by Bonnie Vanak
Eight months ago she graduated medical school but resisted family pressure on getting her cardiac surgery match. Belle struck a compromise. Gap year. She’d work part-time for a well-established cardiac surgeon and apply for the next cardiology match. In exchange her parents would leave her alone to live her life without restrictions for twelve months.
She’d failed to tell them she’d also applied for a pediatric match in Washington, DC, at the same time she’d applied for the cardiology match in Boston.
Surgery wasn’t getting up close and personal, but it was prestigious. Yet she didn’t want to hide behind a mask in an operating room.
She wanted to be involved.
She wanted to please her parents.
“It’s called helping people, Clint. Not wasting time.”
He took out his phone. “What other supplies do you need?”
She rattled off a long list. He scribbled them down on his cell, then pocketed the phone.
“Mother is expecting you tonight for dinner. Don’t disappoint her again like last weekend.” Hand on the doorknob, he turned. “And there’s two men from the FBI in the waiting room. That’s why I came in here to see you.”
Unease trickled down her spine. “For what?”
“Something about missing kids.” Clint frowned. “The special agent in charge called the foundation and I told them to stop by.”
“What missing kids?” she demanded. “Why didn’t I hear about this before?”
Clint’s gaze flicked to the ground. “It has nothing to do with the clinic. Some kids vanished and they’ve been here in the past. Feds are checking all angles. That’s all.”
She wasn’t in the mood for investigators to poke around the facility, ask questions and scare away patients. After Clint’s lecture, she only wanted to get on with her workload and then head home with Boo. A chilled glass of chardonnay, a good book and maybe takeout Chinese food.
But the thought of children vanishing after they’d visited here bothered her more. “I didn’t hear anything about missing children.”
Clint refused to meet her gaze. “It hasn’t been on the news. Guess they’ve kept it quiet.”
With all the Amber Alerts these days? “Tell them to come in right now to my office.”
She’d rather deal with this and send them on their way than have her patients upset with the agents lingering in the lobby.
When the two agents entered the postage stamp–sized room, she did a double take. Boo, sitting on his pillow under the window, wagged his tail.
“You again?” Belle felt a stir of female interest and pure professional dismay.
“Me again.” Unsmiling, he regarded her.
She recognized them both immediately from the airport encounter.
The other agent looked amused as he nodded at her. “Nice to see you again, Dr. North. I’m special agent Roarke Calhoun and this is my partner, special agent Kyle Anderson.”
Calhoun had dark hair and green eyes that held intelligence. He had an alertness about him, and his straight posture and formality indicated ex-military.
He gave her an admiring glance. It didn’t irritate her because she was used to men staring at her. With her long blond hair and brown eyes, she’d often been asked why she didn’t model.
Special agent Kyle Anderson studied her as if he’d never seen a woman before, sweeping his ice-blue gaze up and down her body in a caress that wasn’t sexual, but quite intentional. His inky black hair was clipped short. An intriguing streak of gray shot through a hank of hair hanging over his forehead. He had raw edges that sent her pulse skittering and swiped away her breath. Anderson exuded pure masculinity and he was handsome enough to make her feel feminine and aware.
Make her forget she was a professional physician. Enough. Deal with them and send them away.
Unlike Roarke, Kyle Anderson didn’t smile. But his deep voice and brute masculinity made her own palms damp. It had been a long time since a man made her sit up and pay attention. After the urbane, polished men who’d filled her social calendar and her circle, he was refreshingly...
Direct. Belle suspected FBI agent Kyle Anderson harbored no guile, and no patience for games, either.
“How can I help you?” she asked.
She hadn’t meant to make her tone so sharp, but Anderson’s scrutiny rattled her composure.
Anderson studied her with his cool gaze. “A child is missing. And we believe she is connected to this clinic.”
Chapter 3
A missing child, one of the worst nightmares for any parent. Surely it could not have happened here. But she would help in any way she could.
“Would you like to sit?” Belle indicated the two chairs squeezed into a corner near her desk. Roarke thanked her, but remained standing.
Anderson shook his head. “I’m not here for a social call.” His gaze narrowed. “Especially not with a doctor. I don’t like them.”
Terrific. An FBI agent with an attitude. Belle lifted her chin. “I don’t like federal agents coming in here and disrupting my clinic.”
For a moment they faced off like two Western gunslingers. Belle’s heart skipped a beat. Instinct warned this was a dangerous man. The ruthless type who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Good thing he was an FBI agent and not a hired killer.
Agent Calhoun cleared his throat and broke the tension.
“We’ve traced the girl’s last known visits to your clinic, Dr. North,” Calhoun said in a mild voice. “Do you have security cameras?”
She nodded. “But they’re outside only.”
“We’ll need to see your tapes. Who funds this operation?” Kyle demanded.
Belle bristled. “You already know the answer, otherwise, you’d never have called my family’s foundation. My family owns and operates this clinic.”
“Your brother, Clint, was helpful. But you’re the person we need to talk with because you’re here more frequently.” Calhoun was more approachable than the scowling Anderson. Still, she remained wary.
“Dr. North, how long have you worked here?” Calhoun asked.
“I’ve volunteered here Wednesday through Friday for eight months. Today I’m filling in for the chief physician who normally works on Saturdays, the busiest day of the week. We’re closed Sunday.” Belle pushed a hand through her hair, putting her ponytail in disarray. “Please tell me what’s going on. How did this happen?”
The two agents exchanged glances. “Have you noticed anything unusual in the past month? Children followed by strangers?” Roarke asked.
“No.” She noted the troubled glances they gave each other. “I need to know exactly what happened. If you don’t give me details, I can’t help you.”
The news they shared made her stomach clench with worry. A child who’d visited the clinic had vanished right after she’d left. She was fourteen years old.
Belle pulled up computer records, the sour taste of worry making her feel ill. What if the girl wasn’t alive anymore? She knew the power of Amber Alerts and the system, but still, not all the children reported as missing were found alive. “I can’t give out medical information on the children...”
“HIPAA rules don’t apply to minors,” Anderson cut in.
She frowned. “My rules do.”
“We’ll need to see your files,” Anderson countered, bracing his palms on her desk.
She ignored him, her pulse beating fast from his nearness. “I can tell you if this girl visited here and how long she stayed and when she left. We keep extensive records on all patients.”
“Back off, Kyle,” Roarke told him. “Whatever information you can give us will help, Dr. North.”
Belle clicked through her computer. Part of the updating she’d done was making digital files, and giving the nurses laptops to log data. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”
> More exchanged glances. “The girl was only reported missing a few hours ago. Her parents were out of town and left her older brother in charge. He was too busy partying to notice his sister was gone.”
Fingers hovering over the keyboard, she waited. “Name?”
“Sandra Dixon. She vanished after leaving here the other day. Never made it home.” Anderson locked gazes with her.
Belle frowned as she clicked through the records. “That name isn’t here.”
“It wouldn’t be. Wasn’t the name she used when she visited. We don’t know what her alias was.” Anderson scrubbed a hand over the slight bristles on his jaw.
After he showed her a photo, it clicked. She looked up the information. “Eva Brown. Obviously, I knew she was here under another name. She said she had a cough. She only wanted to talk.”
“About what?” Anderson asked. Lordy, that scowl would frighten away a grizzly bear, but she wouldn’t let him browbeat her. Not when children’s lives were at stake.
“Eva—Sandra wanted to know how long a woman could survive with breast cancer.” Belle felt a lump at her throat, forced herself to speak evenly. Poor Sandra, scared out of her wits and needing answers.
“She was terrified of dying. I did an ultrasound myself and assured her she was fine. Then she confessed her mother was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. Her parents had gone out of town to consult with a top-notch oncologist.” Belle opened her desk drawer and handed Anderson a brochure. “I gave her this information to look over, told her to go home and talk with her mom when her parents returned, and tell her mother how worried she was.”
“Sandra never made it home,” Calhoun said.
Anderson studied her as if she were responsible. “Did you let her walk out of here alone?”
That accusatory tone annoyed her. “She came with a friend. An older girl.”
Anderson flipped out a notebook, scribbled something. “We’ll need her name. Most stranger abductions start with contact with the child close to home. In this case, we think the first contact was here at the clinic.”
“Although most girls who are taken are younger than ten,” Roarke mused, “we’re checking out every possibility.”
It didn’t make sense. Sandra was a teenager.
“Is there anyone here who knows the missing girl?” Roarke asked.
“Cathy knows Sandra. She’s ten and her sister is the one who drove Sandra after she left.”
She called the young girl inside, assuring her mother she needed to speak to her alone and she would be right back.
When Cathy walked inside, the girl quivered.
Anderson squatted down to eye level. “What’s wrong, honey?”
The soft pitch of his voice, the gentle manner as he laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder, contrasted to the scowl he’d given Belle. He handed the girl a tissue to wipe away her tears.
Anderson glanced at Boo. “What’s your dog’s name?”
After Belle told him, Anderson held out a hand. “C’mere, Boo. Meet Cathy.”
Tail wagging, Boo loped over. Anderson scratched behind the dog’s ears and Boo’s tail whipped through the air. Clearly the agent had a way with dogs and kids.
Just not her.
Cathy petted Boo and Anderson joined in, talking in a low, soothing voice to the dog and the child. After a couple of minutes the girl stopped crying.
Anderson patted her hand. “Cathy, we need your help. We need to find Sandra. She could be in trouble and we need to help her. Her folks are worried sick that bad people took her.”
Cathy’s lower lip trembled. Belle squatted down. “Honey, if you know where she is, please tell us. I promise it will be okay.”
The approving nod Anderson gave her as he glanced at Belle shouldn’t have made her heart beat harder, but it did. Why should she care about impressing this man? The children mattered. Not him.
“I know where Sandra is,” the girl confessed. “She ran away and she’s staying in the shed in our yard.”
Roarke pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll notify the cops and her parents.”
As Roarke walked out of the office with Cathy, Anderson lingered. Belle sighed. “That’s great news.”
Anderson kept studying her. “I’ll still need that security footage.”
“Why? She was found.” Unease crawled through her. The federal agent stared at her as if she’d been the one to nudge Sandra into running away from home.
“Protocol. Want to make sure everything here is legal. You treat a lot of patients.” He gave her a pointed look. “Unless you want the medical board in here to go over all your files, Dr. North.”
“No.” Belle brushed back a lock of hair. “We have nothing to hide.”
She headed into the storage room, where Clint had set up the monitors for the outside cameras. Belle clicked on the password to access the playback feed.
As she did, the tape played cars leaving, passing by on the busy street. “It’s hard to make out details.”
He watched the screen with intensity. She had a bad feeling about this. “Someone complained about us.”
Anderson didn’t tear his gaze from the screen. “Yes. We received two anonymous complaints about this clinic.”
“About what?” Bristling, she folded her arms. “We have the highest quality of medical care in this clinic, all for low cost. If patients truly can’t pay, they get their care for free. Without us, patients would be forced to go without or head to the ER.”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
She wished Mike Patterson were here. Dr. Patterson was the chief medical officer who ran the clinic and dealt with all the legalities. Belle felt out of her league.
She shut off the monitor and faced him.
“If you’re prohibited from telling me, then how could I help you find out? Maybe you’d better leave.”
Anderson straightened. “I could return with a subpoena.”
“Or you could tell me what you’re looking for and I can help you.”
He seemed to consider. “The complaints were regarding a suspicious man in the parking lot after hours.”
Doubts filled her. “We lock the gates each night. This is a questionable area of town. But isn’t that a matter for the local police?”
“Long as I’m here, I said I would look into it. Especially since there was a kidnapping associated with this clinic. Now, I need to look at that security footage, Doc.”
Belle knew the man lied, but she turned the tape and monitor on again. Later, she’d have a chat with her brother.
Anderson leaned close to the monitor, his arm brushing hers. She drew in a deep breath. Steady now.
He pointed to camera two. “See that? Same cars.”
The agent clicked through to the previous night, and then the next. “It’s all the same footage. Different dates, same footage.”
Mouth dry, she stared at the screen. “That makes no sense.”
“Someone tampered with the footage, put it on a loop to make it look the same to hide something. Who has access to this room?”
“Everyone on staff. And the cleaning crew. They come in after we close, but they’re never left alone. Usually one of us is working late.”
Anderson glanced at her. “Who has the code to the cameras?”
“Myself, my brother, Clint, and Tony, our security man. But he’s only here during the day. Dr. Patterson as well, the head of the clinic.”
Anderson frowned at the screen. “They were covering something.”
“It could be the same person who stole medication last month. We did have a theft.” She drew in a breath. “We keep everything locked up, but two vials of drugs weren’t accounted for when we did inventory.”
“What drugs?”
“Propofol.”
Anderson’s gaze narrowed. �
�You keep that here? It’s used for general anesthesia. This is a clinic.”
Belle lifted her chin. “It’s also used for outpatient surgeries once a month. We have a limited quantity of the drug. But the surgeries are only conducted once a month, so we didn’t discover it missing until we had one scheduled.”
He made a note. “I’ll need a list of every person who accessed this room, and I’m confiscating your security footage. I’ll also need to talk to everyone on staff.”
Hesitating, she stared at the footage. It deeply troubled her to think something was wrong at this clinic. Clint needed to know what happened.
“Dr. North?” Anderson gestured to the security monitor. “I can get a search warrant. But I’d like to think you want to help.”
Belle drew in a breath. “Use my office to question them. I’ll have our assistant come in and help you dismantle the recorder. I need to get back to my patients.”
She returned to her caseload, which was thankfully much smaller. Then again she suspected the federal agents had scared away some of the clients.
In the middle of the next exam, a knock came on the door. Belle excused herself to the mother and her son, and stepped outside. Agent Anderson paced the hallway.
“I’ll also need the phone number and address of this Dr. Patterson.”
“He’s on a family emergency. A funeral. Can’t this wait until he returns?”
Anderson gave her a pointed look. “No.”
Belle took out her phone, told him the information. “Is that all?”
“For now.”
She gnawed on her lower lip. “Tell me the truth, Agent Anderson. It wasn’t a suspicious person in the parking lot you’re searching for. What’s really going on?”
He turned around, folded his arms across his chest. “All right. There’ve been three cases of missing children connected to this clinic. All turned up at their parents’ houses alive two days after the abductions. Most recent was ten days ago. Nancy Hernandez. The last place she was seen before her abduction was this clinic. Her mother said she brought her here for a chest cold.”
