The Dr Annabel Tilson Novels Box Set

by Barbara Ebel

  Annabel stepped to Bob’s oversized chair, nestled into the leather comfort, and plopped her legs on the ottoman. She had to laugh at how wonderful it felt, especially since Bob had bought secondhand furniture from a local on-line site.

  Oliver ate every last morsel, came over to join her, and pushed his back against the chair. He nodded his head backwards towards her, demanding that she pet him. Her hand settled on his fur, and soon her fingers were immersed in his soft hair, rubbing with gentleness and love for the pet they had both taken into their lives.

  It had been a hectic day, so she willingly welcomed the peace and solitude. She closed her eyes and could not find the strength to reopen them.

  -----

  In the ER, Bob clutched a handful of curtain and peered in the cubicle at Dr. Mares seeing a patient. Linnell stood on the other side of the stretcher, so he knew this was her admission to work up and follow. He was glad for that because, right now, he wanted to follow through with Toby Owens.

  Rick looked over, stopped looking at a little boy’s rash, and stepped outside the curtain.

  “Sorry to barge in,” Bob said.

  “My team of medical students this time is very dependable. You would not have interrupted if you thought it wasn’t important.”

  Bob felt like a higher-up on the totem pole because Rick Mares treated him like he was a resident. He wished all the chiefs treated their students like him.

  “Dr. Mares, we thought Toby Owens was a straight-forward consult from the orthopedic department, but he may be turning out to be a quagmire.”

  “Tell me in medical terms, Dr. Palmer.”

  “Toby is still running a low fever and he’s not eating. He vomited once or twice and continues to have muscle aches, which absolutely started earlier this week before his fracture. Annabel Tilson, a med student friend of mine, is rotating in the pediatrician’s office and assured me of that because he went there for his school physical. Also, when I just saw him, he’s complaining about a new onset headache.”

  “What do you suggest we do, Dr. Palmer?”

  “First, I would order a full set of labs. Check his BUN and creatinine and see where he stands as far as hydration. Also a CBC. I did not see a note in the chart today mentioning the surgeon taking a look at the fracture site. Maybe they missed something after the closed fibular reduction; maybe there’s an infection under his skin.”

  “Yes, order the labs and I’ll co-sign your order. Don’t write a note about your specific infection concern in the chart. Dr. Castle is thorough; he’s on call tonight like us, so hunt him down and ask him about that. And, Dr. Palmer, don’t be so surprised at my acknowledgment of your concern. You are beginning your fourth year of medical school, your residency specialty selection is imminent, and match day is right around the corner from that. You will be sharing more direct patient care sooner than you think.”

  Bob left with more purpose and mulled over Rick’s words, which made him more confident. It had been months since he’d done his general surgery rotation and been near the OR, but it was the most likely place to find an on-call orthopedic surgeon on a Friday night.

  The OR charge nurse at the desk pointed behind the OR doors. She read Bob’s name tag. “If you must talk to Dr. Castle, Student Palmer, he’s in Room 7.”

  Wanting to get his question answered, Bob changed into scrubs, donned a mask and bonnet, and entered the ortho room. Not being able to approach the sterile field, he lingered to the side. Anesthesia was busy at the head of the table, and there was a full group involved with the case.

  “And who do we have here?” Dr. Castle asked from his peripheral vision.

  “I’m Bob Palmer with pediatrics. Just a quick question. I’ve been writing medical students notes on Toby Owens. Not to be presumptuous, but he has a fever and some other vague flu-like symptoms. Just want to cross off the possibility of an infection at his fracture site.”

  “Looked at it myself today. All’s well with his closed reduction and the area around it. Does Dr. Mares have you tied up right now? Want to watch an ORIF?”

  “I haven’t stood in on any ortho procedures and certainly not an open reduction and internal fixation. I’d love to. Until Dr. Mares calls me, of course.”

  A male adult patient was under anesthesia and his right leg was exposed between the sterile blue drapes. Bob gulped with the bloody mess and hardware, which made him think of an assembly line for parts in a car factory.

  “This fellow’s left tibia took the brunt of a free-for-all this afternoon at a soccer game. We use rods and plates, and metal screws and pins to fix the broken bone. A lot different than Toby’s accident, where his fibula was set in a closed fashion.”

  Bob thought this was a lot more amazing than general surgery. He checked to absolutely make sure his beeper was on the waistline of his scrubs in case Dr. Mares needed him. During the next hour, he stood in awe of Dr. Castle’s open reduction and internal fixation. It seemed like the chief resident and his first-year resident were also enjoying themselves; that their surgical efforts gave them utmost gratification by the end of the case. Their patient was brought out from under his anesthesia with hardware sticking out of his leg and on the way to a healed bone.

  CHAPTER 13

  Dustin Lowe absent-mindedly leaned against his desk with a cup of coffee instead of rolling out his chair and settling in front of the computer. The police station was busy for a three-to-eleven shift but not as hectic as a lot of typical Friday nights. Whoever had brewed the coffee made it extra strong and he was half bent on pouring it down the drain. He plucked his iPhone out of a snug shirt pocket, set it to the side of him, and tapped the screen. It came alive, but there was still no return text or call from Annabel.

  Not hearing from her concerned him. After all, being a policeman made him highly alert for behaviors or routines that fell out of line from what was normal and expected. She had divulged her schedule to him for today because it had a bearing on the next morning’s activity at the fair. She was still pulling days at the pediatrician’s office, so she had no night-call duty, and she told him she had vowed to study. He had the impression that they would drive together to the dog show, but that had not been carved in stone.

  He checked his outgoing texts and confirmed they were sent two hours apart. After a big frown, he began tapping his foot on the tile floor.

  From the next desk, Sean watched his buddy with amusement and interest. “That foot beat you’re doing,” he said, “along with the agonizing monitoring of your phone, can’t be related to work. It involves a woman. No other than Annabel Tilson.”

  Dustin swiped his phone off the top of the desk and stuck it back in his pocket. Hiding it away didn’t change the fact that his partner readily understood his true thoughts, and he grinned over at Sean.

  Sean leaned all the way back in his chair, which displayed his potbelly. “I never prodded you after you failed to execute your proposal. Did you return the diamond or are you still keeping it in case you change your mind?”

  “Of all things, my mother found it while she was visiting. Man, did that bring up a bunch of questions that I couldn’t quite answer truthfully. I simply avoided telling her about my girlfriend’s past with other men.”

  “I see. Soooo, the ring is still in your possession and maybe, just maybe, it will be on Annabel’s finger one of these days?”

  “Sean, don’t ask me stuff I can’t answer!”

  Sean rose and stopped in front of Dustin. “Testy tonight?”

  Dustin sighed. “Sorry. It’s this muddy coffee.”

  Sean rolled his eyes. “I’m going to bring mine with me and follow up with the chief. It would do you some good to do the same. He signaled a minute ago through the window … his ‘Friday night trouble’ hand signal.”

  Dustin pushed his chair in and beat Sean into the police chief’s office as his boss thrust a piece of paper at him with a name and address. “Go check this out. A 911 call from a lady who says there’s a disturbanc
e next door, a possible domestic violence. She can’t watch TV with all the screaming, yelling, and banging coming from her neighbor’s place.”

  “And you,” the chief said as Sean stepped in, “can go to an altercation at a sports bar a few blocks over. Have fun.” Sean grabbed his paper as well and both men strutted out with a job to do.

  Pressing his key fob, Dustin looked over the top of Sean’s squad car. “I’ll buzz you. Maybe we can meet for something to eat.”

  “I’m game, but you figured that already.”

  Dustin beat his colleague away from the station and took I-75 down to the south end of town. He turned west off the interstate and realized how close Annabel lived from the exit to the east.

  He drove down the street, where aluminum and rubber garbage cans dotted the street. Some were snapped nicely shut and others were open, practically spilling their contents on the road. A mutt crossed the street and kept going.

  To make sure, he glanced again at the address he was given, but as he pulled near and confirmed the address, which must be the “next-door neighbor,” he knew he had pulled up to the correct household. He only then turned on his dark blue dash flashers.

  Dustin scooted out and approached the front of a small house with porch lights on, a tidy front lawn, and a woman with her back to him, yelling at a man facing her.

  “I’m telling you again,” she hollered. “You’re a stupid dumb shit, and you smell worse than that dumb-ass rotten pickled beer you drink.” She wore denim shorts and a tucked-in T-shirt, and from the back, Dustin guessed her to be in her mid-thirties. She finally whirled around because his car lights could not be ignored.

  As if giving up on the heated argument, she dropped her flailing arms. He continued paying strict attention. The man several feet from her gave testimony to her insult. He wavered on his feet, stumbled back to the front steps, and sat in an acceptable fashion.

  He lessened the distance, all the while eyeing her clothes for the possibility of a weapon, and then did the same for the adult male on the front step. Standing between both of them, he introduced himself. “I’m Officer Lowe. You two are creating quite a disturbance.”

  “She started it,” the male said.

  Dustin waited. Often what people didn’t say at a domestic situation was as important as what they did say. There was no evidence of physical abuse that he could tell; often, a woman would tell him when he arrived if she’d been hit, pushed, or punched.

  “Of course I started it. What woman wouldn’t if their lousy live-in boyfriend acted like you? The days you don’t work, you get soused. You need a full-time real job. Not some redneck half-ass road worker thing.”

  “I should’a cracked that crappy flower vase you love with the pot I was holding when I had the chance.”

  “You know what? You need to leave.”

  “I’d be happy to.” He scrunched his eyes at Dustin. “Officer, I’m leaving. But I promise to do it tomorrow. Gotta sleep off this beer.”

  Dustin glanced at the woman.

  “Yeah, I guess so. He can sleep here one more night. We’ll deal with it.”

  “You two have been disturbing the peace by carrying your argument into the front yard. How about we go inside? I need to get some names and assurances, and ask a few questions.”

  “Aren’t you going to make him walk a straight line?”

  “He isn’t driving, ma’am.”

  “I’ll show you a damn straight line.” The man rose and weaved his way through the front door. The woman followed.

  Dustin grabbed a clipboard from his vehicle and gave a wave to the neighbor next door who filed the complaint. “I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

  Dustin filled in the blanks for his paperwork, and as the minutes ticked by, the couple became more restrained. When he left and visited the woman next door, she profusely thanked him for restoring the necessary peace on her street.

  -----

  Dustin turned on the ignition and was about to pull away from the domestic dispute home, when he plucked out his iPhone. Annabel would be in bed by now, he figured; he needed to check again if she had left a text or voicemail after his earlier calls. He lit up the screen, only to find nothing back from her. He set his face in a deep frown. Especially since they had plans in the morning and he hadn’t heard back from her, he grew more concerned.

  His police instincts took hold and his idea was too easy. Her apartment house was a clean shot east over the interstate. He didn’t think it out clearly, but it wouldn’t hurt to drive by. If her light was out, she could be asleep. If lights were on, at least he would figure she was at home and not out in some kind of trouble. He could fit it right into his job before the next hour or two when his shift would finish.

  He went straight, and on the other side of I-75, he turned up a one-way street and circled around to Annabel’s road. He drove down her sleepy street at a slow pace. Going one way and looking ahead to the right, he saw the top floor was dark. He stopped out front just to be sure and stepped out of his car. Nothing but darkness up above, as well as the dark sky to the south over the Ohio River.

  Well, if she’s home, he thought, her car should be around. Usually, she procured a spot within a block or two of her street. He rode up and down to no avail and covered another two blocks north, east, and west for good measure. South of her street ended in highways and the Ohio, so he didn’t need to worry about that direction. He stopped again in front of her place because he grappled with another new thought.

  How could he even think of such a thing? What if she was over at her “good friend” Bob’s place? Except for studying together, he pushed aside any reasoning why that might be. It would be better to simply rest his mind and check the guy’s apartment complex parking lot for her car. After all, now he knew where Bob lived, which came in handy. If her car wasn’t there, then any possible ideas he might harbor about them this night would be put to rest.

  Dustin slowly accelerated, kept on side streets, and drove north to Bob Palmer’s neighborhood. When he arrived, and with the apartments looming in front of him, he circled around the street once to check the outer parking spots. Not finding her car, he rested more easily, and pulled into one of the entrances. He creeped behind the vehicles facing the fenced-in pool and braked suddenly.

  His worst fear materialized. Next to his patrol car was a red Nissan SUV. In addition, he had no need to second guess the exact vehicle either. He was well aware of her license plate and the new bumper sticker she had stuck on, which announced “Dog on Board.” There was no doubt he was staring at Annabel’s car and that she was right now in Bob Palmer’s apartment.

  A flood of emotion swept over him. Yes, perhaps the possibility existed that this was some innocent “visit,” but who was he kidding? Her not answering her texts and calls from him, and being here must attest to the fact that hanky-panky was going on between his girlfriend and Bob Palmer. He’d been denying how close they were to each other all along. Their relationship flooded over from the medical school rotation work that they were often doing side-by-side, straight into their personal lives.

  Dustin felt like kicking himself. To think that he had almost proposed to her. Meeting that “boat” guy in his neighborhood restaurant one night who’d had a fling with her should have taught him something then and there!

  Fortunately, no other vehicle crept into the lot, so he commiserated with himself silently in the car. At first, his index finger tapped the steering wheel in disbelief, but then he wrapped his hand around it and grasped it as hard as he could. He remained stunned, sad, and angry at the same time.

  He startled as his phone rang. Any hope of a call from Annabel was dismissed as Sean’s number lit up and he answered. “Hey,” Dustin said.

  “You free yet?”

  “You could say that.”

  “You ready to snag a bite to eat?”

  “I suppose.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Meet you at our diner.”

  -----


  Sean beat his partner into the diner, so that when Dustin arrived, he sat in the booth facing away from the cash register and entrance. He wore an expression of pain and then pouted because he didn’t sit in his favorite position.

  Sean let out a sigh. “I’m thinking you want to eat by yourself.”

  “I’m sorry. I need to start my day all over again. What happened at the sports bar?”

  “Two guys got into an altercation. They had some issues going on between them and, by accident, bumped into each other in a public place. Sparks were flying when I arrived and the beer they’d been drinking didn’t help. What about you?”

  “Beer involved in mine too. You know, a guy and a girl and a next-door neighbor wanting peace and quiet. Sometimes I feel like a baby-sitter when I go for those.”

  “Yeah, well, you know better because those situations can escalate.”

  “I hear you.”

  A waitress they weren’t familiar with stopped. She flicked open a pad of paper and grinned. “Management told me sooner or later I would wait on cops. And here you are. I’m flattered. I love the police force. I want to join someday.”

  “Go for it,” Sean said.

  “Know what you want?”

  “A straight bacon burger. Substitute chips for French fries.”

  She turned to Dustin.

  “I’ll take the same with coffee.”

  She left and Sean shifted his weight. “So spill it out. What now?”

  Dustin wanted to bury his awful topic, yet Sean was great at giving advice. He bit the inside of his lip and treaded carefully. “I told you a bit earlier … stuff with Annabel.”

  Sean squeezed a lemon into a glass of water and raised his eyebrows.

  “I haven’t mentioned it, but she has a close male medical school friend. They’re thick as mud regarding their studies and clinical courses and sometimes have an ability to work symbiotically to solve medical problems.”