Page 184 of Hidden Nature

“Off duty. But I was in the area, so thought I’d just check. I don’t suppose you were on the desk when Lori Preston was admitted.”

“When did you say that was?”

When Sloan told her, Clara pursed her lips. “Whew, that was some time ago. But I don’t think so. You said she’s missing?”

“That’s right.”

“Is that what you do? Look for missing people?”

“In this case.”

“I sure wish you plenty of luck.”

Marlowe came back. “The patient’s stable, but he’ll be a few more minutes. I have to get back to it.”

“Thanks for the help.”

“Glad to. And glad to see you looking so well. Keep it up.”

“That’s the plan.”

Sloan walked over to sit in one of the chairs.

Clara admitted a man with a rattling cough, a woman with a sprained ankle. She input their information as Marlowe took the next patient.

And when Larson came out to speak with Sloan, she took the opportunity to do a patient search.

Dr. Marlowe knew her, had treated her, so…

And there she was, on Thanksgiving. Pulled pectoral muscle. Recovering from gunshot wound.

How about that?

She noted the name of the surgeon and the hospital where she’d been treated for the GSW.

Multiple GSWs.

She and Sam would do some work on that, see just who she was and why she’d come poking around after all this time.

Probably nobody and nothing, Clara assured herself. Dr. Larson wouldn’t be able to tell her squat.

But it paid to do your research.

And something about the woman gave Clara a bad feeling.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Something about her worries me, Sam.”

Clara sat with him over take-out McDonald’s because she’d felt too frazzled to cook.

“What’s she up to? What’s some tree-hugger police doing poking into this? And she wasn’t even on duty! I got her address and all off her records, and she lives over in Maryland anyway. In Heron’s Rest.”

“Don’t you worry about her, babe.” He swiped one of his fries through ketchup. “I bet she’s just nosy, that’s all.”

Worry gnawed at her nerves like a rat on cheese.

“I don’t think so, doll, I just don’t. I told you how I called my friend over where Celia Russell was, and mentioned it, like in passing. And she said she’d been in there, too. Asking questions. I don’t like it one little bit.”

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