Doctor's Orders (Complete Series)

by Lilian Monroe

  47

  Emma

  It’s 4pm and I’m staring at my spreadsheet in dismay. Dr. Yates was right, there’s a pattern. It’s not the pattern I wanted to see. Every single patient who had the Aesthetics Management Fee applied to their account was a patient of the same doctor.

  Dr. Elliot Davis.

  My heart is beating out of my chest as I stare at the screen. It can’t be true. I shuffle through the files one more time. I check and re-check them. Every single one. I sit back in my chair and put my hands to my temples. There’s something going on here.

  I don’t know what to think. Is Elliot a crooked, money laundering, tax evading quack?

  The file room that Dr. Yates told me about this morning is full of boxes. I’ve gone through maybe a quarter of them but the pattern is crystal clear. I drop a box off and go to pick up another one when the weight of my discovery hits me. I close the door to the storage room and sit on one of the boxes.

  The tears erupt out of my eyes and I struggle to keep my sobs quiet. What does this mean? How can I trust Elliot now?

  The fight that Elliot and Dr. Yates were having had to have been about this. Maybe Dr. Yates has discovered what Elliot is up to and confronted him about it, and how he’s just looking for more evidence. That is the most logical explanation. He couldn’t outright tell me, he wanted me to discover it on my own.

  But somehow, I just can’t believe it. I think of the last week, of the last month. I think of how happy I’ve been, how caring and loving Elliot has been with me and how he is with Gracie. It just doesn’t add up. Could he be that fake?

  One thing keeps niggling at the back of my mind. One missing file that should have been where I filed it originally last week, in the box labeled ‘S.’ Melodie Sanders. Her file is nowhere to be found. Fair enough, I have dozens of boxes to go through still, but why wouldn’t her file be where I put it? Someone has moved it, or hidden it, or gotten rid of it.

  Did Elliot move it? I wonder if he’s had access to these files since last week.

  I doubt it. The files were gone when we got back. Dr. Yates gave me the key to the file room and told me to give it back to him every time I grab a new box. If he’s this worried about his key, surely, he wouldn’t let anyone else in the room?

  The doubt I feel toward Elliot is killing me. I just can’t reconcile him being dishonest, a fraud, a thief, with him being a doting father and a generous, caring lover. It just isn’t making sense. Something is not what it seems here, but I can’t put my finger on it.

  I sit on the box of files and let my tears dry up.

  Think, Emma, think.

  What is going on?

  I’ve stumbled into something bigger than me. It goes deeper than just me sorting through files, and now Dr. Yates is using me for something. He wants me to uncover something. He knows about this.

  He knows about this.

  Did Dr. Yates plant these files? Is this a set up?

  He’s setting me up to find it. He’s setting Elliot up.

  The thought hits me like a lightning bolt. I sit up straighter, panic shooting through my heart like a dagger. I need to warn Elliot. I need to tell him about this.

  I jump up and rip open the door to the file room, intending to rush down the hall to Elliot’s office. I need to see him now and tell him everything. I can’t wait until tonight. Every second I waste might be the difference.

  But as the door swings open, I almost run into a body, standing in the doorway blocking my way. Startled, I take a step back and look up.

  “Dr. Yates, hi. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you there.”

  His eyes narrow and I can’t help but shiver under his gaze.

  “Have you found anything?”

  “No!” I clear my throat. “I mean, no. Not yet.”

  “No? That’s too bad.” He pauses, staring at my face curiously. “I haven’t gotten around to that letter yet for you either. Where were you going so fast, anyway?”

  “I just… have to pee.”

  I cringe. I have to pee? That’s the best I can come up with? His eyebrow raises slowly but he doesn’t make a move.

  He knows I know. He’s dangling my loan letter in front of my face. He wants me to say the words and to point the finger at Elliot. I can’t betray Elliot like this. Not without knowing exactly what’s going on. I just need to talk to him. One conversation and then I’ll decide what to do.

  Without taking his eyes off my face he takes a step to the side, letting me pass. I put my head down and take a step to pass him when he clears his throat.

  “Emma,” he says, extending his hand. I look at him, confused, and then realize he wants the keys back. I drop them in his hand, making sure that my fingers don’t touch his flesh. I hurry down the hallway to the bathroom and the hair on the back of my neck stands up as I feel Dr. Yates’ gaze following me.

  When I pass Elliot’s office I will myself not to look inside. I know Dr. Yates is watching so I just let my feet carry me past the doorway to the bathroom. I need to talk to Elliot. I need to warn him.

  48

  Emma

  I can’t go to Elliot’s office now, it’s too risky. Dr. Yates has been keeping his office door open and I see him look up every time I pass. He’ll see me go and talk to him and then who knows how he’ll react. He could turn Elliot in himself. My heart is pounding and my palms are sweaty. I’m counting down the minutes until 5 o’clock, when I’ll rush out the door.

  I pull out my phone and look for Elliot’s name. My fingers are trembling as I punch out a text message.

  I need to talk to you tonight – it’s important.

  It buzzes a few seconds later.

  You mentioned that this morning. Is everything okay? I’ll come to your desk.

  No! Not at the office. Tonight xx

  I wait for a reply but don’t get one. I know he’ll be leaving soon anyway, so I wait to see him appear down the hallway. He steps out of his office and at the same time Dr. Yates steps out of his, as if he was waiting for Elliot to walk out. The two of them walk toward me and I snap my head back to the front, keeping my eyes glued on my screen.

  My heart is pounding. My breath is shallow and ragged and I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. If I could only get him alone, I would warn him right now.

  The two men appear near my desk at the same time. Elliot glances at me quizzically but I look away from him, glancing at Dr. Yates. He speaks first, and Elliot keeps walking toward the door. I glance at his back as he walks out. I feel like my heart is breaking and I don’t understand why.

  “So, Emma, what have you found out?”

  My eyes snap back to Dr. Yates. I’m not showing him my spreadsheet, not yet, but I know he won’t let me leave until he gets something off me. I need to tell him something, give him some sort of hope that I’m getting closer to the information he wants me to find.

  “Well, it looks like that fee was sporadically applied. I haven’t found a pattern yet but it looks like it was in cases where the total cost of procedures was well over thirty thousand dollars.”

  He nods. I take a deep breath and keep going. My heart is in my throat. I know I shouldn’t ask this but the words spill out of my mouth before I can reel them back.

  “I noticed one file was missing, a patient that came in three times in the past two weeks. Melodie Sanders. Her file wasn’t there.”

  Dr. Yates’ face remains impassable. He’s stone-still.

  “That name doesn’t ring a bell,” he says. Liar, how could anyone forget that woman? I nod at him and shrug.

  “Maybe I just missed it,” I answer. He grunts and turns around, walking away. I let out a breath and slump in my chair. I need to get out of here.

  I grab my purse and leave the office. I’ll just head home to freshen up and then go to Elliot’s house. I won’t be able to talk to him while Gracie is awake anyway, so I’ll have to wait until later. Might as well go home and get changed out of my work clothes before going over. It’ll give m
e some time to formulate what I want to say to him. My thoughts are still jumbled and I need to figure out the best way of approaching this.

  As I make my way home, I think about what I know. I know that at first, Dr. Yates wanted me far away from those files. He didn’t want me to find anything out about this fee, and then he changed his mind and asked me directly to look for it. That means he obviously knows about the fees. All evidence points to Elliot, but I just can’t bring myself to believe that he’s done this. They had an argument last week – it was either Dr. Yates confronting Elliot about the fees or Elliot confronting Dr. Yates about being set up. Which one is it?

  I want to trust Elliot, but can I? I need Dr. Yates to write me that letter of reference, and he’s refusing to do it until I say Elliot’s name and implicate him in all this. If he has nothing to do with it, why wouldn’t he just turn Elliot in himself? Why use me?

  I hop up the steps to my building’s front door and then I pause, looking through my purse for my keys.

  Then it all happens too fast.

  Someone is grabbing me from behind, my world goes dark. There’s something over my head, a bag or some cloth. I try to scream but a hand clamps down over my mouth. I’m kicking, clawing, fighting for my life but it’s no use. My arms are flailing and I try to kick but strong arms wrap themselves around my body and lift me up off the ground. Pure panic is coursing through my veins and I try to struggle against them. I can’t move, I can hardly breathe, I can’t see.

  They’re too strong. I can’t even tell how many men grab me, but I feel their rough hands and smell the stench of their bodies as they lock my hands and legs together, binding them with a rough rope and then carry me back down my steps. I’m tossed forward into a vehicle and I hear a van door close with finality. I try to scream the one name that’s on my lips, the man I’ve been thinking of all day. Elliot’s name catches in my throat before I can say it and my world goes completely black as I lose consciousness.

  49

  Elliot

  She should be here by now. I check the time again: 6:52pm. She’s not the type to be late. I pick up my phone and dial her number.

  It rings and rings until finally going to voicemail. I hang up without leaving a message, putting my phone down with a sigh. Why won’t she answer? A thread of worry wraps around my chest and I wonder if everything is okay. She should have contacted me by now.

  Gracie walks into the kitchen and looks at me, putting her hands on her little hips and sticking her chin out.

  “Where’s Emma?”

  “She’s on her way, kiddo. She should be here soon.”

  “I hope she likes the brownies I made her. I put walnuts in them this time. Do you think she’ll like them?”

  “I’m sure she will, Gracie. They smell delicious.” I lean down and glance in the oven at the brownies baking. “They’re probably almost ready.”

  The two of us open the oven and check the brownies. Gracie looks at them expertly, poking the center with a toothpick. She inspects the toothpick as it comes out and then looks at me, nodding her head once.

  “They’re ready,” she pronounces. I grin and grab the oven mitts, taking the hot pan out of the oven.

  “They look so good Gracie! She’s going to love them… If I don’t eat them first!”

  Gracie giggles and waves her finger at me. She’s been so much happier with Emma coming over, I can’t help but feel the worry creep up inside me at Emma’s lateness.

  I glance at my phone again to see if she’s called or texted. Nothing. My heart sinks a little and I try not to let it show on my face.

  “Let’s go watch some TV together while we wait,” I say to Gracie, forcing a smile.

  I hate being nervous. I hate being open and vulnerable like this. It’s not just me Emma is late for, it’s Gracie. I can’t bear the thought of her becoming attached and then for someone to just walk out on us.

  Gracie and I sit together for a while but I can’t settle. I keep checking my phone, and my heart sinks a bit more every time I see it blank.

  What is her problem? Is it so hard to text me to say she’ll be late, or just tell me if she’s not coming?

  My worry turns to anger. This isn’t right. I hate being jerked around, being led to believe that she would be here. Doesn’t she understand that Gracie is here too? It’s not just me, it’s both of us.

  She should know that when there’s a kid involved the responsibility multiplies. She can’t just come and go as she pleases without telling us what’s going on. I should never have let her into my life. It’s just a recipe for hurt and disappointment.

  Still, I think of the way she looked at me when I left the office. She had something to tell me, it was important. The questions gnawing at my mind are driving me nuts. What was she going to tell me? Was she going to tell me about this filing project? I think of the way Dr. Yates was standing over her when I walked out and my heart turns cold. It must have been something to do with him. He’s been on the warpath ever since we got back from San Diego, I know he has it out for me.

  Maybe I’m letting my own problems cloud this, and it has nothing to do with work. She might have wanted to tell me that it’s too much to be with a single dad, she wants to break it off, that she doesn’t want to sneak around anymore. I feel a pain in my chest when I think of Emma leaving me.

  Why won’t she text me? This is driving me insane.

  I check my phone again. It’s been an hour since she was supposed to get here. I ruffle Gracie’s hair.

  “Come on, kiddo. Let’s eat. Emma just said she’s not feeling well and she’s so sorry. She said save her a brownie.”

  Gracie’s little face drops with disappointment, and anger bubbles up inside me. I can’t stand the thought of someone making her feel like this. I’ve let my own selfish desires get in the way of my daughter’s happiness. I put myself first and I hate myself for it, and now I can see the consequence on Gracie’s face.

  “Okay,” she says slowly. “I hope she feels better soon.”

  “Me too,” I respond. The two of us sit down to dinner together, just the two of us like we have for the past seven years. Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be.

  50

  Elliot

  Every step that takes me closer to the office makes my anger intensify. When I see Emma’s face, I know I’m going to explode. How dare she just leave me hanging like that? Not even a text or a call, no warning at all. She just doesn’t show up. She stood me up, but worse, she stood Gracie up.

  I need an explanation.

  Whatever she had to tell me yesterday isn’t important. What’s important is that my daughter was counting on her and she let us down. I’m carrying a brownie that Gracie packed up especially for Emma. All I want to do is throw it in the garbage, she doesn’t deserve any of Gracie’s kindness. She can’t let us down like that again.

  I should never have let her into my life like this.

  I fly through the door, ready to let my rage loose on Emma. I hope she’s sitting at her desk and I can tell her exactly what I think of her. My eyes laser in on where she usually sits.

  She’s not here.

  The niggling worry that plagued me early last night is back, but stronger this time. She’s usually the first one in the office. Something isn’t right.

  Still, I can’t let go of the rage inside me. I stomp to the break room and check if she’s there. Not there either. I sigh angrily and go to my office, slamming the door closed behind me. I’m bristling, shaking with anger. I can’t stand the thought of being stood up and ignored like that, or of Gracie being dragged into this.

  I pull out my phone for the thousandth time and check if she’s contacted me. Nothing. I text her again, hating that I’ve sent her so many messages without a response.

  Where are you?

  I consider typing out exactly how I feel right now, exactly how angry I am, how hurt I am, how much seeing Gracie’s face fall last night was like a punch in the gut. But no, I won’t
give her the warning. I want to see her face when I ask her what the fuck her problem is.

  The minutes crawl by and my blood continues to boil. I check and re-check my phone, willing it to buzz with a new text message.

  Nothing.

  I can’t take it anymore. I head out to reception again. She should be here by now. I walk out and turn the corner and to my surprise there’s another woman sitting there. She’s older, with thin blonde hair. She turns when I walk near her desk and smiles at me. Her mouth opens to greet me but I interrupt her before she can speak.

  “Where’s Emma,” I bark at her. She looks surprised and her smile fades.

  “I… I’m not sure. I’m from a temp agency, I’m just here to fill in. They called me this morning.”

  A temp? Where the fuck is Emma?? How can someone just disappear off the face of the earth like this, without a word of warning.

  The worry inside me is growing. Something isn’t right. She had something to tell me yesterday and I know it was important. She didn’t want to talk about it at the office. My heart starts beating in my chest. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

  I glance down the hallway toward Stuart’s office, and then back to the receptionist.

  “Sorry,” I say quietly. She doesn’t respond, and I turn around and stalk down the hallway.

  Stuart better have a fucking explanation for me. I don’t bother knocking, just turning the handle and stepping inside the door. My rage is consuming me, and all I can think is that something is wrong, and Stuart is in the center of it.

  He’s sitting calmly at his desk when I walk in. I can feel the heat of my skin, burning with the anger that’s boiling up inside me. Stuart glances up at me and leans back in his chair. He crosses fingers on top of his stomach as he looks at me from under his bushy grey eyebrows.