Page 16 of Chosen Path
“Okay, so, she has a friend visiting.” He shrugged.
“Herfriendis some famous forensic pathologist.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
Her face softened at his admission of ignorance. “I wasn’t sure either, so I got Ron to look it up on the computer. This doctor, Bodhi King, is like a coroner, only he specializes in figuring out the cause of death when there’s an unexplained death cluster.”
“Huh. Now that’s an unusual job.”
“Focus, Greg. He’s not in Scandia Bluff for the weather or because of Doctor Hart’s girlish figure. He’s here to help her figure out why so many people are dying.”
“Now that’s just silly.”
“He said it himself!”
“Oh. Well, he can poke around all he wants. He’s not going to find anything.” He gave Kimberly a long look.
She stared back at him. “We better hope not.”
“There’s nothing to find.”
“Not unless one of the three of us talks.”
“Nobody’s going to talk,” he said firmly.
“I hope you’re right.” She gave him an ominous look. “All the same, I think we need to talk about doing some damage control. Why don’t you—”
She stopped abruptly as Wendy appeared in the doorway balancing a tray that held three coffees, a small pitcher of cream, and three slices of pound cake.
“Here we go.” Wendy placed the tray on the low coffee table (also inherited from her mother), then settled herself on the couch next to Kimberly. “Now what’s this about damage control?”
Greg reached for a piece of cake and shoved a big bite into his mouth to avoid having to lie to his wife.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Scandia Bluff, Vermont
Population, 587 plus one unwelcome guest
Thursday morning
Molly slept poorly and woke up late. She yawned then turned on her side to check the time on her alarm clock. According to the blurry digits, it was after seven. She jolted upright. Her first patient appointment was in less than an hour.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot!” she muttered as she ran across her drafty bedroom, the floor icy under her bare feet. She pulled on her robe and snatched her glasses from the top of the bureau. Then she eased open her bedroom door and tiptoed down the hallway to the bathroom, taking care to avoid the creaky floorboard in case her houseguest was still sleeping.
She turned the hot water in the shower to full blast and hurriedly brushed her teeth while the pipes clanged and banged as the hot water heater took its sweet time doing its job. She pulled aside the shower curtain and stuck her hand into the spray. Almost lukewarm.
She didn’t have time to wait. She braced herself and plunged herself under the stream of water. She raced through her morning hygiene routine, teeth chattering. She turned off the water and grabbed two towels from the radiator. They, at least, were warm. She wrapped one around her shivering body and piled her hair on top of her head under the second.
Only then did she pause long enough to remember why her sleep had been so disrupted. Bodhi’s grim pronouncement in her kitchen had dogged her all through dinner, while she’d gotten ready for bed, and then, finally, as she tossed and turned.
Scandia Bluff hadn’t exactly welcomed her with open arms. Most of her patients were polite, but distant. Very few were what she’d call friendly. But that was hardly proof that they were a murderous mob. And their coolness toward her was to be expected, right? She was their doctor. It was understandable. After all, who befriended theirdoctor?
Nobody, that’s who. Unless their doctor was Uncle Al. He was forever being invited to birthday parties, retirement parties, weddings. And, of course, funerals.
Well, see, you’ve gone to a half dozen funerals already.
She stared at her reflection in the steamy mirror. Did she really believe that the people of Scandia Bluff were covering up something about their fellow residents’ deaths?
