Detective Turner instructed the deputy to seal the pharmacy area with crime scene tape. “I’ll be back in the morning to talk with your staff,” he told Jordan. “Meanwhile, make a list of your enemies, people who might want to cause you or your business harm. If Ms. Morelli hadn’t been attacked this would be a low priority crime, since so little was taken. Assault ramps this up from a misdemeanor B&E to a felony.”
Jordan followed Turner and the deputy to the door and locked up.
After ushering them out, he headed straight to his car. He should have grabbed a jacket, he thought. In the high country, late summer nights in September were chill. He ignored his discomfort and headed to the medical facility to make certain Kat was receiving skilled care. She’d been a spunky adversary when she’d challenged him. He hoped this episode wouldn’t damage her spirit and send her rushing back to wherever she’d come from. As petite as she was, she might have been seriously injured.
The waiting room was empty when he arrived. He learned Kat was in an exam room and he knew, since he wasn’t family, he wouldn’t be allowed to join her unless she asked for him.
“Who is treating her?” he demanded impatiently, “Scott Petersen or Mike Larsen?”
Both men had grown up with Jordan in the small town of Spruce Creek. All three had gone to the town’s single high school. Scott had been in Jordan’s older sister’s class and had dated her briefly in their junior year. Mike had been a year behind Jordan, but they’d played varsity baseball together. After finishing their residencies, all three men had returned home to practice medicine for people or animals. They weren’t bosom buddies – Jordan didn’t have close friends – but they were well acquainted. Jordan hoped Scott was on call. He believed Petersen to be more experienced, given his five years seniority.
The receptionist gave Jordan a frosty stare. “Dr. Petersen is on rotation tonight.”
“I want to talk to him as soon as he is available.”
“And you are . . . ?” she asked pointedly.
“Tell him Jordan Walker wants to talk to him. I’m Ms. Morelli’s employer, and she was injured on my premises.”
Without pausing for a response, Jordan turned his back on the woman and strode across the waiting room. The walls had been painted an institutional green. Various medical posters were tacked about randomly—warnings concerning AIDS and HIV, posters declaring the community medical center to be a safe-haven for unwanted babies, and other notices questioning if someone was being hurt by a family member or friend. The waiting room furniture looked as uncomfortable as he knew his own visitor chairs to be.
He stood at the windows looking out to the parking lot wondering why he was even here. He knew the small facility was equipped to handle most minor medical emergencies. Major injuries and cardiac cases would be stabilized and medevaced down the mountain to the big-city hospital, but Kat’s injury didn’t appear life threatening. He would talk to Petersen, and then he’d go home. As Jordan started to pace, Dr. Scott Petersen emerged from the treatment area. “Hello, Walker, what brings you here?”
“My SUV.”
“Still a smart ass, I see.”
“Seriously, your patient, Kat Morelli, is my employee. She was attacked at my clinic this evening. I want to make certain she’s going to be okay.”
“Is this concern for her as a person? Or are you afraid she’s going to sue you?”
Jordan heard the dislike in Petersen’s voice, but he didn’t care about his opinion as long as he treated Kat well. “I’m concerned about Kat as a person. I’m not quite the bastard you think I am.”
“In that case, since you know I can’t disclose personal medical information to you, why don’t you come back into the treatment area and speak with Ms. Morelli—if she’s willing, that is.”
Jordan followed Petersen through the door into the treatment area. The buzz of equipment and the ping of monitors emphasized this was not a restful place. Petersen stopped in front of a canvas curtain which covered the entry into a treatment space. “Ms. Morelli, your boss is here to check up on you. Do you wish to see him?”
“Dr. Walker’s here? Oh yes, please.” At that, Petersen pulled the curtain open. “She’s been sedated, so don’t stay too long and don’t get her agitated.” He moved away from the cubicle, giving them a semblance of privacy.
Jordan was appalled by the purple bruise he saw developing around Kat’s eye and along her jaw. There was a small wound above her hairline which seeped blood. He controlled his expression, not wanting her to know just how ugly her wounds appeared. She might think him unfeeling, but he didn’t intend to reinforce her opinion by blurting out unpleasant truths.
Jordan took another step into the small treatment cubicle. Taking her hand, he again felt the spark between them. “How do you feel?”
“My head still hurts, and Dr. Petersen says I have a concussion. He wants to keep me overnight for observation,” she replied sleepily.
“Well, then, you’ll stay.” Jordan spoke softly. “If you give Petersen permission, he can tell me how you’re doing when I phone to check on you in the morning. When he releases you, we’ll make certain you get home. You won’t come back to work until he says you may.”
“Dr. Walker, I haven’t been working long enough for my health insurance to take effect. I can’t afford to stay in a hospital, and I can’t afford to miss work.”
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “The clinic will pay for your medical expenses, and you’ll receive your full salary while you’re at home recuperating.”
Jordan turned to see Petersen standing at the nurse’s station making entries into a computer— probably treatment notes. “Scott, please see that all Ms. Morelli’s medical bills are sent to my clinic. We’ll pay all expenses associated with this incident. Oh, and let me know when she’s to be released.”
Petersen turned to Kat. “Is this acceptable to you, Ms. Morelli?”
“Yes, Dr. Petersen,” she said, swallowing a yawn. “Please give Dr. Walker any information he requests.”
“Can he take your wallet and keys for safe keeping? He can leave your personal items, but we prefer not have patient valuables on site,” Petersen continued.
Kat barely nodded her permission. “Dr. Walker, I apologize for all the trouble I’ve caused.”
Jordan looked at her pixie face. She was so pale, her freckles looked like grains of sand scattered across her nose. She had a peculiar appeal which tugged at heart strings he didn’t know he possessed. “You haven’t caused any problems, Kat. The burglar is entirely responsible.” After accepting her keys and wallet, Jordan again took Kat’s hand and squeezed gently. “I’ll leave now and let you get some rest. Do you want me to contact your family?”
“Oh, no, please don’t,” Kat said in a panicked voice. She looked seriously distressed at the idea he might alert her family to her injuries.
Remembering Petersen’s instructions and not wanting to cause her any more strife, he acquiesced. “As you wish. I’ll see you tomorrow, either to take you home or to check on you.”
“Good night, Dr. Walker. Thank you for coming.” A smile touched her lips as her glacier-colored blue eyes drifted shut.
Jordan knew now why he had come to the hospital. He’d come for her smile.
Jordan followed Turner and the deputy to the door and locked up.
After ushering them out, he headed straight to his car. He should have grabbed a jacket, he thought. In the high country, late summer nights in September were chill. He ignored his discomfort and headed to the medical facility to make certain Kat was receiving skilled care. She’d been a spunky adversary when she’d challenged him. He hoped this episode wouldn’t damage her spirit and send her rushing back to wherever she’d come from. As petite as she was, she might have been seriously injured.
The waiting room was empty when he arrived. He learned Kat was in an exam room and he knew, since he wasn’t family, he wouldn’t be allowed to join her unless she asked for him.
“Who is treating her?” he demanded impatiently, “Scott Petersen or Mike Larsen?”
Both men had grown up with Jordan in the small town of Spruce Creek. All three had gone to the town’s single high school. Scott had been in Jordan’s older sister’s class and had dated her briefly in their junior year. Mike had been a year behind Jordan, but they’d played varsity baseball together. After finishing their residencies, all three men had returned home to practice medicine for people or animals. They weren’t bosom buddies – Jordan didn’t have close friends – but they were well acquainted. Jordan hoped Scott was on call. He believed Petersen to be more experienced, given his five years seniority.
The receptionist gave Jordan a frosty stare. “Dr. Petersen is on rotation tonight.”
“I want to talk to him as soon as he is available.”
“And you are . . . ?” she asked pointedly.
“Tell him Jordan Walker wants to talk to him. I’m Ms. Morelli’s employer, and she was injured on my premises.”
Without pausing for a response, Jordan turned his back on the woman and strode across the waiting room. The walls had been painted an institutional green. Various medical posters were tacked about randomly—warnings concerning AIDS and HIV, posters declaring the community medical center to be a safe-haven for unwanted babies, and other notices questioning if someone was being hurt by a family member or friend. The waiting room furniture looked as uncomfortable as he knew his own visitor chairs to be.
He stood at the windows looking out to the parking lot wondering why he was even here. He knew the small facility was equipped to handle most minor medical emergencies. Major injuries and cardiac cases would be stabilized and medevaced down the mountain to the big-city hospital, but Kat’s injury didn’t appear life threatening. He would talk to Petersen, and then he’d go home. As Jordan started to pace, Dr. Scott Petersen emerged from the treatment area. “Hello, Walker, what brings you here?”
“My SUV.”
“Still a smart ass, I see.”
“Seriously, your patient, Kat Morelli, is my employee. She was attacked at my clinic this evening. I want to make certain she’s going to be okay.”
“Is this concern for her as a person? Or are you afraid she’s going to sue you?”
Jordan heard the dislike in Petersen’s voice, but he didn’t care about his opinion as long as he treated Kat well. “I’m concerned about Kat as a person. I’m not quite the bastard you think I am.”
“In that case, since you know I can’t disclose personal medical information to you, why don’t you come back into the treatment area and speak with Ms. Morelli—if she’s willing, that is.”
Jordan followed Petersen through the door into the treatment area. The buzz of equipment and the ping of monitors emphasized this was not a restful place. Petersen stopped in front of a canvas curtain which covered the entry into a treatment space. “Ms. Morelli, your boss is here to check up on you. Do you wish to see him?”
“Dr. Walker’s here? Oh yes, please.” At that, Petersen pulled the curtain open. “She’s been sedated, so don’t stay too long and don’t get her agitated.” He moved away from the cubicle, giving them a semblance of privacy.
Jordan was appalled by the purple bruise he saw developing around Kat’s eye and along her jaw. There was a small wound above her hairline which seeped blood. He controlled his expression, not wanting her to know just how ugly her wounds appeared. She might think him unfeeling, but he didn’t intend to reinforce her opinion by blurting out unpleasant truths.
Jordan took another step into the small treatment cubicle. Taking her hand, he again felt the spark between them. “How do you feel?”
“My head still hurts, and Dr. Petersen says I have a concussion. He wants to keep me overnight for observation,” she replied sleepily.
“Well, then, you’ll stay.” Jordan spoke softly. “If you give Petersen permission, he can tell me how you’re doing when I phone to check on you in the morning. When he releases you, we’ll make certain you get home. You won’t come back to work until he says you may.”
“Dr. Walker, I haven’t been working long enough for my health insurance to take effect. I can’t afford to stay in a hospital, and I can’t afford to miss work.”
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “The clinic will pay for your medical expenses, and you’ll receive your full salary while you’re at home recuperating.”
Jordan turned to see Petersen standing at the nurse’s station making entries into a computer— probably treatment notes. “Scott, please see that all Ms. Morelli’s medical bills are sent to my clinic. We’ll pay all expenses associated with this incident. Oh, and let me know when she’s to be released.”
Petersen turned to Kat. “Is this acceptable to you, Ms. Morelli?”
“Yes, Dr. Petersen,” she said, swallowing a yawn. “Please give Dr. Walker any information he requests.”
“Can he take your wallet and keys for safe keeping? He can leave your personal items, but we prefer not have patient valuables on site,” Petersen continued.
Kat barely nodded her permission. “Dr. Walker, I apologize for all the trouble I’ve caused.”
Jordan looked at her pixie face. She was so pale, her freckles looked like grains of sand scattered across her nose. She had a peculiar appeal which tugged at heart strings he didn’t know he possessed. “You haven’t caused any problems, Kat. The burglar is entirely responsible.” After accepting her keys and wallet, Jordan again took Kat’s hand and squeezed gently. “I’ll leave now and let you get some rest. Do you want me to contact your family?”
“Oh, no, please don’t,” Kat said in a panicked voice. She looked seriously distressed at the idea he might alert her family to her injuries.
Remembering Petersen’s instructions and not wanting to cause her any more strife, he acquiesced. “As you wish. I’ll see you tomorrow, either to take you home or to check on you.”
“Good night, Dr. Walker. Thank you for coming.” A smile touched her lips as her glacier-colored blue eyes drifted shut.
Jordan knew now why he had come to the hospital. He’d come for her smile.