Читать книгу Safe Haven - Hannah Alexander - Страница 12

Taylor led the way to the clinic in his truck, checking the rearview mirror to make sure the parents of the injured child were keeping up in their own car. The damage wasn’t bad, but Dr. Allison—who preferred to be called by her first name instead of her title—would probably want to do a suture or two.

The radio buzzed at him again, and he received an updated report about the woman hunt in Branson. For some reason, authorities believed the suspect was still in town. To Taylor, that was stupid. With all the roads that led out of Branson, no murderer was going to hang around to get nabbed by the police.

Taylor switched off the radio as he parked in front of the clinic. He had more important things to take care of right now. Branson could keep its murderers.

Blaze opened the door to the fourth and last exam room. “I’ll never make fun of my patients. If I ever have any.”

Karah Lee glanced at him curiously as she stepped into the room and inhaled the familiar scent of iodine and alcohol. “You’re going to be a doctor?”

“A vet. If I can make the grades. What were you saying about your cat?” Blaze followed her inside. “Did he get hurt in the wreck?”

“He seems fine this morning, but I’d like to have a vet take a look at him.”

“You staying over at Bert’s place?”

“Bert?”

“You know, Bertie Meyer. She and Edith run the Lakeside.”

“Oh, that’s right.” A small town, where everyone knew everyone, just like Karah Lee’s hometown. “Yes, that’s where I’m staying.”

“I can run over there this morning when I get a chance and take a look at him for you. What’s his name?”

“Monster. You already take patients?” She remembered Ranger Jackson telling her about him.

“Right now I’m all Hideaway’s got. My dad was a vet, and I worked with him.”

“So where’s he?”

There was a slight hesitation, then, “He died. My mom and I don’t get along. They were divorced. That’s why I live at the boys’ ranch now.”

“Oh.” There you go, Fletcher, putting your foot in it again. “When did he die?”

“Last year.”

“Oh, man. Sorry. I lost my dad when I was just a little older than you.”

“How’d he die?” Blaze asked.

“He didn’t die. He left.”

It was Blaze’s turned to grimace, and he did it with his whole face, his thick, dark eyebrows drawing close above beautifully expressive eyes. “I think that’d be worse than having him die.”

Karah Lee nodded. “But I don’t think he’d agree.”

Blaze’s grimace lifted.

“So when can you see my cat?”

“Lunch break.”

“Karah Lee?” came her new boss’s voice. “You want to come in here a minute? I need a big, strong, brave patient.”

Karah Lee frowned at Blaze. “Patient?”

He shrugged at her. “Better do what she says. She’s a dead-on shot with pepper spray.”

“I heard that!” Cheyenne called from the other room.

Blaze grinned and rolled his eyes. “I’ll explain later,” he whispered.

After giving a report at the clinic, Taylor left the little boy and his parents in Dr. Allison’s capable care and strolled back toward his truck, glancing along the sidewalk in both directions as he stepped from the curb. He’d seen no tall woman with red hair in the waiting room, and she was nowhere on the street. No way would he ask about her at the clinic. It was no longer his business.

It wasn’t as if he wanted to run into Karah Lee—she might suspect him of stalking her.

He climbed into the Jeep and glanced toward the front doors of the general store next to the clinic. No, he would not buy another pack of cigarettes.

He was driving west on Hideaway Road, when he saw a late-model white Toyota Camry sedan parked alongside the road beneath a heavy overhang of trees. One man crouched beside the right front tire while another man was bent over, apparently searching through the trunk for something that didn’t seem to be there.

Taylor parked and got out of the truck. “Lose your jack?”

Both men looked up at him. He noticed the motor was still running. “Engine problems?”

The man stooping at the right front tire straightened and hurried around the car toward him. He wore a sleeveless white T-shirt, which revealed a tattoo of an eye on his left shoulder. “I’ll say. Thing’s been dying on us all morning, and then this.” He gestured with disgust toward the front, just as a car came speeding around the curve.

Tires squealed on blacktop as the driver caught sight of them and swerved to avoid a collision.

“You say you’ve got a jack?” Tattoo asked. “The one in the trunk’s busted, and it’s a little dangerous here on the road. Trouble is, there’s no shoulder.”

Taylor could only pray a car with a less cautious driver didn’t come barreling around the curve before they could get out of the way. “I’ll get my tools.”

Working as quickly as possible, Taylor helped the guys with their tire and had them on their way within ten minutes.

The last thing he did as the car disappeared from sight around the bend was write down their license number. It was a habit he’d picked up years ago, working the Canyon. Ordinarily, he’d have done a more thorough check immediately, but not with cars screeching around the hairpin curve at double the speed limit.

Thirty minutes later, he received a call about a stolen vehicle.

Karah Lee had her first taste of Cheyenne Allison’s bedside manner in exam room three in the presence of a frightened, screaming five-year-old boy named Jonah.

“There, now, it’ll be okay, sweetheart.” Chey’s voice settled into the room like a soothing blanket. “Let me tell you what I’m going to do. You see this big strong doctor?” She placed a hand on Karah Lee’s shoulder. “She has a bump on her head, too.”

The child and his parents turned their attention to Karah Lee, and she suppressed a groan. So much for confidentiality in this office. Hadn’t these people ever heard of government regulations?

Chey’s hand tightened on Karah Lee’s shoulder, urging her to lean forward; then, with her other hand she brushed Karah Lee’s bangs aside. The child’s eyes widened at the sight of the uncovered wound.

“Why don’t you watch how we fix her head,” Chey suggested. “Then, if she doesn’t cry, you won’t mind letting us do the same thing to you, will you?”

Like magic, Jonah’s tear faucet stopped. He studied Karah Lee with serious intensity, hiccuped, then sighed. “Does it hurt bad?”

“It did when I hit it.” Karah Lee leaned closer to him. “Want to compare? Hey, I think mine’s bigger than yours.” Truly, his injury didn’t look too deep.

From the periphery of her vision she caught sight of Cheyenne winking at the parents. Okay, this could work. Karah Lee had been mothered by manipulative medical personnel before. In fact, she tended to be that way, herself.

With the observant child watching, Cheyenne sat Karah Lee on a stool and cleaned her wound with gentle pressure. She dabbed away the excess moisture and applied a dermatological adhesive instead of sutures or bandages. Her style was a little unorthodox, but Karah Lee approved.

Ordinarily, a wound could be sutured without question up to six hours after the injury. Between six and twelve hours, closure of the wound could be questionable, and after twelve hours Karah Lee never attempted it. No one did. Even though it had been more than six hours after Karah Lee’s injury, the facial skin had a good blood supply, and this should heal quickly in spite of the delay of closure.

“All done,” Cheyenne said a moment after applying the adhesive.

Jonah’s eyes widened. He studied the repair job a moment. “Did it hurt?” he asked Karah Lee.

“I didn’t cry, did I?”

“Grown-ups never cry.”

“Well, it wasn’t as much fun as eating chocolate chip cookies, but it feels better than being socked in the nose by my sister when I was five. Can I fix your forehead now?”

“Will you stick me with a needle?”

Karah Lee glanced at the mother. “Has he ever had a tetanus shot?”

“Last year when he stepped on a piece of tin and cut his foot,” she said.

“Then I don’t think we’ll need to use a needle.” There would be no need for sutures on this one. Kids healed quickly, and Karah Lee held a minimalist approach when it came to risk of traumatization.

As she cleaned Jonah’s wound and soothed him and chatted with him about her big cat named Monster, and his dog named Bo, and her sister who was a bully, and his little brother who still wet his pants, she began to enjoy herself. Kids were so much easier to talk to than adults.

A couple of years ago, when Karah Lee was nearing the end of her first year in residency, one of the third year residents casually remarked that she shouldn’t go into pediatric medicine because her size might scare the kids. Instead of giving in to her knee-jerk desire to punch the dolt in the stomach, she’d challenged him to a duel to see who could finish up the year with the fewest crying kids. According to the nurses, Karah Lee had won by a huge margin.

“Are you done yet?” Jonah asked as Karah Lee held the skin together for the bonding agent to set.

“Can you count to a hundred?”

“Yes,” he said, as if the question were an insult.

“Let’s hear it.”

Though aware Cheyenne was watching her, Karah Lee didn’t feel uncomfortable about being observed. She’d had plenty of that in the past few years.

The staff here seemed friendly, in spite of the disparaging remark Jill had made about reckless drivers. Karah Lee had made a few comments like that, herself, from time to time. Today she was learning a valuable lesson about prejudging patients.

Cheyenne left to take a telephone call before Jonah finished counting, and the treatment ended without mishap, or more tears. As Karah Lee walked the relieved family to the waiting room, Blaze stepped to the reception window and handed Jonah a bright red balloon animal in the approximate shape of a poodle. Jonah laughed and played with the poodle while Jill talked to the uninsured parents about the fee for treatment.

Blaze tapped Karah Lee on the shoulder from behind. “Chey wants to see you in her office as soon as you’re finished.”

“I’m done.”

“Okay, but tell her to make it quick. We’ve got incoming.”

“Tell her yourself. This is my first day on the job, and I have to make a good impression on the boss.”

She found Chey sitting in her office at the desk, reading a medical chart. “You wanted to see me?”

Setting the chart aside, Cheyenne glanced up at her thoughtfully. “Close the door and have a seat.”

“I guess you have paperwork for me to fill out.” The red tape could be daunting for doctors on a new job. Licenses, permits, clearing for insurance—both professional liability and various types of coverage for patients—took up a lot of a doc’s time, and it never seemed to end.

For a moment, Cheyenne remained silent. She didn’t smile as she glanced out the front window that overlooked the broad lawn and the lake.

The silence grew uncomfortable. “Did you have a problem with the treatment I gave Jonah?” Karah Lee asked.