Richard Mabry - Code Blue

Cathy turned on the porch light, looked through the peephole, and saw her landlady standing on the tiny porch with a pie in her hands. "Mrs. Elam?" Cathy swung the door wide. "Come in. What brings you up here?"

"I saw Will's car outside and figured that you two might enjoy some hot apple pie."

Cathy glanced at Will, who seemed quite content to let her handle this conversation. "Why, thank you." Cathy's cheeks grew hot. "We were just working on some legal matters. But I know that pie would go well with this coffee. Would you like to sit down and have some with us?"

"Gracious no, child. If I ate everything I cooked, I'd weigh three hundred pounds. And I was sorry to hear about that malpractice suit that Milton and Gail Nix filed. They should be grateful that you saved his life, instead of suing you for that wrong prescription."

Cathy threw up her hands. "Is there anything in this town that you don't know?"

"Don't worry, hon. I hear it all, but I don't spread it around."Mrs. Elam set the pie down on the table next to Will's page of notes. With no apparent shame, she took a moment to run her eyes down the list. "I see that you've made the connection between Gail Nix and Lloyd Allen."

Cathy frowned. "Not really. What do you mean?"

"Wasn't Lloyd a couple of years ahead of you in high school?"

"Actually, three years," Cathy said. "What about it?"

"So his sister would already have graduated when you started high school."

"That's right. I vaguely remember her. Linda Allen."

Mrs. Elam smiled as though the dull child had finally solved the math problem. "Right. She was Linda Gail Allen then. She didn't start using her middle name until she went offto college. Then she came back to Dainger and married Milton Nix."

Cathy turned to Will and their eyes met. She could see him working through the connection along with her. The situation had either gotten a lot more complicated or a lot simpler. She wasn't sure which.

"This is Dr. Cathy Sewell. Is the sheriffavailable?" Cathy drummed her fingers on her desk as she suffered through the Summers County version of elevator music when the operator put her on hold. It was a country and western song that brought to mind Cathy's mental image of a Texas lawman: face the color and texture of a walnut, a chaw of tobacco in his cheek, gunbelt cinched below a gut that spilled over the waist of his jeans. She wasn't sure he could help her, but she had to try.

"This is SheriffJ. C. Dunaway. How can I help you?"

She leaned forward as though she could convey her intensity through her posture. "Sheriff, several weeks ago a black SUV ran me offthe road, totaling my car and almost killing me. Since then, I've had more than one near-miss encounter with a similar vehicle. Yesterday, it came out of a side street and almost T-boned me. I managed to avoid it, but I crashed into a curb and blew out a tire. I want to know what you're doing to find out who's behind this."

"Hold on for a minute." She heard muffled voices. "My secretary's getting me the files. Meanwhile, can you fill in some of the details for me?"

Cathy ran through each of the episodes, her mood alternating between anger and spine-chilling fear as she realized once more how close she'd come to being injured or killed.

There was a rustle of paper from the other end of the line."Doctor, I only find one report. That was from your original accident. The deputy who responded reports that he cruised the roads in the vicinity but never saw the suspect vehicle. Did you report your accident yesterday?"

She let her shoulders sag, all the starch suddenly gone from her. "No. I was so upset I didn't even think about it. I knew there was something else I should do, but frankly I was so rattled I hardly knew my own name. I reported it to my insurance agent-and now I remember that I haven't given him the details I promised either. Once the tow truck driver showed up, I just wanted to get away before something else happened to me."

"Let me get more information from you, and I'll ask the deputies to keep an eye out for this vehicle. If you see it in the future, call us immediately."

By the time Cathy finished admitting that she had no idea of the make, model, or year of the SUV in question, she felt utterly stupid. "It was big and black. The windshield was tinted so heavily that I never got a look at the driver. And, no, I don't recall the license number. I think it was a Texas plate, though."

The sheriff' s sigh sounded like a gust of wind in her ear."I'll bet the most common vehicles in this county, aside from white pickups, are black or dark blue SUVs. Why don't I get some pictures of various makes and models of SUVs and drop by your office tomorrow afternoon? Maybe we can pin this down a bit."

Cathy hung up, wondering what the man behind the badge looked like. More importantly, would he be able to help her?

When you finish, Dr. Bell wants you to call him." Jane handed

Cathy a pink slip along with the chart of the next patient.

Cathy paused a moment to wonder what Marcus might want. To tell her that the credentials committee members had changed their minds and were granting the extended privileges she'd requested? Not likely. To advise her that they were putting her on supervised probation for going beyond the scope of her privileges? More likely, although she thought she'd done a pretty good job of going right up to the line before turning her patients over to the appropriate specialists. Oh, well, it could wait. She had one more patient to see.

Today, Ella Mae Mercer looked every bit the model of a bank vice president in her tailored navy suit and white blouse, accented by a designer scarf. Cathy bet the scarf alone cost as much as she spent on clothes in a month. The faintly tinted lenses of Ella Mae's glasses-different frames this time-made it hard to read the woman's expression. Cathy wondered if she had several pairs to match her outfits.

"I'll bet you thought I wouldn't be back." The mild sarcasm of the words was tempered by the apparent sincerity on Ella Mae's face.

"I hoped you would," Cathy said. "How are you doing now?"

"Still stressed to death, but handling it better, thanks to the pills you were kind enough to renew. And, since you didn't want to continue the prescription without knowing my medical status, I'm back for all the testing, poking, and prodding you want to carry out, so long as it keeps the medicine coming while I need it."

"Fair enough. If you'll get undressed and put on that gown hanging behind the door, I'll be right back to check you over. Meanwhile, I want to review the new patient checklist you completed on your last visit."

Most of the information on Ella Mae's history form was unremarkable. Cathy found one thing that grabbed her attention, though. The date Ella Mae Mercer listed as the last time she'd consulted a doctor was a week before the car crash that killed Cathy's parents. She hadn't given the doctor's name, but Cathy knew it was her dad from the name on the pill bottles. The reason for the visit was left blank.

Why had her father treated Ella Mae? And why had he prescribed a tranquilizer for the woman? Cathy remembered her dad talking on the phone at home, calls where he frequently said, "I'm a surgeon. You'll have to see your family doctor if you want those. I don't give that kind of medication."One of his favorite expressions had been, "If there's a problem, I cut it out. Then, once the incision's healed, I move on to the next patient. Let the internists and GPs handle all the rest."

For the next half hour, Cathy "poked and probed," as Ella Mae had called it. The woman seemed in excellent physical shape. Finally, Cathy shoved her stethoscope into the pocket of her white coat and stepped away from the exam table."Jane will draw some blood for routine baseline studies, and I'll let you know if anything turns up there. Right now, I'd say you're pretty healthy."