Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Both victims looked a lot like May.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
May let the stethoscope hang around her neck as she walked into the reception area of her clinic and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Finally, blissfully, the room was empty. The late evening light slanted through the front windows, turning the scuffed linoleum a dull gold. The hum of the refrigerator in the lab drifted down the hallway, steady and familiar. After the day she’d had, the quiet felt fragile.
Nancy looked up from behind the reception desk, appearing as haggard as May felt. Her hair had slipped from its clip, and her glasses sat crooked on her nose. “It’s been a crazy one, Doc.”
May stretched her aching neck. “Apparently the flu really is going around town, along with a wave of poison oak cases. Mostly tourists. They don’t recognize the leaves when they see them.”
Nancy gave a tired huff. “No kidding.”
“Have you gotten anything to eat?” May asked.
“I had a protein bar.” Nancy cleared her throat. “Um, Brock and Olly are back in your office.”
May sighed. Her shoulders felt like someone had hung weights from them. “Go get something to eat, Nancy.” She glanced at her watch. “Actually, it’s way after dinner time. Go home.”
Nancy blinked. “Yeah? Is that all right?”
“You’re fine. I don’t think we’ll see too many more people tonight, and if we do, I’ll handle them.” She leaned one hip against the counter for a second. “Dr. Patterson is back at the hospital.” He was a part-time doctor who helped out during the busy summer months, and he’d been attending a convention in Seattle for the last week. Thank goodness he’d returned.
Relief flickered across Nancy’s face. “So we’re good?”
“Yes, go home and spend time with your family. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Absolutely.” Nancy reached across the desk and took May’s hand. Her grip was warm and steady. “I’m really sorry about Ivy.”
May’s chest felt tight. “Me too.”
All day long, patients had offered condolences. Then they’d asked for updates. She’d given them nothing. She wouldn’t be the one to jeopardize the investigation, although she certainly understood their concern.
Nancy swallowed again. “The med supply plane took Ivy’s body to Fairbanks for the autopsy.”
May wanted to throw up about that. “I know.”
Nancy’s brown eyes softened. “Will they give you the results?”
“No,” May said. “I’m not really involved with the case other than to say yes, this is a deceased person, and then make sure the body gets to a medical examiner.”
“Didn’t you do an autopsy last winter?” Nancy asked.
May hadn’t enjoyed that. “Yeah, but that’s because we were snowed in for months and they needed the results.” She could still remember standing in the hospital’s small procedure room, the wind howling outside, a forensic pathologist walking her through each step over a grainy Zoom call. It had felt surreal then. This felt worse. “Other than that,” she continued, “the bodies have to go elsewhere.”
Nancy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That makes sense.”
May rolled her shoulders back. Nancy always knew what was moving through town before anyone else. “Have you heard what happens to Ivy after that?”
Nancy rubbed her left temple. “Yeah. Ivy’s family is from Washington State, and they want to bury her there. They’ll probably transport her once the autopsy’s done.”
May looked down at the worn counter, tracing a faint scratch in the wood with her fingertip. Ivy wouldn’t even rest here. She’d be gone.
“We should have some sort of celebration of life here,” Nancy went on softly. “Maybe later in the summer once the tourists head back.”
“Yeah,” May said, barely whispering. “We should. Once we find out who killed her.”
The clinic felt different without Ivy’s laugh drifting down the hall. Without her steady presence in the exam room next door. Every corner held a reminder. A pen she’d left behind. A half-finished chart. The mug in the break room with the chipped handle.
May forced herself to straighten. Brock and Ophelia were waiting. The town was already shifting under the weight of two deaths, and Ace was sitting in a cell. She wanted to go down to the jail and see him, to let him know she believed him. To let him see it in her face. But she couldn’t leave until she was sure no one needed her. Responsibility didn’t pause for grief.
“You want me to lock up?” Nancy asked, standing and gathering her belongings.
“No, I’ll leave it open.” Patients had slowed to a trickle, but the flu was moving through town with purpose. May would see more tonight. She always did once dinner settled and fevers spiked.
Nancy gave her a hug, her sweater soft and warm, smelling faintly of gardenias. The scent clung to May’s scrubs for a second after she stepped back. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay. Have a good night.” May turned and walked down the hallway, the overhead lights casting long shadows along the walls. The framed medical certificates felt like they belonged to someone steadier than she was right now. She turned into her office where Brock and Ophelia had spread notes across her desk.