Playing Doctor (Bandit Creek Books) (2 page)

Abby shrugged. “Either that or the torch gets passed from one bum to another.”

“Interesting.”

“I think you mean creepy.”

“Yeah that.”

She walked into the clinic with Smitty on her heels. “Are you planning on following me around all day?”

“Pretty much.”

His blasé answer triggered alarm bells in her head. She turned slowly to regard him. “Why would that be?”

“Oh come on, we’ve been friends for a while now.”

“So. This is the first time you’ve come to see me since we got back from A-stan. Why now?”

He sighed. “Okay, I’m just going to tell you, but I want you to remember this was not my idea. I was asked.”

“You were asked to do what?”

“Keep you out of trouble.”

“Excuse me?”

“The town of
Bandit
Creek has hired me to keep you out of trouble.” He put air quotes around keep you out of trouble.

“The town hired you to babysit me?”

“Yep.”

“Over my dead body.”

Chapter Two

“
S
ee it’s that kind of statement, not to mention act, they would like to avoid from now on.”

“Tough toe nails. You’re not playing Tonto to my Lone Ranger.”

He had the nerve to laugh. “Good one.”

“Get out Smitty.”

He tried to stop laughing, she could see that, made an effort anyway. Though all it did was make him snort. “Now Abby, you’ve got to understand, they’re worried about you.”

“They’re going to be worried about you if you don’t get out of my clinic.” She went into her office, tossed her jacket on a chair in the corner and put on a lab coat.

Smitty followed her. “I can help. I’ve got medical training.”

She stopped and looked at him. “Do you know what today is?”

“Um, Wednesday?”

“Right. And do you know what I do here at the clinic every Wednesday?”

“No. They didn’t provide me with a schedule, they just told me to keep you from blowing yourself up.”

“Wednesday is complete physical day. Do you want to do all my prostate exams?”

“No.”

“’Bye Smitty.”

“But…oh come on.”

She walked out the door and down the hall toward the front desk.

He followed her. “Don’t be like this. I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

She stopped and without turning or looking at him said, “As in is-that-a-banana-in-your-pocket happy to see you?”

“Well--”

“Because I distinctly recall you attempting to examine my tonsils the last time I talked to you, and you’re not an ear-nose-and-throat guy.”

“No, I’m more of a t--”

“Don’t say it.” She pressed her lips together to prevent herself from saying something out loud she knew she’d regret. “Go away.” She strode towards the front end of the clinic and her first morning patients.

He followed. “Why are you so mad?”

She glanced at his face, all puppy-dog-sad. He really didn’t know. “You want to do something useful? There’s a coffee shop across the street. Buy the waiting room a round.”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s either that or put on some latex gloves and step into one of the exam rooms.”

“Coffee. Right. On it.” He darted out the front door.

The entire waiting room full of people turned to look at her.

“Is he really going to buy us all coffee?” One older lady asked.

“He’d better. If he doesn’t you all have my permission to pick on him mercilessly.”

“About what?” Someone else asked.

Abby smiled. “He has three older sisters and mostly wore pink and purple until he was about ten years old.”

“A big muscular guy like that?” the older lady asked.

“Took ballet too,” Abby added.

“Is he gay?”

Abby grinned. “Not that I noticed.” She picked up the first chart on the pile. “Roger, room one.”

Three patients later she stopped to use the washroom, looked at her reflection in the mirror and realized something horrendous was on her face.

A smile.

It had probably been there all morning. Well, since the moment Smitty turned up.

Damn it, the last thing she wanted to do was justify his hanging around.

Where was he anyway?

Laughter from out in the waiting room drew her out of her office and down the hall. Smitty stood near the reception desk talking to a rapt audience of townsfolk.

“So there we were, covered in chocolate sauce and feathers, and this sergeant walks in and asks Abby, “What the hell is going on here?” Wrong question to ask Abby, because she comes back with--”

“Chemical weapons drill,” Abby said before Smitty could. “We were picking feathers up with tweezers for days afterward.”

The whole room laughed. The whole full room. With patients she’d seen more than an hour ago still sitting there.

“Hey Doc, how come you never told us some of these stories?” Roger, her first patient of the day, asked.

She shrugged. “For some reason they’re always funnier when Smitty tells them.” She frowned at Roger. “Weren’t you supposed to meet your wife five minutes ago?”

He stared at the clock on the wall, squawked, leaped up and dashed out the door. A couple of other people followed at a slightly slower pace.

“Sorry folks, Smitty is going on a break. He’ll be back to entertain you in fifteen minutes.”

There was some grumbling, but most of them got up and left.

Smitty followed her around back of the desk. “Nice bunch of folks here.”

“Oh yeah, we’re really friendly here in Bandit Creek. Until you realize someone has stolen not your car or your CD collection sitting on the front seat, but all the gas in your tank.”

“Hey, they were really nice to me.”

“I noticed. I’m thinking of charging a five dollar cover just to get into my waiting room.”

“Huh. That could pay for the gas they’re going to steal.”

She grunted and started pulling charts for patients who were due in the afternoon.

“Do you want me to shut up with the war stories?” he asked a few moments later.

“Depends on which ones you’re telling.”

“Not…those.”

She stopped moving, turned and looked at him.

He watched her with quiet, serious eyes. “I haven’t told anyone about the crash. Have you?”

She shook her head.

“Maybe we should. Talk about it, I mean.”

Abby was about to respond, but the door opened and a couple of her next patients walked in. “You got a place to stay?”

“The mayor told me there was a B & B I could stay in.”

“I’ve got a couch you can crash on.”

“Cool, a sleepover party.”

“One other thing, what did you do with my bag of dynamite?”

“I gave it to a concerned citizen.”

“The Sheriff.”

“Yeah, by the way, where did you find that stuff? Those sticks are old.”

“It’s a secret.”

“Abby…”

“What?”

“What’s going on?”

“Physicals, I told you that earlier.”

He stared at her for a moment then shook his head and got up. “I’m going to go on a walk-about around town.”

“You’re leaving me alone? Aren’t you afraid I’ll so something hazardous?”

“I think it’s safe to let you work without me hovering over you. What time do you finish for the day?”

“Five.”

“See you then.” He strolled out the door.

The rest of her morning and afternoon moved along without any snags and she found herself locking up dead on time. Smitty hadn’t appeared, so she walked across the street to the coffee shop.

She put her hand on the knob of the door and noticed a penny on the ground. Maybe this was her lucky day? She bent over to pick it up.

The glass in the window of the door exploded.

Chapter Three

P
ain radiated across Abby’s right side, shooting from her head, across her shoulder and down her arm.

She was also looking at the sky, when she should be looking at the inside of the shop.

A worried face appeared abruptly in her line of sight. Smitty.

“Abby, are you all right?”

She frowned. Why wouldn’t she be all right?

People poured out of the shop and onto the street babbling and gesturing wildly, while multiple sirens of police, fire and ambulance vehicles came closer.

Smitty reached out to touch her head, his hand came away covered in blood. “There’s glass in your hair.”

“What? What happened? Is there a fire somewhere?” She glanced down at herself. Glass was everywhere. Blood too. “Where did all this blood come from?”

“Your head, Abby. Your head.”

“Well…” She stared at him. His mouth was pulled down and his eyes had worry wrinkles around them. “That’s not good.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No.”

The smile disappeared as soon as she put her hands on the cement and attempted to push herself up.

“No, no. You’d better stay down there until I can get you cleaned up. Any pain?”

“Yeah, I feel like someone bashed me a good one.”

“No, not bashed,” he glanced at the window. “Did you see anyone throw a rock?”

“No. There wasn’t anyone around that I remember.”

The world spun and her stomach lurched. “Smitty? I think I’m going to be sick.”

He winced. “I’m not surprised.” He helped her to lie on her side and the nausea subsided a little.

Several booted feet approached and surrounded her. The last time she’d seen boots like these was
Afghanistan
. For a moment her vocal cords seized up and she was back in the wreckage of a dead helicopter. She took a breath and realized she couldn’t smell smoke or dead bodies. It was enough to jerk her brain back across thousands of miles of desert and ocean to
Montana
. She cleared her throat. “Has Bandit Creek been invaded?”

It took Smitty a second to respond. “No.” He said it so carefully she knew he wasn’t telling the truth.

“The Army or Marines?”

“Fire Department,” he replied in the same careful tone.

“Something’s on fire?”

“No.”

She was going to throttle him if he didn’t start telling her the truth. “What happened?”

A new voice answered. “Someone shot out the window.”

She and Smitty both looked up at the Sheriff who joined the rest of the boots. “I found a bullet hole inside. We’re digging the bullet out now, but I can tell you one thing for certain, it’s not the sort of calibre any of the hunters around here use.”

“Too small, too big, what?” Smitty asked.

“Too big. “ The Sheriff nodded at Abby. “Were you just about to go inside?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Well, I crossed the street to see what kind of trouble Smitty had gotten into. I was about to entred the coffee shop when I saw a penny on the ground. It’s good luck, you know, so I reached down for it. The next thing I know I’m on the ground wondering how I got there.”

“I’m no crime scene expert, but it looks to me like that penny saved your life. If you had been standing, that bullet probably would have hit the back of your head.”

“Someone shot at me?” She sat up. “I don’t believe it.”

Smitty pushed her back down. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve been looked at by the paramedics.”

She sat up again. “I’m a doctor, I say I’m fine.”

He pushed her back down. “You’re covered in blood, there’s glass in your hair and someone tried to kill you. You are far from fine.”

She’d seen him in this mood before. He wasn’t going to let up until she allowed him to complete whatever mission he’d just assigned himself. She sighed. “Okay. What do you want to do next?”

He stared at her a moment, then turned and bellowed at the paramedics who’d backed off a few feet. “Can we get some assistance here? She’s obviously in need of medical attention.”

The two paramedics rushed over, put their tackle boxes of medical supplies down and began a standard check of her

“Hey Stan and Mike, how’s it going?” she said.

“Better than you, Doc,” Mike replied looking into her eyes while shining a small, though powerful, light directly into them. “Can you tell me what day this is?”

“Yep, it’s three days since I won a hundred bucks from you in our last poker game.”

He didn’t respond to that, but a blush crept up his neck. “How about your breathing, any trouble?”