Colton Holiday Lockdown

by C. J. Miller

  “What is left?” Dr. Goodhue asked, slamming closed the notebook she was reading.

  Gemma had spaced out. Was Dr. Goodhue speaking to her?

  “Rafe and I collected blood samples from our current patients. Those are places to start,” Gemma said.

  “What about patient zero? We can’t obtain more blood from her!” Dr. Goodhue said.

  Until they had evidence to prove otherwise, they believed Mimi Rand was patient zero. Mimi Rand, the ex-wife of Dr. Lucas Rand, had died in the clinic, but not before she had infected several other people in town.

  “We don’t know that blood from patient zero will help,” Rafe said.

  Rafe had mentioned the possibility of the virus morphing over time. Their patient information indicated that patients who had contracted the virus early on seemed to be faring better than those who had been admitted more recently.

  Mimi Rand was dead. Dozens of others had died. These were facts not far from Gemma’s thoughts.

  “We’ll salvage what we can and we’ll reproduce the results we need,” Gemma said. “Rafe? Our shift ended an hour ago. I’ve been waiting to speak with you.” She had decided she would reach out again, offer her friendship and see if he needed to talk.

  Rafe turned in his chair. He looked at her as if he expected her to speak to him now. At least he’d faced her.

  “Alone. Please,” Gemma said. Talking in their protective suits was uncomfortable and no way would Rafe open up in front of Dr. Goodhue. He might not open up at all, but the chances were better if they were alone.

  Rafe stood. He looked at the clock on the wall. “All right. Let’s scrub out.”

  Twenty minutes later, changed into street clothes, Gemma searched for the right words to explain what was on her mind. The latest interference in their research was a good reason to take a step back and regroup. If they were tired and run-down, they’d be ineffective and inefficient. Maybe if Dr. Rand, Anand and Felicia hadn’t been so drained, they would have heard the break-in and prevented someone from getting into the lab.

  “I’m hungry. Mind grabbing a bite with me at the diner?” Gemma asked. A friendly environment would make it easier to talk. In the clinic, despite his treating her as a colleague, Gemma still felt strict professional boundaries.

  “I have dinner with Danny,” he said.

  She didn’t want to give up so easily. “You can grab some carry-out. This won’t take long.”

  “You can’t tell me what you need now?” he asked. He used that irritated tone he sometimes had with the rest of the staff. Gemma ignored it. Some doctors thought they could strong-arm others into bending to their will.

  Gemma was not one of those people. Even though she didn’t enjoy confrontation, someone needed to talk to Rafe and have him blow off some steam before his head exploded.

  “No.” Gemma folded her arms across her chest.

  Rafe jammed a hand through his hair. “You are persistent. You win. Let’s go.”

  He’d agreed if only because he knew she wouldn’t back down. That was fine with her. When she had a problem on her mind, she needed to say it. Then she would smooth things over.

  * * *

  The Dead River Diner was crowded. As they searched for a free booth, Rafe felt eyes on him. He was accustomed to stares in this town. From the time he had been a young boy, he’d been given looks that made it plain he was not welcome.

  Whether it was because he was now an outsider or his medical degree hadn’t covered the stench of being from the worst part of town, he wasn’t welcome in Dead River. He had never felt it more than now.

  He ignored the looks, like he always had. He slid into a booth across from Gemma. Why did she need to talk here? It had been a long, bad day. He wanted to go home, have dinner with Danny and catch up on some virology articles that were waiting for him. One might spark an idea that could lead to a cure.

  “Dr. Granger—”

  Too formal. “When we’re not working, call me Rafe.”

  He almost surprised himself, but the words had come naturally.

  “Rafe,” Gemma started again, sounding unsure. “How can I help your stress level?”

  Rafe inclined his head. “My stress level?”

  Gemma shifted in her seat. “We’re under a tremendous amount of stress, but you most of all. You drive us hard and yourself harder—”

  He felt a criticism coming from her pink mouth. “Are you saying you need a break?” Losing a member of their staff would be hard, but he wouldn’t work someone into the ground. If she needed to step back from her duties, he understood.

  Green eyes narrowed. “I don’t need a break. I’m concerned about you.”

  Why? He hadn’t come apart. “No reason to be. I know my limits.”

  The waitress took their order. Rafe asked for his food to go and a coffee. He couldn’t feed Danny cereal or a sandwich again as a meal. They were guys, but Rafe had hit his limit on crap food and Danny was a growing teenager.

  The waitress lingered at the table. “Any news?” she asked.

  About the cure? The break-in? “About what?” Rafe asked. He’d been in the clinic and didn’t know if news of the break-in had hit the gossip mill. It was Dead River, so most likely it had.

  The waitress looked around. “About the virus. I heard you found a cure, but it ended up making everyone sicker. Is that true?”

  If they’d had a cure that made people sicker, it wouldn’t be a cure. Luckily, Gemma answered before Rafe could make any more enemies with his sarcastic response.

  “We’re doing our best, but we’re still working on it,” Gemma said.

  The waitress frowned. “It’s been months. Have you tried asking for outside help?”

  Rafe kept his temper. It was difficult for people of the town to believe that finding a cure wasn’t a straightforward task. It wasn’t as if the clinic had a computer that would take the virus, find the antidote and print it out on paper like a recipe for them to mix. “There are a number of factors at play. We’re closing in on it,” Rafe said. He curbed the urge to say more.

  The waitress nodded. “Okay, thanks. Everyone is so worried.” She bit her lip. “I’ll put your order in.”

  Gemma reached across the table, and then drew her hands back into her lap. “Dr. Granger, she didn’t mean to be insulting.”

  The people of Dead River wanted a cure found and they were putting their faith in the clinic to deliver. “It’s hard to explain to someone why we don’t have a cure.”

  “Everyone knows you’re an exceptional doctor,” Gemma said.

  He didn’t need his ego stroked. “But what?”

  Gemma smiled. “But I am worried you’ll burn out. You can’t keep going at the pace you’re going and not break down.”

  She had no idea what he could and could not do. Since he had gotten out of Dead River, he had worked as if the devil was chasing him and would catch him if he slowed. College, medical school, a fellowship with the CDC and his residency had led to the pinnacle of his success: a position as an ER doctor at Presbyterian University Hospital in New York.

  “I will not have a breakdown. Is this about getting upset with Flint earlier today?” The Coltons had always stuck together. Rafe understood if she was sticking up for her brother.

  “This isn’t about Flint. He’s a big boy and he can take it. This is about you. You’re the only doctor who works additional shifts.” Gemma pointed to the coffee the waitress had slid in front of him. “Is that the majority of your meals?”

  Rafe glanced at the coffee. He wasn’t keeping track of his food. “Worried I’ll have shaky hands during a procedure?”

  Gemma shook her head. “Please hear me. I am not concerned about how you treat others. I am not concerned about your patients. I am concerned about you and how you will drive u
s crazy if you don’t ease off.”

  Gemma had struck a nerve. Ease off. Slack off. Sit around and wait for someone else to do the work. He would set Gemma straight now. “I do not expect you or anyone else to help.” The cold in his voice hit its mark. Gemma drew away and her face dropped.

  “I can do this entirely on my own if that’s what it takes. I don’t need to rest. I need to find a cure to help the people of this town get better. I will not put my personal needs ahead of someone’s life.”

  Gemma seemed shocked and then gathered herself. “That’s not really true is it, Dr. Granger? You want to help our patients, but you have another motive.”

  He’d made no secret of his desire to escape this town. “Like everyone else here, I can’t wait to leave.”

  Gemma drew back. “I don’t want to leave.”

  She wouldn’t. She had a great family, people who cared about her and she’d gone with the flow and seemed happy doing what was expected of her. Even in high school, she’d been the school’s sweetheart, not popular exactly, but few had a bad word to say about her. “Then I guess that’s one reason we don’t get along. I don’t want to be here a minute longer than I have to.”

  Gemma leaned in and glared at him. “You can try that bad-boy routine on me, but I see through you. You’re here because you want to be.”

  He snorted. “You know nothing about me. I am here because of a promise I foolishly gave.”

  “Why not break the promise if you hate it here?”

  “Because breaking a promise to a dead person would make me the tyrannical, self-serving shithead you’re implying I am.”

  Gemma’s mouth dropped open. “I said no such thing.”

  Rafe threw several twenties on the table. “See you at work.”

  He fled the diner and ignored the looks from the people around him. He didn’t need their condescension and he didn’t need this town.

  * * *

  Rafe opened the door to his rental, a two-story, three-bedroom colonial. It was too big for him, though somehow he thought it was too small for him and Danny. The teenager seemed to have a lot of stuff, or maybe it seemed that way because nothing was ever put away.

  “Danny! Are you home?” Rafe asked.

  Rafe was accustomed to some signs that Danny was inside. Muddy shoes by the door, winter jacket thrown over the chair in the living room or the sound of music pulsing from the boy’s bedroom.

  It was quiet.

  “Danny!”

  Was he wearing headphones?

  Rafe took the oak stairs to Danny’s room and found it empty. No backpack slung on the floor. Rafe picked up an empty box of cookies and tossed it in the trash. He called the cell phone he’d given to Danny, but the call went directly to voice mail.

  Worry knotted in his stomach. He gave Danny his freedom and his privacy, as Danny’s grandfather had, but Rafe and Danny had an agreement. Danny would let Rafe know where he was and when he would be home and Rafe did the same for him. That morning, Danny had told him he’d come home directly after football practice. After the fire at the clinic, Rafe had texted him that he would be late tonight. Danny was usually good to his word.

  Rafe called the Dead River Youth Center. It was a safe place for students to hang out after school and Danny had friends there. Maybe he’d forgotten to tell Rafe he’d changed his plans. A quick call to the director of the youth center and Rafe was again at square one. Danny wasn’t there.

  His worry increased. Dead River was usually quiet, but with the virus outbreak and a murderer hiding somewhere in town, Rafe didn’t like the idea of Danny anywhere alone. He could be sick and unable to call for help. His cell phone battery could have died.

  Danny wasn’t naïve or helpless, but Rafe cared about the boy. His anxiety ticked up a notch. Returning to his car, he drove the short distance Danny walked to school, checking the sidewalks.

  No sign of him.

  Football practice was over. The field was clear. Rafe’s phone rang and he fumbled to answer it. It wasn’t Danny. Worse still, it was Flint. If he was calling because Danny had been hurt, Rafe wouldn’t forgive himself. He should have called Danny after school or told him to text when he was home safe. He hated to place restrictions on Danny, but how else did a parent keep a son safe?

  Rafe stuttered on the thought. Not that he was Danny’s father. Foster father was a big stretch from real father. Still, he’d taken Danny in without any parenting experience and he’d had no idea how hard it would be.

  “Flint, what’s going on? Is it Danny?” Rafe rarely felt this panicked. Panic was an emotion he had learned to lock away in emergencies.

  “No. Why? Isn’t he with you?”

  At least Danny hadn’t been found hurt. “He’s late from practice,” Rafe said.

  “Sounds like this is a bad time, but I need you back at the clinic.”

  Another outbreak? “What’s happened?”

  “Someone’s attacked Dr. Rand.”

  Dr. Rand wasn’t a small man. He could handle himself. It would be ballsy for someone to openly attack him. “Is he okay?”

  “Shaken, but okay.”

  “What about Gemma?” Rafe asked. He had second thoughts about leaving her at the diner. Had she returned home safely? Recent events gave Rafe plenty of reasons to worry.

  “I talked to her a few minutes ago. Gemma’s fine, why?” Flint asked.

  “I was curious.” More than curious. Though Gemma was intrusive and pushy and seemed too eager to talk about how everyone felt, he liked her. She was good at her job and he enjoyed working with her.

  If she had wanted, she could have her pick of hospitals to work in.

  Rafe changed directions and drove to the clinic. He called Danny several more times on his cell phone.

  He even tried calling a couple of Danny’s friends. They hadn’t seen him since football practice. He tried Danny’s brother, Matt, who hadn’t spoken to Danny recently. When Rafe arrived at the clinic, he parked in the lot. Half the spots were piled with snow and the ice underfoot was slick. In this part of Wyoming, snow and ice would stick around until the spring melt.

  Rafe strode directly to Flint. It was the second incident at the clinic in twenty-four hours. “Did you find the person who did this?” Rafe asked. They had to have a lead to find and stop the person hindering the clinic’s research and attacking the staff.

  Flint shook his head and pointed to the ambulance where Dr. Rand was being examined by a paramedic. “That’s what I need to speak with everyone about. Whoever is targeting the clinic is now targeting the staff. I need everyone to be careful.”

  Rafe should ask the paramedic if he needed a consult. It wasn’t like Kit could take Dr. Rand to the nearest hospital in Cheyenne. Rafe approached and waited for Kit to acknowledge him. Nothing was more irritating than another medical provider intruding during an exam.

  “Hey, Dr. Granger, good to see you. Wish it was under better circumstances,” Kit said. Rafe had known Kit in high school. Even after so many years, she still had a splash of freckles across her nose and a warm smile.

  Josh Hadaway, the EMT, climbed out of the back of the medic. “Crazy times around here, huh?”

  Rafe was familiar with Josh from drop-offs at the clinic from time to time.

  Dr. Rand was looking sad. Or was he embarrassed? Angry? Rafe wasn’t a huge fan of Dr. Rand’s. Lucas was arrogant, even more arrogant than most doctors. He’d claimed he had a cure for the virus, but it had proven to be ineffective with their patients. Rafe wasn’t sure why the man had thought his “cure” would do anything. Their lab tests were nowhere near ready to make such a claim.

  “Dr. Rand, I’m sorry to ask you to tell your story again, but maybe you’ve remembered additional details,” Flint said, joining them.

  Dr. Rand sighed and rubbed his f
ace. “We have enough problems in this town. I don’t want anyone in trouble.”

  Flint arched a brow and Rafe tamped down his irritation. They didn’t have time for this! If they could find the attacker, maybe they could recover their lab results or samples. Could Dr. Rand identify his assailant?

  “The faster we find the person who stole our samples and destroyed our lab, the better off we’ll be. We can’t have these endless setbacks,” Rafe said, using the voice he usually reserved for speaking to his patients. Calm and relaxed. Rand wouldn’t respond well to irritation and threats.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Rafe saw Gemma approach. She was wearing the same clothes she’d had on at the diner, but she’d done her hair differently. It was braided over her shoulder. He liked it. Too much.

  Gemma stood between her brother and Rafe. Gemma shivered as the wind blew stronger. Rafe removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders and Gemma looked at him in surprise. “Thank you,” she said.

  “Dr. Rand, please tell us what you know,” Flint said.

  Rafe took his eyes off Gemma, though he could see her watching the exchange intently.

  “We don’t need to stand in the cold debating this,” Dr. Rand said.

  They weren’t debating anything. They were waiting for Dr. Rand to tell them what he knew. Did everything with Dr. Rand need to be a production? The man’s eyes welled with tears and if he hadn’t recently lost his ex-wife and wasn’t struggling with his grief, Rafe would have punched him. He wanted to tell him to stop crying and focus on what was important. Like finding the vandal and finding a cure.

  “I was attacked as I was leaving the virus wing. I only caught a glimpse of him.”

  A disgruntled patient? A dissatisfied woman Dr. Rand had had a one-night stand with? Rafe kept his thoughts to himself. He was in a bad mood and he didn’t need to share his mood with everyone.

  “That boy who’s living with Dr. Granger. Danny. He attacked me,” Dr. Rand said.

  Flint and Gemma turned to Rafe. His denial was immediate. “You’re mistaken. Danny had football practice after school.”