The Doctor Takes a Detour

by Bren Christopher

  On the other hand, maybe making the phone calls himself helped to get a quick appointment. He was surprised the neurologist’s office worked the Fuenteses in the next day. One more call and then he could put this out of his mind until the appointment. Not that he had anything against the Fuenteses, but thinking about them meant thinking about the clinic, and thinking about the clinic meant thinking about Ian.

  He tapped on Gabriel’s contact info and then waited until he picked up. “Tomorrow at one o’clock,” Josh said. “Dr. Hennessy’s on Fourth. Can you let the Fuenteses know? And can you be there?”

  “Yes, I’ll make sure they know. That’s close to the hospital. I can take a late lunch and meet you all there.”

  “Thank you, Gabriel.”

  He clicked off the phone and glanced up to see Langdon frowning at him.

  “I don’t recognize a patient named Fuentes.” Langdon took a seat. “And I don’t think we refer to Hennessy.” He raised a brow at Burke, who stood by the side table, fixing his coffee.

  “No.” Burke made his way to the table and took his own seat. “I don’t think we do.”

  They both looked expectantly at Josh.

  “Hennessy is in the patient’s provider network.”

  Now they both seemed confused. Josh sighed. “Not one of our patients. I’m helping out a . . . I’m helping out. It doesn’t involve the office.”

  Langdon’s bushy gray brows came together. “Everything you do reflects on this office.”

  “I’m not doing anything to be concerned about. There’s a little girl having seizures. Her parents don’t speak English well and they seem lost. I’m trying to get them some help.”

  “And where did you see this girl?” Burke demanded.

  “Umm . . .”

  Burke scrubbed his face. “He got to you, didn’t he?”

  “One time, I swear. She was seizing, for God’s sake. Right there in the clinic. There was no one else.”

  “He should have called the paramedics.”

  “Well, she wasn’t actually seizing until . . . Hell, it’s a long story, and I don’t need to explain myself to you. There’s nothing in my contract that says I can’t volunteer at a free clinic. Not that I’m planning to make a habit of it, but you’re both acting like I’m running a meth lab or something.”

  “It’s not the volunteering,” Burke said patiently. “It’s where you’re doing it. You’re risking your license working at a clinic with an absentee medical director and iffy paperwork, at best. Unless something’s changed since I was there and there is a new director who’s a little more involved?”

  Josh chose not to answer that, instead eyeing Burke curiously. There was a story there, somewhere. “How long did you volunteer?”

  Burke cast a look at Langdon. “Not long.”

  There was indeed a story, but apparently not one Burke wanted to go into in front of his father-in-law.

  “I made it clear to Manolas that this was a one-time thing,” Josh said. “I don’t plan to go back.”

  “You should not have gone at all. You’re not affiliated with the clinic,” Langdon pointed out. “Dr. Aguto is still listed as the medical director, is she not? So it was her responsibility to answer the call. Where was she?”

  Exasperated, Josh threw up his hands. “Working. She’s an ER director. She’s always working.”

  “Indeed.” Langdon’s eyes narrowed. “Then one wonders if she has had time to fulfill her duty to report to the State Board and submit the proper paperwork. And one also wonders if an investigation will show Manolas filling that role, and not Aguto.”

  Did that mean Langdon had already reported the clinic to the board? Or that he was about to? And that Josh had just inadvertently given him more ammunition, as well as confirming that Aguto was still the director? Josh cursed his own big mouth, although if all that was true, the clinic deserved to be closed. He still didn’t like the idea. “The people they’re trying to help have nowhere else to go. If the clinic is shut down—”

  Langdon waved a hand. “There are clinics in town. I’m sure they could be seen somewhere else.” He opened a file. “Shall we get to business?”

  They spent the next two hours reviewing case files and doling out the new patients they’d picked up that week.

  After the meeting ended, Josh packed up his laptop and caught Burke’s eye. He tilted his head toward the door. Burke returned the nod with a resigned look.

  They lingered until Langdon had made his way back to his own office. Burke walked him out.

  When they reached Josh’s car, he threw the case in the back seat and then shut the door so he could lean against it. Crossing his arms, he turned his face up to enjoy the light breeze off the ocean, bringing relief from the warm, cloudless day.

  Then he nodded at a clearly unhappy Burke. “Tell me.”

  Burke paced in short strides in front of Josh. Three steps left, three steps right. And again. Then he burst out, “It’s okay for you, but I’ve never practiced like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “I mean . . .” He stopped and took a breath. “I’ve worked with Langdon since my residency. I’ve never worked emergency. I’ve never worked under . . . I suppose you could say, less than ideal conditions.”

  He resumed pacing. “I wanted to help. I did help. But Ian kept calling me, even when I wasn’t scheduled. I was so tired. The kids were babies, you know? I wasn’t getting any sleep.”

  “What happened?”

  “I shouldn’t have gone in. I like to think I know my own limits. But when he called . . .”

  “Yeah.” Josh sighed. “It’s hard to say no to him.”

  “Very hard, but I should have. The woman was pregnant. She went into labor as I arrived, but she was a crack addict and there were complications. We called paramedics of course, but by the time they arrived . . .” He rubbed his hands over his face. “I did the best I could. The hospital said the baby’s lungs were malformed, along with a host of other problems, and that there was nothing anyone could have done, but . . .”

  “Jeez.” Josh straightened from the car and gripped Burke’s shoulder. “Not your fault, man.”

  “My babies. I couldn’t . . . Seeing that . . .”

  “Hey.” Josh pressed Burke’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”

  Burke wiped at his face and then drew a shuddering breath. “I felt so bad for the mother, but then I started thinking about my license.” Guilt shadowed his eyes. “What if that mother had sued? Could the clinic stand up to that kind of scrutiny? What would happen to my family? And I know that’s not—”

  “No, Burke . . . Samuel . . . you’re looking out for your wife, your kids. No one can blame you for that.” Josh let him go. “Ian should never have put you in that position.”

  “He shouldn’t do that to you either.”

  “No,” Josh agreed. “He shouldn’t.” He eyed Burke searchingly. “But Langdon knows. That’s why he’s got it in for the clinic?”

  “I didn’t say anything, but my wife knew something was wrong. Oh, she was mad.”

  “Mad?”

  “Not at me. At the clinic and Manolas. She told her father.”

  “And now he has it in for Ian.”

  “I know there are a lot of lower income people living out of town, on the fringes of the ’Glades without reliable transportation. The clinic is in a good location to help those people, and Ian is trying to do a good thing, but . . .”

  “But. I know. He’s going about it ass-backward.”

  “Exactly.” Burke sounded relieved. “You know what I’m saying. It’s not a bad thing he’s doing, it’s just . . .”

  “Yeah.” Josh sighed. “I get it.”

  The few bites Ian had eaten at dinner sat like a lead lump in his belly. Well into a twenty-four-hour shift, he wandered the station, looking for a distraction. There was always something to do but now, with night falling in the quiet time after dinner, everyone was taking a little downtime while they could.
/>
  Throwing on some sweats, he headed for the makeshift gym, carrying his uniform to be ready to dress in seconds if a call came in. But until it did, he’d pump iron and run on the treadmill so he could sleep without dreaming. His sweet, sexy dreams of Josh had recently been invaded by the occasional horror show of his Iraq nightmares.

  Ian lifted the free weights and started a set of bicep curls, focusing on the muscle burn and trying not to think about why he’d dreamed of Josh; Josh working in the clinic in Iraq, Josh slipping him an envelope full of pills, Josh taking him back to the supply closet . . .

  He shook his head and finished his set. Looking around, he spotted the barbells. Squats. Just the thing. He loaded some weights onto the bars and then began his set. Tommy came in with his laptop and sat at the narrow table running along one wall, but Ian didn’t pause.

  “What’s up with you?” Tommy demanded. “Pizza is your favorite.”

  “Busy,” Ian grunted.

  “I call bullshit. It’s that doc, isn’t it? Lucia told me ya’ll headed out together after the clinic.”

  “You got studying to do. Do it. That paramedic test ain’t gonna take itself.” He racked the weights. “God knows you seem to need the raise.”

  “Hey.” Tommy was out of his seat and in Ian’s face. “What the hell?”

  Resentment crawled through Ian’s gut. “Forget it.”

  “Christ, I don’t believe you. You’re pissed because Lucia can’t volunteer in your precious clinic anymore?”

  “The clinic’s important.”

  “More important than your family?” Tommy’s face flushed. “More important than a good life for the twins?”

  “I . . . Of course not.”

  “Ah, Ian.” Some of the anger faded from Tommy’s face. “Come on, man. Obsessive much? You gotta be careful of getting too caught up, you know that.”

  “This is different.”

  “Is it?”

  Ian rubbed his face. “Sorry. I’m all pissy right now, and taking it out on you.”

  “Does this have anything to do with that doc? What happened? You took him to bed and then asked him to work in your clinic? Way to fuck it up before it has a chance.”

  Stung, Ian protested, “That’s not what happened.”

  “No?” Tommy scoffed.

  “No, damn it. We had a great time, until—” Ian stopped, the memory of that painful early morning making his breath catch. His hand went to the medallions hanging on the chain tucked under his thin T-shirt. His fingers twisted around them, bunching the material.

  “You didn’t tell him?” Tommy gaped at him. “You slept with him, and then he found out?”

  Ian nodded, mute.

  “Again . . . way to fuck it up before it gets started.”

  “Not helping.” Ian let go of the chain. A rolled-up mat in the corner caught his eye. He hadn’t done a single push-up today.

  Tommy followed him over. “So now he’s had some time to cool off. Call him.”

  “What’s the point?” Ian flipped out the mat. “He’s going back to New York sooner or later.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “He said so.”

  “He said he was going back?”

  Ian paused. “Maybe not in so many words.”

  “Then in what words?”

  “He said that even if he went back to New York, he wouldn’t get back with his ex.”

  Tommy stared at him blankly.

  “So he’s thinking about it. Going back to New York, I mean.” When Tommy didn’t respond, Ian pointed out, “He’s still driving a rental car.”

  Finally, Tommy managed a faint, “Huh?”

  “He’s been here well over a month,” Ian explained. “Why is he still driving a rental? Why doesn’t he buy a car if he plans to stay?”

  “’Cause he’s got more money than sense? Maybe he hasn’t had time. Maybe he doesn’t know anything about cars. He’s from New York. He’s probably never had one.”

  “Maybe.” But I doubt that’s all there is to it.

  “God, you can’t assume all that, you dummy.”

  “‘Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance.’” Ian nodded. “That Sun Tzu was a wily bastard.”

  “If only you were just pretending to be an idiot,” Tommy groaned and then brightened. “Hey, maybe you should offer to help him buy one. You know, take him around to all the dealers. Have lunch while you’re out.”

  “You sound like Lucia.”

  Tommy grimaced. “I know. It’s a thing when you’re married. The longer you’re together, the more alike you become.”

  “I haven’t noticed her picking up any of your habits.”

  “No?” He frowned.

  Their pagers went off in a shrill alert. Shouts echoed through the station. Ian dived for his clothes, was dressed and out the door faster than anyone else.

  “Let’s go, let’s go,” he shouted.

  Once the truck was underway, sirens screaming, Ian got an update. Unconscious older white male. Found on the sidewalk in front of . . . “Where are we going?”

  “The clinic.” Tommy’s grip tensed on the wheel. No extra personnel to drive today, so they were sitting in the cab. “They said the clinic. It’s closed now, right? There’s no one there?”

  Ian dug his fingers into his thighs, trying to keep his breathing steady. What if someone had come to them for help? Sometimes they had evening hours. Not tonight, because he hadn’t been able to find anyone to work. But what if someone had come, thinking there would be a doctor? What if—

  Tommy slapped Ian on the thigh without taking his eyes from the road. “Stop it.”

  Ian swallowed hard. “I’m not doing anything.”

  Tommy blew out a breath and let it drop. There were no more updates from the radio. Whoever had reported it had ended the call.

  The truck pulled into the decrepit shopping center parking lot. Ian felt every familiar bump and crack in the pavement.

  They were able to back right up to the clinic’s front door. Flashing red lights from their vehicles lit the night, reflecting from the window, lighting up the Glades Free Clinic stenciled on the glass.

  Ian slammed out of the truck, followed by Tommy. A slumped figure in front of the door sat unmoving.

  “Oh, George,” Ian breathed, squatting in front of him. “What are you doing here?” His heart ached as he took in the pale, motionless form.

  Pulling out his blood pressure cuff, he prepared to go through the motions. Not much point to it. Ian knew a dead body when he saw one. But they took vitals, did their assessment. Documented.

  The police arrived, then the coroner. Ian and Tommy moved out of the way, giving them room to do their jobs. There was nothing else for them to do.

  Ian leaned against his truck, watching. They should head back to the station. He’d already let the other truck return. But he couldn’t seem to shift from the spot.

  As the medical examiner’s van pulled away with the body, Tommy left the policeman he’d been talking to and came over to Ian. “The ME says he was dead for at least half an hour before we got here.”

  “What the hell was he doing?”

  “What does it look like?”

  Ian winced. He’d been trying hard to ignore the crowbar by the front door and the deep dents and scratches around the lock; the crack in the front window; the hairline fracture splitting his painstakingly stenciled clinic name right in half.

  Tommy took a deep breath. “Okay. The cops think someone was with him. George had a heart attack while he was trying to break in. His buddy called it in and then took off.”

  “A heart attack. Christ.” Ian rubbed the back of his neck. “He’d never let us give him a real exam. Maybe we would have caught a heart problem.”

  “He didn’t want an exam, Ian. You know what he wanted.”

  “I told him we don’t keep narcotics here. I told him.”

  “He must have been hurting.” The dark shadows under Tommy’s
eyes mirrored Ian’s. The back end of a twenty-four-hour shift had them both sagging. “Just desperate. That’s all.”

  “And you can’t reason with a junkie when he’s desperate.” Anger surged and Ian balled a fist, barely restraining himself from punching a dent into the truck’s side. “Damn it! I must have asked him a dozen times to come with me to a meeting.”

  He took a deep breath, forcing calm, and then waited for the usual platitudes: You can’t save everyone, Ian. You did your best, Ian.

  But maybe Tommy was tired of repeating himself—of being the one to always give reassurance when Ian seemed like he was about to go off the rails—because he turned for the truck’s cab. “We need to head back.”

  Ian took one last look at his clinic. George hadn’t even managed to bust the lock.

  Not a word from Ian since Monday morning, and why was Josh crawling along in this city’s wannabe traffic jam thinking about this?

  He was bored, that was all. Again. There could be no other reason why thoughts of Ian and their night together had kept flickering through Josh’s mind while he’d finished up his uneventful morning and then headed for Hennessy’s office to meet the Fuenteses. And Gabriel. He sure hoped Gabriel was there to help with translating.

  After pulling into the crowded parking lot of the neuro doc’s office, he locked up his car and headed inside.

  Gabriel stood when he entered the cool, quiet waiting room. “Dr. Parker. It is very good to see you.” He held out his hand.

  “You too, Gabriel.” Josh took Gabriel’s fine-boned hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You can call me Josh.”

  Gabriel nodded with a smile. “We’re early. They’re not here yet.”

  Josh wasn’t going to ask. He wasn’t going to ask. No . . . “How are things at the clinic?”

  “We’re short-staffed.” Gabriel shrugged. “Nothing unusual about that, but we’ve had to cut hours. And . . . there was a break-in. I mean, an attempted break-in.”