Medical Judgment

by Richard L. Mabry M. D.

  He dialed her number, and her answer on the first ring told him he’d probably been right in guessing she was already awake. “Dr. Gordon, this is Bill Larson. I hope I’m not calling too early.”

  “No, I haven’t been asleep. I spent the time after the police left thinking about my intruder, and I’ve decided the alarm system wasn’t a good idea.”

  Larson heard a man’s voice call, “Who’s calling this early?”

  The transmission sound changed as Dr. Gordon apparently hit the “mute” button to answer. When she returned, she said, “Sorry about that. Anyway, either I failed to set the alarm or the alarm failed. Either way, the system didn’t work. So I need to come up with an alternate suggestion.”

  “I realize security systems are a pain, but what else could you do that might keep you safe?” Larson found himself hoping she didn’t say she was relying on her pistol. He still had mixed feelings about that.

  “I guess I can keep using the alarm system—after all, it’s already installed and I’ve paid for it—but I think I have an idea that may be even more effective in keeping me safe.”

  12

  After the police left, Kyle had told Sarah, “I’ll stay here with you.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’ll be fine on my own.”

  Kyle didn’t know if this meant Sarah really wanted to be alone, or if she was concerned about his presence in the house. Either way, he wasn’t buying it. She’d been through a terrible experience this evening, and the last thing she needed was to be left alone.

  Kyle shook his head. “Unless you physically throw me out, I’m going to stay. Why don’t you go upstairs to your bedroom and try to get some rest?” he said. “I’ll be right down here with my pistol. I’ll make certain you’re safe.”

  Sarah shook her head. “I’m not about to try sleeping in that bed,” she said. “Not tonight. Maybe never. But I appreciate your offer.”

  “Do whatever you want,” Kyle said, “But I’m not leaving here until morning.”

  Sarah evidently realized that Kyle was serious, because she didn’t argue any further. They had sat together in the living room, alternately exchanging meaningless comments and sitting quietly until the sun illuminated the world once more. Sarah’s fear seemed to diminish as daylight dawned, but Kyle wasn’t about to leave until he was sure she felt safe.

  Sarah rose and moved toward the kitchen. “I think I’ll start the coffee.” She stopped at the doorway when her cell phone rang.

  Kyle edged closer to her. He couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, so he asked, “Who’s calling this early?”

  Sarah punched a button on her phone long enough to give a one-word answer. “Larson.” Then she turned away from Kyle and put the phone back to her ear.

  He continued to listen, but none of Sarah’s responses helped him decipher what was going on.

  Sarah ended the call with, “I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

  “So what’s up?” Kyle asked, after Sarah shoved her phone into the pocket of her jeans.

  “The detective’s read the report about last night’s incident. He’ll be here in about an hour,” she said. “I’m going to put on some coffee and cook some breakfast for us. How do you like your eggs? Scrambled okay?”

  “Sure,” Kyle said, unsure whether he should follow her into the kitchen.

  Apparently, Sarah read his indecision. “You can come in here if you like.”

  “I can cook, you know,” Kyle said. “If you don’t feel like it.”

  “Not necessary,” Sarah replied. “I’m not really hungry, but I’ve learned that I have to stoke the fires if I’m going to keep going. I’ll scramble some eggs and make toast. But you can make the coffee.”

  He opened a few cabinet doors until finally Sarah pointed him to where she kept the coffee. When he had the coffeemaker going, he put butter and jelly on the table and set places for both of them. “That smells good,” Kyle said. “I’m afraid my breakfast usually consists of a cup of coffee and a sweet roll or bagel eaten in the car on my way to work.”

  Sarah put scrambled eggs and toast on their plates while Kyle poured the coffee. When they sat down, he looked at her with upraised brows. “Would you like me to say grace?”

  She sighed. “That’s something else that’s missing around here. Harry and I used to do it with every meal, but since I’ve been eating alone . . . ” She looked down at her plate. “Yes, please do.”

  * * *

  Sarah was putting the plates in the dishwasher when she heard a knock at the door. “Kyle, would you answer that? It should be Detective Larson.”

  As Kyle headed for the front door, an unsettling thought insinuated itself into Sarah’s mind. Kyle has been with me through the night. He’s been my protector. Could he have done this while I was gone to work, then spent some time with me, insisting that I call him when I got home? She shook her head as though trying to dislodge a particularly pesky fly. Can’t I trust anyone?

  In a few minutes, she walked into the living room where Kyle and Larson stood. “Would you like some coffee?” Sarah asked the detective.

  “Yes, if it’s not too much trouble. Black.”

  “Kyle, would you get him a cup? I might as well get started answering the questions I guess Detective Larson has about last night’s episode.” She pointed Larson to one of the overstuffed chairs, then took a seat on the sofa.

  The detective pulled his notebook and a ballpoint pen from his coat pocket and crossed his legs. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Haven’t you seen the police report?”

  “Yes, but I want to hear it again in your own words. Sometimes things come out on the second telling—Oh, thanks.” He accepted the mug Kyle offered and took a sip before setting it on the table beside him. Then he turned back to Sarah. “Let’s start with when you got off work.”

  Sarah told it once more: the phone call from Kyle, spending longer than she’d planned at his house, coming home to find a light on in the bedroom upstairs, her shock when she saw the pillow-figure under the covers, the call from Kyle, the arrival of the two police officers. “I don’t think I’ve left out anything,” she concluded.

  “No, I think you’ve covered it.” Larson closed his notebook. “We’ll canvass the neighbors this morning. Maybe one of them saw an unfamiliar car here last night. We might get lucky and find an image on a security camera. We’ve checked before and none of your neighbors has one, but we’ll extend our search a couple of blocks. The images they capture can help us identify suspicious vehicles or people. If we come up dry, we’ll try a different tack.”

  “And something else I’ve thought of,” Sarah said. “The security system aside, how did he get into the house?”

  “Using an electronic gadget to get past your code and activate your garage door opener, picking the lock on your front door, finding a window you left unlocked—lots of ways,” Larson said. “I’m not so much interested in how he got in as I am in who he is.”

  Kyle had taken a seat on the sofa next to Sarah, and now he asked, “So how do you find that out?”

  “We dig, come up with nothing, dig some more, shake off our frustration, and keep working. Most of the time we get the person responsible,” Larson said.

  “Most of the time?” Sarah shook her head as though in amazement. “That means some of the time you don’t. And what if you only solve this case after whoever’s behind it decides to stop playing and kills me? I don’t think that’s going to make me feel much better.”

  Sarah could feel anger replacing the fear she’d experienced every time her mysterious stalker struck. Maybe that was good. She pointed to the lit panel on the wall by the front door. “I had a security system installed.” She patted the bulge in the pocket of her jeans. “I have a pistol now.” Sarah did her best to control her voice, but heard it rising with each sentence. “And it didn’t do any good!”

  “Dr. Gordon, I know how you must—”

  “No!” she said. “No o
ne can really know how I feel.” She looked Larson in the eye. “So while you look for clues that aren’t there . . . ” Sarah turned to Kyle. “And while you fuss around like I’m incapable of taking care of myself . . . ”

  “But—” Larson started.

  “But—” Kyle said.

  Sarah ignored them and plowed on. “While you all do what you do, I’m going to take steps to make me feel secure. I guess I’ll probably keep using the alarm system, and I’m going to hang onto the pistol, but there’s more I plan to do.”

  Neither man spoke.

  “I’ve been stuck in self-pity since Harry died. But now I’m going to start acting the way I used to—like a mature woman, a doctor who’s faced life-or-death decisions in the ER, someone who can take charge.”

  “What does that mean?” Kyle asked.

  “I have some things in mind, but you’ll simply have to wait and see what they are.”

  She saw the questioning look on Larson’s face, the hurt on Kyle’s. Well, that was too bad. Sarah knew what she was going to do, and she was ready to get on with it. Dr. Sarah Gordon was about to start fighting back.

  * * *

  Kyle closed the door behind the departing detective, turned back to Sarah, and said, “I’m sorry if I’ve come across too strong. I just wanted to—”

  “I know what you wanted to do,” Sarah said, “And I appreciate it. But it’s time for me to take responsibility for myself. I’d gotten used to being a wife and mother, but both Harry and Jenny are dead. It’s just me, and I’ve been letting this whoever-he-is get the best of me. I suspect that’s part of his plan, and I don’t intend to let him do it anymore.”

  “You forget that there’s a good chance the final act of his plan is to kill you,” Kyle said.

  “Oh, I’m aware of that. But I’m not going to let him. If Bill Larson can’t find him, I’m going to make the perpetrator—I guess what the police would call the ‘perp’—I’ll make him come to me. And once I get him out in the open, I’ll see that he’s brought to justice.” She patted the pocket holding her pistol.

  * * *

  “I know Hunter will love you,” Harry had said the first time he took Sarah to see his father.

  “I’m hoping you like him as well,”

  “How long has your mother been gone?” Sarah asked.

  “She died three years ago. I tried to get Dad to come live with me, but he adamantly refused. He said he’d lived here on this farm all his life, and he planned to die here. He has his dogs for company, and he’s the very essence of self-sufficiency. After he turned down my invitation to live with me, I asked him if I could hire a housekeeper for him.”

  “And what did he say to that?” Sarah asked.

  “He said, ‘I can clean, I can cook, I can even sew. Ina taught me what I didn’t already know, and I don’t want or need to replace her. When I’m too old to do things for myself, we’ll talk.’ ”

  Hunter had been delighted to meet Sarah, and the two had hit it off immediately. Her own parents were divorced, living on opposite sides of the continent and not very involved with her life, so Hunter became more of a father to Sarah than her own.

  She’d thought about calling Hunter when her stalker started harassing her, but kept putting it off, not wanting to worry him. After all, he’d suffered the loss of a son and a granddaughter. She realized she should have told him about the stalker, but as soon as things began to escalate Sarah figured that if she let Hunter know what was going on, he’d show up on her doorstep with a shotgun.

  Maybe that would have been the best course, but now she was determined to stand on her own two feet against her stalker. And to do it, she needed a favor from Hunter. So here she was at his door, about to tell him everything.

  Hunter Gordon hugged Sarah, then gently ushered her into his living room. His full head of hair was completely white now, whereas it had been salt-and-pepper when Harry first brought her to meet his father five years earlier. Sarah figured Hunter had to be about sixty-five years old, but his appearance and demeanor were those of a man much younger.

  His farmhouse was small and the rooms just the slightest bit cluttered with furniture that had obviously been chosen as much for comfort as for appearance. Although Hunter was a widower, the house was neat and clean, and Sarah knew this was his doing alone.

  “What brings you out here?” Hunter asked when they were settled in comfortable chairs in his living room.

  “First of all, I need to apologize for not visiting more often,” Sarah said. “But after Harry died, I sort of sleep-walked through the next few months. I’m only beginning to get back to whatever this ‘new normal’ is now that my husband and daughter are gone.” She reached out and touched the older man’s hand gently. “I should have worried about you. I should have been there for you as you recovered from your own loss. But I had my hands full getting through each day.”

  “All water under the bridge . . . or over the dam, or however you want to say it,” Hunter said. “But I still wonder what triggered this visit to your father-in-law.”

  “Some things have been going on since Harry died,” Sarah said. “Things I should have told you about earlier, but I didn’t want to worry you. I thought I could handle them myself.” She went on to relate the series of events that had plagued her over the past several months. “Then there was a fire in my garage. After that, someone took a shot at me when I was going into my house. And last night, the person behind this got past my alarm system and put pillows in my bed to look as though someone was there.”

  Hunter frowned. “I wish you’d called me. I would have come into town and mounted a guard over you until the police catch whoever’s behind this.” Whether consciously or unconsciously, his eyes strayed to the mahogany cabinet on the wall to their right where Sarah knew he kept several rifles and shotguns.

  Just as I knew you’d react. “I know, and I appreciate it. But I’ve come to realize I need to meet this head-on, not let someone else fight my battles for me. And that’s why I’m here.”

  This time Hunter rose and moved purposefully to the gun cabinet. “What do you need? Just tell me.”

  Sarah shook her head and motioned him back to his chair. “No, I don’t need a rifle or shotgun. Actually, I have a pistol. You know that Harry had one when we were married, but I made him get rid of it when I learned I was pregnant. Then, after all this started, Kyle Andrews finally convinced me to take a revolver he bought for me.”

  “I recall Kyle. He was Harry’s best man, wasn’t he?”

  The memory of her wedding caused a brief flashback that brought tears to Sarah’s eyes, but she blinked them away. That was then. This is now, she reminded herself. “Yes. Kyle was Harry’s friend, and he’s sort of taken on the task of looking out for me. But now it’s time for me to be responsible for my own safety.”

  “Besides getting a pistol, what have you done?” Hunter asked.

  “I put in an alarm system, but either my stalker found a way to get around it, or there was a time when I forgot to arm it. Either way, I’ve discovered it’s not foolproof. And that’s why I’m here.”

  Hunter spread his hands. “Whatever I can do, whatever I can give you, whatever you need—it’s yours.”

  Sarah wondered if she was being foolish or, for the first time in eight or nine months, if she was about to take charge of her life again. In any case, she’d gone this far, and she was committed to her plan of action. “Here’s what I have in mind.”

  13

  Bill Larson was having lunch at a little deli near police headquarters when his cell phone rang. He chewed and swallowed a bite of Reuben sandwich, wiped his hands on a paper napkin, and punched a button to answer the call.

  “Hey, Bill. Where are you?” There was a hint of excitement in Cal Johnson’s voice.

  “Having lunch.”

  “Where?”

  “At the deli down the block.” He looked at his watch. “I can be back in the office in fifteen minutes or so if it’s
important.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Cal said. “I’ve been working without a break all morning. Order me a club sandwich and a Dr Pepper. I’ll be there in five minutes.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper, even though Larson figured he was almost alone in the squad room. “I’ve found something that may be the key to this Dr. Sarah Gordon thing.”

  “See you in five,” Larson said. He rose, went to the counter, and placed the order for Cal.

  It was ten minutes before Cal eased into a chair at Larson’s table. His sandwich and soft drink were already waiting there for him. “Sorry. It took me a little longer than I thought to break loose.” He reached below the hem of his jacket and made a motion Larson recognized, settling his gun more comfortably on his hip. Once that was done, Cal picked up one of the sandwich triangles and took half of it in one bite.

  “I know you’re hungry,” Larson said, “but if this was so important you wanted to tell me face-to-face, how about sharing what you’ve found?”

  Cal chewed, swallowed, and followed the bite of sandwich with a healthy swig of Dr Pepper. He grabbed a paper napkin from the dispenser and wiped his lips, then leaned over closer, although the deli was almost empty. “Remember we looked at a bunch of people Dr. Gordon had seen in the emergency room.”

  “Yes, patients and their families. I know.”

  “And we got zip.”

  Larson nodded. None of this was new.

  “So today I started backtracking Dr. Gordon’s late husband, Harry. He was a general surgeon, and his partner is still in practice, which means he still has all Harry Gordon’s patient records. I couldn’t get them without a court order, but after talking at length to the woman working the front desk at that practice, I eventually got most of what I needed.”