No Good Doctor

by Nicole Snow

  Not today. Not tomorrow. Not yet.

  But soon.

  Soon, I may need my old friend more than ever, if we’re going to keep this tiny, innocent town a safe place for fireflies.

  5

  Resting My Dogs (Ember)

  Some days, I wonder if I’m flipping adopted.

  Because there’s no way I can be related to a woman as loud, as energetic, and as bold as Barbara Delwen.

  I’m amazed the entire coffee shop can’t hear our conversation with her voice chirping merrily on the other end of my phone. I’m perched on a stool at The Nest, my cousin’s café and bakery, playing with the crumbled remnants of a cinnamon roll I have no appetite to eat and waiting for Mitch to finish with my car in his garage down the street.

  It’s been a lazy Sunday, spent talking to Felicity around the few patrons drifting in and out of the café while Mitch does his best to make my little Audi go vroom again.

  But somehow one phone call, and my mother is already managing to wear me out.

  “I promise,” I tell her. “I’m fine. The cabin’s fine. My car’s not fine, but it will be before long.”

  “Can you imagine, though?” she says. “If something happened to you on the drive out there, in the middle of those mountains at night, alone with no cell reception—”

  “You’re writing the script for a horror movie, Mom.” I laugh. My mother is the queen of hyperbole, and you just get used to it after a while. “Cell reception out here is just fine. My car has OnStar. Even if the Audi broke down on the way to Heart’s Edge, I’d have had a tow and been safe in an hour. But it didn’t, so there’s no point worrying about what might’ve been.”

  “Oh, fine.” She sounds sulky, like she always does when I suck the wind out of her sails and don’t let her have her fun with her macabre flavor of Agony Aunt scaremongering. “But I still don’t like you being there alone, Ember. A single girl, on her own in the sticks–”

  “I’m not on my own. I have Felicity.”

  At the sound of her name, Felicity looks up from whipping the foam on a cappuccino and offers a smile and a thumbs up.

  I continue. “And I’m at work for pretty much every waking hour, anyway. Nothing’s going to happen to me with Doc on the watch.”

  I regret saying his name the moment I open my mouth. Ugh.

  But it’s out already, isn’t it?

  Mom’s voice sharpens with gleeful curiosity. “Doc, huh? That’s the man who hired you?”

  “Right-o,” I say neutrally. “He’s the boss.”

  “And is he single?”

  Oh, no. She’s using that tone again.

  “I didn’t ask. Not my business.”

  Honestly, I wonder. I’ve never seen a ring – though I hate myself for checking.

  But I doubt so many women would be swarming him if he was happily married, or even had a girlfriend.

  On the other hand...I’ve seen reality TV.

  They might.

  But it’s extremely doubtful, and I can’t be thinking about this. Not that it stops my mother’s next round of torture.

  She clucks her tongue. “Really, Ember. A man who owns his own veterinary practice must be very responsible and disciplined. I imagine he’d make a good—”

  “No. Don’t even. If you say ‘son-in-law,’ I’m hanging up this phone.”

  “Nope,” she says blandly. “I was going to say ‘lover.’”

  “Mom!” I nearly shriek – then freeze, my heart almost catapulting through the roof while I hunch down into my shoulders.

  Oh my God, the entire café probably heard that.

  Felicity grins at me, and I press my overheated face into one palm and groan.

  “You can’t say things like that.”

  “Why not? Honestly, I didn’t raise you to be this shy. Particularly about sex.”

  “Have you no sense of shame whatsoever?”

  “No, dear, menopause took that when it took my eggs.” She snorts. “I never thought my own daughter would be a twenty-five-year-old virgin.”

  “And I never thought my mother would be this eager for me to get laid,” I hiss back, practically under my breath.

  “Well, unless you’re planning to give me grandchildren with a turkey baster, I don’t see it happening any other way.”

  “Aaand that’s enough of that,” Felicity interrupts with a laugh, cutting off the choking, apoplectic sounds I’m making by sauntering over and plucking the phone from my hand.

  Grinning, she props it between her shoulder and ear, wiping her hands off on a rag. “Hey, Auntie Barb. What’re you doing to turn Ember that shade of red?”

  “Being horrible,” I hiss, scrubbing my hands over my scalding-hot cheeks and trying to breathe.

  It’s not even that my mom said all that wretched stuff.

  It’s that I’m going to remember it every time I see Doc now, and I won’t be able to look him in the eye at work tomorrow.

  Especially when I know just how it feels to have his arm locked tight around me, and his tall, work-hardened body pressed hot against mine.

  It didn’t mean anything, I tell myself.

  I’m grateful to Felicity for saving me, though. She’s better at handling Mom, and even as I hear my mother squeal “Felicity, daaahling!” loud enough to echo from the phone, Felicity’s adroitly trading salvos with her and diverts the topic away from me. I catch her eye, sighing and plunking my chin into my palm.

  Thank you, I mouth. She laughs silently.

  No problem, she mouths back.

  Within a few minutes, Felicity manages to handle my mother into hanging up the phone, before passing it back to me with a dry smile. “You can stop doing your best impression of a tomato now.”

  “Tell that to my face,” I mutter, dropping my phone back in my bag. “God, I don’t know how I turned out this way when I was raised by that woman.”

  “I do.” She folds her arms on the bar-style counter and leans on them, watching me sympathetically. She’s got a kind, open face, pretty and foxlike, and I’ve always envied how effortlessly stylish yet down-to-earth she is. “People say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, ya know. But apples that land in the tree’s shade often don’t get enough sunlight for their seeds to grow. I mean, not unless something else picks them up and carries them away somewhere where the seeds can grow on their own. Maybe a bird or a squirrel or something.”

  “Thanks. That was both a terrible extended metaphor, and a twisty way of saying my diva of a mother overshadowed me, so now I’m a shy mess.”

  “Hey, I was trying to be nicer than that.” She grins, her eyes twinkling. “But you can’t get farther from her shadow than Heart’s Edge. Might as well do a little growing.”

  “Don’t you start, too. I mean if you really want to get into the apple thing...apple seeds only get carried somewhere else because the fruit’s sweet enough for wild animals to eat them.” I raise both brows. “I’m not enticing anyone to eat me any time soon. Or crap me out.”

  “Now there’s the part of you that’s Auntie Barb.” She lets out a spluttering chuckle, shaking her head. “But really...there’s only a few single guys over the age of eighteen in town right now, so your options are either being a stepmom, hooking up with the college guys who drive in for shots at Brody’s every weekend, or getting eviscerated by the pack of wild jackals after Doc.”

  “I’ll take option four: none of the above, and single is fine. I don’t even want to think about Doc that way. I have to work with him.”

  But the idea’s already there, inside me. Totally where it shouldn’t be. Memories where there shouldn’t be any.

  Those gentle, scarred hands of his, the almost-touches, him showing up to give me a ride, the quiet way he told me I...I’m worth something.

  It still feels surreal to hear.

  Just for being me.

  “Hey, lady? What’s with that dreamy look, huh?”

  I blink, snapping to. “Wh-what? I—nothing! I don’t ha
ve a dreamy look!”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I don’t.” Clearing my throat, I move on quickly. “Anyway, thanks for the job tip. I’d never have found any kind of posting this far out on my own.”

  “Don’t thank me. I honestly don’t even know how you can work with that man. Sometimes I feel like I signed you up for corporal punishment.”

  I frown. “Nah, it hasn’t been that bad. I mean the jackals have been a little much, but truly?”

  Felicity tilts her head. “So Doc hasn’t driven you crazy yet?”

  Not the way you think.

  “He’s been good to work with,” I say carefully, shaking my head. “He’s good with animals. I don’t get it, what’s the problem?”

  “He’s just frustrating. Too tough to crack. Mister X. Nobody around here really knows him except Warren and Blake, and they aren’t talking. Not even small-town hospitality has pried him open. He’s been here so long, and yet...talk about questions.” She shrugs, turning the rag over between her fingers. “He’s mixed up in something, I think. After that mess last summer, I probably don’t even want to know what, but it’s just a little maddening having Doc Caldwell cold-shoulder everyone with a smile.”

  “Yeah, he does that sometimes.” I can’t help smiling myself. “It’s actually pretty fascinating and funny at the same time. He manages to deflect these lovestruck women all day without ever insulting them, until they’re left standing there blinking and wondering what happened while he just walks away.”

  “You’d think they’d give up sooner or later.” She smirks. “But when you’re that easy on the eyes, I guess the flock’s gonna swarm.”

  I don’t know what to say to that.

  No way. I’m not thinking about how easy Doc is to look at.

  Not those sharp, glittering jade eyes that seem like they could soften at any moment.

  Not that lazy mouth that seems made for sensuous things instead of formal, clipped words.

  Not his halo of stubble, so rough and yet so right. It’s the lone chink in his professional armor that completes the whole package with an awesome finish.

  Stop. Let me just white this image out of my mind, blank it out in a mental snowstorm, and move on.

  “So,” I say, changing the subject rather pointedly. “How’s this place doing?”

  I glance around the coffee shop. It’s not very busy for the Sunday brunch hour, only a little over a dozen patrons – or maybe that’s my city expectations, and this is normal.

  It’s a cute place, charming and full of honeyed sunlight, everything in soft autumn colors with bits of bronze, copper, and iron filigree making curling, vine-inspired designs everywhere. It should be full of people, laughter, warmth.

  Not on the verge of shutting down, killing everything my cousin has worked her tail off for.

  I let my gaze drift back to her. “Mom told me what happened with your investor and...the whole mess with the drug busts. And murder.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “I’m just glad that’s over, and people aren’t spreading rumors about me sleeping with the guy for his money anymore. He was married.”

  I make a face. “People said that?”

  “That’s the other side of everyone knowing everyone in a small town,” she says dryly. “Sure, they treat you like family and love to help, but they’re going to talk about you like shit, too. Like I’d ever screw a guy, let alone a married guy with kids, just for a little cash flow.” She presses her lips together. “Sad that he died, though. He was a really nice guy, just trying to find a way to help me revive this place.”

  I lean my arms on the counter. “Not much luck there, huh?”

  “Eh, we’ll see. I don’t want to take out any straight-up loans, as I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay them back – but an investor arrangement isn’t half bad, and I might have someone lined up.” She smiles, her eyes gleaming eagerly. “There’s this guy who’s been sniffing around town. New guy, I think, but I guess with most of Bress Holdings dissolving, there’s a lot of opportunities for people to buy things up real cheap and make a profit. He’s offering me better terms than the bank, at least.”

  “And here I thought I was the only mysterious new arrival in town. Bleh.”

  Thinking of mysterious new arrivals has me thinking of that woman again. Wondering about her and about her obvious connection to Doc.

  And although I know I’m going to get teased about it, I ask, “Hey, Fel? Seriously, what kind of shady stuff is Doc involved in? Should I be worried, working for him?”

  “Ah, so now she shows what’s truly on her mind.” Felicity straightens, folding her arms over her chest. There’s a sudden air of excitement about her, and she looks around quickly before leaning in, telling me a secret. “Has anyone told you the legend of Nine yet?”

  I blink, recoiling a little. “No? Nine what? Like nine ghosts, nine serial murders, nine–”

  “Nine’s not a number. Nine’s a man.” Her voice drops to a hushed stage whisper, her eyes widening. “Or he used to be a man. Some people think he’s turned into some kind of monster, like a government experiment. The stories get really crazy and I don’t know about the wacky paranormal stuff. All I know is he killed the mayor and burned down the old Paradise Hotel years ago. That part’s true. Then he turned himself in, ranting and raving about the ‘things’ getting out...that was before he escaped prison and vanished into the wild. Probably your run-of-the-mill lunatic. They say he’s still out there, though, and the only one who knows what really happened the night of the big fire is Doc Caldwell. He was there, Ember. He’s admitted that much, but he’s not talking.”

  Despite myself, a shiver flares down my spine. I try to laugh it off. “C’mon. Murders, arson, and secret government monsters? Here? This is more like Mayberry, not Law and Order – and it’s sure as heck not The X-Files.”

  But Felicity just smiles, her girlish excitement disappearing into an odd, quiet bitterness that leaves me distinctly unsettled. “If you think Heart’s Edge is all flowers and mountain air, girl, you’ve just scratched the surface,” she says. “This town has a lot of secrets, and you’d better get used to them, fast, if you want to survive.”

  6

  Beware of Dog (Doc)

  I already know this is a terrible damn idea.

  But I’m here now. Waiting. And there’s no backing out.

  The night is pitch-black. Moonless. The service road that once led to the Paradise Hotel is nothing but a dark snaking line through the trees along the base of the hills, winding toward the valley where the ruins lie, nothing but broken kindling that seems like it should burst into smoldering flames once more at any moment.

  I’ve parked my truck so far off the shoulder it’s practically in the ditch, smothered in shadow and keeping me concealed.

  I need to see her before she sees me. I have to be prepared. Ready for any and all surprises, every last bit of heaping bullshit she can sling.

  My old service pistol – still primed and ready – is holstered at my hip in plain view. My phone, more concealed, waiting with Blake and Warren’s contacts pulled up, ready to call them at the slightest tap.

  Even if it’s just to let them overhear what’s happening, and infer that I might just need a little backup.

  I don’t want to get them involved, if I can help it.

  Not in my mess. Not in my secrets.

  But if it’s necessary to keep the town safe, I’ll do what I must. For Heart’s Edge, the stakes are always high.

  It’s over an hour before I finally see the creeping headlights breaking over the hill.

  Just like Fuchsia. She enjoys keeping men waiting, in more ways than one.

  But a familiar, battle-hardened, wary tension flows through me as I take in the black SUV that crests the hill, growling toward me like a funeral on wheels. Blackout windows. Glossy, sleek finish that manages to shine even in the dark. The type of vehicle that’s supposed to be nondescript but has become such a symbol of military po
wer and espionage and wicked dealings that it practically screams something sinister.

  Part of me expects the rear window to roll down a crack. Then all I’ll see is the quiet mouth of a silencer before I have half a second to duck and save my life or be swallowed up in the world of blackness in front of me.

  Instead, the SUV pulls off to the opposite side of the road from me and parks. The rear passenger door on the left side opens, which tells me she’s not alone.

  She has a driver. Someone she must trust with whatever she’s come here to say, to do, to demand.

  Or it’s someone disposable enough that she doesn’t mind getting rid of him later, silencing anything he knows.

  Fuchsia steps out, one heel at a time, as black as the night itself in a sleek sheath dress and stockings, dressed for a corporate meeting rather than a secret rendezvous. Her dark attire makes her face seem like pale bone, floating toward me with cool, gliding elegance as she crosses the empty road with the only sound between us the click of her heels on the asphalt.

  With a pointed, lofty little half-smile, she stops next to the window of my truck and taps her nails on the glass.

  Fuck.

  Reluctantly, I stab the switch and roll the window down. I’d rather speak to her through it. I don’t even want to breathe the same air as her. But I’d rather get this over with quickly, without any lethal misunderstandings.

  Even so, I say nothing as she waits expectantly, before with a sigh she arches a brow.

  “Really, Caldwell? You’ve no manners,” she says. “Relax. I’m not here to kill you.”

  “The fact that it’s even an option should tell you why I can’t relax,” I bite off. “You must be deranged to think anyone could relax after the lunacy that happened here.”

  “Most people don’t know about that ‘lunacy,’ as you call it,” she snaps back sharply. “And we intend to keep it that way.”

  We?

  Who the fuck is we?