M ERCURY VAPOR LAMPS BATHED THE BARREN ASPHALT OF THE PROFESsional building's parking lot in blue light when Cathy pulled into her reserved space on Saturday night. Her throat tightened when she saw that the security light nearest the door had burned out, creating a tunnel of darkness she'd have to negotiate. She locked her car and hurried toward the building, shivering despite the mild breeze. The tingle between her shoulder blades made her tighten the muscles, as though that action could protect her from a bullet or a knife.
Once inside, Cathy hurried down the dark corridor to her office. She fumbled with her keys and slid inside, slamming and locking the door behind her. She stood for a moment with her back against it, breathing deeply and trying not to hyperventilate.
Quickly, she threw a switch and bathed the outer office in light. Despite her fear of an attacker, she eased past the reception desk and raced from room to room, turning on lights to reassure herself that no one lurked behind a closed door.
In her office, she slipped into her white coat and finished her preparations. She looked at her watch. Eight o'clock. Soon she'd know the truth. But, the more she thought about it, the crazier her scheme seemed. And if it did, could she handle the person who showed up, whoever it might be? She breathed a silent prayer, surprised that it seemed as automatic as though she hadn't stopped praying more than three years ago.
The ring of her cell phone interrupted her thoughts. She picked her purse offthe desk and pulled out the cell."Anonymous caller," read the ID. Was it one of her suspects? Only two of them had her cell phone number: Marcus and Robert.
She took a deep breath, held it, and blew it out in a sigh before she answered. "Dr. Sewell, this is J. C. Dunaway. I got your cell number from Will Kennedy. I hope I'm not calling too late?"
Cathy realized her hand cramped from gripping the phone so tightly. She switched the instrument to her right hand and flexed the fingers of her left. "No, no. You just startled me."
"I wanted to bring you up to date on our search for the driver of your black Ford Expedition-let you know we're still on it."
"Do you have a suspect?" she asked.
"Afraid not. As of this afternoon, we thought it was Kenny Johnson."
"Who's Kenny Johnson? And what would he have against me?"
"Nothing," Dunaway said. "Kenny's just a teenager who got hold of the spare key to his dad's SUV and decided it would be cool to ditch school and go joyriding with a buddy from time to time. One of my deputies stopped the pair this afternoon for reckless driving. He recognized the vehicle as the type we were interested in. He asked a few questions, and the boys acted so guilty the deputy decided to bring them in and let me talk to them." Dunaway chuckled. "Didn't need the bright lights and rubber hose to get the truth out of them. I put them in two separate rooms, and Kenny's buddy ratted him out in about five minutes."
"But you said he wasn't the one who's been hounding me."
"Nope. Unfortunately, they weren't out by Big Sandy or on the road to the cemetery when you had your run-ins. Already confirmed they were in school both those times. No doubt about it."
Cathy cleared her throat. "So you're no closer to finding out who's trying to kill me?"
"We've eliminated a bunch of folks, and we're still working on it. Thought you'd like to know."
Why didn't that make her feel better? The sheriffcould still be "working on it" during her funeral. Maybe it was truly up to her to put an end to this thing.
Cathy thanked the sheriffand hung up. Someone in a black SUV tried to kill her. Someone-maybe that same mysterious stranger-set fire to her apartment. And someone altered one of her prescriptions and caused an incident that involved her in a malpractice suit while adding fuel to the derogatory rumors circulating about her in town.
"I'm not paranoid," she whispered like a mantra. "Someone really is out to get me."
Cathy settled down to wait. She was half asleep in her chair when the buzzing of the office phone awoke her. She wasn't on call this weekend. When the answering service didn't pick up, she noticed that the call was on her private line. She lifted the receiver and punched the lighted button.
"Dr. Sewell."
"Cathy?" At the sound of the voice, Cathy had to fight the urge to hyperventilate. She'd never appreciated how accurate the expression "Her blood ran cold" was until that moment.
"Robert? How did you get this number?"
"I have connections. What's this about my altering a prescription? I know your mother was psychotic, but I never saw any indication of it in you until this. Are you all right?"
Cathy took several calming breaths. "Robert, it's a long story. The short answer is that I'm not paranoid. Someone really is out to get me."
His familiar laugh made Cathy's heart clench. "Just like we said in medical school, huh?"
"It's not funny to me. But I do appreciate your calling. I'll write you and explain it after it's all over."
"Anyway, I'm glad you haven't gone around the bend."Robert cleared his throat. "And I'm sorry about sending you that clipping and note. I did it without thinking, and now I realize it was a terrible thing to do. Can you forgive me?"
Cathy's first impulse was to simply hang up. But then she recalled something she'd heard in church recently- forgiving others the way we want God to forgive us. "Robert, I forgive you… for everything. And I wish you and your wife happiness."
She hung up and sat with her head in her hands for a long time. Then she pulled her list toward her and drew a line through Robert's name. One down, four to go.
Cathy leaned forward, her elbows on the desk, trying without success to concentrate on an article in one of her medical journals. A faint tap on the glass of the outer office door caught her attention. She tiptoed to the waiting room and edged up to the Venetian blind that covered the door. She separated two slats far enough to identify Marcus Bell standing in the hall outside, shifting from one foot to the other, his eyes darting back and forth down the hall.
Marcus? Had she been right? Was he the one behind all this? She tried to swallow a softball-sized lump in her throat, but it wouldn't budge. Her hands shook as she unlocked the door.
Marcus rushed in as though he were being chased. "Cathy, what's the meaning of this note?" He pulled a wrinkled piece of paper from his shirt pocket and thrust it at her. "You know I didn't change that prescription." He squinted at her, as though seeing her for the first time. "Are you-? Do you think someone's out to get you?"
Cathy stifled a wry laugh. Poor Marcus. He thought she'd gone offthe deep end. "No, Marcus. I don't think that. I know they are. I'm not paranoid. I'm not delusional. But I do know that someone changed Milton Nix's prescription to guarantee that he'd wind up with digitalis intoxication. I still don't know if what they did was aimed at me or at him, but whatever the motive, we both suffered the consequences."
"And you think I did it?" Marcus said with righteous indignation.
Cathy decided to bluff. After all, he was here. Maybe he was the guilty party. "It's possible. You could easily have altered that prescription."
Marcus shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about. Cathy, I'm sorry to say this, but when the credentials committee meets on Monday, I'll recommend that your hospital privileges be suspended until you undergo psychiatric evaluation." Abruptly, he turned and stormed out the door, closing it firmly behind him.
She drew a line through another name. Two down, three to go. Who would it be? Cathy turned offthe lights in her office and moved back into the waiting room, settling into a dark corner to watch for her nightmare to walk through the door.
She didn't have to wait long. A tentative tap sounded on the door. She eased over and peeped through the blinds. What she saw allowed her to eliminate two of her three remaining suspects. The figure standing in the shadowed hall was a woman. She had her back turned to the door, looking nervously around, but Cathy had no doubt who it was. It had to be Gail Nix.
So Gail had been in league with her brother, Lloyd. He must have altered the prescription. Cathy guessed that the two of them planned to split the money Gail inherited if Nix died. And Cathy would get all the blame. Death by medical misadventure.
She took a deep breath and opened the door.