I gritted my teeth, watching as Lara ignored my instruction and injected herself into the conversation. She didn’t even wait for Marlene to answer before bombarding her with more questions.
“Why were the police called? Was it because of Brandon?”
This was why I didn’t bring loved ones along, especially when that loved one was used to being at the center of deduction—medical deduction, but deduction nonetheless.
This wasn’t the emergency room, and Lara wasn’t the one treating this case. I was. And it was for the exact same reasons that family members weren’t allowed in an operating room; her emotions were the kind of thing that could derail the surgical precision of my search.
“Oh, no, dear. Harry and Shelton were in here for lunch.”
“Harry Stokes and Shelton Boone are part of the Jackson police force,” I interjected, jotting their names in my notebook.
Harry and Shelton were stand-up cops and had known my family from back when Colton had been arrested. They were some of the solid few who didn’t get territorial when we were hired to supplement a missing persons investigation, or insulted when we came up with more leads that panned out than they did. In fact, last I knew, Creighton still consulted with them on certain police cases.
“Here you go, Calder.” The swinging door thumped forward and back as Ron came through it, his hand held high, a piece of notepaper suspended between his fingers. “I pulled the charge. The card belonged to a Brandon Westman.”
I scratched the name into my notebook, copying the spelling from Ron’s paper. “Thanks, Ron.” I motioned that he could throw the note away; I had the information where I needed it. “Marlene, you said Brandon was getting loud with the police. Could you describe what you saw exactly in the parking lot?”
There was little point in asking her whether she’d heard what they were saying. Even if she’d been standing near the door where we were now, there was still a concert of other sounds going on around her. Cooking from the kitchen. The customers’ conversations. The radio. The TV. Add to that the physical barrier of the building and then, during a busy lunch hour, a reasonable distance to where Brandon would’ve literally parked, there was no way whatever Marlene thought she’d heard was reliable.
“Oh, I didn’t see much except the yelling.”
No point in correcting her that one couldn’t “see” yelling.
“Where were they standing? Close to the building? Farther away?”
“Oh, they were going back and forth by a camper parked at the very front of the lot by the road. The young man was hollerin’, and the police were pointing to the camper; maybe they were arguin’ about that, I can’t be sure.”
“Thank you so much, Marlene.” I jotted downcamper, underlined it twice, and then flipped my notebook closed. “You’ve been so helpful. We really appreciate it.” I flashed her a quick smile and then waved at the owner. “You, too, Ron. Good seeing you.”
“Anytime, Calder. Don’t be a stranger.”
My hand was on the door when Lara called, “Wait, Calder—”
I didn’t stop or even slow my stride into the parking lot. There was no more information to be gleaned from Marlene, though emotion would drive a person to believe they could draw water from a stone.No pun intended.
I had fished my cell from my pocket, starting a message to my brother, when Lara’s hand landed on my arm.Unexpected.I jerked away—uncontrollably—catching the flash of hurt in her gaze before she wiped it clean.
Dammit.I wasn’t trying to be a dick, but my dick was being a dick every time she came close. And every time she touched me, it only got worse.
“That’s it?” Lara demanded, her arms swinging wide. “Don’t you want to see security footage? They have cameras around the building. One of them might have the license plate of the camper—”
“Lara, enough,” I stopped her, my voice more growl than tenor. “Reverse the roles. How would you feel if I came into your emergency room and started questioning how you do your job?”
She blanched and bundled her arms over her front.
“You’re right.” Her throat bobbed. “I do know what it’s like when patients and Dr. Google try to tell me how to do my job. It’s just ... my sister.” Her voice broke at the end, and she turned away before letting her shoulders sag.Like she didn’t want me to see the weight she carried.
An unfamiliar tightness banded around my chest as I watched her walk aimlessly away from me.
Lara was used to being the responsible one. The caretaker. Something she’d been long before she became a doctor. I recognized the trait because I felt the same for all my siblings, especially after what had happened to Mom; I felt responsible in a way that went too deep to be healthy. For all the years Lara had spent looking out for her sister, caring for her mom and then for her patients, when was the last time someone had cared for her?When had she last trusted someone to care for her?
“Lara.”
She turned her head slightly over her shoulder, but not far enough to meet my gaze. I had a feeling if she had, I’d see the tears bottled in her eyes.
“I’m good at what I do, and I’m going to find Rachel. I promise.” I heard myself carelessly break another rule. I never promised results. Not in this business. Not ever. It was for all the reasons easy to imagine, and yet I’d just made another exception. For her.
“I’m sorry,” Lara murmured, running her hands up and down the sides of her arms, though there was no chill in the air.