The fire captain said, “It’s a good way to burn down the whole building. If the fire had spread and gotten hotter, the sprinklers would have come on and ruined the contents of your whole office. I talked with the patrolman here, and we both think the front door lock wasn’t picked. Someone used a key to get in, pulled records off the shelf, and set them on fire.” He picked up a charred file and sniffed it. “The perp probably used an accelerant such as lighter fluid. Then, when the fire got going, the smoke alarm went off. I suspect whoever it was decided not to stick around, fearing the noise would bring someone, so they got out of here, leaving the front door unlocked.”
“We’ll check the security cameras in the neighborhood,” the senior patrolman said. He turned to Caden. “I don’t see cameras anywhere in the office. Do you have any?”
“No, but I’m thinking of installing them now. I’m still puzzled why someone would do this.”
“That’s what we need to find out.” Detective Caruso stood in the doorway. “Doctor, let’s go to your office and talk.”
Before Beth could say anything, Caruso continued. “And since your wife is a nurse here, I’d like her to come as well.”
Caden and Beth settled into seats in his office, with Detective Caruso behind the desk. He took a notepad from the pocket of his wrinkled sport coat, then searched for a pen and finally found one in his shirt pocket. “I doubt you set fire in your own suite, but let’s start with where you two have been since about ten o’clock this morning.”
Caden looked at Beth, then shrugged. “I got back home about mid-morning. Since it’s the weekend, my wife thought this would be a nice day to have a picnic lunch. We were at the lake when I got the call about the fire.”
Caruso frowned. “In other words, you and your wife alibi each other, but no one else can corroborate your stories.” He scribbled a few words. “And you came right here?”
“I called my attorney, who didn’t think there was a need for him to accompany me, but said he’d stand by for my call afterward,” Caden said.
“You don’t think—” Beth started.
“ ‘Where were you?’ is always going to be our first question. Don’t worry. We’ll ask other people their whereabouts too. And I suspect most of them won’t have an alibi either.”
“What do you make of the police finding the front door open when they got here?” Caden asked.
“There was no evidence of forced entry. I assume the perpetrator left in a hurry when the smoke alarm went off. My thought is this is most likely the work of someone who has a key,” Caruso replied. “Who had them?”
Caden started ticking off on his fingers all the people who possessed keys, listing each of the doctors, all their nurses, and the two receptionists. “We never thought about security. Only convenience. We may have to rethink all that.”
“What about cleaning? Do you have a crew that comes in? I don’t imagine your nurses empty the waste baskets and clean up every night before they leave.”
“I didn’t think of them,” Caden said. “But we’ve had the same cleaning service since shortly after I opened my practice. We’ve never had any trouble with them, but—”
“How long have you used them?”
“Two . . . No, now close to three years.” Could someone on the two-person crew be behind the false narcotics prescriptions? He’d thought only of medical personnel as being able to send the prescriptions, but was that really true? All a non-medical person needed to prepare a legitimate-appearing prescription was a bit of training.
“What are you thinking?” Caruso asked.
Caden shook his head. “I was thinking that maybe our search has been too narrow.”
“I don’t understand.”
Beth spoke up. “I think you also need to consider the DEA agents who’ve been conducting an investigation centered around this office. All we have is their word about why they’re here. Maybe there’s something else going on.”
Beth looked at the clock in her kitchen. It was five in the evening on the longest day of her life. The picnic basket she and Caden had packed sat empty in the back seat of their car, forgotten as they dealt with the fire and its aftermath.
She could hear him in the front room, talking to the insurance company. “I’m telling you, this fire was deliberately set. Both the fire department and police told me that. I’m not going to argue with you about responsibility and coverage. Just tell me there’ll be an adjuster at our office first thing Monday morning to talk about repairing the damage.”
Several minutes later, he walked into the kitchen, muttering.
“Any luck with the insurance company?”
“It’s a different company from the one that handles my auto insurance, and I don’t deal with a local agent,” Caden said. “That’s something I’m going to remedy when it comes time for renewal. I finally got the person I talked with to promise to send an adjustor on Monday, although not necessarily first thing. I’ll talk with the adjustor when they show, but something tells me it may be a slow process getting the fire damage repaired.”
“Can we pay for things and then be reimbursed?”
“We could if we have to, I guess. I’ll see.” He walked over and hugged her. “I’m so very sorry you got involved in all this.”
“We never know what’s coming next when we marry someone,” she said. “That’s what ‘For better or for worse’ really means. And just to be certain there’s no misunderstanding, I knew what I was doing when I recited those vows.” She kissed him lightly.
They stood together in the center of the kitchen for a full minute before he said, “I guess there’s nothing more I can do tonight. Do you want to go out for some supper?”
“Not really. How about something light?”
“Sounds great,” Caden said. “Want me to help?”
Beth smiled. “Why don’t you sit down at the kitchen table and talk with me while I get this together? That would keep you out of my way and speed up the process significantly.”
When Caden’s cell phone rang, he pulled it from his pocket, looked at the caller ID, and said, “I think this is Neilson’s number.”
When he started to get up, Beth said, “No. I deserve to hear this conversation. Put it on speaker.”
Caden nodded. He answered the call and immediately punched the speakerphone button.
“What happened at your office? I drove by earlier today and saw a fire truck leaving. And there was a police cruiser out front.”
Caden outlined what had happened. Then he said, “Since everyone thinks this was arson, a detective is involved. And I’ve already told him about your investigation and some of the fallout, including someone trying to shoot me.”
“I thought we agreed to keep the local police out of this.”
“No,” Caden said. “You intimated that you wanted your investigation kept hush-hush, but I never agreed to that. I was wrong to wait so long before consulting an attorney. Then I almost delayed too long before I asked his advice again. But he and I talked recently, and he agreed I needed someone else on my side—someone in law enforcement that I can trust.”
“You can trust me,” Neilson said.
“I’m not certain about that. So far, it’s been all take and no give from you and Harwell. I need to know when you’re going to start making arrests. And, for that matter, have you found out anything about the other agent?”
“I’m close to winding everything up. Just give me a few more days.”
“You can take as long as you want, but if you haven’t contacted Detective Caruso of the Freeman police by the end of the day on Monday, I’ll tell all my staff what’s been going on. I’ll blow your cover, and any element of surprise you have will be gone.”
Neilson was saying something when Caden ended the call. He looked at Beth and said, “I suppose you think I was wrong to say that.”
She shook her head. “No, I think you’ve been wrong to let them use you up to this point. You should have called Mel Sewell a lo
t earlier and kept him in the picture.”
Caden nodded. “I just hope I haven’t waited too long.”
On Sunday morning, Caden tried several times to roll over and go back to sleep, but each time his eyes snapped open again as though the lids were spring-loaded. Finally, he slipped out of bed and moved softly to the kitchen. For a change, he’d remembered to set the automatic brew feature, so there was a full pot of coffee waiting for him.
He poured a cup and sat at the kitchen table. The newspaper was probably on the front lawn, but he made no move to get it There was nothing in it he wanted to read. No, this morning he wanted to sit quietly, sip his coffee, and try to make sense of the puzzle pieces that were his life.
Caden hadn’t gotten far with his thoughts before he heard the shuffle of house slippers outside the kitchen door. Beth, a robe over her gown, entered the room, poured a cup of coffee, and joined him at the table. “What with inflation and all, I guess I should say a nickel for your thoughts.”
“They’re not worth even the original penny,” he said. “I was trying to think through everything that’s happened to me . . . to us.”
She leaned toward him and squeezed his free hand. “But is there anything you can do by worrying?”
“I guess not.”
Beth took a sip of coffee, then set the mug down carefully before speaking. “We have to wait on your dad’s diagnosis. We have to wait for the police to check into the fire. We have to wait for the DEA to finish whatever they’re doing. We can’t do anything about any of it right now. Right?”
“That’s about the size of it.”
Without speaking, Beth left the table. She was back in a few moments with her Bible. “Let’s see if I can find what I’m looking for.” She sat down, opened the book to about its midpoint, then thumbed through the pages until she found what she wanted.
“I’ll bet you have something I need to hear,” Caden said.
“How’s this for advice. It’s from Psalm 37: Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him.”
“So, I’m just supposed to relax, and God will take care of everything?” Caden said.
“No. But after you’ve done everything you can do, you depend on God to do what He’s promised. It’s a pretty good partnership that way.” She gave her husband a smile. “Now, let’s have breakfast and then get ready for church.”
As Caden and Beth entered the First Community Church, he said, “I’d better sit on the aisle in case I get a call.”
Beth looked like she was about to say something, but let it go. Caden figured it was a small victory, but he’d take whatever he could get.
A number of the congregation had apparently heard about Nancy Taggart’s death and stopped by to offer their condolences. One of them was talking when Beth looked toward the platform and said, “I think Dr. Pearson is about to start.”
The lady left, and Caden whispered to Beth. “I never know what to say to these people.”
“Just thank them for their prayers. I think they’re sincere.”
Caden joined his baritone with all the other voices as he sang the familiar hymns—hesitantly at first, then stronger. After the first song, Beth put down her own hymnal and took her husband’s free hand. They shared a faint smile and finished the hymn that way.
The pastor started in a conversational tone. “In a congregation this large, there is always a dire event. It may be in the wings, happening now, or just past. The week just ended has been no exception, as was the week before that, and the week before that, and . . . You get the picture.
“I’ve heard some of you say that if your faith is strong enough, God will protect you from bad things happening. I stand before you, a man of the cloth, holder of several degrees, supposedly an expert in theology, and I tell you that’s not true.”
There were murmurs within the congregation. Dr. Pearson let them die down before he continued, this time in a voice so strong it seemed the microphone before him was unnecessary. “Actually, we’re told that the Christian will face troubles. It’s promised in the Scriptures. And there are times when the load we’re given—whether physical or emotional—is just more than we think we can bear. God’s promise is that He’ll provide the strength we need at the time we need it. And He’ll ultimately guide us through it.”
Pearson paused and scanned the congregation. “There’s a great sign I saw on a desk recently. ‘In the end, it will be all right. If it’s not all right, it’s not the end.’”
Caden looked at Beth and an unspoken message passed between them. She was right. It was up to him to do all he could, and then trust God to do His part.
18
The schedule for Monday lay on Henry Taggart’s desk. He’d looked at it twice, and nothing had changed. It was still blank. He took a deep breath before bellowing, “Jean!” He didn’t use the intercom button on his phone. The situation called for yelling, and he accomplished this by calling his nurse in a loud voice. She worked for him, not the other way around, and when he said he wanted to see patients, there should be patients on the list.
In a moment, Jean stood in the doorway of his office. She smiled sweetly. “I suppose the yell was because you’ve seen your schedule.”
“Such as it is.” Henry’s tone reeked of sarcasm. He held up the schedule and waved it. “This is supposed to be a sheet of paper printed with the names of patients I’m scheduled to see today, but it’s blank.” He struggled to control his temper, but with little success. “Would you care to comment?”
Without an invitation, Jean entered the office, closing the door behind her. She crossed to the two chairs on the other side of Henry’s desk and seated herself in one. “You didn’t tell anyone on Friday why you were out, but I finally managed to wangle the information out of you. We talked for a bit on Friday night, and you told me about your biopsy, but nothing was said about your working today.”
Henry felt his righteous indignation slipping away. That used to happen with Nancy when she made a good point. “You didn’t ask me.”
Jean didn’t raise her voice, which served to frustrate Henry even more. “I never had the chance. So, I took it upon myself to keep your schedule open. I thought it would be better than canceling the appointments if you needed to take more time away from the office.”
“Well, you were wrong.” Even as he spoke, the doctor knew she was right. Jean wasn’t taking over his life. She was simply doing what any good nurse would do.
It wasn’t as though he was trying to build up his practice and see as many people as possible. Matter of fact, he’d already realized he needed to start cutting back, even though it seemed to him he was working harder for less money. Well, everyone was, he guessed.
Henry wasn’t very good at apologizing, but he figured that’s what he needed to do. “Jean, I’m sorry. I’ll be here today, and rather than sitting around worrying or feeling sorry for myself, I’d rather see some patients. If you have some people you can contact and move up their appointments, especially those for a second opinion, I’ll see them today.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
He wasn’t sure if Jean’s words were meant to be sarcastic but decided to let it slide. Henry figured he’d done enough complaining for one day.
Caden was full of apologies as he dropped Beth off at the office early Monday morning before heading for the hospital in his rental car to see the patient he’d been asked to consult on. “I don’t know who’s behind all this, but the thought occurred to me that they might want to get to me through you. That’s why I thought we should ride together.”
“I understand,” Beth said, one hand on the door handle.
“I’m considering the possibility of having a security guard meet you in this parking lot each morning to escort you inside.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “There are already people in the building, even this early. I doubt anything will happen, but if there’s someone lying in wait, I can get help.” She held up her iPhone with her free hand.
“It’s just a phone call away.”
“I don’t know if that’s enough,” Caden said. “What if he shoots at you in a drive-by or uses a rifle while staying at a distance. Maybe I should sit here and watch you enter the building.”
“Totally unnecessary.” Beth kissed him and opened the door of the car. “I’ll see you after you’re through at the hospital.”
Caden kept his cell phone within reach on the car seat beside him as he drove to his destination but resisted the temptation to call Beth. Maybe he’d text her when he reached the hospital—make sure she was safely in the office. The next minute he discarded that idea. If she didn’t answer immediately, he’d hurry back to the office, only to find that she was fine.
At the hospital, Caden became engrossed in the consultation his friend, internal medicine specialist Tony Barnett, had requested. After a thorough history and physical examination, Caden decided this didn’t represent possible appendicitis, despite the patient’s belly pain and borderline elevation of his white blood cell count.
“Tony, I don’t think he has a surgical abdomen. I agree you’re wise to continue your work-up for chronic inflammatory bowel disease. I’ll have a look at him again tomorrow. Meanwhile, have them call me if his symptoms change.”
“Will do,” Barnett said. “And I have to agree . . . this is probably a case of irritable bowel vs. early Crohn’s disease. In either case, so long as it’s not an acute surgical belly, I’ll pursue the other diagnoses.”
Caden dictated a consultation note and talked a bit more with the patient. Then he decided he had time to stop by the surgeon’s lounge. He doubted that the coffee had gotten any better, and Beth undoubtedly would have a steaming cup of a much better brew waiting for him when he got to the office—oh, wait. He didn’t think anything in the break room was damaged, but maybe he’d better check that the coffee maker was working. One more thing to add to his to-do list.
When he walked into the surgeon’s lounge, he found it empty. Despite his past experience, Caden decided to try a half-cup of coffee. If no one showed up by the time he’d either finished or tossed it, he’d leave and pick up one in the food court on his way out.
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