Cathy hurried into her office and closed the door behind her.
"Sheriff, I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Busy morning."She leaned across the desk to shake hands with the man, sitting in the patient chair before easing into her own. "What do you have for me?"
J. C. Dunaway waved away Cathy's apology and opened the large manila envelope he held. "There are sixty or so Ford Expeditions in Summers County, and most of them are black. I brought you the list. Take some time to go over it and see if any of these are folks that might be out to do you harm." He handed her two sheets of paper.
"I really appreciate this. I'll have to look at it later, though. Then I'll give you a call."
Dunaway took his Stetson offhis knee, where it had been resting. "Glad to help. Now I don't want you to think we'll haul in everyone who owns a black Ford Expedition, put them under a bright light, and try to wring a confession out of them." He gave a wry grin. "Can't do that. But we will keep looking into it. I don't suppose you've had any more run-ins with that vehicle?"
Cathy thought of the near miss in Will's pickup. He'd thought it was probably just a speeding driver caught by a short yellow light. She shook her head. "No, but if I do I'll call your department right away. I drive with my cell phone on the seat right beside me now."
A disturbing thought flashed through Cathy's mind. There'd been no appearances of the mysterious black SUV since Ella Mae was hospitalized. Was hers one of the names on that list of owners? She couldn't help but sneak a peek, then felt a chill when she saw the name at the bottom of the first page: Ella Mae Mercer.
Cathy rose and Dunaway followed suit. She walked him to the door, ignoring the stares of patients in the waiting room, who were obviously curious about what business the Sheriffof Summers County could possibly have with their doctor.
Cathy turned around and started toward the exam room where her next patient waited, but Jane stopped her outside the door. "Will Kennedy wants you to call him when you have a break."
"I'm busy until this afternoon. Did you tell him that?"
"Yep, and he just said, 'Please ask her to call me when she can. It's not urgent, but I need to speak with her before the end of the day.' So I'm telling you."
As it turned out, thanks to a fortunate combination of patients with simple problems and the combined efficiency of doctor and nurse, at ten minutes after twelve, Cathy and Jane looked out on an empty waiting room.
Cathy patted her nurse on the shoulder. "Thanks. That went well."
"I guess we're a pretty good team. Would you like to go with me to the Dairy Queen for a chicken sandwich?"
"No, thanks," Cathy said. "I think I'll have a Power Bar here at my desk while I return some of these phone calls. See you at one."
Cathy shuffled through the half-dozen pink slips, glancing at the names and messages, automatically placing them in what she considered their order of importance. The bottom slip simply had a notation: Call Will Kennedy. That call was probably as important as any of them, but she wanted to be able to take her time with it. She set that one aside.
Twenty minutes later, she had answered the questions of two patients and made office appointments for two more. Then she dialed Will's private number. It was noon and she didn't expect to catch him in, but maybe she could leave a message. Lately, they seemed to play a lot of phone tag.
"Will Kennedy."
His voice brought her out of her reverie. "Will, this is Cathy. What's so important?"
"You are." He laughed. "At least, that's my opinion. I think it's time you and I had a quiet dinner, not an attorney-client meeting, just a social occasion. I propose that you break free from that antiseptic-scented prison of an office at a reasonable time tonight. We can have an early dinner, then see if there are any movies worth seeing."
"But-"
"No buts. I've even spoken with my mother, and she promises not to wait up with the porch light on. That way I can have some privacy when I walk my girl to the door."
Cathy did some quick mental calculations. She should be finished in the office sometime after five. She'd seen Ella Mae this morning, but she decided she'd pop in again this evening to make sure her patient was okay.
"Are you still there?" Will asked.
"Sorry, just thinking. I guess I can get away. Why don't I meet you somewhere at six thirty?"
"RJ's at six thirty it is. Be there-"
"Or be square." Cathy laughed and hung up. It felt as though she were a senior in high school again. And it felt good.
"Nice meal." Cathy dabbed at her lips, then folded her napkin and tucked it under the edge of her plate.
"That's because of the company," Will said. He lifted his cup in a toast, and Cathy responded in kind.
They sipped their coffee in silence, until Cathy turned serious. "I know we promised not to talk business tonight, but you need to know about the letter I received from the bank."
"What letter?"
Cathy explained about the bank's demand.
Will frowned. "You just got this yesterday? Why so little notice?"
"They said they'd tried to mail it but had the address wrong. They can't seem to get anything right there. I'm wondering… Oh, never mind." Cathy shook her head. "Will, can they do this? Make me pay early?"
"Unfortunately, they can. I haven't seen the note, but I'm betting there's language that allows them to call it or alter the terms if they think their investment is at risk." Will leaned forward and took her hand in his. "Can you raise the money?"
"I'm trying. I have Jane going through all our receivables, contacting all the insurance companies that owe me money. But, frankly, I don't think I can come anywhere near that figure in less than a week."
Will signaled to the waiter, who refilled their cups and discreetly dropped a black folder onto the table. Will glanced at the bill and covered it with a credit card.
They both took their time getting the cream and sugar just right in their coffee. Finally, Cathy took her coffee cup in both hands and gazed over the rim. "So, I need to decide what to do with my life after SheriffDunaway auctions my office furniture and equipment from the courthouse steps."She laughed without mirth.
"Would you allow me to help you? Just a loan to you to tide you over?"
"I couldn't. I've got to stand on my own two feet."
"Then let me give you some advice as a friend. Ask your attorney to talk with the bank president on Monday and see if he can negotiate your way out of this unreasonable demand. How would that be?"
Cathy ran through scenarios in her head. She really wanted to handle this herself. On the other hand, she was pretty sure that Will could negotiate with Nix more successfully than she could at this point. "Tell you what. The payment's due next Tuesday. Give me until Monday evening to see what I can do. I can probably raise at least part of the five thousand dollars. Maybe we can get him to accept that."
"Plus interest," Will said.
She sighed. "Yes, plus interest."
In the car, they considered the movies available and decided that none were worth the effort. Cathy was about to suggest they call it an early evening when Will said, "Why don't we sit on the front porch and just talk? Sort of like the old days?"
The night was mild, a pleasant fall evening. They rocked back and forth in the old porch swing in companionable silence. Finally, Will spoke. "Why did you let a failed college fling come between us? Did you think I wouldn't understand? We all make mistakes."
"Not me." Cathy shivered and pulled her jacket tighter."I was always the perfect child. That's what my parents expected, or at least, that was my perception. I wasn't ready for anyone to know about my mistake with Carter."
"What about Robert?"
"You remembered his name?"
"Hey, I had his picture pasted to a dart board in my bedroom until you broke offthe engagement. But did you consider hooking up with someone who broke your heart some sort of unpardonable sin?"
Cathy shook her head. "I don't know. All I can tell you is that I figured I'd struck out twice with men, and when I came back here I wasn't about to go for the hat trick."
Will laughed. "You're probably the only woman in Dainger who knows what a hat trick is."
"Three goals by the same person in a hockey game. If I wanted to get any attention from my father, I had to learn about sports."
"If you're still interested in sports, maybe you'd like to go to the high school football game with me next Friday night. Everybody in town turns out."
"Thanks, but no. I'd just be thinking that somewhere in that crowd is the person who wants to ruin my life." Cathy looked at her watch. "It's getting late. I know tomorrow's Saturday and you can sleep late, but I have to make rounds in the morning. Then I need to sit down and look at the financial information Jane's gathered for me." She eased out of the swing and turned toward Will. "Thank you for a lovely evening. It was wonderful to just relax and be myself."
"That's all you ever need to be." Will gave her a hug and kissed her lightly. "Just be yourself. There's nothing you can ever do that will make me feel any differently about you."
Cathy thought about those last words as she drifted offto sleep. Will said his feelings wouldn't change. But what were those feelings?
Cathy's starched white coat rustled as she reached to pick up Ella Mae's chart from the rack at the ICU nurses' station. Vital signs looked good. Lab work was fine except for the positive benzodiazepine test on the toxicology screen, confirming what Cathy already knew.
Cathy located the ICU charge nurse sitting at the far end of the counter that served as a workspace for the nurses."How is Ella Mae this morning?"
The nurse put down her pen and turned to face Cathy."Physically, I think she's pretty much over the effects of the drug. Her vital signs are stable. Respirations full and unlabored. Output is fine, so there's probably no kidney damage. But all she does is lie there with her eyes closed."
"Do you know what days the psychiatrist comes to Dainger to see consults?"
"Monday and Thursday, I think."
Shamed by what she'd heard from Dora Kennedy, Cathy decided she couldn't just take care of Ella Mae's physical needs and leave her emotional problems to the consulting psychiatrist. She wondered if she could offer genuine support to a woman who might have tried to harm her, even kill her. Saving Ella Mae's life was one thing. It had been automatic-a duty she felt deeply. This was different. Still, Cathy had to try.
Cathy walked into Ella Mae's glass-walled room and stopped at the foot of the bed. The woman lay perfectly still, her eyes closed, her arms crossed on her chest to the extent that the IV tubing allowed. It was as though she were in a coffin. Cathy remembered the EMT's description of the way he'd found Ella Mae. As though she were laid out. There had to be a message in that.
"Ella Mae, are you awake?"
No movement. No response.
Cathy pulled up a chair. She put her hand on top of Ella Mae's and patted it. "You gave us quite a scare Thursday night. I think you'll be fine, but I need to know why you did this. More importantly, I need some reassurance that you won't try it again as soon as I discharge you. Can you tell me about it?"
No answer.
"Would you like something to eat? I think we can let you have a liquid diet, maybe advance to soft foods tomorrow. How would that be?"
The only response was a deep sigh.
Cathy rose and pushed the chair back against the wall."You know, we can keep you on IVs for a while, but I've got to warn you. You can't lose too many pounds, or we'll never find you among the bedclothes." The attempt at humor fell flat.
At the door, she decided to try one more time. "I'll be by this evening to see you. Maybe transfer you to a regular room. But I still wish you'd talk to me."
Ella Mae's lips hardly moved, and Cathy had to strain to hear the words. "It's all in the note. I'm sorry."
"It's all in the note." What note? It had never occurred to Cathy to ask the paramedic about a note. At the time she'd been more interested in details that might help her save Ella Mae's life. She'd done that, but now she needed to bring her patient back from the depression that still gripped her.
Cathy found a free phone in the corner of the busy nurses' station, thumbed through a dog-eared directory, and dialed.
"Police. How may I help you?"
"This is Dr. Cathy Sewell. I'm caring for a patient who took an overdose in an apparent suicide attempt. I need to speak with the investigating officer."
It took a bit of convincing, but eventually Cathy was put through. The next words made her realize how small Dainger really was. "This is Sergeant Dendy."
"Billy Dendy?"
"Yes, this is Sergeant William Dendy. Who's this?"
"This is Dr. Cathy Sewell. Remember the girl who gave you a black eye in the sixth grade?"
Dendy's tone was warmer than Cathy expected. "How could I forget? I heard you were back in town. It's good to hear from you."
"First of all, I guess I ought to apologize for the black eye."
"Hey, I wouldn't stop pulling your hair. I probably deserved it. How can I help you?"
Cathy explained the reason for her call. "Did you find a note?"
"Nope. No note. Nothing on her computer. The paramedics found an empty prescription bottle, and that was all."Dendy cleared his throat. "The report says this was definitely a suicide attempt. We've closed the books on the case, but if you think somebody tried to poison her we can reopen things."
"No, I'm pretty sure she took an overdose. I just have no idea why she did it. And all she'll say is, 'It's all in the note.' But there's no note."
"Well, if you hear anything we should know, give me a call."
Cathy cradled the phone and tried to ignore the commotion around her. Nurses and doctors crowded into the little nursing station, snatching charts from the rack or shoving them back into their slots. The overhead pager called out sporadically. The business of the hospital went on uninterrupted while she tried to make sense of what she'd just heard.
Why had Ella Mae tried to end her life? And where was the note?
Cathy roused at the sound of the light tap on her door. It seemed as though her head had only touched the pillow a few minutes ago. Was it time to go to work? No, she always set an alarm, and it hadn't gone off. She started to roll out of bed and encountered a wall. Confused, she reached for the bedside lamp, and her fingers found only air.
There was the tap again. "What?" she croaked, her eyes still closed.
"Breakfast is ready. I thought you'd want something before we leave for church."
Cathy's sleep-deprived brain functioned like a lawnmower engine that sputters until it finally catches hold. Different room. Different house. Dora Kennedy. Then the smell of frying bacon hit her nostrils, followed closely by the scent of coffee, strong and rich.
"I'll be down in a second."
Cathy opened her eyes and found the light switch, squinting as the glare hit her dilated pupils. She padded to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. Then she wrapped herself in a robe, shoved her feet into slippers, and shuffled down the stairs. If Sunday breakfast at the parsonage was as good as Sunday lunch, there was no way she would sleep through it.
She found Matthew and Dora Kennedy at either end of the table, with Will sitting next to the place that had been laid for her. This was a far cry from Cathy's usual breakfast of a muffin and coffee. Dora had cooked scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits. Two different kinds of jelly, obviously homemade, sat next to a small dish of real butter. A glass of orange juice and a steaming cup of coffee had been placed next to her empty plate.
"Sorry. I overslept," she said.
"Don't worry," Pastor Kennedy said. "Will, would you say grace?"
Cathy longed for several healthy swallows of coffee, hoping it would jumpstart her brain. She silently blessed Will for the brevity of his prayer, joined in the corporate "Amen," and sipped at the wonderful brew in her cup.
"How's Ella Mae," Dora asked, as she passed the bacon.
Cathy wondered how much she could say without breaking patient confidentiality. "Her medical condition is stable."Maybe that would be enough.
"Would it be all right for us to visit her?" Pastor Kennedy asked. "I mean, is it too soon after her suicide attempt?"
Cathy decided that confidentiality was probably a moot point. Besides that, maybe Ella Mae would talk to them. Cathy sure wasn't getting anywhere.
"I believe she's stable enough to have visitors. I'm sure you've been in enough hospital rooms to know when to cut a visit short. I'll leave it to your discretion." Cathy took a bite and revised her previously held opinion that most biscuits had the taste and consistency of hockey pucks. True, Bess Elam's had been better than most, but Dora Kennedy's were like nothing Cathy had ever tasted. They were marvelously light and absolutely delicious. She savored the rich flavor of real butter. Homemade apricot jam was sweet and tart on her tongue. She washed down a bite with coffee before continuing. "I transferred her to a regular room last evening. I don't think you'll have any trouble getting in."
"Where were you all day yesterday?" Will asked.
"Long day, long story. The short version is that after making rounds yesterday morning, I was on my way out through the emergency room when a major trauma case arrived. A minivan collided with an eighteen-wheeler. Driver of the van was DOA. The mother had a ruptured spleen. John Steel was on trauma call and asked me to scrub with him. The two kids in the van were okay except for cuts and bruises. We had to contact a relative to come get them, and I volunteered to sit with them until the family arrived. When I finally got away, I grabbed a burger and ate it in the car on my way home."
"Did the mother survive?" Pastor Kennedy asked.
"She'll be fine, but I pity her and those two children, losing their husband and father."
Cathy expected a response like, "We'll pray for them," or "God will comfort them." Instead, Dora asked, "Are they local? We'll check and see if there's a way to help."
Cathy couldn't understand it. Her perception of the church had always been that it was full of pious people who quoted Scripture but didn't want to have anything to do with the rest of the world. But this family had rolled up its collective sleeves and was ready to help those around them. Had Cathy been wrong? After hearing Dora's story of the death of their baby girl, Cathy's perspective of God's role in the tragedies of the world had changed. Were these folks right when they told her to lean on God for help?
She let the others carry the conversation during breakfast. When she pushed back her chair and started upstairs to get ready for church, she wondered whether she might have been missing out on something.