Page 78 of The Locked Door

“Right,” I murmur. Although I can’t help but think with everything going on with me, even losing a patient for something that has absolutely nothing to do with me or the surgery they had is not a good thing.

Mrs. Kellogg shakes my hand and then at the last second pulls me in for a hug. Even though she denied it when I asked her the question, I never believed her husband wasn’t the one who gave her that black eye. I bet she’s glad he’s gone.

I approach the desk of the clinic, where Harper is immersed in a phone call. Her eyes dart up when she sees me, and she flashes me a concerned look. As soon as she gets off the phone, she stands up.

“Dr. Davis, are you all right?”

I force a smile. “Yes, I’m fine now. It was just a twenty-four-hour bug.”

Her brows knit together and she picks up a Tupperware container filled with amber liquid and stringy noodles. “I made you chicken noodle soup…”

“Thanks, but I’m fine. Really.” I hesitate, wanting to ask her something but not sure if I should. “Hey, Harper, are you able to search the list of patients?”

“Of course I can.”

“By what parameters?”

She grabs her mouse and clicks on the screen. “Whatever you want. Name, medical record number…”

“Can you search based on age?”

She purses her lips. “Age?”

“Like…” I wipe my suddenly sweaty hands on my scrub pants. “Can you search for, say, all female patients under age thirty?”

“Yes.” Harper gives me a curious look. “I think so. Why?”

Because two of my female patients under age thirty have been murdered in the last two weeks. And I’m scared that this isn’t the end.

Most of my patients are older. My list of young female patients can’t possibly be very long. If I called each of them and somehow… I don’t know. I suppose I would seem insane if I warned them that their lives could be in danger. That’s the sort of behavior that could end up costing me my license. I could try to give the list to Detective Barber, but that would be a privacy violation. So really, there’s not much I could do with that list.

“Never mind,” I mumble.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Dr. Davis?”

“Fine. Just peachy.”

I hurry off, grudgingly accepting Harper’s soup and stashing it away in the refrigerator, just to make her happy. Before I can make it to the examining room, Sheila nabs me in the hallway. She links her arm into mine and gives me a stern look. “Nora,” she says. “Are you okay?”

“Oh my God,” I groan. “It was just a little stomach bug. I’m fine.”

She looks me straight in the eyes. “Philip said you’re having legal problems.”

My right hand clenches into a fist. “Hetoldyou that?”

She nods. “He’s just worried about you.”

“But it wasn’t his place to tell everyone.” My cheeks burn. “Anyway, it’s not true.”

She arches an eyebrow.

“It’s not!” Or at least, I won’t have legal problems unless somebody discovers the remnants of blood on the floor of my basement. Then I might be in a bit of trouble. “Trust me. Everything is fine. It’s just been a rough week.”

“All right,” Sheila says. “But there’s something else I better warn you about. Ever since Sonny bit the dust, Harper and Philip have been getting pretty cozy.”

I wince. “Great.”

“I talked to him about it, and he feigned innocence, but I don’t buy it. He’s definitely hitting on her.”