Richard Mabry - Code Blue

Dora nodded. "Yes, we know it was Ella Mae Mercer."

Cathy chewed a mouthful of lasagna and followed it with a swallow of cold milk. Wonderful. "To answer your question, I don't know what any of us can do. I'll ask a psychiatrist to evaluate her. When people try to commit suicide, it's generally a cry for help. Maybe he can find out what triggered this."

"Would it be all right if Matthew and I went by to see her? After you feel she's up to it, of course."

Cathy's answer came out without conscious thought."Why?"

"Because we care about our neighbors, just like Jesus taught us to. And sometimes praying for them isn't enough. Sometimes it's necessary to put hands and feet to those prayers. Maybe we can do something for her. But we'll never know unless we ask."

Cathy started to speak, then changed her mind and took a bite of bread so she'd have time to think. She'd been content to dump the problem into the lap of a psychiatrist. The Kennedys were willing to get involved themselves.

"Please don't take this the wrong way," Cathy said, "but I have to ask. When you see tragedies, you don't seem to shy away from them. And you don't get angry with God when they happen. I can't understand it."

Dora went to the coffee maker and refilled her cup. She held up the pot with a questioning look and Cathy nodded. She wasn't about to sleep anytime soon.

After handing Cathy a cup, Dora settled back at the table."We've had our troubles. You were too young to remember, but Will had an older sister. She died when she was a baby. Nowadays they would have called it SIDS or crib death or something. Back then, it was just 'the will of God.' It broke our hearts."

Cathy felt a tug at her own heartstrings. "How terrible."

"Yes, it was. But it wasn't God's fault. And we came through it, with His help." Dora stood and put her cup in the sink. She took Cathy's dishes from her and did the same. Then she looked into Cathy's eyes and said, "God didn't kill your parents. God didn't make Ella Mae try to commit suicide. And God didn't break your heart. He doesn't cause bad things to happen. But, when they do, He's here to comfort us. Learn to lean on Him. Don't give up on God. He hasn't given up on you."

Cathy hurried into her office and closed the door behind her.

"Sheriff, I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Busy morning."She leaned across the desk to shake hands with the man, sitting in the patient chair before easing into her own. "What do you have for me?"

J. C. Dunaway waved away Cathy's apology and opened the large manila envelope he held. "There are sixty or so Ford Expeditions in Summers County, and most of them are black. I brought you the list. Take some time to go over it and see if any of these are folks that might be out to do you harm." He handed her two sheets of paper.

"I really appreciate this. I'll have to look at it later, though. Then I'll give you a call."

Dunaway took his Stetson offhis knee, where it had been resting. "Glad to help. Now I don't want you to think we'll haul in everyone who owns a black Ford Expedition, put them under a bright light, and try to wring a confession out of them." He gave a wry grin. "Can't do that. But we will keep looking into it. I don't suppose you've had any more run-ins with that vehicle?"

Cathy thought of the near miss in Will's pickup. He'd thought it was probably just a speeding driver caught by a short yellow light. She shook her head. "No, but if I do I'll call your department right away. I drive with my cell phone on the seat right beside me now."

A disturbing thought flashed through Cathy's mind. There'd been no appearances of the mysterious black SUV since Ella Mae was hospitalized. Was hers one of the names on that list of owners? She couldn't help but sneak a peek, then felt a chill when she saw the name at the bottom of the first page: Ella Mae Mercer.

Cathy rose and Dunaway followed suit. She walked him to the door, ignoring the stares of patients in the waiting room, who were obviously curious about what business the Sheriffof Summers County could possibly have with their doctor.

Cathy turned around and started toward the exam room where her next patient waited, but Jane stopped her outside the door. "Will Kennedy wants you to call him when you have a break."

"I'm busy until this afternoon. Did you tell him that?"

"Yep, and he just said, 'Please ask her to call me when she can. It's not urgent, but I need to speak with her before the end of the day.' So I'm telling you."

As it turned out, thanks to a fortunate combination of patients with simple problems and the combined efficiency of doctor and nurse, at ten minutes after twelve, Cathy and Jane looked out on an empty waiting room.

Cathy patted her nurse on the shoulder. "Thanks. That went well."

"I guess we're a pretty good team. Would you like to go with me to the Dairy Queen for a chicken sandwich?"

"No, thanks," Cathy said. "I think I'll have a Power Bar here at my desk while I return some of these phone calls. See you at one."

Cathy shuffled through the half-dozen pink slips, glancing at the names and messages, automatically placing them in what she considered their order of importance. The bottom slip simply had a notation: Call Will Kennedy. That call was probably as important as any of them, but she wanted to be able to take her time with it. She set that one aside.

Twenty minutes later, she had answered the questions of two patients and made office appointments for two more. Then she dialed Will's private number. It was noon and she didn't expect to catch him in, but maybe she could leave a message. Lately, they seemed to play a lot of phone tag.

"Will Kennedy."

His voice brought her out of her reverie. "Will, this is Cathy. What's so important?"

"You are." He laughed. "At least, that's my opinion. I think it's time you and I had a quiet dinner, not an attorney-client meeting, just a social occasion. I propose that you break free from that antiseptic-scented prison of an office at a reasonable time tonight. We can have an early dinner, then see if there are any movies worth seeing."

"But-"

"No buts. I've even spoken with my mother, and she promises not to wait up with the porch light on. That way I can have some privacy when I walk my girl to the door."

Cathy did some quick mental calculations. She should be finished in the office sometime after five. She'd seen Ella Mae this morning, but she decided she'd pop in again this evening to make sure her patient was okay.

"Are you still there?" Will asked.

"Sorry, just thinking. I guess I can get away. Why don't I meet you somewhere at six thirty?"

"RJ's at six thirty it is. Be there-"

"Or be square." Cathy laughed and hung up. It felt as though she were a senior in high school again. And it felt good.

"Nice meal." Cathy dabbed at her lips, then folded her napkin and tucked it under the edge of her plate.

"That's because of the company," Will said. He lifted his cup in a toast, and Cathy responded in kind.

They sipped their coffee in silence, until Cathy turned serious. "I know we promised not to talk business tonight, but you need to know about the letter I received from the bank."

"What letter?"

Cathy explained about the bank's demand.

Will frowned. "You just got this yesterday? Why so little notice?"

"They said they'd tried to mail it but had the address wrong. They can't seem to get anything right there. I'm wondering… Oh, never mind." Cathy shook her head. "Will, can they do this? Make me pay early?"

"Unfortunately, they can. I haven't seen the note, but I'm betting there's language that allows them to call it or alter the terms if they think their investment is at risk." Will leaned forward and took her hand in his. "Can you raise the money?"