Do No Harm

by Christina McDonald

  X

  I texted an X back, then turned my phone off.

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled onto a two-lane road flanked on either side by red-painted barns and overgrown fields gnarled with weeds. Douglas fir and ponderosa pines jutted angrily into the chilly blue sky.

  I parked in front of a small redbrick gas station. A GENERAL STORE sign hung above the door. Below that: FISHING. BAIT. This was not your typical Exxon.

  A bell jangled against the door as I went inside. The gas station was cute, with splashes of cheerful red décor and rustic cream and orange tiles. The middle of the shop was filled with neat rows of chips, cookies, and donuts. Against the back wall was a floor-to-ceiling refrigerator with sodas and beer, and one corner was taken up with a coffee station and a food-to-go refrigerator.

  A man came out from a back room, wiping his hands on a cloth. He was well-built, with a few days of stubble on his jaw and blond hair scraped into a short, straggly ponytail. His faded denim shirt hung over a white T-shirt that was streaked with grease.

  Nerves fizzled in my stomach like an ulcer.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  I turned to face him fully.

  “Hey, Gabe.”

  Gabe Wilson had been my brother’s best friend—and fellow dealer—in high school. Gabe was basically a walking penis. He oozed sex appeal and had a pair of dimples you just wanted to lick. All the girls fawned over him, and naturally I had a wicked crush on him. Since he was my brother’s best friend, I had easy access. Plus, I had a unique talent he and Ben liked: a gift for forgery. They let me hang out with them if I’d write their absence notes for school.

  Gabe and I had connected a few times while I was in medical school, and yes, by “connected,” I mean had sex. But it had been years since I’d seen him. Gabe was a part of my past that I’d kept hidden from Nate.

  Gabe’s face went slack with surprise when he recognized me, but he smiled quickly to cover it, revealing those deep dimples I’d always loved.

  “Gabriel? Is everything okay?” A very young woman appeared behind him—early twenties, long, white-blond hair, sharp cheekbones.

  She had an accent. Swedish? Norwegian?

  “Hey, babe.” Gabe kissed her quickly. “Do you mind making sure pump two is working?”

  She shrugged and went outside.

  “What do you want?” he asked when she’d left. His voice was decidedly cooler this time.

  “I need your help.” I plopped my bag on the counter and pulled out a stack of prescription pads, the ones I’d stolen from the clinic last night.

  Drugs had ruined my brother’s life, but maybe they could save Josh’s.

  “I’ve signed a bunch of these prescriptions for OxyContin. I need your help selling them.”

  CHAPTER 9

  GABE REARED BACK AS if I’d reached across the counter and punched him in the teeth.

  “Are you insane?” he hissed, glancing out the window. “I don’t sell drugs anymore. How did you even find me?”

  “Facebook.”

  “Well unfind me. I got out of that game when I bought this place.”

  I withdrew five of the prescriptions I’d signed and thrust them at him. The signatures of my colleagues had been easy to forge. Nobody could read a doctor’s signature anyway.

  “Please!” I shook the prescriptions at him. “My son has leukemia. He’s at Cascade Regional on an IV, for God’s sake! I need the money to pay for his treatment.”

  Gabe looked horrified, as I knew he would. His sister had died of cancer when he was a kid, leaving parents who never really recovered from the loss. They’d eventually divorced, his dad running off and leaving Gabe with a single mother who’d been so busy trying to provide for him she’d barely been around to take care of him.

  He rubbed a hand over his grizzled jaw but shook his head. “I’m really sorry to hear that. I am. But I can’t help you. I have a good life now. I sold enough shit to buy this place, but now I’m out. I don’t plan on getting back in.”

  A sluggish sort of fear wormed under my skin. I set the scripts down on the counter in front of him.

  “Gabe, you have to help me.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s your son.”

  Gabe stared at me, his face a mask of shock that was quickly replaced by anger. “Fuck.” He wrenched his ponytail out, smoothed his beach-blond hair, and retied it. “Are you sure?”

  “I did a paternity test. I’ll show you.”

  He swore again, looking irate. “When?”

  “Remember right before Christmas six years ago? It was my first year of residency.”

  I could see him doing the math in his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You were still dealing! I didn’t want that for my child.”

  “Why didn’t you…” He hesitated.

  “What, get an abortion?”

  “Well, yeah. You were all stressed out about medical school shit.”

  I looked away. “I didn’t get to grow up with a family. Josh was my chance to have one.”

  “I want to meet him.”

  “Absolutely not. I’m married now. I’m not asking you to give financial support or do anything else. I met my husband right after that night. He thinks Josh is his, and I don’t plan on telling him otherwise. I just need your help selling these prescriptions so I can save my son’s life. Our son’s life. Please.”

  “Em—”

  “We can split the profits, fifty-fifty.”

  “No!”

  I opened my mouth, but the bell on the door jangled. I glanced over my shoulder.

  Cop.

  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, a chill racing down my spine.

  The cop was massive, well over six feet, and probably almost as wide. He had a buzz cut, with dark hair curling over his bare arms and sprouting from the collar of his uniform.

  In my peripheral vision, I saw Gabe quickly sweep the prescriptions to the floor behind the counter. He looked like he was going to be sick. I casually hitched my purse higher on my shoulder, letting the rest of the prescription pads drop to the bottom.

  The cop’s presence filled the small space. He wandered from aisle to aisle, picking up junk food as he went, a pack of Hostess cupcakes, a bag of Doritos. The refrigerator made a thwucking sound as he grabbed a Coke, then let the door slam shut. His footsteps sounded magnified in the confined space.

  And then he was right behind me, his breath lifting the hair at my neck. I squeezed my hands together to hide their shaking.

  “A pack of Marlboro Golds, please,” I said loudly to Gabe.

  Gabe stood frozen in rigid silence. There was so much in his eyes, I was terrified he would give everything away.

  Pull yourself together! I screamed silently at him. How had he ever been calm enough to deal drugs?

  I turned slowly, deliberately, and smiled at the cop while arching one eyebrow and lifting one hand. “I’m trying to quit, but I’m totally addicted,” I said, opting for casual and chatty.

  I knew the consequences of selling these prescriptions: each count of unlawful distribution of OxyContin by a medical professional carried a twenty-year prison sentence. One doctor in Seattle had traded sex for prescriptions; a podiatrist had set up an entire oxy ring; a dentist had unnecessarily pulled teeth to justify prescribing opioids so he could get thousands in kickbacks. These doctors bought yachts and houses, jewelry and status and privilege.

  But I wasn’t in it for the money. I just wanted to save my son.

  The cop grinned at me, exposing small, straight teeth and matching dimples. “I’ve quit, like, a hundred times. It’s the job, I think. It’s so stressful.”

  “Don’t I know it!” I laughed. “I’m a doctor. I know all about stress!”

  I lowered my eyelashes, all innocence, and smiled up at him, before turning back to Gabe.

  “Could I get those Marlboro Golds, sir?” I asked Gabe.

  Gabe finally snapped out of it, grabb
ing the cigarettes and setting them on the counter. “That’ll be nine forty-two.”

  I slipped my hand into my bag and withdrew my wallet, carefully extracting a ten-dollar bill and one of my business cards with my cell phone number printed on it. I tucked the card under the bill and handed it to Gabe.

  Gabe wordlessly gave me my change. I took it, waved good-bye, and left.

  * * *

  MY HEART was slamming in my chest as I jogged to my car. Rain had started falling in sheets. I was an idiot to think Gabe would help me, even more of an idiot to bring all those signed prescriptions inside. Now he had them. What kind of an amateur did that? I’d shown all my cards.

  I’d broken two of my dad’s most important rules. Keep your hand close to your chest.

  And never get caught drawing dead.

  “Always make sure you have a plan B, Emma,” he used to say. “Because once you get caught drawing dead, you’re done. It won’t matter what cards you draw, you’ll have zero chance of winning.”

  And then a horrible thought occurred to me: What if Gabe had video surveillance? Of course he did. The real question was: What would he do with it?

  I drove as quickly as I dared back to Skamania, my windshield wipers swiping pathetically at the rain. I was going to have to set up an OxyContin drug ring on my own. But how, without losing my job, my family, my freedom?

  I pulled up in front of my house, in the middle of quintessential suburbia. Tidy, well-maintained homes with white picket fences and jewel-green lawns were separated by neat shrubs and towering apple trees, all arranged over a gently sloping hillside with views of the Cascade foothills.

  When I opened the door, Charlie went crazy, barking and baying with excitement. He pushed his nose against my knees, and I dropped to the floor, wrapping my arms around him for a doggy cuddle. He snuffled happily against my neck.

  Once he’d calmed down, I went upstairs for a quick shower, then made myself a sandwich. Charlie’s nails clicked against the hardwood as he followed me around, tail wagging happily. After I’d finished eating, I clipped his leash to his collar.

  “Come on, Charlie.”

  We walked through the neighborhood at a fast pace toward the woods, where I wouldn’t be bothered by people I didn’t want to speak to. The rain had stopped, a chill mist replacing it. My breath coated the air in white and my fingertips quickly cooled as I stumbled, weak and numb, through the underbrush. The wind beat heavily against the naked trees.

  Suddenly my skin prickled, the hairs on the back of my neck rising. A twig snapped nearby, and I jumped. I peered into the murk. The dreary mist glazed the ground, obscuring my ankles in a ghostly swirl. My teeth began to chatter. I came to a complete stop and turned around in a circle. A shadow danced nearby, but it was nothing; the movement of the wind twisting through the trees.

  My imagination was going wild, my heart slamming erratically in my chest. I mentally shook myself. No one was there. I had to get control of myself. Nobody but Gabe knew what I’d been thinking.

  I hurried Charlie back the way we came, icy-cold fingernails raking the back of my neck as I ran.

  As I approached my house, my neighbor Jennifer was just getting into her car. Jennifer was a pert blond with twin girls just two years older than Josh. She ran a dog grooming shop in town.

  She waved and crossed the grass that separated our houses, meeting me at the front door. She wrapped her arms around me, smelling of lavender and the faint musky scent of dogs. I stood stiff as a board in her soft arms. If I fell apart now, I might never be able to put myself back together.

  “I’m so sorry, Emma. I heard about Josh.”

  “Wow, that was fast.” I barely even tried to hide my irritation.

  “Well, you know Brad’s sister-in-law works in the ER. She told Brad and he told me.”

  “Ahh.”

  “So how are you guys doing? Do you need anything?” Jennifer asked, her brown eyes pools of liquid sympathy.

  I looked down at Charlie. “Actually, yes. Would you be able to pop in and check on Charlie? Just for the next few days.”

  “Absolutely!”

  I rummaged in my purse for the spare key and handed it to her. “He has the dog door out back, so he’ll just need a few walks and some food. I’ll leave it out on the counter.”

  “Of course. Anything to help.”

  I moved toward the house, hoping to get away as fast as possible. “Thanks, Jennifer. See you later.”

  * * *

  BACK AT the hospital, I headed first to the clinic, planning to talk to Marjorie about reducing my hours while Josh was in treatment. But as I got out of the elevator and strode down the hallway, I noticed a cluster of people crowded around the clinic’s entrance.

  I pushed past them and entered the reception area. Marjorie, Brittany, and a handful of doctors and nurses who were working today were gathered in a little cluster near reception.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Marjorie.

  Marjorie jumped. “Emma! I didn’t see you there.” Her eyes were red, like she had been crying. “It’s just terrible. I found the supply closet open this morning. Someone had left it unlocked, and when I went in I noticed that almost all the Oxy samples were gone. I told Lawrence, up in administration, and he called the police. They found—”

  Just then two burly police officers came out of an exam room, their mouths pressed into grim lines. Between them, her arms handcuffed behind her, was Julia.

  The fluorescent lights cast stark shadows across her face, her eyes like dark bruises. She was looking right at us but not really seeing us. Her brown hair had come out of its ponytail, clinging to her neck in damp patches. She moved stiffly between the officers, as if she were a remote-controlled dummy and someone else had taken over.

  A shocked silence settled over the room. Marjorie’s hand flew to her mouth, her chubby throat bobbing up and down.

  She lowered her voice and leaned toward me. “The police found OxyContin samples in her purse. Looks like she’s been stealing them!”

  “No!” My skin went cold and clammy.

  Julia’s head swung toward me. Her face was ashen, her eyes damp and shiny. She strained, trying to pull away from the officers, but they held her tight.

  “Emma, I didn’t do this!” she shouted, breaking out of her reverie. “Come on! Tell them!”

  Julia… My mouth formed her name, but no sound came. My vocal cords were paralyzed with shock.

  I could feel the weight of the prescription pads in my purse, the bulk of them pressing against my side. Guilt oozed, black and sticky, through my core. But nobody had noticed they were gone. The Oxy samples were so much more obvious.

  I clamped my mouth shut. I needed to appear calm and unfazed, just the right amount of upset and shocked.

  And then, a second later, Julia was gone.

  CHAPTER 10

  NATE FLICKED ON THE television in Josh’s hospital room. His mom had run downstairs to grab them something to eat, and Josh was sucking his middle finger and pointer finger, sleepily staring into space.

  Nate was still trying to process the fact that Emma had never told him she’d watched her father die. He shouldn’t be that surprised, he told himself. Emma could be intensely withdrawn, closemouthed about her past.

  When they first started dating, she’d told him that her parents had died in a car accident when she was thirteen, but she’d never elaborated. He’d only found out the details when he’d looked up the accident report form. Her father had been drunk, double the legal limit. When a deer leaped across the dark road, he’d lost control of the car and it had flipped over an embankment.

  Nate saw Emma going to the clinic every morning, working to help people, and he knew: every patient she saved mattered because she hadn’t been able to save her parents.

  Sometimes he watched her, folding Josh’s pajamas or matching socks or scraping eggs off the pan after breakfast, ribbons of dark hair swaying down her back, her eyes focused and intense until t
hey looked up and caught his. And the way they’d soften, just melt at the sight of him… he just felt awed by her. He’d pull her into his arms, running his hands over her body and pressing his lips to hers, and feel completely fulfilled. Emma meant everything to him, and he knew she felt the same.

  Still, who kept the fact that her father had died in her arms from her husband? Nate knew he kept some secrets, but he also knew he couldn’t have kept something like that from Emma.

  And what did it say about her that she could?

  Nate tapped the remote control, finally finding something Josh might like.

  “Star Wars is on, buddy,” he said.

  Josh loved Star Wars—the robots, the aliens, the themes of good versus bad. But now he didn’t seem interested. He was a million miles away.

  “Josh? Want to watch Star Wars?” Nate repeated.

  “I don’t know, Daddy.” He sighed. “I’m a pool of sadness right now.”

  He pulled Josh in for a hug. “I know. But you know what? The evil stuff in your blood is like the Empire. We just have to go to battle with it, and we’re gonna win because we’re the good guys.”

  “Do the good guys always win?” Josh asked.

  Nate caressed the little tin of toothpicks in his pocket as Luke Skywalker’s lightsaber flashed on the screen. “Always. Remember? Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda defeat the Empire, and Luke helps Anakin become good again.”

  “Is that why you’re a detective? You wanted to be one of the good guys?”

  “Well, yeah. But I also wanted to help people. I think a good detective can change someone’s life for the better. There are some things worth fighting for, like you’re gonna fight the Empire.”

  “I’m glad you’re a good guy, Daddy.”

  Nate kissed the top of Josh’s head. “Me too, Josh.” Josh’s bottom lip was wobbling. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  Josh burst into tears. “I don’t want to die!”

  “Oh, Josh.” Nate wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer.

  Emma came in just at that moment. She dropped a backpack on the floor and rushed to Josh. There wasn’t room for the three of them in the narrow hospital bed, so Nate stood, allowing her to scoop Josh into her arms.