Authors: Kylie Brant
Waking Evil 02 (21 page)
When the receptionist disconnected the phone, she looked up at Ramsey with a warm smile. “Thanks for waitin’. How can I help you?”
“I’d like to see Doc . . . Doctor Theisen, if I could.”
“And your name?”
“Ramsey Clark.” When the woman immediately turned to the schedule on her computer screen, she hastily added, “I don’t have an appointment.”
Her smile decidedly cooler, the receptionist turned back to her. “Are you a pharmaceutical salesperson? Because the doctors here don’t . . .”
“No, nothing like that.” Ramsey dug in her pocket for a card and handed it to the woman. “I have a few questions about a case I’m working on that I thought he could help with. Maybe he could call me. My number is on the card.”
Jenny craned her head to send a practiced eye around the waiting room. “If you don’t mind waitin’, he can probably work you in. Dr. Matlock is here today, too, so it shouldn’t be too long.”
Ramsey nodded and went to choose a chair. She didn’t much like doctor’s offices as a rule, but she was feeling more tolerant today, probably because she was here only on business. For something to do, she picked up a news magazine and started flipping through it, only to discover that it was six months out of date. Replacing it on the table, she settled in, ignoring the boy across the room when he stuck his tongue out at her.
A nurse in white slacks and a patterned smock came out to the room with a clipboard and called in a loud voice, “Esther Gentry.”
The older couple took several minutes to get up and totter in the nurse’s direction. After a few minutes, another similarly clad woman came out and called for the man with the injured hand.
Deciding that reading old news was preferable to watching the kid’s rather substantial repertoire of rude faces, Ramsey picked up the magazine again and tried to read. Her time would have been better spent, she reflected after fifteen minutes crawled by, going over ViCAP hits. But Powell didn’t want anything leaving the cabin serving as their office, so that hadn’t been a possibility.
A half hour later, Ramsey had had ample time to consider that doctor’s offices had a totally different concept of time than did laypeople. But she was surprised when the older couple shuffled out toward the front desk and Jenny looked up to smile in her direction. “Ramsey? Dr. Theisen will see you now.”
A nurse showed her back to a room at the corner of the structure that, thank God, held no patient tables. A desk was wedged into one corner, with two chairs set next to it. The rest of the space was filled with bookcases that overflowed with medical journals and physician magazines.
She walked to the wall filled with framed diplomas and studied them. Theisen was a bit older than she’d presumed at their first meeting, closer to eighty than seventy by her calculation. She wondered why the man chose to continue working when most a decade younger would have retired to a life of fishing and driving the wife crazy with his constant presence at home.
The door opened behind her, and she turned to see the man Stryker had introduced to her at the diner.
“Ramsey Clark.” There was real pleasure in his expression, in his voice, as he shut the door behind him and crossed to her, his hand outstretched. When she took it, he covered their hands with his free palm. “I knew you’d get tired of Devlin and turn to me. It was just a matter of time.”
“Doesn’t take that long to tire of Stryker,” she agreed. And attempted to shake the memory of that surprisingly bone-melting kiss they’d shared the last time she’d seen him. “But I’m actually here looking for help.”
He released her, gestured her to a chair. “Since you’re the picture of health, I’m guessin’ it’s not for yourself.”
She sat, waited for him to sink into the chair next to her. “It’s not, no. It’s regarding a case I’m working. I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to go into much detail . . .”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about that. I have a bit of experience workin’ with the police. No reason you’d know this, but I used to be the county coroner years ago, before the state went to all ME positions.”
She looked at him, intrigued. “I didn’t realize that.”
“Served for nearly thirty years. I think they turned to MEs fifteen years ago.” His brow above the dark glasses wrinkled for a moment before he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter now. It was a good move. I learned a few things over the years, but I can’t compete with the knowledge medical examiners acquire in their accredited classes.”
“Nor did you want to,” Ramsey guessed shrewdly.
His smile had his hazel eyes crinkling. “You’re right. I served as a service to the community, but it certainly wasn’t a position I relished. It was a relief to go back to treatin’ patients full time and not get those phone calls in the middle of night. Tell you the truth, I don’t think I was ever cut out for it.”
A thought occurred. “You would have served as coroner when Sally Ann Porter’s body was found.”
A grimace flickered across his face. “I was, yes. Must have been . . . what? Twenty-eight, twenty-nine years ago. I recall it was the same year that Lucas . . .” He stopped, cut his eyes at her, and amended, “Twenty-nine years ago, it was.”
She was curiously touched that he’d stopped himself before saying something about Stryker’s father. The man was obviously well liked in town. And not just by women. “I just heard the story about her death and thought to ask. I was told the body was too decomposed to easily identify.”
He nodded, crossing one long leg over the other and adjusting the crease of his dress pants. “Don’t mind sayin’ it was ’bout the worst I’d seen. Not enough flesh remainin’ to determine any foul play. Certainly no broken bones indicatin’ such. As I recall, the body was finally identified usin’ dental records.”
Which matched, more or less, what Dev had told her. She was still interested in looking at the police report regarding the matter. But she had to admit it was more for her own curiosity. It’d be a stretch to claim it related to the case that had brought her here.
“I heard that it was determined she’d probably fallen in and drowned.”
He sighed, as if the memory was a sad one. “That was the most likely explanation. It was a sorrowful time in these parts, I don’t mind tellin’ you. Her mama had passed the same year. Had folks talkin’, and that rarely serves a useful purpose.”
She heartily agreed. “What I really came to see you about was to learn what you know about local healers in the area. Those that might use herbs and roots and things for various ailments.” She caught him glancing at his watch, and she added, “But if you’re busy, I can come back. Or you can call me later. I know you still have patients to see.”
His eyes twinkled. “Don’t you worry ’bout that. Just have Connie Streich out there with her son Bobby. She’s a bit overprotective and runs him in every week or so with some imaginary ailment. Do them both good to sit a bit. Not much wrong with the boy that the business end of a willow switch wouldn’t take care of.”
She had to agree. “I was treated to some of his . . . ah . . . charms while I was waiting.”
“I’ll just bet you were.” He clasped both hands around his knee and leaned his head back, as if thinking. “Let’s see, now. Healers. The hills used to be full of ’em when I first went in to practice. Figure I only treated a hundred or so of the town’s residents in the first two years I was open. Wasn’t uncommon for even the townspeople to go to one for whatever was ailin’ them. Times change slowly in these parts, and opinions even more so.”
“But you won them over.”
He threw her a satisfied look. “I did, yes. Took years of hard work. And a fair amount of education. But I built a decent practice, despite there still being some that clung to the old ways.”
“Do you remember any names?”
“Shoot.” He shook his head. “Most of those people would be long gone now. Rose Thornton used to dabble in it, but she’s gettin’ up there in years, just like the rest of us. At any rate, she’s such a cantankerous old soul, I don’t know that people could much stand to have her pokin’ at ’em.” His eyes twinkled behind the glasses. “Regardless of what Dev says, my bedside manner isn’t all that bad.”
She smiled, as he meant her to. “So you can’t think of anyone else who still might have an interest in the area?”
Appearing deep in thought, he sucked in his bottom lip. “There was Selma Pritchard. Lived about five miles or so out of town in the hills. Can’t recall whether she’s still alive or not. Haven’t seen her in years, but that’s neither here nor there.”
Stifling a stab of disappointment, Ramsey stood. She’d gotten at least a couple names, and by checking them out, she may get more. For that matter, it wouldn’t hurt to ask Letty at the sheriff’s office. Ramsey would be willing to bet she was close to Doc’s age and may recall more names.
“I won’t keep you any longer. But I do appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”
He rose and walked her to the office door, his manner courtly. “I may be old, but I still grab the chance to spend a few minutes with a pretty woman when the opportunity arises. You tell Devlin that I’ve been beatin’ his time. Little competition would do that boy some good.”
Since it seemed churlish to point out that Stryker wasn’t in line for any such competition, she merely smiled and thanked him again before walking out the door he held.
The nurse must have been waiting for her exit, because before Ramsey was out of the hallway, she’d called the Streichs in. Stepping aside for the two to walk by earned Ramsey a hard kick in her ankle from the boy. She fervently hoped he’d need a shot during this office visit. One with an extra-long needle.
Jenny sent Ramsey a bright smile as she entered the lobby area where two or three new patients had appeared. “Was Doc able to help you?”
Impulse had her veering course for the woman’s window. “He was. Maybe you can, too. I’m looking for healers or people around here who deal with holistic herbal remedies.”
A faint frown of disapproval marred the woman’s brow. “I always tell people it can be dangerous to take things that haven’t been . . .”
“No, I don’t want to be treated,” Ramsey assured her. “I just need to ask some questions.”
There was a shrewd look in Jenny’s brown eyes. “You’re full of questions, no doubt ’bout it. Well there are a few in these parts. Probably more than I know. But you could start with Cora Beth Truman. I hear her name more than most. Lives up east of the bridge on old Highway Eight. Nellie Rodemaker is another one, but I’ve always heard she does more midwifin’ than anythin’ else. And Raelynn Urdall is another. She’s got a fair reputation with some folks and is willing to trade services. I understand she treated Cleve Willits’s whole family for bronchitis last winter and got herself repairs to her porch this spring in payment.”
Ramsey pulled a notebook out of her back pocket and jotted the names down. Beneath them, she added the two that Doc had given her.
Jenny peered at her notes and shook her head. “Oh, no, dear, Selma Pritchard passed on nearly two years ago. As for Rose . . .” She sent her an arch look and lowered her voice. “That one’s as likely to run you off with a load of buckshot as answer questions. You be careful there, you hear?”
“I will,” Ramsey promised. “I appreciate the help.” As she walked out of the office, she reflected that she wasn’t particularly relishing being met at someone’s door yet again with a shotgun.
One of these days the damn thing might go off.
Chapter 11
Lightning flashed as the skies opened up, threatening to drown Dev as he leaped across the growing puddles in the motel parking lot. He took a quick glance around. Ramsey’s vehicle was parked in front of cabin seven, but cabin eight was lit up. He took a chance and knocked at that door. Sure enough, Ramsey opened it, looking decidedly unenthusiastic to see him.
“Your light was on.”
She made a face when he repeated her words from a few nights earlier. “That’s because I’m working.”
“I have pizza.”
Looking suspiciously at his empty hands, she asked, “Where?”
The overhang didn’t offer much protection from the deluge. Water dripped from the roof and ran down the back of his neck. “In the car.”
She looked torn for a moment before saying, “Bring it next door.”
By the time he’d waded through the slick gravel and water-filled potholes to his car and back, she was standing in the open doorway to cabin seven. He ducked inside, shaking his hair out of his face. She took the pizza box from his hand, which, by this time, was looking a bit soggy, leaving him with the manila envelope he’d fetched along with it.
“Where’d you find pizza around here at ten o’clock at night?”
“The Kwik Stop on Main Street is open ’til midnight.”
She appeared decidedly more cheerful as she served up a slice for each of them on the napkins provided. He made a mental note that food tended to soften her up, and reached for the helping she handed him. He set the envelope down beside him and dug in.
“So.” She finished chewing and swallowed. “You were just out driving around, got the craving for pizza, decided you couldn’t eat the whole thing by yourself, and being in the neighborhood, dropped in?”
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