Kendra at the Clinic
The waiting room was filled with kids, and each one was sneezing, coughing, or sniffling. “Flu season already?” Kendra asked the receptionist. “Or hopefully just fall allergies?”
The receptionist rolled her eyes. “Every year when school begins they start piling in with their runny noses and fevers. All those stuffy classrooms.”
Kendra smiled. “Any chance I can just wait outside since I’m only getting stitches removed?” She felt like Howard Hughes.
The girl handed Kendra a blank yellow sticky note. “Give me your cell number and I’ll text you when it’s your turn.”
“Thanks.” Kendra wrote her number on the square of paper.
She sat in her pickup and surfed the internet until her iPhone buzzed in her hand. It had only been a few minutes.
Kendra expected it to be the receptionist telling her it was her turn. Instead, it was a text from Woody.
“Hey, boss,” the message began. “How about coffee and a sandwich this afternoon? I’ve got some news.”
“Sounds good,” she replied. “You must have ESP. I was just going to call you.”
Woody sent back a goofy smiley icon and wrote, “Your place or mine? I really do have a file for you. It’s only a couple of months old.”
Kendra typed a single question mark.
“Missing girl from the Gypsum neighborhood in Yellow Bend,” he replied. “Family just getting around to reporting her.”
“Must be estranged.”
“Very. When mom’s new squeeze became her stepdad, the girl split. Last known address was a trailer park w/a boyfriend. He claims he thought she had moved on because the dog was missing, too. The real reason he didn’t report her was because he’s been in jail all this time.”
“Tell me more,” she typed.
“She was last seen walking her dog—a half grown Great Dane.”
Kendra sat up straighter. “A Great Dane? From the Gypsum area of Yellow Bend? That’s just the other side of the forest. Isn’t there a road bordering the forest that leads right into that little hellhole?”
Woody sent back a thumbs-up icon. “I knew you’d make the connection.” He continued typing. “There’s an old Farm to Market road. Runs right around the edge of the forest until it dead-ends into the Gypsum Mobile Home Park. Guess what else borders Gypsum?”
“Tell me,” she demanded.
“A deep ravine—”
Kendra’s thumbs flew over the keypad. “It can’t be,” she wrote. “Nicky Webb’s dog was found at the bottom of that ravine. It was so steep he couldn’t scramble out. Or maybe it’s because he was injured or something. Anyhow, that would be too coincidental, wouldn’t it?”
“Not at all,” Woody replied. “It isn’t coincidental if the dog was found near the spot where his master was abducted. If indeed that’s what happened.”
“But that would mean she was abducted between Copper Lake and Yellow Bend.”
“Most likely. ‘Course it’s possible Nick’s big pup isn’t even the same dog—”
“Bullshit,” Kendra typed. “I’ve had one coincidence recently; that’s my limit. We both know coincidences only happen to folks who aren’t paying attention to details.”
Just then, a new message popped up. It was the receptionist telling Kendra to come right in.
She sent Woody a hasty text as she exited the truck, “Sounds very interesting in light of what I found in the woods. I’ve got to run now, but I’ll come to you this time. Lisa’s Café, six p.m.?”
“I’ll be there,” he replied.
Kendra clicked off and strolled into the clinic, her mind no longer on the task at hand. Instead, it was on the set of remains and their proximity to the ravine where Nicky’s dog was found.
Dr. Stevens came in almost as soon as Kendra had been seated and had her blood pressure taken. “How’ve you been?” He extended his hand, palm up.
At first Kendra thought it was a weird way to shake hands, and then she realized he was waiting for her to show him her stitches. She laid her hand in his large bony palm, and it practically disappeared.
“Looks fairly good.” He admired his handiwork. “But they are a little embedded. I expected you on Saturday.”
Kendra heard the admonishment in his tone and was surprised. How many physicians kept track of when their patients’ appointments were? She thought only the office clerks kept track. Maybe it was an ego thing. Big fish in a small pond, expects his patients to follow his advice to the letter, without question. Or maybe the Saturday appointment had been out of the ordinary, although at the time it had seemed run-of-the-mill.
Whatever the reason, it irked her to be scolded like a schoolgirl, but she shrugged it off. “Well, doc, I was a little busy.”
His eyebrows went up, and she decided perhaps that had just been his clumsy way of starting a conversation. Maybe I’m just prickly. She’d had instructors like that back at the academy—and in most of the refresher courses she’d taken over the years. The “don’t question me I’m a detective” sort. Hope I haven’t turned into one of those old fogies.
She gave him the benefit of the doubt. “Tell ya the truth, Doc, I uh—well, I’m the one who found the human remains in the woods.” She couldn’t resist adding, “And guess what? One of the bones had been etched so precisely it appeared to have been carved by a scalpel or something.”
Dr. Stevens stopped what he was doing and searched her face. “Is that some sort of detective joke?”
Kendra felt a chill settle over her. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped. Even his voice had gone cold. “Yeah,” she said, relying on instinct. “Sorry about that. Poor excuse for a joke wasn’t it? Truthfully, I just forgot my appointment.” She averted her eyes knowing, even as she did so, that she was exhibiting one of the classic “tells” of a liar.
“Not funny. In bigger cities, you’d be charged a fee for missing an appointment without calling to cancel.” If his voice got any colder, his words would freeze in midair.
It took Kendra a serious act of will power to keep from simply walking out. Instead, she clenched her teeth. “Won’t happen again,” she replied.
The doctor smiled widely. “Ha-ha! That was my little attempt at humor. Didn’t mean to offend.”
“Well that’s one thing we obviously have in common,” Kendra said as the door opened. “Neither of us should quit our day jobs to go into comedy.”
A gray-haired nurse rolled a tray of instruments into the room. “Okay, what’d I miss?”
Dr. Stevens shook his head. “Detective Dean and I were just joking around.” He ignored the shocked expression on the nurse’s face and spoke directly to Kendra. “After I remove the sutures, the nurse will give you some salve to apply nightly to soften the scar.” His smile mocked her. “Wouldn’t want it to interfere with your gun hand now, would we?”
Kendra forced a laugh. “No worries on that account, Doc. I’m practically retired. Appreciate the thought, though.” She wanted to make light of the situation, but she didn’t know how without coming off as a complete smart-ass.
The nurse produced a pink plastic basin and instructed Kendra to hold her hand over it while she swabbed the area with scarlet liquid from a squirt bottle. The soapy liquid turned yellow when she rubbed it around Kendra’s hand with a 4x4 square of cotton clenched in a tong-like hemostat.
After rinsing the whole mess with another squirt bottle of purified water. The nurse dabbed the area with a second square of cotton to dry it. She told Kendra to continue holding her hand open while she unwrapped the instrument portion of the tray.
Beneath the clear plastic were several instruments that Kendra assumed had been sterilized. She wanted to ask if the instruments—an oddly shaped pair of tweezers and a small scissors with the tips bent at a forty-five degree angle—were sterilized for reuse or if they were new every single time, but she didn’t want to seem interrogatory. It was just her inquisitive, detective’s mind. It never shut off. But the doctor seemed so prickly she didn’t think he’d appreciate her questions.
It was the same way in her everyday life. She had an overriding curiosity about her surroundings that was never ending. Nosy Nate that’s me. Just like the folks who would be tramping around the woods in search of bodies after reading today’s paper. If I weren’t in law enforcement, I would probably be right out there with them.
While Kendra sat woolgathering, Dr. Stevens donned a pair of thin latex gloves pulled from an open purple box on the wall.
Without another word, he took her hand and opened it even further to expose the row of neat black stitches. Skin had grown over one or two of them. “Try not to move,” he said as he grasped the end of a stitch with the oddly shaped tweezers. He drew it up away from her flesh and with his other hand he snipped the miniscule knot—what are stitches made of these days, Kendra wondered, surely not catgut the way they once were (which was not actually cat gut at all, but an abbreviation for cattle gut)—and pulled it loose. He did exactly the same on the other four. In two minutes, he was done. A tiny drop of blood appeared where the skin had been broken to get at the ones that were embedded, but that was all.
I could’ve done that at home, Kendra thought, saved the insurance company a couple hundred bucks. But judging by his reaction about the missed appointment, he definitely would’ve taken umbrage to her performing her own suture-removal. Best to stay on good terms with the local doctor. Never know when he might be needed again.
She flexed her hand a few times. “Thanks, Doc. Feels as good as new.”
The nurse washed away the tiny drop of blood and gave her a tube of ointment accompanied by a big smile. “Rub a small amount on the scar each night to keep it from tightening up.” She packed up the rolling cart with the basin and the instruments. Pushing open the door with her backside, she left the room.
Dr. Stevens rolled off his gloves, stepped on the foot pedal to open the trash receptacle, and dropped them inside. “Nice seeing you again, Detective.” His smile was almost believable this time. “Take care of yourself.”
Kendra noticed for the first time how many teeth the doctor had. All the better to eat you with my dear. Kendra didn’t know where that thought came from, but she chalked it up to intuition. Something about him just screamed Big Bad Wolf. “Sure thing.” She tilted her chin up in a parting gesture that felt almost masculine.
He nodded and pushed open the door with his shoulder.
Kendra noticed how all the personnel seemed to avoid touching the doors with their hands, so she made it a point to open the door with her shoulder, too.
At the checkout window, she paid her twenty-dollar co-pay and immediately, in the back of her mind, a warning sign flashed. What about insurance if I take early retirement? Haven’t even thought of that. I’m way too young for Medicare, and private policies are so expensive. Just have to take another job. Security maybe, or private investigations for some big company, like an insurance company. Might not be around here though. Might have to move to another county. Or another state. Would that be like running away—and what if the civil suit finds me liable somehow? Legal fees would bury me. I wouldn’t be able to retire—I’d have to work forever just to pay them off.
She tried to cut off the sudden onslaught of worries. It was all so ridiculous. Even now she had trouble believing it had happened.
After the arrest, when she had been preparing to transport the suspect to the county jail, that’s when the guy had bounced out in front of the UPS truck like a little kid’s ball. It had happened so fast, and he’d been so cocky, she’d simply never dreamed he could be suicidal.
Kendra shook the bangs off her forehead and tried to shake away the memories as well. Then she slid into the driver’s seat of her Ford and headed back toward the lake.
On the way home she stopped by the Corner Store, filled the truck with gas, and picked up the gallon of milk she’d forgotten to buy the day before. She chatted with Juanita, the owner, for a moment and then she took the long way home since there was nothing more pressing to do until her meeting with Woody at six.
She pulled into the garage of her lake house, killed the engine and closed the overhead door. She was suddenly looking forward to a cup of coffee and maybe one of those cinnamon rolls she’d made from scratch last night after returning home from the sheriff’s office. She’d needed something to do to occupy her mind and her hands. Another Martha Stewart moment Keith might’ve said. Whatever. I might even crack open one of those books I picked up from the library last week. She stepped out of the pickup, surprised at how cool the garage felt. Winter is definitely on the way. She pictured herself lighting a small fire in the well-used fireplace.
In the kitchen, she poured out the old coffee and made a fresh pot. Glancing at the clock, she willed the hands to fly. I’ll need to leave by five fifteen to meet Woody. She dropped her phone and handbag on the end table near the stack of books.
As she pulled her favorite coffee cup—the one with the Pine River Sheriff’s Office logo on it—from the cupboard, the phone began to hammer out the opening riff to the song “Bad to the Bone.” Woody had programmed the silly song on her phone late one night while they were on a stakeout. It always made her think of Arnold Schwarzenegger in the movie Terminator.
She picked up the phone and plopped down on the arm of the couch. Carrie’s name appeared on the Incoming Call screen.
Kendra clicked the Accept Call icon. “Hey, kiddo, how’s everything going?”
“Fine here, Mom. How’s everything with you?”
Kendra’s motherly instincts rose to attention. “A-Okay here. What’s wrong?” She didn’t like to pussyfoot around, especially with an unexpected call from a very pregnant daughter.
Carrie laughed. “I’m all right, really! I’m actually calling with some good news.”
“You’ve found out you’re having twins after all? The string test was right?”
Carrie chuckled. “Umm, no, thank the Lord. But I think you’ll like it anyway.”
“Good,” Kendra replied. “So what is it?”
“Well, it looks like we’ll get to have Christmas together after all.” She hesitated for a split second. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Fantastic. What’s the deal with your dad?” She knew there had to be some reason for the odd little hitch in Carrie’s voice.
“Always the detective, aren’t you, Mom?”
Kendra waited.
Carrie let out a sigh. “He’s going to Vegas for Christmas.”
Kendra waited some more. Her mind was racing with possibilities, but she didn’t want to blurt out anything inappropriate.
“Mom? You there?”
She exhaled. “Yeah. I’m here. Are you kids all right with this?” Her fingernail found the new scar tissue in the web between her thumb and forefinger and tested it gently.
“We’re delighted,” Carrie said. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you out there alone at Christmas.”
Kendra grinned. She’d been feeling that way since Thanksgiving. “I’ll get the tree up right away,” she said. “We’ll have another big meal, maybe Keith will bring his friend Charlie again—”
Carrie laughed softly. “Maybe he will. I think Willa would like that—don’t know about Sam, though.”
Kendra cut off the small talk. “Why Vegas? Who’s going with him? Do you know?”
“I’m not positive, Mom. He just said he wanted to get away, and he wondered if we would mind.”
“He always did want to go back to Vegas. We just never made the time. I guess he has all the time he needs now.” She didn’t say it to Carrie, but in her mind she was certain he wasn’t going to Vegas alone. Their neighbors had divorced last year. Las Vegas hadn’t made them happy. They’d married there, and went back every year on their anniversary. Kendra remembered how devastated the wife had seemed after her husband had moved out.
She couldn’t help but wonder if Leda, the new divorcée, the one she’d once partnered with in a raucous game of charades, had cried on Bill’s shoulder while she had been busy scraping bad guys off the pavement. Wouldn’t that be about right, the detective who couldn’t see what was going on right under her own nose?
“Okay, Mom, well. That’s all I called to tell you.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” She didn’t want Carrie to hang up. She wanted to quiz her about her day and about everything that was going on, but she didn’t want to sound clingy, or needy.
“You staying busy?” Carrie asked softly.
Kendra hated the tiptoey sound of worry she heard in her elder daughter’s voice. “Of course I am. You know me. In fact, I wish you were here to eat a homemade cinnamon roll with me. I’m becoming quite the baker if I do say so myself.”
Carrie chuckled. “Martha Stewart rides again, huh?”
“Yeah … something like that.”
They broke the connection with promises to talk again in a day or two, and Kendra headed for the kitchen where the smell of coffee beckoned her like an aromatic beacon. But before she could pour her first cup, her text message alert chimed merrily.
It was from Woody. “Can we make it nine o’ clock? Paperwork is kicking my butt.”
“Of course,” she typed. “Now I know why you miss me so much.” She’d always been a stickler for staying on top of paperwork.
He sent her a row of smiley icons with eyes crossed in agony.
She poured her coffee, grabbed a roll, and headed for the living room to build the fire. On the way, she snatched her old gray hoodie off the peg beside the garage door. The night had definitely developed a chill.