Cathy turned on the porch light, looked through the peephole, and saw her landlady standing on the tiny porch with a pie in her hands. "Mrs. Elam?" Cathy swung the door wide. "Come in. What brings you up here?"
"I saw Will's car outside and figured that you two might enjoy some hot apple pie."
Cathy glanced at Will, who seemed quite content to let her handle this conversation. "Why, thank you." Cathy's cheeks grew hot. "We were just working on some legal matters.But I know that pie would go well with this coffee.Would you like to sit down and have some with us?"
"Gracious no, child. If I ate everything I cooked, I'd weigh three hundred pounds. And I was sorry to hear about that malpractice suit that Milton and Gail Nix filed. They should be grateful that you saved his life, instead of suing you for that wrong prescription."
Cathy threw up her hands. "Is there anything in this town that you don't know?"
"Don't worry, hon. I hear it all, but I don't spread it around."Mrs. Elam set the pie down on the table next to Will's page of notes. With no apparent shame, she took a moment to run her eyes down the list. "I see that you've made the connection between Gail Nix and Lloyd Allen."
Cathy frowned. "Not really. What do you mean?"
"Wasn't Lloyd a couple of years ahead of you in high school?"
"Actually, three years," Cathy said. "What about it?"
"So his sister would already have graduated when you started high school."
"That's right. I vaguely remember her. Linda Allen."
Mrs. Elam smiled as though the dull child had finally solved the math problem. "Right. She was Linda Gail Allen then. She didn't start using her middle name until she went offto college. Then she came back to Dainger and married Milton Nix."
Cathy turned to Will and their eyes met. She could see him working through the connection along with her. The situation had either gotten a lot more complicated or a lot simpler. She wasn't sure which.
"This is Dr. Cathy Sewell. Is the sheriffavailable?" Cathy drummed her fingers on her desk as she suffered through the Summers County version of elevator music when the operator put her on hold. It was a country and western song that brought to mind Cathy's mental image of a Texas lawman: face the color and texture of a walnut, a chaw of tobacco in his cheek, gunbelt cinched below a gut that spilled over the waist of his jeans. She wasn't sure he could help her, but she had to try.
"This is SheriffJ. C. Dunaway. How can I help you?"
She leaned forward as though she could convey her intensity through her posture. "Sheriff, several weeks ago a black SUV ran me offthe road, totaling my car and almost killing me. Since then, I've had more than one near-miss encounter with a similar vehicle. Yesterday, it came out of a side street and almost T-boned me. I managed to avoid it, but I crashed into a curb and blew out a tire. I want to know what you're doing to find out who's behind this."
"Hold on for a minute." She heard muffled voices. "My secretary's getting me the files. Meanwhile, can you fill in some of the details for me?"
Cathy ran through each of the episodes, her mood alternating between anger and spine-chilling fear as she realized once more how close she'd come to being injured or killed.
There was a rustle of paper from the other end of the line."Doctor, I only find one report. That was from your original accident. The deputy who responded reports that he cruised the roads in the vicinity but never saw the suspect vehicle.Did you report your accident yesterday?"
She let her shoulders sag, all the starch suddenly gone from her. "No. I was so upset I didn't even think about it.I knew there was something else I should do, but frankly I was so rattled I hardly knew my own name. I reported it to my insurance agent—and now I remember that I haven't given him the details I promised either. Once the tow truck driver showed up, I just wanted to get away before something else happened to me."
"Let me get more information from you, and I'll ask the deputies to keep an eye out for this vehicle. If you see it in the future, call us immediately."
By the time Cathy finished admitting that she had no idea of the make, model, or year of the SUV in question, she felt utterly stupid. "It was big and black. The windshield was tinted so heavily that I never got a look at the driver. And, no, I don't recall the license number. I think it was a Texas plate, though."
The sheriff' s sigh sounded like a gust of wind in her ear."I'll bet the most common vehicles in this county, aside from white pickups, are black or dark blue SUVs. Why don't I get some pictures of various makes and models of SUVs and drop by your office tomorrow afternoon? Maybe we can pin this down a bit."
Cathy hung up, wondering what the man behind the badge looked like. More importantly, would he be able to help her?
10
WHEN YOU FINISH, DR. BELL WANTS YOU TO CALL HIM." JANE HANDED Cathy a pink slip along with the chart of the next patient.
Cathy paused a moment to wonder what Marcus might want. To tell her that the credentials committee members had changed their minds and were granting the extended privileges she'd requested? Not likely. To advise her that they were putting her on supervised probation for going beyond the scope of her privileges? More likely, although she thought she'd done a pretty good job of going right up to the line before turning her patients over to the appropriate specialists. Oh, well, it could wait. She had one more patient to see.
Today, Ella Mae Mercer looked every bit the model of a bank vice president in her tailored navy suit and white blouse, accented by a designer scarf. Cathy bet the scarf alone cost as much as she spent on clothes in a month. The faintly tinted lenses of Ella Mae's glasses—different frames this time—made it hard to read the woman's expression. Cathy wondered if she had several pairs to match her outfits.
"I'll bet you thought I wouldn't be back." The mild sarcasm of the words was tempered by the apparent sincerity on Ella Mae's face.
"I hoped you would," Cathy said. "How are you doing now?"
"Still stressed to death, but handling it better, thanks to the pills you were kind enough to renew. And, since you didn't want to continue the prescription without knowing my medical status, I'm back for all the testing, poking, and prodding you want to carry out, so long as it keeps the medicine coming while I need it."
"Fair enough. If you'll get undressed and put on that gown hanging behind the door, I'll be right back to check you over.Meanwhile, I want to review the new patient checklist you completed on your last visit."
Most of the information on Ella Mae's history form was unremarkable. Cathy found one thing that grabbed her attention, though. The date Ella Mae Mercer listed as the last time she'd consulted a doctor was a week before the car crash that killed Cathy's parents. She hadn't given the doctor's name, but Cathy knew it was her dad from the name on the pill bottles. The reason for the visit was left blank.
Why had her father treated Ella Mae? And why had he prescribed a tranquilizer for the woman? Cathy remembered her dad talking on the phone at home, calls where he frequently said, "I'm a surgeon. You'll have to see your family doctor if you want those. I don't give that kind of medication."One of his favorite expressions had been, "If there's a problem, I cut it out. Then, once the incision's healed, I move on to the next patient. Let the internists and GPs handle all the rest."
For the next half hour, Cathy "poked and probed," as Ella Mae had called it. The woman seemed in excellent physical shape. Finally, Cathy shoved her stethoscope into the pocket of her white coat and stepped away from the exam table."Jane will draw some blood for routine baseline studies, and I'll let you know if anything turns up there. Right now, I'd say you're pretty healthy."
"Good. How about my medications?"
"The dose of estrogen you're taking could probably be cut back a bit. We're finding that smaller doses carry less risk of breast cancer. The vitamins and supplements are fine. I don't want to discontinue the tranquilizer suddenly, but if you can, I think we should plan for you to eventually get offthem."
Ella Mae shook her head no
before Cathy finished speaking."Ordinarily, I'd agree with you. Until I saw you last, I hadn't taken those for several years. But I need them now."
"Why?" Probably not the most diplomatic way to put it, but Cathy felt she had a right to ask for justification before authorizing more of the tranquilizer.
"I'd prefer not to say. Let's just say that I'm dealing with some powerful emotions. I don't drink. I don't do drugs. I need something to take the edge off."
"These emotions. Would you like to share them with me? Perhaps I can help."
Ella Mae shook her head. Then she turned her palms up like a supplicant. "No use talking about them. It's about something that happened years ago. I thought I'd put all that behind me, but it keeps coming back to haunt me."
Cathy's heart hammered in her chest. "And you won't let me try to help you?"
Ella Mae shook her head, and Cathy was struck by the sadness in her eyes. "No, I don't think anyone can help. But thank you for offering."
Ella Mae Mercer stood at Jane's desk, her prescriptions in hand, completing the checkout procedure. Cathy took one last look at the woman whom she suspected had been the cause of her father's near-estrangement from his wife.She hungered for details, but Ella Mae appeared to have no plans to elaborate.
Cathy grabbed a can of diet soda from the workroom refrigerator and took several gulps. She shrugged her shoulders and tried to loosen the muscles in her neck, but the tension wouldn't budge. Probably just stress. She wished she could write herself a prescription for the same tranquilizer Ella Mae took, but all she needed to further complicate her life right now was to start self-prescribing potentially habitforming drugs.
Cathy made sure that the waiting room was empty before she retreated to her office and closed the door. She collapsed into her chair, leaned back, and put her feet on the desk.Decorum be hanged! She was exhausted.
She sat that way for perhaps five or ten minutes. Then her sense of duty overcame her fatigue. She sat up, pulled the phone toward her, and punched in Marcus Bell's number.
"Marcus, this is Cathy. What did you need?" She regretted her tone as soon as the words left her mouth. No need to alienate him. She needed all the allies she could muster."Sorry, didn't mean to snap at you. Bad day."
"I'll try not to make it any worse. The credentials committee will be meeting again in a couple of weeks. I thought you might like to know that the way you handled Nix's arrhythmia and your care of Mr. Phillips impressed Evan Baker.He seems to be on your side right now. Carl Rosenberg is also coming around. So there's a chance they may reconsider extending your privileges."
Cathy felt her muscles relax a bit. "Great. I was afraid you were about to suspend them, not extend them. I had visions of being on probation as a result of this malpractice suit."
"Actually, they could do that. But I haven't heard any rumbles to that effect. I— Hang on. My secretary's asking me something."
While Cathy waited, she tried to honestly assess where she stood with the credentials committee. And, in case of another tie vote, she wondered if Marcus would come down on her side this time or choose to remain neutral. She wished she could be sure.
She heard more murmurs, then Marcus was back on the line. "Sorry. Administrative problem. Anyway, I thought you should know about this."
"Thanks." She had the phone receiver halfway to the cradle when she heard Marcus say something else.
"Pardon me? I didn't get that last bit."
"I asked if there was any chance of us having that dinner I keep asking you about."
Make a choice, she thought. True, Marcus was handsome and charming. There was no doubt that having him on her side would be important. But she couldn't bring herself to fully trust him. And it would be weird to see Marcus when she hadn't fully decided how she felt about Will. No, she didn't need any more tension in her life.
"Marcus, I appreciate it. But . . . no."
Cathy paused at the water fountain outside Josh's office to wash down a couple of Tylenols. She recalled the advice she'd given so many times to others. If symptoms persist, see your doctor. Well, here she was, about to see a doctor—and probably the one whose services she needed most.
She had hardly settled into her chair when Josh asked, "How's your love life?"
Cathy looked up, startled. "I beg your pardon?"
"I asked, 'How's your love life?' Surely you recognize the relevance of that question. If you don't, I can remind you of what we've been talking about for the past several weeks."
She squirmed and rearranged her skirt. "All right. As you know, there are two men who seem to be interested in me.One is the surgeon who's Chief of Staffat my hospital. The other is the attorney who's helping me with a malpractice case that's been filed against me."
"Your high school boyfriend."
Didn't the man forget anything? He never took a note.She'd never seen evidence of a tape recorder in the office.She decided on a simple answer. "Yes."
"Do you have feelings for either of them?"
"Actually, I haven't sorted that out. I know I'm fond of at least one of them."
"Fond? That's not the kind of feeling I'm asking about.Does it go deeper than fond?"
"Do you want to talk some more about my not being able to trust men?" Cathy asked. "Because my father died just as I finished medical school, just when I needed him? Because two men I was ready to marry disappointed me?"
Josh shook his head, an unusual display of emotion for him. "No, but think about those three men we've been talking about: your father, Carter, Robert. What did you admire most about them? Until they let you down, that is."
She didn't even have to think. "Strong, competent. I felt safe and secure when I was with them."
"What do you think that says about the way you feel about yourself?"
She reached for the carafe and poured a glass of water.
"Cathy, you know you do that when you want to put off answering."
She put the glass down. "All right. I guess I don't feel secure. I act like it—I have to—but I'm not. I feel like I have to prove myself again and again. Can you imagine how hard it is for a woman to make it in medicine? And then to establish yourself in your hometown, where everyone remembers every mistake you and your family ever made? A place where all the male doctors in their 'old boys club' think you can't hack it in the real world?"
"I recognize those feelings, and they're legitimate," Josh said. "But put them aside and try to analyze your feelings for the men who are currently in your life, the ones you're drawn to."
She took a deep breath. "I need Marcus on my side when I come up against the medical staff. I need Will on my side when my suit comes to trial." She felt the way she always felt when Josh peeled away another layer of the protection she'd built up: vulnerable and shaky.
"And?"
"So I guess I need to be clearer about my feelings for them. Do I value them for what they can do for me or just for themselves."
"That would be a good idea. I'd suggest you begin by considering whether you'd be attracted to them if they had nothing to offer you. Picture them as furniture salesmen, plumbers, perhaps airline pilots. When you do that, you'll know the difference between what you're feeling from your head—even subconsciously—and your heart. And then you can start thinking about love—not need, but love. There's a big difference."
Josh had given her a lot to think about on the drive back to Dainger. A lot.
The morning had been frustrating. Not busy—just frustrating.Three patients cancelled, giving no reason. Several sizable bills arrived in the mail, but no payments came to offset them. Cathy wanted to scream. Instead, she grabbed a cold Diet Coke and retreated to her office. She'd hardly settled into her chair when Jane rapped on the doorframe."SheriffDunaway's here."
"Please send him in." There was movement behind the nurse. Cathy rose and extended her hand. "Sheriff, I'm Dr.Cathy Sewell."
The sheriffstrode confidently across the room, and all Cathy's preconceived images fled. The man
was in his late fifties or early sixties, muscular but certainly not fat. He wore starched, sharply pressed chinos. His white dress shirt bore a modest-sized shield on its breast pocket. A silver replica of the state of Texas secured his black bolo tie. He carried a snub-nosed revolver high on his right hip. He could have been a detective in Dallas, rather than the sheriff of a moderate-sized Texas county. Certainly, this was no country bumpkin.
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm J. C. Dunaway." He gave her a brief handshake, firm but not aggressive, and settled into the chair across from her. When he crossed his legs, she saw that his black snakeskin boots were shined to a high gloss.
"Thank you for coming here. Do you have some pictures for me?"
He placed a manila folder on the desk and flipped it open. Inside were a dozen or more sheets of photo stock, each with a large picture of a vehicle. "You know, in the old days I'd have sent a deputy to a bunch of dealerships for pamphlets. Now we go on the Internet, find the picture we want, and print it out. Took less than half an hour to get all these." He tapped a finger on the top picture. "Any of them look like the vehicle that's been giving you trouble?"
Cathy shuffled through them quickly, setting aside two or three, which she studied with care. Finally, she said, "I'm pretty sure it's this one."
He pulled the photo toward him and looked at it, then turned it over and nodded. "Ford Expedition. Are you sure?"
"Not really. You have to admit, they all look pretty much alike, but I think this is it."
"That's a really common vehicle around here, but we'll do some digging. See if someone who owns a black Ford Expedition might have something against you." He scratched his chin. "Or maybe they had a grudge against your family.Know if your daddy had any enemies?"
"Sheriff, he was a physician. The people he helped loved him. I guess there are always a few folks who hold it against the doctor when he can't cure the incurable, or when the time comes to pay for their care, or when he does something they don't like." Cathy clamped her lips shut. She'd thought of another reason for someone to have a grudge against her father. Had he broken offa relationship a woman thought would end in marriage?
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