Читать книгу Out Of Time - Cliff Ryder - Страница 15

Brin awoke the next morning to Savannah’s sweet face. Somehow, she had crawled into bed with her mommy, laying her head on the pillow where Alex usually slept and staring at her mother until she woke up—another thing Alex did. Brin’s eyes snapped open and a small gasp escaped her lips. That first glimpse of Savannah’s eyes made her think, just for a second, that Alex had somehow returned to her. Stupid. He was never gone less than five days, and quite often it was several weeks or more.

“Good morning, baby.” She kissed the tip of the girl’s nose. “And what are you doing out of your bed?”

“I have to go potty.”

There was urgency in that last, a little fear, as well.

“Let’s go, then.”

Brin threw back the covers and grabbed the girl, hurrying down the hall toward the bathroom. No telling how long it had been since that urge first hit. No telling how long the girl could hold out. She tugged her daughter’s pants down and placed her gently on the potty seat, then turned to take care of her own needs. Before she could even get the lid up, the phone rang, echoing down the hall and making Brin’s head hurt a bit.

“Who the hell would call at this hour?” She glanced at the clock in the living room and realized that it was past nine.

“Hello?” she mumbled, the phone halfway to her ear.

“This is Woodard’s Pharmacy. We have a prescription ready for Alex Tempest.”

Brin spent a long moment furrowing her brow instead of speaking. “Uh, okay. I didn’t know he needed a prescription filled. As far as I was aware—never mind. I’ll be down in a few hours to pick it up for him, if that’s all right.”

“That’ll be fine, Mrs. Tempest. Thank you.”

“Goodbye.”

Down the hall, Savannah had sounded the “I’m done” alarm. Brin hurried down the hall to help her.

“You go sit in the living room. Mommy will be there in a minute to get your juice. I just have to go potty first.” She pecked the top of Savannah’s head and shooed her out the door.

Was Alex sick? She didn’t remember his mentioning anything about a doctor or medicine. She wasn’t even aware that he hadn’t been feeling well. Suddenly, she felt like the worst wife in the world.

Savannah’s juice chant made her finish in a hurry. The next hour would be filled with getting ready and feeding Savannah her breakfast. No time to wonder what, if anything, was wrong with Alex. Savannah was cute and sweet and it truly was a blessing to be her mom. At the moment, the girl was a godsend. If not for her daughter, Brin would just sit around and worry all weekend.

After they finished breakfast, cleaned up the kitchen and went through the complex rituals involved in dressing Savannah for the day, Brin threw on her own clothes and they piled into the SUV. She had the usual shopping to do for the week. But first she had to stop at the pharmacy.

When Alex and Brin had first moved to the neighborhood, Woodard’s Pharmacy was the only one for ten miles. There were several more now, of course. But they continued to use Woodard’s out of loyalty and comfort. There were things in that pharmacy that you couldn’t find anywhere else, like a dollar ice cream cone and a pharmacist who kept track of all your medicines and knew when not to give you one pill with another. They also sent cards on your birthday. That kind of dedication and caring just couldn’t be bought.

They were no sooner through the front door of Woodard’s than Savannah was running full-tilt toward the ice cream counter. They also had squished cheese sandwiches there, which made Savannah squeal with delight.

“Savannah, no, honey. We’ll have ice cream after I get Daddy’s medicine, okay?” The day was hot and the ice cream would taste so good, but first things first.

“Aaaawwww!” There was a tiny foot stamp to punctuate her disappointment, but no tantrum followed. Her terrible twos hadn’t been too terrible—so far. Brin took her daughter’s hand and led her to the prescription counter, where she was met by a young woman with a head full of thick red hair and the brightest green eyes Brin had ever seen. As many times as she’d been in the place, she’d never seen the girl before. For some reason the change in personnel felt like a betrayal.

“Hello, I’m Mrs. Tempest. You called earlier about my husband’s prescription?” She felt Savannah lean against her leg and knew that all was well.

“Please give me your husband’s full name and address.”

“Alex Tempest. One-thirty-four Brickle Lane.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tempest.” The young lady sorted through the waiting prescriptions and pulled out the proper bag. She held the bag out to Brin with one hand and worked the cash register with the other. “That’ll be thirty-eight dollars, please.”

Brin swiped her debit card and keyed in her PIN number. Once the transaction had gone through, the young lady handed her the receipt with a smile. “Thank you for shopping at Woodard’s and come again.”

Brin turned and walked toward the ice cream counter, Savannah hurrying to run around her and get there first. Brin bought them each an ice cream—Brin’s in a cone, Savannah’s in a cup. Then they sat down in their favorite booth, right next to the candy counter, and dug in.

Brin took the amber pill bottle out of the bag and squinted at the label. Klonopin. It was used to treat seizures; that much she knew. What she didn’t know was why Alex would be taking it. The doctor’s name didn’t ring a bell, either. For as long as she had known him, Alex had never had a regular physician, nor had he gone to a doctor unless he was genuinely in pain. There was just that one time, when he had had pneumonia so bad that walking across the room brought on a five-minute coughing fit.

“Savannah, baby, you sit right here for a sec, okay? Mommy has to go back and talk to the medicine lady again.”

Brin slid out of the seat and hurried back to the prescription counter. “Excuse me,” she said to the young woman behind the counter. “I was wondering if you knew anything about the doctor who prescribed this?”

The woman took the bottle and read the label. “Just a moment, please.” She went back into the pharmacy and typed something into the computer, then returned with a piece of paper. “I’m afraid this is the only prescription we’ve ever filled for this particular doctor.”

“Well, what kind of doctor is he? I mean, is his office nearby?” Brin frowned and then bit into her lower lip.

“According to the physicians’ database, he’s a neurologist. Here. I’ve written down his address and phone number in case you need to contact him about your husband’s medication.”

Brin took the piece of paper and studied the address written on it. It was only a mile away from her lab, but she couldn’t picture the building it was in. “And you’re sure he’s a neurologist?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s what his license says.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Brin turned and walked slowly back to Savannah, the paper clutched in one hand and a dripping ice cream cone in the other. Savannah was coated in ice cream, and Brin took a moment to clean the girl’s face, still distracted by the medicine bag next to her on the seat. Why the hell was Alex seeing a neurologist? More importantly, why was he keeping it from her?

Whatever was going on, she was damned sure going to talk to this doctor first thing Monday morning. As soon as Alex came home, she was going to have a little chat with him, too.