My boss’s voice rang out from the hall. “Close the damned door. The last thing we want is for it to get out.”
One of the men glanced from me to the snake and up the hall. He shrugged and stepped into the hall. Even the croucher began to walk backward to the door. I, however, couldn’t get the hysterical patient to the door without forcing him to step down off the chair. He could hurt himself, or me, if I forced him to move.
“Tessa. Out. Now!” My boss shouted, red-faced and angry.
I shook my head and motioned back toward Mr. Owens, trying to communicate my thoughts without words—it didn’t work. My boss slammed the door. I couldn’t believe he’d left me alone with a hysterical patient and a potentially poisonous snake. Mr. Owens’s screams began to die down, only to return with vigor each time the snake moved.
Awhile later, the door to the office eased open, and Mr. Owens launched into a new series of screams. A man wearing hip waders came into the office. Others milled in the hall, but no one else came in. The hip wader guy followed Mr. Owens’s wide gaze directly to the coiled snake and pulled out a long metal stick with a hook. As if the snake sensed a worthy adversary, its telltale rattle filled the office. Mr. Owens’s nails dug into my arm, clawing me like a feral cat. The more the wrangler poked the snake, the more Mr. Owens clawed.
“Stop it!” I shouted. To my amazement, Mr. Owens stilled and quieted behind me.
The wrangler looked as if I’d sprouted a second head, and even the snake stopped rattling. “What the hell?”
“I have no idea.” I needed to get down from the chair. My head throbbed.
The wrangler hooked the snake and pulled the loop closed. The snake wiggled as he dropped it into a heavy sack inside a five-gallon bucket.
Mr. Owens fainted. I tried to catch him before he hit the ground, and missed. “Could you check my bag for more hitchhikers?”
The wrangler poked the bag a couple of times and looked inside. “All clear.”
“Thanks.” I collapsed into the chair.
Two paramedics came into the room. One tended to Mr. Owens, the other placed his hand on my shoulder. “Miss, are you injured?”
I wanted to yell, but the paramedic didn’t deserve my anger. “My arm . . .”
Aaron and Detective Samuels crowded into my office. I frowned, and turned my attention to the stinging in my arm. The paramedic swabbed Betadine over the scratches.
“These are superficial. I’ll clean and bandage them. You should follow up with your primary physician.” The paramedic motioned to the blood on my foot. “Is your leg injured?”
I must have gone numb at some point, because I’d forgotten about my leg. “I have a superficial gunshot wound. I hit it against the desk pretty hard.”
“Miss Lamar, are you up to giving us a statement?” Detective Samuels asked, a hint of humor in his voice.
“Why? Unless you’re going to charge the snake with something, no crimes were committed here.”
“Since there were snakes involved in the attempted break-in, there may be a connection. We aren’t ruling anything out.” Aaron sounded almost apologetic.
“Sure, why not.”
Samuels shut the door. “Who has access to this office?”
“The clinical staff and the director. My door was unlocked this morning when I came in. I lock it at night when I leave. But I think the snake was already in my bag when I came in.”
“What? The bag you were carrying around in the station?” Samuels paled.
“You know, we treat phobias here. If you’re afraid of snakes.”
Samuels cleared his throat, and Aaron raised his hand to cover his smile.
“Mind if I take a look?” Aaron motioned to the bag.
“Help yourself. The wrangler already looked.”
Samuels took a step back as Aaron set my bag on the desk and removed Uncle Charlie’s cedar box.
“No!” I shouted before I could stop myself. “I mean, that’s personal. It belonged to my uncle.” My reaction drew out the cop in Samuels. He stepped closer to the desk to get a look.
Great, now they think I have something to hide.
I motioned to the bag. “Sorry. Go ahead and look inside.”
I turned my head and wished my office had a window. Instead, I studied the pale-green wall while the detectives rummaged through my uncle’s personal items. It didn’t take that long to check for snakes. Aaron had turned his back as Samuels studied the picture of Charlie and me. Samuels set it inside the box and closed the lid.
“Satisfied, Detectives?” My voice cracked.
Aaron asked, “Do you have security cameras in the building?”
“You will need to speak with the director.” I stood as soon as the paramedic finished bandaging my leg. I slid my computer and the box back into my bag, and slung it over my shoulder. “Any more questions?”
“No.” Aaron lowered his eyes.
I did my best to storm out, but with the heavy bag, a crutch, and fresh wounds, storming turned into skulking. Neither detective spoke as I moved past them.
My boss stood in the hall with his arms folded across his chest. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going home. I’ll be out for a few days on bereavement leave.”
“Policy states bereavement leave can be used only in the event of the death of immediate family members.” He puffed his chest out like a rooster. A big, cheaply dressed, balding rooster.
“Fine, then use a few days of the seven and a half weeks of unused vacation time as bereavement, or my two weeks’ notice—your choice.” I needed to get out of the building before I imploded.
“Policy doesn’t allow vacation time to be used in lieu of two weeks’ notice,” he snorted.
“I’m in no state to be seeing patients.” I tried one last attempt at reason.
“If you quit without notice, you can be reported for patient abandonment.”
I dropped the computer bag and the crutch, ignoring the other people in the hall. “Refer my patients to Jenkins and Associates. I’ll be starting there as soon as I can bury my uncle.” In my mind, that should have been enough. At least he couldn’t accuse me of abandoning my patients. He behaved like a school-yard bully, unhappy to lose his favorite target.
“Policy states that the therapist must notify—”
Something inside me snapped, causing me to suffer from stress-induced insanity. This man had crossed the line between friendly boss and sexual harasser more than once. Words bubbled up from my belly. I growled to keep them inside, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing me completely lose it. I failed. “You heartless son of a bitch. Keep it up and I’ll file a report with the board for sexual harassment. It’s not only against policy, it’s
illegal
to grope your staff, or did they not teach you that in—”
A hand rested on the small of my back, and Aaron stepped between us. “Miss Lamar, I would be happy to take your statement regarding sexual harassment.”
“Not today. I’ll contact you when I’m ready.” I took a few steps forward, and they allowed me to pass.
I sat in the café with Hailey in the midst of a full-blown pity party, barely holding back tears. If I cried, I’d never stop. I fought my more basic instincts to drink myself stupid, or to call Ian for a post-breakup booty call. I didn’t want to explain the events of the morning to Dottie and Mae. I needed a few minutes to pull myself together. I needed lunch with my best friend.
“Hailey, how is this my life?” I pushed my salad around on my plate.
“It will get better. Look at this like cleaning house. You hated that job. You needed to dump Ian. Heck, you needed to clean your apartment. Maybe things aren’t as bleak as you think?”
Hailey’s advice should have helped, only I didn’t want logic. I needed to wallow for a while before moving on. I told her, “I know you’re right, but it sucks all the same.” I picked at the bandage on my arm. “Your dad is okay with me coming to work for him? My current patients aren’t exactly the paying type.”
“He’s thrilled. As soon as you’re up for it, he wants you to carry half of my caseload. Scott wants me to cut my hours soon. I have months before the baby is born, but he worries.” Hailey stuffed french fries into her mouth.
I hated dumping my crap on her.
“The adult half of your caseload?” I feared Hailey would attempt to bring out my maternal instincts by loading my caseload with kids.
“Yep, all adults. I can’t have you scaring the kiddos with bags of snakes.” Hailey laughed. “Tell me again about the hot detective.”
“I don’t know what else there is to tell. He’s too hot to be a cop. We can’t do dinner or anything until they close the case on the attempted break-in. I get the feeling there’s something else going on. I mean, what if they change their minds and charge me with killing that guy?” The waiter overheard the wrong part of our conversation and sidestepped the table.
Hailey finished the last of her fries. “Stop borrowing trouble. You have enough on your plate right now without looking for more.”
“You’re right.” I tossed my napkin on the table. “I should get going.”
“Yeah, me, too. My boss is a jerk.”
“Your dad is a saint.”
“I know. Let’s check out that junk shop down the block. They have some vintage Winnie-the-Pooh stuff in the window.” Hailey’s face brightened.
We walked into the dusty shop. Hailey rummaged through the vintage Pooh for her nursery, while I perused a shelf of antique bottles. I pulled a bottle down, turning it over to check the price.
“That one is seventy-five.” The voice behind me caught me off guard. I almost dropped the bottle as I turned toward an elderly gentleman. “It’s an old decanter from the late 1800s.”
I smiled and returned the decanter to the shelf. “I’m looking for bottles for my great-grandmother’s bottle tree.”
“Bottle tree?”
“She hangs them from an old oak, on metal clothes hangers and twine. The clear ones are for wishes, and the colored ones trap evil spirits.” I chuckled. “It’s pretty, even if you don’t believe in wishes or evil spirits.”
The old man tilted his head. “I believe in both, and I think you do, too.” His eyes fell to the amulet. “I have just the thing.”
I followed him to the back of the store. Something about him set me at ease. He lifted a box, filled to the brim with bottles, and set it on the counter.
I inspected one of the bottles. “These are perfect. How much?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He looked over the box, and I prepared myself for a hefty price tag. “Ten for the box? When I picked them up, I thought they might be antiques. They aren’t anything special.”
“Deal.” I pulled out my wallet and handed him a ten-dollar bill.
Hailey carried a bag of Winnie-the-Pooh antiques. I followed behind, directing the shopkeeper to my car. Mae would love the bottles.
“See you next week. I’ll drop off the case files when I visit Dottie. It’s going to be like old times, working together.” Hailey laughed as she embraced me.
“I can’t wait.” My eyes grew misty. The entire world hadn’t gone to hell in a handbasket—just
my
world.
I stopped by my apartment and did a quick Google search for Marvin Hicks. I dialed the number and walked to the window. “Hello. My name is Tessa Lamar. I need to speak with Dr. Hicks. It’s urgent.”
The voice on the other end of the line said, “Dr. Hicks is out of the office.”
“When is he expected to return?”
“Next week. May I take a message?”
I hoped his plans included a trip to Apopka. I had no desire to drive two hours to Gainesville. “Dr. Hicks is a close personal friend of my uncle, Charles Nokoseka. My uncle passed away two days ago. Do you know if Dr. Hicks is heading to the Orlando area?”
“I’m not privy to his travel plans, but let me get your contact information. I’ll pass it along to his assistant in case he checks in.”
Not the confirmation I’d hoped for. I relayed Dottie’s and my contact information. I would have given my precise GPS location, blood type, and Social Security number if it would have gotten me in touch with Dr. Hicks more quickly.
I wandered around my apartment. Nothing else to do except go back to the little pink house and help plan a funeral. The idea made the knot in my stomach twist until it stole my breath.
In the parking lot, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The amulet grew cold enough to send a chill through me. Something was wrong.
I hit the “Unlock” button and slid behind the wheel. Safe inside the locked car, I checked my mirrors. Something furry moved toward my car, and I hit the gas hard, making the tires scream against the fresh asphalt.
I broke several traffic rules on the way to Gram Mae’s. I must have checked my rearview mirror a hundred times before I turned onto the bumpy drive. I waited a few minutes before opening the door, half expecting a giant wolf to come bounding out of the trees. When I’d psyched myself up enough to move, I grabbed my bag and headed for the house.
The door rattled in its frame when I closed it. Dottie and Mae sat in the living room watching their soaps. Where else would they be at two thirty in the afternoon on a weekday? Neither commented on my arrival, even though I’d slammed the door. I couldn’t compete with
General Hospital
.
I dropped my bag and headed into the kitchen in the hopes of finding chocolate. The image of Aaron’s muscular back danced, unwelcome, through my head, and I opted to eat watermelon instead. By the time Mae and Dottie entered the kitchen, I’d polished off half the melon.
“Commercial break?”
“They cut into the stories for a news conference about that murdered woman and her kids.” Dottie eyed the watermelon. “The grandfather was on, asking for help finding the children. Breaks my heart to think of what might have happened to those babies.”
“Detective Burns stopped by to see you. You just missed him.” Mae surveyed the stack of rinds on my plate.
“Burns? You mean Samuels?”
“Left his card—it says Burns. He’s a real looker, blue eyes.” Gram Mae smiled. “No ring on his finger. Plus, he made a point to look at your pictures in the hall.”
“What? Why was he in the hall?” Mortified that Aaron had seen every toothless, frizzy-haired picture of my childhood, I dropped my head to the table. “Why me?”