Page 7 of Locke 2

Then again, as I read the article, forcing my eyes to run along the page, I felt my breath thin. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I had to pause to squeeze them shut. Disbelief coursed through me, making my heart beat harder. I wasn’t thinking of Locke when I placed the newspaper back down on the nightstand, trembling and disturbed.

I was thinking of Dominic surviving year after year in a notorious prison among murderers and predators, walking amongst them as an innocent man.

Four

Kali

Iwas running late.

My knee bounced as I glanced up at the wall clock for the tenth time. I’d told Patsy I’d be a half hour late, but I was approaching the twenty-minute mark, and the doctor hadn’t seen me yet. I rubbed my eyes, fighting back another yawn. The secretary had looked at me annoyed every time I did it. I guess I was a loud yawner.

I got up, pacing to keep myself distracted from checking the time. My eyes skimmed the certificates on the wall, the history of the three doctors that personally operated out of this office. Well, it was actually a house turned into an office, and it was pretty cool. There were personal photos randomly scattered about. One was of the owner, a Doctor Abbott that worked here for forty years and then died, which was pretty sad. That being said, my doctor’s name was Doctor Abbott, so maybe it was his brother or son? I’d never been here before, so I was about to find out.

I checked the clock again and yawned. The secretary glared at me. I smiled apologetically, even though the old me would have wanted to body slam her. What did she honestly have to be shitty about? She got to live in a cute little town and work in a doctor’s office and wear pretty clothes—

“Kari,” the young doctor’s assistant called, smiling at me as she appeared at the threshold of the corridor. “Doctor Abbott will see you now.”

The secretary’s eyes followed me out of the room. Seriously bad vibes from that lady. The assistant took my weight and other details and then led me to the office. It was a very warm office. There was even a fireplace. I’d never been to a doctor’s office with a fireplace. Photos hung on the wall. Of the old doctor that died and a younger looking man. Fishing photos and hunting photos. River shots and camp shots. My eyes skimmed the wall, my lips curving in a warm smile because this doctor was very evidently the son of the late Doctor Abbott.

“Kari.”

I turned around and my breath sort of stilled as the doctor breezed in, looking wildly more attractive than I expected. He had to be late thirties with dark brown hair and piercing green eyes. He was also dressed pretty casually for a doctor. He was wearing jeans, for crying out loud, and he had a nice charcoal coloured sweater. I was pretty sure they were those kinds of sweaters that cost a month’s worth of my salary because they were all eco friendly and made 100% of wool. They were probably made by a family who supposedly lived in a cabin that was secretly a mansion and had a pretend fairytale story tied to their company.

I blinked back to the present. “Yes,” I said. “That’s me.”

“Good to see you. I’m Doctor Abbott but call me Nick.”

Nick Abbott.

It was a nice name.

Not as nice Max Locke, but…

I shook my head, banishing that name out of it.

Nick slipped on his reading glasses, and they made him look even better. He looked down at the chart the assistant filled out.

“New patient,” he said. “You’re new in Georgewel.”

“Sort of,” I replied. “I’ve been here a year.”

“Where’d you come from?”

I’d been asked this, so my lie was smooth. “Oh, I’ve been all over.”

People didn’t usually prod with that response. It was a neat little conversation killer.

“You’re experiencing a lot of anxiety,” he said, moving along like I expected. “Tell me a little about that.”

“I’m a really anxious person,” I explained as he rounded his desk and took a seat. “It’s sort of messing me up lately.”

His green eyes held mine, and there was a hint of concern, but I chalked that up to doctor acting. “How so?”

I glanced at my dead sister as she stood beside his desk, taking sips out of her teacup, eyeing me like she really wanted to know, too. I looked at him. “Heart palpitations are getting worse, and I’ve been getting panic attacks. It’s been hard doing things like work and shopping.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I’m a teacher’s aide.”

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