Chapter 14
The waiting room at Fayette’s medical practice was large and crowded. Simone sat in a chair next to the table of magazines, flipping through a stupid article about decorating beach houses. She missed her smartphone. If she had it, she could do some minor research while she was waiting. Or answer emails.
Anything to hide from the way this place made her feel.
She regretted eating breakfast. The excellent coffee and cinnamon rolls that Zade had left for her had seemed like a great idea at the time, but the happy floating hormone buzz was gone. She was back on the ground now, facing stark reality.
Reality really messed with her digestion.
The fears that had been dominating her thoughts lately were filling her head again, all the more intense after a night of relief. They were rolling right over her.
She remembered Mom’s illness with crystal clarity. Mom had tried to be brave and positive, but as time went on, she hadn’t been able to hide the fatigue, the headaches. The inner noise that got worse and worse. She’d been only a few years older than Simone was now when her symptoms began.
They had gotten worse very quickly.
The talisman flashed through her mind. She glommed right onto it, visualizing Zade’s dark eyes, which saw something in her that she’d never known was there. Something strong. A shining place in the center, where she could just be.
It kept her from panicking. The pain and buzz in her head was back, but it wasn’t as bad now that she’d learned the trick of pushing it away.
She wished Megan were there. Her friend’s quirky sense of humor would be the perfect secret weapon in a moment like this. At least she’d gotten that quick call in this morning. She hadn’t gone into much detail about her night of mad passion, since Megan had been working. Just hints, muffled laughter. Teasing. For a while, it had almost taken her mind off what she had to do this morning.
Still and all, it was lucky that Zade had gotten his last minute work call. That gave them both a plausible out. Zade was her fantasy lover. Best to keep it that way.
How well-timed that encounter had been. No matter what Dr. Fayette told her today, she had one absolutely amazing night to remember.
She smoothed the new jacket draped across her lap. She’d stopped at the mall before she came here, not about to walk into this appointment dressed in last night’s wrinkled, mud-stained rags. Dr. Fayette would conclude that her mental degeneration had already begun.
She’d picked up jeans, shoes, and a coat. Pretty underwear, too. And an aqua blue sweater of raw silk knit, soft and clingy. The brightest color she’d worn in months. She’d changed in the mall bathroom and shoved the old stuff into a wheeled container left in a corner by the cleaning crew. Her hair was braided loosely back.
All in all, presentable. But somehow different. Even without makeup, her color was high, and her eyes looked … well, just different. She couldn’t pinpoint it.
She had bruises from the mugging, and a few from romping in bed. Even just sitting there was stimulating to her sensitized lady-parts, providing a second-by-second reminder of what she’d been up to all night long. Like she needed one.
Damn. If a woman had to receive a death sentence, this was the state she should be in. Marked by a night of fabulous sex. Lips hot pink from wild kissing, eyes shadowy from sleeplessness and hot with excitement. Her breasts felt so conscious of themselves in the perky new bra. She had actual fingermarks on her ass from being held by the hips and pounded from behind by his big, thick cock.
Now she was getting all squirmy and breathless and distracted. None of the other patients in the waiting room seemed to notice, fortunately. Too busy thumbing through the dog-eared magazines and chatting with each other.
She pulled out the burner phone she’d bought at a drugstore and started struggling with the molded plastic packaging.
“Great. So I got back here in time.”
Zade’s voice. Simone looked up, shocked.
She’d already begun to rationalize away his gorgeousness. Told herself she had to be exaggerating. Embroidering the memory.
She hadn’t. Not at all.
“How did you find me?” she asked in a low voice. A few of the other women waiting perked up at the sight of him. “I didn’t tell you where I was going.”
“You mentioned the doctor’s name. I just looked him up using a super-secret laptop function modality.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. It’s called the search bar.” He slid into the seat beside her, looking windblown and pleased with himself.
Her heart thudded heavily against her ribs. “Zade, you shouldn’t be here.”
“I missed you,” he said. “I didn’t want to wait around for you to call me. In case you didn’t.” His grin carved deep, beautiful grooves into his cheeks and around his eyes.
“I would have,” she said. “But now’s a bad time. I’m, ah … not at my best.”
“You look good to me. Although that’s not why I’m here. I just want to sit with you while you wait.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a warm kiss to her knuckles. “And after, I’ll drive you home. Or take you out to buy a smartphone and then get you some lunch. Whatever you’re in the mood for. Just let me be here with you. Please.”
“Brightman?”
Simone swiveled her head. A young woman in green scrubs stood at the door to the inner offices and exam rooms, holding a medical chart against her chest.
“Okay. Here I go.”
He nodded and kissed her hand again. “Good luck.”
His smile was heart-squeezingly beautiful, and that wave of ridiculous joy scared her to death. Like she didn’t have enough to be scared of right now.
Aw, fuck it. “Come in with me,” she said, on impulse.
He got to his feet and took her hand without a word.
The medical assistant showed them into an office and settled them into two chairs which faced a huge desk. She laid a medical chart on the desk and gave them a smile. “The doctor will be with you in just a couple minutes,” she said.
When she left, Zade shifted his chair until his leg was pressed against hers. It felt warm and hard. Thrumming with vital energy.
The door opened a few moments later. A middle-aged woman sidled in, wearing a nurse’s badge pinned to flower-patterned scrubs that clashed with her messy red hair. She pushed her hair away from her face as she glanced nervously behind herself.
“Are you Simone Brightman?” Her voice sounded hushed and strangled when she turned to look at them both.
“Uh, yes,” Simone said.
The woman’s eyes darted back to the door as she took a step closer. “Listen up. I don’t have much time. I just wanted to tell you that Dr. Fayette isn’t—”
The door burst open and a tall blond woman in a lab coat bustled in, stopping short when she saw the redheaded nurse. “Can I help you with something?”
The nurse backed toward the door, flustered. “Ah, no. I was, uh, just looking for a patient’s chart,” she mumbled.
“Did you find the one you needed?” The doctor’s voice was pleasant. “There’s a stack of charts on the table by the door.”
“No. I think I have the wrong name.” The woman ducked out the door.
The doctor frowned after her, then pulled her phone out of her pocket and tapped swiftly onto it. Then she turned to them, smiling with large white teeth.
“Sorry about that,” she said, holding out her hand from Simone to shake. “I’m Dr. Kenner. You’re Ms. Brightman, I take it?” She held out her hand to Zade. “And you are … ?”
He shook it with a bland smile. “Smith,” he said. “I’m a friend.”
Dr. Kenner waited for more. Her smile wavered slightly when more was not forthcoming. She sat down at the desk and flipped open the chart.
“Is there some mistake?” Simone asked. “My appointment this morning was with Dr. Fayette.”
“Yes, I know.” Dr. Kenner’s smile dimmed. “Unfortunately, Dr. Fayette is not available. I’ll be taking his place.”
Simone’s guts clenched. So there would be more agonized waiting. “I wasn’t aware of that. I’d rather reschedule.”
“Actually, that won’t be possible,” Dr. Kenner said. “At least not with Dr. Fayette. If I may be frank, he won’t be back to this practice, I’m afraid. Or any practice.”
“But what happened to him?”
The woman’s lips pursed. “Well, I can’t say too much, but let me just ask you this. When Dr. Fayette called you about your test, did he mention the possibility of serious abnormalities?”
“Yes,” Simone admitted. “He said that the results were unusual, and that he needed to talk to me in person. He refused to discuss them on the phone. So I scheduled an appointment as soon as I could.”
“Of course,” Dr. Kenner said. “The thing is, Dr. Fayette has been—I don’t know quite how to put this—behaving oddly. You’re not the first patient who’s been called in to discuss abnormal test results. But most, like you, are in fact perfectly healthy. The only alarming news I have today is that Dr. Fayette appears to be mentally unbalanced. And he’s been frightening his patients with fabricated diagnoses.”
Simone stared at the woman, stunned. “Fabricated … ?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re saying that my test results are normal?”
“Exactly. There’s nothing wrong with you.” Dr. Kenner’s gleaming smile just wouldn’t quit.
The woman was clearly waiting for her to express her tremendous relief, but Simone didn’t. There was something she wasn’t being told. She was sure of it.
She glanced over at Zade. He met her eyes. His neutral expression didn’t reveal much. There was just a faint crease of perplexity between his brows.
But she felt the intense quality of his attention as he studied Dr. Kenner.
“Where are the test results?” Simone asked. “May I see them?”
“Not yet,” Kenner said quickly. “But soon. We don’t want to confuse you or any other patients with altered data. However, the most important part of your test was done correctly. I reviewed it myself and I can assure you that you don’t have the gene mutation that causes Frey-Moller disease.”
“That’s great,” Simone said. “It’s just that I can’t relax until I know what’s causing my symptoms.”
“I understand. Retesting you to find out more will be our top priority. Would it be possible for you to meet with me and my colleague Dr. Cheung next Friday at this time?”
“Sure, I guess. That’s fine.”
“Excellent. It’s settled, then.” Dr. Kenner got to her feet. “You don’t even have to make the appointment. I’ll talk to Dorothy at the front desk myself and set everything up for you. And we’ll waive all fees, of course.”
“Okay. Thanks,” she said, bemused.
Kenner followed them out into the corridor, shook Zade’s hand and then Simone’s, pressing it earnestly. “Once again, on behalf of all of us, I regret that this happened.”
Simone opened her mouth to make some polite reply, but a woman’s shrill, quavering voice rang out from somewhere back in the office suites.
“No! You’re not doing it to me, you son of a bitch! Don’t you dare … No! Don’t touch me! Don’t—” The words rose to a desperate shriek.
The sound choked suddenly off. Thuds and thumps followed a crashing sound.
“Excuse me, please.” Kenner took off at an urgent trot. “See you Friday!” she called back over her shoulder.
Zade gazed thoughtfully as Kenner disappeared around the corner, and grabbed Simone’s hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
They went straight out past the desk and through the waiting room to the elevator banks without breaking stride. Zade squeezed her cold hand as they stood side by side in the crowded elevator.
She couldn’t even breathe until they were back out on the street, hustling along the crowded sidewalk. Zade urged her to a quicker pace. “Come on. Walk faster. That whole thing creeped the living shit out of me.”
They half-walked, half-ran down several city blocks before Zade lifted his key fob and she heard the Jeep’s answering beep.
They got in and sat for a while in silence. She felt dazed.
“That was strange,” Simone said.
“Agreed,” he said.
“I should have asked more questions,” she said. “I can’t believe I didn’t. I was just so damned surprised. My mind went blank.”
“I don’t blame you,” Zade said.
“I met Fayette a few weeks ago,” Simone said. “He struck me as competent. Precise. Not even remotely unbalanced. And speaking of unbalanced, how about that woman screaming in the back? Do you think she was the same woman who came into the office?”
“Yes. I do.” Zade started the motor and pulled out into the street.
Simone shook her head, searching for any interpretation of the limited facts that made sense. There wasn’t one.
“She wanted to tell me something about Fayette,” she said. “Something that had to do with me. But how?”
“I don’t have explanations,” Zade said. “Just a bad feeling.”
“It’s like she was trying to warn me,” she said. “But the only thing she could be warning me against was what Kenner told me. If it wasn’t true, then it means they were putting on a show for me. But how would that be possible? That place was packed. A dozen people in the waiting room coming and going, phones ringing off the hook. Faking all that would be a huge enterprise.”
“True,” Zade said. “But maybe most of it was legit. Remember, Kenner didn’t send you back to the front desk to schedule your appointment. She said she’d take care of it herself. A little too nice of her. Doctors don’t do that.”
Simone shuddered. “This is so weird. And senseless. I was tested for a genetic disease, that’s all. I’m not trying to prove that I’m the queen of Romania. So why would they jerk me around? Why would anybody else even care?”
“I don’t know,” Zade said. “But on the bright side, I would bet you body parts that you don’t have Frey-Moller.”
She harrumphed. “Maybe not. But I definitely want a second opinion.”
“Fair enough. Just don’t go back to that place.”
She stared out the window. “I still want to talk to Fayette.”
“I know,” he said.
“Really? How?”
His lips twitched. “Telepathy. You were thinking loud thoughts. Do you have Fayette’s home number?”
“No, only his work number.”
“First name?”
“Gregory,” she said.
Zade pulled off into a parking lot and pulled a slim laptop out of his leather bag. He tapped the keys for a moment, and he passed it to her. “There. Gregory Fayette. Address, landline, cell.” He held out his smartphone.
Simone dialed the landline first. The cell phone buzzed ten times and went to voicemail. She didn’t leave a message.
She had no justification for the dread that kept building. She was haunted by the thought that someone could have actually hurt Fayette. Or that red-haired nurse. Because of her.
Her brain hurt trying to find a reason for it. Any reason at all.
“Let’s go to his house,” she said abruptly.
“Why?” Zade asked. “What can his empty house tell you?”
“Kenner told me that Fayette was lying. If Kenner was lying, maybe Fayette was telling the truth. And besides. I’m worried about him.”
“Let me go talk to him,” Zade said. “It could be dangerous.”
“I met Fayette. He sure as hell didn’t strike me as dangerous. Exactly the opposite, in fact.”
Zade made a disapproving sound, but he didn’t protest any further.
Fayette’s house wasn’t far, but midday city traffic was thick and slow. In a little over an hour, they were circling a block of Victorian houses.
Fayette’s house had a small lawn shielded with meticulously trimmed shrubs on all sides. Zade circled the block and parked some distance away under concealing trees.
She rang the doorbell, not surprised when no one answered. A peek through the glass panes in the door and then through the bay window revealed a foyer with a staircase, a corridor opening onto the dining room, a kitchen in the back. The place was sparsely furnished. Classic antiques. No clutter, no sign of family life.
Simone hit the doorbell again. A long, insistent buzz.
“Let’s go check out the back door,” she said.
Zade preceded her through the gate in a wrought iron fence. They followed a walkway that skirted the house, wending through a neatly tended garden. They climbed onto a covered back porch and peered through the glass panes in the door at a mudroom, and beyond that into the kitchen. The door between it and the mudroom was ajar.
Simone gasped. There were two shiny black shoes resting on the threshold. Toes up and sagging outward.
Someone was lying on the kitchen floor.