Please let me up.”
“Just try to relax, ma’am,” the brunette said mechanically as she slipped a sticky
EKG pad inside Leslie’s blouse and afÞ xed it gently to her upper breast.
Ma’am, Leslie thought with irrational temper. She has her hand inside my
blouse and she’s calling me ma’am. There was something terribly wrong with
this picture. This was not her. In a move that startled even herself, she slapped
the EMT’s hand away. With the practiced voice that was calculated to make
jurors sit up straight in their seats, she snapped, “I’m not going to the hospital.”
The one who’d ma’am’d her leaned down with a hand wrapped around either
arm of the wheelchair. She spoke quietly so no one else could hear. “It sucks to
have everyone all over you like this, I know. But your blood pressure’s still a
little bit low and your heart rate’s a tiny bit elevated. If you try to walk out of
here, I think you’re going to go down again. That will buy you a trip to the ICU.
Just let us take you to the emergency room where you can be checked out.”
Leslie studied the dark, deep eyes inches from her own. She
• 21 •
RADCLY fFE
hadn’t seen anyone look at her like that, with such compassion and
understanding, for…so long, she couldn’t remember. How was it that a stranger
could touch her so deeply and those who supposedly knew her intimately never
touched her at all? Truth be told, she did feel terrible.
“Just get me out of here quickly, please,” she whispered.
“You got it. I’m Amy, by the way.”
“You have beautiful eyes, Amy,” Leslie murmured as she suddenly drifted away.
v
The next time Leslie opened her eyes she was propped up into a semisitting
position on a narrow bed with a thin, hard mattress and covered by a stiff white
sheet that smelled of strong detergent. A sickly-green curtain, a shade darker
than the equally nauseating tiles on the walls, covered the doorway. The
overhead light was so bright she was forced to squint. She was ß eetingly very
happy she didn’t have a migraine. What she did have was a plethora of
intravenous lines and leads and other things she didn’t recognize connecting her
to an assortment of monitoring devices that ringed the bed. Surely whatever was
wrong with her didn’t warrant this much attention. She felt a frisson of anxiety
that she quickly squelched and fumbled around on the bed for a call button.
Annoyed when she found none, she considered shouting, but decided that
would only win her even more unwanted interest.
In search of the handle to lower the bed rail, she slid her hand along the outside
of the stretcher. She’d just located it when the curtain was twitched aside and a
smiling man in a white lab coat entered. The words Emergency Physician were
embroidered in red, slanting letters over his left breast pocket. Beneath that was
his name. Peter Erhart, M.D.
“I’m Dr. Erhart.” He stated the obvious and pressed Leslie’s hand by way of
greeting. “How are you feeling?”
“Other than a little tired, Þ ne. I hope you’re here to discharge me.”
The doctor pulled a stainless steel stool to the side of the stretcher and sat
down. When he crossed his arms on the top of the bed rail, he and Leslie were
nearly eye to eye. “We’d like to keep you overnight for observation.”
• 22 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
Leslie’s stomach tightened, but she knew from experience that nothing would
show on her face. Calmly, she asked, “Why is that?”
“Your EKG shows frequent runs of supraventricular tachycardia and occasional
short bursts of atrial ß utter accompanied by a precipitous drop in your blood
pressure.”
“Which is why I fainted.”
Dr. Erhart looked surprised. “I understand you’re an attorney. Do you handle
medical cases?”
“No, but my…an associate does. I understand what you’re saying.”
She’d discussed enough malpractice cases with Rachel to understand the
terminology. She wondered idly if anyone had called Rachel, and then realized
no one would have had any reason to. A few people in the ofÞ ce, including
Stephanie, were probably aware of her relationship with Rachel Hawthorne, but
it wasn’t as if they presented themselves as a couple. Which they weren’t. Not
technically. She realized her mind was wandering, something else that never
happened to her, and she forced herself to focus. “What’s causing it and what
needs to be done about it?”
Dr. Erhart smiled. “I wish I could answer both questions right now, but I can’t.
Any number of things could be causing the accelerated heart rate, including ß
uctuations in hormone levels, medications, drugs.”
When he let the last word linger in the air, Leslie narrowed her eyes. “I’m not on
any medication and I don’t take drugs of any kind. I don’t smoke and I drink in
moderation.”
“Your baseline blood pressure is also off the charts for someone your age. So it
might be something as simple as stress…perhaps something at work? Or at
home?”
“No. Neither.” Leslie made an impatient gesture, which was cut short by the taut
intravenous line tethering her to a nearby pole. “Look.
I understand the need to be thorough and—”
The ß uttering in her chest started at the same time as the monitor next to the
bed began to screech. She struggled to catch her breath and found she couldn’t.
She was aware of Dr. Erhart speaking into the intercom next to the door, and
after what seemed like an eternity, a woman in scrubs appeared and injected
something into Leslie’s IV line.
A minute later the monitor fell silent, and the wild churning in her chest subsided.
• 23 •
RADCLY fFE
“Jesus,” Leslie whispered, still short of breath. “What was that?”
“That was another run of very rapid tachycardia,” Dr. Erhart said solemnly. He
turned to the nurse. “Call admissions and tell them we’ll need a telemetry bed
for Ms. Harris.”
This time, Leslie didn’t argue. “I need to make some calls. Could someone see if
Stephanie Ackerman is here?”
As Leslie suspected, Stephanie had come to the hospital directly from the
courthouse. When she appeared, Leslie felt ridiculously comforted. “Thanks for
sticking around, Steph.”
“Hey,” Stephanie said softly. “Of course I would.” She glanced at the monitors
on either side of the bed and then back at Leslie. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, they’re just being careful. CYA.” Leslie trusted Stephanie, but she had no
intention of sharing the details. After all, it was all going to be straightened out in
a matter of a few hours. “By the time they Þ nish with all their tests, I’m
probably not going to get out of here until the morning. I’ll need you to check
with Bill and Þ nd out how the judge is going to rule on continuing the trial.”
Stephanie made notes on the rest of Leslie’s requests and promised to call her
that evening with any follow-up.
“I think that does it.” Leslie leaned back and closed her eyes, more tired than
she’d realized. “Thanks. I’ll call you when I get home in the morning.”
“Sure.” Stephanie hesitated. “Uh…anyone else you’d like me to call?”
Frowning, Leslie opened her eyes. “Did I forget something?”
“I meant personally.”
Leslie blushed. “Oh. I don’t know that that’s necessary. But thanks.”
“Sure.”
Feeling as if she should explain, Leslie added, “I’ll take care of those calls when
I get upstairs.”
“I understand. If you need anything, you know my number.”
“’Preciate it.” Leslie smiled goodbye, glad for the quiet and the chance to close
her eyes again.
When a cheerful middle-aged Asian man arrived to transport her to her room,
Leslie was surprised to discover that she’d slept for almost two hours. When
she was Þ nally settled and alone after repeating her medical history yet again to
the nurses and resident staff, she used the
• 24 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
bedside phone and asked the operator for an outside line. She wasn’t surprised
when the number she called rang to voicemail. “Rach, it’s me.
I know this is ridiculous, but I’m actually in…oh, I don’t know why I’m even
bothering you with this.” She contemplated hanging up and then Þ nished in a
rush. “I’m in the hospital. It’s nothing serious. Some little glitch in my hormones
or something. I’ll be released in the morning.
I know you’re wrapping up that big trial, so I’ll call you when I get home. Don’t
worry.”
As the sounds outside her room gradually quieted, Leslie lay awake staring at
the ceiling while reviewing her upcoming cases, prioritizing her work, and
rehearsing how she would explain away this event to her partners. Several times
she was aware of the ß uttering in her chest, which she now recognized as the
irregular heartbeat. She determined to ignore it, until just after midnight when the
frantic racing started and wouldn’t stop.
v
“My God, Leslie,” Rachel Hawthorne said, looking more aggravated than
concerned when she strode into Leslie’s room just after noon the next day.
“Why did you wait so damn long to tell me there was a problem with your going
home?”
“You didn’t need to rush over here,” Leslie said. “I just wanted you to know
that I hadn’t been released yet.”
Rachel had obviously come directly from court. Her immaculately cut slate gray
jacket and skirt hinted at her statuesque Þ gure without being suggestive. Her
lustrous copper hair ß amed around her shoulders, and her green eyes that could
look so warm and seductive during sex snapped with impatience now. Despite
Rachel’s annoyance, Leslie was glad to see her. Something as normal as
Rachel’s quicksilver temper made the situation feel normal, and the fear that had
been niggling at her all morning dissipated.
Leslie all in the same motion. “I’ve got twenty minutes, and then I need to be
back in court.”
“I seem to have this sensitive heart rate all of a sudden,” Leslie said lightly. “And
apparently my blood pressure problem is a little out of order.”
“Let’s cut to the chase, darling,” Rachel said, folding her arms and
• 25 •
RADCLY fFE
canting one hip in a strikingly feminine yet unmistakably aggressive pose.
“Details.”
Leslie sighed. “I had an episode of atrial ß utter in the middle of the night that
they weren’t able to control with medication. Finally at seven a.m. they
cardioverted me.”
For the Þ rst time, Rachel looked worried. “God. Why the hell didn’t you call
me?”
“Because I knew that you were in court this morning, and there was nothing you
could have done here. They sedated me, and it was over in a second. I didn’t
feel anything at all.” She smiled. “And I feel much better now. I’m just waiting
for another cardiogram to conÞ rm that the rhythm has been corrected, and then
I’m getting out of here.”
“I’m not going to be able to wait.” Rachel closed her eyes and rubbed the
bridge of her nose, sorting through alternatives. “Is it safe for you to take a
cab?”
“I’ll call a limo service.” Leslie took a deep breath. “That’s not what I needed to
talk to you a
bout, Rach. I know this is a bad time, but there just didn’t seem to
be a good time.”
“What?” Rachel said sharply. “What else?”
“I’m going to take a few weeks off.” Leslie looked away, then into Rachel’s
eyes. “The doctors pretty much told me I have to. This stupid rhythm problem
can be controlled by medication, but I don’t seem to be one of the ones where
it’s easy. The episodes might recur for a while.
It’s sort of unpredictable.”
“So it could happen again,” Rachel said with understanding.
Leslie winced. “Yes.”
“Christ, Leslie. What a mess.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“Well, at least you’ve got plenty of vacation time stored up. I can’t remember
the last time either of us went anywhere.”
Neither could Leslie. In the nearly two years they’d been dating, or whatever it
was they’d been doing, they’d never gone anywhere together for more than a
long weekend. Even then, they both brought work and frequently spent hours in
phone consultation.
“What are you going to do?” Rachel asked curiously. The concept of days with
nothing to do was not only foreign to her, it was vaguely discomforting.
“It’s not exactly going to be a vacation. I talked to Rex Myers this morning,”
Leslie said, referring to the managing partner at the Þ rm.
• 26 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
At Rachel’s look of astonishment, Leslie held up a hand. “I had to tell him
something. I explained that I needed to cut back on my hours for a short time
because I just started a new medication that wasn’t agreeing with me. Which is
deÞ nitely true.” Leslie laughed shakily. “We’ve got a regional ofÞ ce in Albany,
which isn’t that far from my parents’ house in Bolton Landing. I’m going to stay
at the lake while this gets sorted out and work out of that ofÞ ce as much as I
can.”
“You’re going home home?” Rachel shook her head. “I thought you didn’t get
along with your parents. You haven’t been up there for one holiday since I’ve
known you.”
“It’s not that we don’t get along. We just don’t…always see eye to eye on
things.”
“I don’t get it. Why don’t you just stay here and work part time out of the main
ofÞ ce?”
It made sense. It made perfect sense. Leslie didn’t have words to explain how