“Huh-uh.”
He straightened and studied her face. “The father is nowhere around?”
“Hope not.”
He frowned. “Obviously, your mother’s words did not achieve the intended impact but you’re old enough to take responsibility for your own actions.” He gestured to Jamey’s swollen stomach.
“I can’t do much about it now, Dr. Caine,” Jamey croaked.
Lauren braced herself.
“Do you at least know what to do with a baby when there’s no place for it to go?”
Jamey’s lips parted in surprise. “What do you mean?”
He pulled a card from the counter and jotted something on it. “Put this in a pocket if you can find one without a hole in it. When you get home call this number.”
Jamey stared at the card for a moment then reached out to take it hesitantly, as if it might suddenly strike at her. “What is it?”
“The name and number of someone in Jefferson City who can help you with your ... problem.”
Lauren stiffened.
“What I would suggest,” he continued, “although I’m sure you won’t listen, is that you wipe this town from the bottom of your shoes and never come back.”
Jamey shook her head. “I’m not getting no abortion.”
Again he raised a sharply arched eyebrow. “I am not suggesting that you do but you’re in no position to raise a child properly.” He straightened and gave Jamey a hard glare. “I do hope you have the brains to stay away from drugs of any kind. Particularly those of the illegal—”
“I don’t do drugs,” Jamey muttered.
“Good, because they can destroy that little life inside you.”
“I don’t!” Jamey winced at the sound of her own raised voice then looked down at her hands. “I did a few times last year but only ‘cause I let him talk me into it.” She put her hand on her belly. “Same as this.”
He studied her face in silence for several seconds as if weighing the possible truth of her words. “And you’ve stopped both habits in the interim?”
Jamey blinked up at him. “Huh?”
“You’ve quit the sex and the drugs?” His voice was growing sharper.
In spite of the edge of impatience in his attitude, Jamey’s shoulders relaxed a little. She gave the doctor a look of curiosity and shoved the card he had given her into the front pocket of her shirt. “Yeah. Had to. These people pass out free food or something?”
“No, they provide homes and adoption services for girls who didn’t know enough to stop the manhandling.”
“You mean they’d, like, let me stay with them or something?”
He turned away from the exam bed. “That’s what I just said, wasn’t it?”
“Could I finish school?”
Dr. Caine’s chiseled-granite face softened momentarily and Lauren caught a barely-there flicker of something in his eyes—was it compassion? Sorrow? “I believe they would arrange that.”
“I don’t have no phone,” Jamey said. “Maybe they’d let me call from school.”
“Ask our secretary if you can use the hospital telephone,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll speak with her.”
“Okay.”
“Good, I see that we understand each other.” He turned to Lauren. “Strep, most likely and I see she’s allergic to peni—”
“Lauren, there’s a call for you,” Vivian said from the open doorway. “School.”
Any softness Lauren might have imagined disappeared from the doctor’s expression. Those formidable brows drew together as his eyes narrowed on her but he didn’t stop her from leaving the exam room.
The call was from the high school principal. Beau had been caught skipping class and they needed to speak with her in person.
For a moment, she didn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you sure you have the right student?” she asked. “We’re talking about Beau Sheldon?”
“Positive.” The man sounded tired. “Can you come to the school?”
“I’m sorry but I’m on duty and can’t leave the hospital.”
“Then I’m sorry too. The rules state that a student caught missing class without a viable reason for it is automatically suspended for three days.”
She caught her breath. “Please don’t do this to Beau. If he wasn’t in the class where he belonged, trust me when I say that he had a good reason for it.”
“He doesn’t seem to have one at the moment.”
“Lauren,” Dr. Caine called from behind the curtain in exam room three, “I need you in here.”
“Coming, Dr. Caine.” She couldn’t allow Beau to be suspended. “Look,” she said over the phone, “would you call Pastor Archer Pierce? He’ll be at the church. If you need someone to go down—”
“Archer Pierce?” The tone of the principal’s voice changed. “I had him as a student when I taught social studies.”
Lauren gave the man the number at the church then hung up and rushed to help Dr. Caine. Maybe she would be an accepted member of Dogwood Springs in about twenty years. Fifteen if she was lucky. As was the case in most small towns, newcomers were observed with suspicion for the first few years of residence.
***
Brooke’s voice seemed to float above the chatter of the crowd that filled the hallway during the short break between first and second hour. Beau stepped into Publications and saw the sunlight from the bank of windows highlighting Brooke’s super short dark hair as she and Evan hovered over a computer screen.
“Where have you two been?”
They froze like thieves and looked up simultaneously.
Brooke’s mask of cautious penitence dissipated. “Beau! What are you doing here?”
“Risking suspension, thanks to you. I’ve already been warned.”
Evan laughed as if Beau had made a joke. It was forced laughter. Guilty laughter.
In Beau’s present mood, that was not a smart move. He stared hard at Evan, who looked at Brooke, who looked at the wall. They both appeared flushed. Excited. Wary.
“Something’s up,” Beau said. “I want to know—”
“Would you stop with the detective stuff?” Brooke said. “Nothing’s up.”
“Then why did you skip class?”
Evan gave a long-suffering sigh, as if explaining a math problem to a dumb kid. “I already told you we were on a fact-finding mission down at the elementary school. It’s for an article.”
“Where’s your camera?”
Evan cast his gaze to the ceiling and reached for a very small digital camera partially covered by a stack of papers. “It makes better shots than my phone. Are you satisfied?”
“Beau, you shouldn’t be so suspicious,” Brooke warned. “Evan’s going to be a local celebrity before long.”
He knew when his sister was trying to mislead him. “What’s the article about?”
Evan and Brooke made eye contact again.
“That’s what I thought,” Beau said. “Does Miss Bolton know you’re using her name to ditch class?”
Brooke’s eyes narrowed. “This was a legitimate lead, but we don’t have the article completed yet, okay?”
“Who’s in the pictures?”
“Peregrine,” Evan said.
Brooke glared. “Evan!”
“He asked. He’ll know about it soon enough.”
Beau thought he might throw up. “Did he see you? Don’t you know how dangerous that guy is? You actually took a picture of him?”
Even nodded. “Simon Royce is back in town. I don’t know if he’s still calling himself Peregrine, but it’s the same guy. Guess he’s been here awhile and nobody knew it. We plan to watch him.”
“Naturally. And he’s at the elementary school?” Beau asked dryly.
Evan leaned forward, his overly pronounced dark brows drawing together. “He’s lost a bunch of weight, cut and bleached his hair and grew a beard, but we’re pretty sure it’s him. I got a good shot of him. Clear enough to match him to older pictures of hi
m.”
Fear trickled up Beau’s spine and back down again like a teasing wraith. “You have a death wish?”
“Didn’t get one with my camera watch.” Evan held up the watch his stepfather had given him. “I’ve been practicing how to point and shoot but not—”
“You’re skipping school to follow Peregrine around town and take pictures,” Beau said. “You’re certifiable.”
Brooke slapped Beau’s shoulder with a little more force than usual. “Keep your voice down.”
“Why? If you’re going to publish this guy’s picture in the paper everybody’s going to know.”
“Of course we’re not publishing it,” Brooke said. “How stupid do you think we are?”
“You said you were working on an article.”
“Well,” Evan said, “I didn’t exactly say we were doing the pictures for the article. I said we were working on a fact-finding mission and working on an article.”
Beau took a menacing step toward Evan.
“Someone told Brooke they saw a guy that matched Peregrine’s description near the playground a few days ago,” Evan said quickly. “Since I’m working on a feature article about the Christmas program they’re doing this year—”
“Meaning,” Brooke interrupted, “that we have a good cover for being down there—”
“—and since I already know what Peregrine looks like—”
“Call the police,” Beau said. “Let Sergeant Dalton take it from here. What are you going to do with the pictures?”
Evan glanced quickly at Brooke. “We’ll show them to the police.”
“Want to know what we think?” Brooke asked. “Peregrine couldn’t stand to leave his best contacts behind. He’s come back to town and looked Kent up. I think he’s the one who told Kent to attack Evan in the hall. He’s behind a lot of the drug traffic and Kent’s one of his front guys.”
“Which means Kent and Peregrine are both dangerous,” Beau said. “Which means you don’t have any business playing private investigator, Evan. And you don’t have any right to endanger my sister while you’re doing it.”
“Evan doesn’t drag me behind him on a leash,” Brooke said. “I make my own decisions and it was my idea to skip, so stop blaming him.”
The tardy bell rang and Beau groaned. “We’re missing another class. Now we’ll have to go to the office and get a late pass. I’ll be suspended for sure.”
Brooke gathered up her papers. “Then let’s hurry and get to class. Mr. Barton doesn’t usually get started right away and he isn’t as crabby as some of the—”
“Wait,” Beau said. He had to tell them. They didn’t know how much danger they might be in. “First we’ve got to talk.”
Brooke puffed out a breath of air. “You’re the one who’s worried about being late.”
“The hit-and-run wasn’t an accident. Someone was tailing us and I don’t think they were after me, Evan Webster.”
The color drained from Brooke’s face. Evan’s eyes widened and he swallowed audibly.
Brooke recovered first. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because I was naïve enough to think that you’d learned your lesson when Kent beat Evan up in the hallway. I didn’t want to upset you more than—”
“You kept something like that a secret?” Brooke’s face darkened with anger.
“I told Sergeant Dalton.”
“What’s going on in here?” came an ominously suspicious teacher voice from the doorway. Miss Bolton stood with her hands on her hips at the threshold, her short brown hair mussed from the wind. “Your class isn’t in here this hour.”
Evan leapt to his feet. “I know this is your free hour, Miss Bolton, but we need a little more time to work on this article and I can’t figure out how to download the pictures for it and I need Beau to help me and we’ve already gotten him in trouble because we missed first hour and he came out looking for us. Please give us a little more—”
“Take a breath, Webster.” She pulled her coat off and tossed it onto the hall tree. “Let me get this straight: you are skipping classes to work on a project on your own for my class and you want to use me to shield you from any disciplinary measures.”
Evan’s bravado deflated only slightly. “Well, when you put it that way...”
She gave them a final glare and walked to her desk. “Get the pictures downloaded for him, Beau, then I want all three of you in your second-hour class.” She jotted a note on a pad of paper. “If I find out you didn’t make it to that class I’ll personally turn you in to the office.” She ripped the sheet from the pad and handed it to Brooke. “You got that straight?”
“Got it. Thanks.”
Chapter 11
Grant sat in the twelfth floor legal office of Jay Hartmann, M.D., J.D. and stared through the penthouse window overlooking the Mississippi River. He had arrived in St. Louis in time to catch the tail end of the Monday evening rush. A jeweled line of headlights and taillights continued to enhance the Christmas decorations beneath the gleaming presence of the Gateway Arch. Grant listened to the muted clatter of a computer keyboard and the soft conversation and laughter of Jay’s personnel as they completed final tasks of the day in the outer office. Jay had graciously extended his hours. That meant a lot coming from such a busy man.
Grant had never imagined that his anatomy lab partner in medical school would attend law school after he received his medical license. Back then they had all been so sick of school and eager for residency.... But then, who would have thought residency would be so grueling? Nobody quite believed it until they experienced it.
Jay’s specialty of choice had been family practice. Three months into residency, he’d quit. Now his specialty was defending doctors from defensible medical lawsuits.
The lights of a jet streaked their way west across the center of Grant’s view and he checked the time on the grandfather clock in the corner of the spacious office. Brooke and Beau would be busy at the hospital now. Lauren would go to the house and stay with them after work. She would take good care of them until he could get back. He just hoped things didn’t go too badly between her and Mitchell Caine today.
This morning the kids had been in such a rush to get to school early he’d neglected to say good-bye to them properly. That oversight stung. Since Annette’s death he’d taken such care to make sure his family knew he loved them so that if they, God forbid, should die before he saw them again, he would have no regrets. Fortunately, Brooke and Beau knew from long experience how he felt about them.
Didn’t they?
He sighed and stared back out the window at the city lights. Already he longed for the peace of Dogwood Springs. He missed the silence of his own home at night when Brooke and Beau were safely asleep and he could be alone with his thoughts.
But why stop there? He would also like to see physicians be allowed to treat patients by the dictates of a good conscience without wrangling for compensation from dictatorial government agencies or insurance companies, or have frivolous lawsuits slapped on them. And he would be thrilled to see a health-care plan that really worked.
He blinked and shook his head. Time to derail this black mood before it took control.
He still missed Annette. This trip brought it all back so suddenly. He was no good to Brooke and Beau like this.
“You look a little broody tonight,” came a long-familiar Ozark drawl from the doorway.
Grant turned to find his old friend sauntering toward him across the thickly carpeted floor. “Jay.” He stood and reached out to shake hands.
Instead, Jay caught him in a hearty guy-hug complete with backslapping. Typical Jay. “Hey Grant. Been a while.” He did a final shoulder clap then stood back and smiled.
Grant knew Jay had never considered himself a handsome man with the scars of adolescent acne that riddled his face and a shiny scalp crowned by a bare skirting of pale brown hair. His eyes, however, had always held a special glow of warmth and maturity even in his twenties. At forty-o
ne, what hair he still had was sheened with silver and the kindness in his expression was comforting.
“Something’s going on with you besides a malpractice suit, Grant. I can see it.”
Grant returned to his seat while Jay took the one beside it. “Worried about the kids.”
Jay leaned back. “You and Annette did a great job with them. They’ll be fine. The night’s open for you and don’t forget I owe you big time. I wouldn’t have made it through Anatomy 101 without you.”
“You don’t owe me a—”
“You’re not paying, Grant.” Jay held his hand up. “This one’s on me. I read the information you faxed me. First of all, it shouldn’t take long for the plaintiff’s attorney to discover he doesn’t have anything to use against you. Second, even if it does go to court I expect a short trial.” He grinned. “And if it isn’t short they’ll have me to contend with.” He looked at the clock. “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Do you still like gyros?”
“I haven’t had one since we left St. Louis.”
“Good, that’s what I ordered. It should be here any time. Now, let’s talk.”
***
“I don’t care what your cardiologist told you. I’m telling you to cut the dosage in half!”
Lauren heard the sharp blade of Dr. Caine’s voice slice through the curtained cubicle in exam room five. He’d allowed his temper to come to boil at least four times since the noon rush. Now, at evening rush, they had every room full and another patient waiting to be checked in. At least three of them were high-acuity cases.
Vivian turned from her workstation and frowned at Lauren. “I took a message from Dr. Jonas. His flight was canceled and he’s stuck in Kansas City for three more hours. Dr. Caine will be working until midnight at this rate. He nearly strangled me when I relayed the information.”
Uh-oh.
“I’m just glad my shift’s almost over,” Vivian said. “How long is Dr. Sheldon going to be gone?”
“The rest of the week, maybe longer.”
The secretary shuddered. “I don’t know if we can take it that long,” she whispered.
The curtain snapped open and Dr. Caine strode out, his steel glare scouring the landscape for a likely victim. Lauren stiffened and Vivian retreated to her computer screen.
NECESSARY MEASURES Page 11