June dropped the bullet and clamp on the sterile tray, snapped off her gloves, washed her hands in the sink and grabbed an ammonia capsule from the drawer.
She stepped over the gun, stooped to the man who moaned and struggled for consciousness. She lifted his head slightly, deftly pulled the fake beard off his face and tossed it aside. His eyes were pinched closed and twitchie. She watched him; his eyes opened, saw her, closed. She held his head and waited. He opened his eyes and winked at her, slamming them shut again.
What game was this? She cracked the capsule and waved it under his nose. His handsome nose. He coughed and sputtered and choked and opened his eyes. “Big tough guy,” she said, but she smiled in spite of herself.
He very gingerly came to a sitting position. “Whoa,” he said.
“How’s your stomach?” she asked. “I want to be ready.”
“My stomach’s okay…but my head is floating off into space.”
She was gazing into completely lucid, deeply blue eyes. The big faker. He obviously couldn’t put down his gun without his wounded partner becoming suspicious, so he had faked a faint. “We have beds in the room by the back door….”
“Naw, I’ll just sit right here. I’ll be okay. That’s never happened to me before.”
“You’ve seen a lot of bullets get pulled out of shoulders?”
“I’ve seen one or two shooting accidents.”
“You’re a Vietnam vet?”
“Me? Hell no. I’m too young to have been in that war.”
“I guess you are.” She tilted her head and studied his face. He had a rich tan for someone who lived in the woods. High cheekbones, a square jaw and nice ears. His nose had a crook in it, probably from a fight. He had one of those heads of too much thick, unruly hair. His eyebrows were bushy and became knitted as he began to regard her fiercely, but she ignored his purposely scary look. Who was he trying to kid? “What’s your name?”
“Just call me Jim,” he said.
“Okay, Jim. Let me tell you something. If you’re ever hurt or sick and need my help, you just ask. Okay? If you ever come into my clinic pointing a gun at me again, I’ll take my revenge. And you’ll never see it coming.”
“Hey,” the man on the table called. “Anybody going to sew up my shoulder?”
June rose to her feet. “Oh, you do speak. Fancy that.”
She got out a clean pair of gloves and opened the surgical kit that sat on the tray. With a sterile hemostat, she poked around the open wound. “How are you doing? Should I numb this again?”
“I’m okay,” he said, looking away from the wound.
“I’m going to have to pack this. It’s going to give you some trouble. Pain. Possible infection. Actually, much as I hate the thought, you should come back and see me in a week or so. But by appointment.”
“That ain’t gonna happen,” he said. “Gimme some pills. I’ll see someone about it if I can…but not around here.”
“Fine by me,” she said.
Jim came slowly to his feet, reminding her how large a man he was. Monstrous, really. This was a place full of very large men—loggers, farmers, fishermen…drug growers.
“You’ve been a good sport about this, Doc,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what all the guys say. I’m a good sport.”
“I really didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized.
“Yes you did, you big jerk. That’s exactly what you meant to do and I resent it. I’ve lived in this town my whole life and I know what’s going on. I have a pretty good idea where you’re from. But I also knew that you were really afraid of me, afraid that I’d call the police or something. I was actually going to call my dad or my nurse—either one could have been here in five minutes and it would have made this whole procedure quicker and cleaner, not to mention easier on me. Easier on all of us. Of course, I would have had to insist there be no weapons.” She pursed her lips and looked him over. “Costumes optional.”
“You would have called the police,” he said, though his voice was not accusing.
“Eventually. But it’s not in my job description,” she said as she pushed sterile, medicated gauze into the hole where the bullet had been. “Tom Toopeek has been my best friend since childhood. We work together in every possible way, but we’re real careful to keep our roles clear and our lines drawn. I don’t compromise his upholding of the law and he doesn’t compromise my work as a doctor.” She looked up and made eye contact with Jim. “I consider myself a healer first. It’s more important to me that this man get treatment than that he get punishment. I don’t care if you believe that.”
“I see,” he said, the temptation of a smile tugging at his lips. “And would that line ever blur?”
“Sure,” she said, looking back to her work. “You just about blurred it. You pushed a gun in my face and became a threat. If you just ask for help, you’ll get it.”
She finished dressing the wound, then used an Ace bandage to bind the man’s arm to his chest. She covered the tray with a towel and pushed it aside, dropping her gloves on top, then she went to the cupboard and pulled out some pill bottles. “One of these every four hours till they’re gone. These are for pain, take as needed, but not with anything else, like any other pain killers or alcohol. And—” she extracted a very large syringe from the drawer, a vial from the drug cupboard “—bottoms up.”
“Aww,” he complained.
“I could find a bigger needle….”
Jim laughed and the other man struggled off the examining table, presented his backside and opened his jeans.
“Just drop them to about—”
“I know, I know, I’ve had shots before.”
She finished her job, handed him his pills and helped him shrug one arm into his shirt. “That’s about all I can do for you.”
Jim pulled a wad of bills out of his pants pocket and peeled off a couple of hundreds. “This should—”
“Get that out of here,” she snapped. “I don’t want that money!”
He looked confused. “I’m sure you could use it, Doc.”
“It stinks of green marijuana, for God’s sake! There are a lot of people who think it’s just a little plant, maybe ought to be legalized, but I’m not one of them. I consider the consequences far-reaching and tragic! I couldn’t disapprove more completely if it were straight-out murder!”
“But you’ve—?”
“I choose my battles, that’s all. I thought I was clear.”
He put his money back. “Well, I guess we’re real lucky you chose the battle you did. Thanks.”
“It’s what I do. Now get out of here.” She followed them to the door, fully intending to call Tom once they were gone.
The injured man went out the door, but Jim lingered. “Maybe you should have been a little more afraid of us, Doc,” he said, frowning.
She smiled at him. “You don’t know anything about being a doctor, do you?” There were lots of times she was afraid, yet had learned how to perform in spite of that. And with confidence. Besides, once these men were in her treatment room, they hadn’t scared her. Not at all. After she realized Jim had pretended to faint so he could remove his weapon from the scenario, she had begun to feel almost safe. A little pissed off, but almost safe.
“You have a gun in the office?” he asked.
“Not as of yet, but I’ve been thinking about getting a dog.”
He grinned. “Lock the door.”
“Believe me, I intend to.”
She opened the clinic’s back door fifteen minutes later and let Tom in. “Sorry to bring you out, but there’s no way I can leave here alone tonight without someone knowing what’s been going on here.”
“Of course,” he said. “Unfortunately, I don’t know how much I can help. I do have it on good authority that there’s a camp back in the Alps known as Triple Cross. A compound. A small town, maybe. It’s all hybrid cannabis, and the DEA has had it staked out for months. Very few people know about it and you’ll
have to keep this strictly to yourself. I assume they’re planning a raid—maybe tonight was the night.”
“If they did raid it, my patient could have been a casualty. Can you find out?”
“I can ask the question, but the DEA is not obligated to answer. I would have expected anyone who got away to head toward Redding. Or the Oregon border. And based on what I was led to believe—that it’s a large camp—I would have expected much more than one gunshot wound.”
June thought about this. “Then these two who came in tonight could have been involved in some infighting, perhaps.”
“Maybe. It’s a very territorial business. I’ll call the DEA from here,” he said. “Then follow you home…unless you’d like to come out to my place for the night?”
“No, I’ll be happier at home. They’re not going to give me any trouble. I think I made peace with them. I told them I’m a healer, not a cop.”
“That was kind of you….”
“Kind? That jerk had a big gun! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a revolver that size.”
“Maybe the DEA will ask you to look through some mug shots tonight, while it’s fresh in your mind.”
“Oh God, I hope not. I’m so tired.”
“Fear can take its toll….”
“Is it possible at least one of them was working undercover? The one with the gun—Jim—he didn’t seem very…I don’t know…criminal.”
“Don’t be naive. They’ve busted little old lady Sunday school teachers who have whole rooms full of indoor gardens! You’d be wise never to trust anyone with a pocketful of money that smells of freshly cut cannabis. Anyone who’s been that tight with the stuff is bound to at least have questionable relationships.”
“Well…” She paused and chewed her lip. She wasn’t going to mention the pretend fainting just yet. “I hate to sound self-righteous, but I’d never be—” She stopped herself. She was about to say she’d never be attracted to a criminal. “I’d, ah, never be as comfortable as I was with a dangerous person. Especially one with a big gun like that.” She shrugged. “I have excellent instincts.”
One corner of Tom’s thin mouth lifted, along with one finely arched eyebrow.
“Stop trying to read my mind,” she demanded.
Tom called the DEA, read them June’s description and reported the gunshot wound. He also informed them that the men tried to pay June with money that carried the distinct skunklike smell of green marijuana.
“They don’t have to see you tonight, June.”
“Good. So, did they have a raid?”
He shrugged. “I asked if there had been any arrests tonight and was told no. We have to assume we still have a major DEA drug raid in the mountains to look forward to.”
“Well, I hope no one gets killed,” she said. And meant it more deeply than she could admit.
Eleven
June didn’t have time to ponder drug busts and handsome gun-toting mystery men, for the next morning, though tired and unsettled, she had to pursue the matter of John Stone. It couldn’t wait.
As though Murphy had planned it, John Stone was standing in the corridor of the clinic when Jessica said, “June? There’s a Dr. David Fairfield on the phone for you.” Fairfield was the chief of the women’s clinic in which John had worked before getting his second residency.
He stiffened; it was unmistakable. He was facing an examining room door, paging through a patient’s chart, and June could only see his back, but she saw him freeze. It was brief, but he had definitely heard who was calling for June. He didn’t turn to look at her, but went into the examining room and closed the door. She felt a twinge of guilt for checking him out behind his back.
But why should I? she asked herself. It was her responsibility to do so! It was her duty! She shouldn’t feel the least bit guilty. So why did she? Maybe because all this checking should have been done prior to their agreement. John must wonder, and rightly so, if she planned to check his references indefinitely. Well, she was stuck now. There was nothing to do but proceed.
June sidled close to Jessica so that no one would overhear. “Jessie, I know it’s tough scheduling, but have you been able to free up Charlotte to stand in with John during his pelvic exams? Being a woman doctor, I hardly remember that he needs company.”
“Well, he remembers,” Jessica said. “I’ve had to fill in a couple of times when Charlotte was busy.”
“He’s sensitive to that?”
“Sensitive? I think it’s his strict protocol—big city doc, you know.” She smiled and whispered, “Or maybe because the women swoon over him so much. He’s extra careful, even though he pretends not to notice all the attention he gets.”
“Hmm,” June nodded. She wanted to ask, “Every single time?” But then she realized she needn’t have asked at all. It wasn’t necessary for a woman to have her feet in the stirrups to be vulnerable. Just being in a small room with a closed door could be perilous if you were with a bad person.
“I like it when he asks me to help,” Jessica said.
“Oh?”
“He explains everything so thoroughly. He gets you involved, you know?”
“But you think he’s a dork!” June whispered.
“He’s not a dork all the time,” she whispered back. “When he’s talking about medical things, he’s very thorough, very involving. It’s fun. I got to put a stitch in Bobby Randall’s cut foot. Cool,” she said, twirling away. “Ah, June? Dr. Fairfield?”
“Oh!” June skittered down the hall to her office. “Dr. Fairfield, hi,” she said, a bit too cheerily, trying to mask her nervousness about this situation. “Sorry to have kept you. It’s busy around here to—”
“Yes, I’m busy as well. What can I do for you, Dr. Hudson?” She immediately heard two things in his voice. He was an older man, perhaps Elmer’s age, and he was cold.
“I operate a clinic in Grace Valley, Dr. Fairfield, and have recently invited Dr. John Stone to see patients here. We’re a small town without an OB, and since he’s added family medicine to his credentials, I think he’s tailor-made for us. But of course I have to check his references.”
His first response was a condescending laugh. “Grace Valley? Do you have a prestigious country club there? An upscale yacht club, perhaps?”
“Why…no. Nothing even close.”
“Well, I confess I’m confused. I wouldn’t have expected John to turn up there.”
“Here?”
“In a, well, a little bend in the road without a five star resort.”
“Ah…and would you care to enlighten me, Dr. Fairfield? Explain why?”
“Oh, the Dr. Stone I knew was extremely upwardly motivated. He required a lot of attention, in the forms of money, prestige and recognition. The Fairfield Women’s Clinic suited him perfectly. Our patients are among the Bay Area’s most prominent.”
June didn’t know what to say. Not only was that contrary to what she thought she knew about John, it had nothing whatever to do with her current problem. When she’d seen John delivering Julianna Dickson’s baby she had been convinced he had the stuff of a small town doctor even though he dressed out of Gentleman’s Quarterly. He seemed fancy, yet comfortable with Grace Valley’s simplicity. She didn’t really care about his taste in restaurants; she only cared whether their ethics matched. She was only looking to dispel suspicion of improprieties in the examining room. It took her a long second to respond. “Well, that certainly doesn’t describe Grace Valley….”
“And family medicine? I would have put him in cosmetic surgery…or cardiology. Something more…visible.”
“Then you haven’t been in touch with him since he left the Fairfield Clinic?”
“Hardly. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”
“Do you mind telling me why that was?” she asked.
“It’s very simple, my dear. Dr. Stone not only wished to leave us to pursue a private practice of his own, but he also wished to sell us back the partnership we so generously gave him. At a
handsome price, naturally.”
John? Greedy? She might describe him as pretty, maybe even superficial, but greedy hadn’t come to mind.
“And his rapport with his patients?” June asked.
There was a long silence followed by a heavy sigh. “A reasonable number of people asked for him specifically. As for his ability, I’d have to say he met the requirements. Met the minimum standards.”
“You’d have to say? That doesn’t sound like a glowing recommendation.”
“Young woman, you must certainly be aware that I’m not obligated to speak to you at all, much less to cast aspersions on the name of a qualified doctor who, as far as I know, practiced adequate medicine.” Aha, June thought, there’s a doctor trying to avoid a lawsuit. “I’ll go out on a limb, however, and tell you to watch your back if you’re cutting him in for half,” Dr. Fairfield finished.
My dear and Young woman, he’d said. The man was a superior jackass. This was a waste of time; she didn’t have the least confidence in his opinion. She rested her forehead in her hand. “Is there anything else you can tell me about Dr. Stone? I assure you it will be held in the strictest confidence.”
“Yes, he’s a good golfer. Plays to a four handicap. Perhaps that will come in handy in your Grace Springs.”
“Valley,” she corrected. “Thank you so much for your time.”
He didn’t say goodbye. The phone simply went dead in her hand. She stared at it in amazement. He must be mighty secure to be so rude, she thought.
There was a tap-tap-tap and her office door opened. There stood Elmer. Her mouth was still open, the receiver still in her hand. “Your best friend just drop dead?” he asked.
She closed her mouth, replaced the phone and motioned him inside. She didn’t speak until the door was closed and Elmer sat in the chair facing her desk.
“Dad, I was trying to do a routine check of John’s references and just spoke to the head of the women’s clinic where he was a partner some years ago. Dr. Fairfield of the Fairfield Women’s Clinic.”