Remote Consequences (20 page)

I started to object. He didn't need to spend every afternoon with her, did he? But as soon as the thoughts joined my mind, I knew that what I was feeling was jealousy. I was jealous of a teenage boy because he loved and cared for my sister. Something was wrong with my way of thinking. I hugged Ms. Lanier, thanked her for the food, and started to make my departure via the side porch door.

"Oh, Mandy…just a second…" Ms. Lanier headed my way with an exaggerated limp.

I looked down at her foot and saw that she'd made the hole in the left toe of her slipper slightly larger than it had been when I'd last seen it.

I bit my lip in fear of what was coming.

"I have this ingrown toenail situation. Would you be a sweetheart and take a look at it before you take off?"

Sis boom blah.

*  *  *

Having survived the toenail ordeal—barely—I made my hasty exit, in need of checking on Pickles and with a little hope of squeezing in a short nap before Paget got home.

As I traipsed across the lawn, lost in my thoughts, I almost ran into the car that blocked my path. A brand-new Lexus with shiny rims and a hand-wax job to die for. I knew the car and its owner.

Dr. Sharona Sewell sat in the large wooden rocker on my front porch looking extremely bored, but more relaxed than I could ever remember seeing her.

"Well if it isn't the Mighty Dr. Murrin."

I tried to emit happiness, but a few small tears threatened to beat a path to the front of my eyeballs at the mention of her nickname for me.

"Yep. Here I am. What are you doing here?"

She opened her mouth in mock horror. "What? I can't take a little drive south just to catch up with my favorite protégée? That's not much of a welcome."

I laughed and opened the door to the house, ushering her inside past a drooling, hungry Pickles, who eyed her with nothing more than minimum interest. I showed her into the den area and plopped down on the sofa.

 Sharona Sewell was my residency advisor, and she was a brilliant teacher. She was also a good friend, and I had missed her desperately.

She came and sat by me on the sofa and touched my arm with a soft hand. I always wondered how she kept her hands so darned soft after washing them so many times in a day. I washed mine the same way, and my fingers could trick a gator into submission with all the scales.

"I guess I know why you're here." I watched her face and tried to keep my face stoic. Although seeing her here made me want to grab my bag, jump in the Mercedes, and hot wheel it back to the Magic City faster than green grass through a goose. I knew that I wouldn't be leaving Millbrook today or in the next few days, weeks, or months to come.

"Did you get the letter from the registrar's office?"

I thought of the crumpled-up envelope and wondered about its whereabouts. My best guess was in my dirty coveralls still hanging in my locker at Flicks Vision. Speaking of which, maybe I should check in with Barry as soon as Sharona left.

"I got it. Didn't open it."

"Why not?" She let go of my arm and pulled on her earlobe, a habit I'd seen her do in class more times than I could count.

"I just haven't had the time."
Been locked up in jail, seeing my attorney, trying to figure out why I'm suddenly involved in a decade-old murder.

She gave me an instructor-like head tilt, her expression a mixture of frustration and sadness.

"Look, Mandy. I know you're working things out with your sister's care. And, again, I'm sorry about the loss of your aunt. But you can't let all these years go to waste. All your hard work. You're a brilliant physician, and your spot in the residency program is not going to wait on you forever. I don't want you to lose it. I
need
you to take it."

I smiled, but there was no mirth behind it and Sharona saw it—or the lack thereof.

"I can't. I wish I could—but I can't. I'm stuck right now. I'm just stuck." Never had a word been truer than this one. In all the ways I could be stuck, I was stuck. Not the least of which was that I couldn't leave the county while out on bond. Well, I could leave, but then Ty might lose his house since he'd put up the bail and, well, then I'd also have to go back to jail. I put on a brave face for my friend and mentor.

"Is this just about your sister? 'Cause we can work something out for her. Just come on back with me and we'll figure it all out. You need to be back by Monday."

"Monday?" I had to stop and think about the day. I'd lost all track of days lately.

"Yes, three days from now. That's why I took off early this afternoon and drove down. I wanted to see if I could convince you to let us move you back home this weekend. Bring your sister and your dog." Pickles lifted his head from my thigh, where it had been resting since the moment I sat down. He wanted attention. Well, he wanted food, but that was his version of attention.

He'd heard the word "dog," but when it wasn't followed by any movement to head toward the kitchen, he returned it to my thigh and added to the stream of drool that was already moistening my leg.

"You don't know how much I'd love to take you up on that offer, Sharona. You really have no idea how much I want to. But things are complicated for me right now. I need to stay here and figure things out and then…then…maybe I can reapply. Maybe after the holidays." My voice sounded hopeful—even to my ears. But as I spoke the words, I knew they were a lie. I was stuck here for the foreseeable future. There was little doubt that the holiday season would bring no relief to my situation.

I almost caught my breath at the realization of what I was saying. I was officially dropping out of med school. With less than a semester to go, I was giving up my dream. It stabbed me. The thought stabbed me like a knife, and my throat went suddenly dry.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind? Anything I can do to help? Money?"

I reached over and took her hand. I squeezed it. "You are a wonderful friend and a wonderful teacher. I won't forget that. But no. I can't accept it. I have to take a little detour in my life right now. I need to do this right. If this was a matter of just this one semester, I could probably swing it. But Sharona, we're looking at residency—four-plus years depending on my specialty. That's a long time with little money coming in, and I'm already stretched thin on student loans. Endless hours on call and all that stress, I just know I wouldn't have time for much else. I need to take care of what really matters right now, and that's just not my education."

She squeezed back and then stood, straightening out her knee-length white suit skirt and trying not to flinch at the fact that Pickles' hair was now matted to the side of it.

"Those are big words, Mandy Murrin. But I know you can do this. You are one of the strongest women I've ever met. You'll handle this, and then you'll get back to the program. And, when that time comes, I'll do whatever I can to make it happen. Okay?"

I nodded. Words failed me as a wave of nausea crept up my esophagus and I tried to tamp it down. I'd just given up my medical career. It was gone like the seed hair on a dandelion. Blown into the wind with one strong gust. Just gone.

"Now, where do I get some food around this place?" Sharona grinned as Pickles' head shot up at the word "food."

Watching is a part of good play. –Irish Proverb

An hour later, Dr. Sharona Sewell left Millbrook and took my medical career with her. I'd promised to return the withdrawal form as soon as I found it and signed it, but she'd agreed to turn in my verbal consent to release my spot in the program that was to start in just a few weeks.

It was hard to believe that I'd been home long enough to use up the allowed medical leave. Apparently, the school was only required by law to allow a short amount of time away from the program before they could release my place to another student. The last week of Patty's life combined with the last few weeks where I'd been trying to make ends meet for me and Paget had used up all of the program's good will, as far as this missing-in-action student was concerned.

There was nothing else Sharona could do to hold off the powers that be, and I'd known this moment was coming the very second I'd gotten the call about Patty. I'd only been dreaming of the day I could return to my real life—for now, this was my real life. I stared into the empty fridge.

I'd given all the leftovers, courtesy of my mystery man, to Sharona so that she could sit and chat with me before she had to take off. Luckily, she'd shared with Pickles, and after a quick run—well,
run
was a bit of an exaggeration where Pickles was concerned—in the yard, he had disappeared back to Aunt Patty's bedroom for a nap.

If I was going to cook for myself and Paget, I needed groceries.

Grabbing my purse and slipping on my rhinestone covered flip-flops, I headed out to Stella. But stopped short when I realized that Stella was missing. I closed my eyes and rubbed them and then looked again. Still no Stella.

What? How? When?

Where was my Stella?

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed the station.

"Millbrook Police Department, Officer Trask."

Oh, joy. I wanted to ask him if his face was still stinging after his little fisticuffs with Mrs. Mills, but I figured this wasn't exactly the time to bring it up.

"Is Detective Dempsey there, please?"

"No, honey, he sure isn't. Is there something I can assist you with?"

Honey? Could he be any more unprofessional?

I wanted to report my car stolen, but I didn't want to get him involved. I just didn't trust this guy.

"Uh, okay. How about Officer Prentiss?"

There was a pause on the line. Was he getting suspicious?

"Is this Ms. Murrin?"

Crap. How did he know that?

"Ye-yes. How did you know that?"

He chuckled. "Well, this may be little old Millbrook, but we have a 911 enhanced caller ID here at the station, missy. And why exactly can't I assist you with your problem today?"

'Cause I think you might be involved?

"All right, then. I think my car has been stolen."

Silence met me on the other end of the line. One beat. Two beats.

"You
think
it has been stolen?"

"Yes, well, I was in the hospital and then I was in jail—briefly, and I haven't really needed to use it in the last day or more. I keep it parked behind the house and, well—I just now noticed it was gone."

Again, silence.

"Well, I'll need to you come down to the station and fill out a report. That is…if this is a real report. I mean, maybe the ghost of that dead body you found drove it down here? Or maybe the mayor himself stole it?" His laughter barely enabled him to get that last sentence out, but then his coughing started up.

Just like I'd thought—this wasn't the person to report anything to.

"Thanks for your help, Officer Chub—I mean Trask. Could you just have Detective Dempsey phone me when he returns to the station?"

His coughing mixed with laughing was the only response I got as I ended the call.

I'd heard the phrase "getting your hackles raised" all my life and suddenly I knew exactly what it felt like. My temper was flaring. I'd had enough of all these games. The redheaded Irish girl was ready for a fight. Well, I might currently be a brunette but I was always a redhead at heart.

If only Colin were here to give me a hand.

Think, Mandy. Think.

I walked over to Ms. Lanier's house and filled her in on the details.

"Did you see anyone at the house? Near my car?"

Ms. Lanier looked at me with some manner of suspicion. "Just you, dear. This morning."

"Me? No, Ty picked me up this morning and we went to Randall's office. Then he brought me home. Remember?"

Ms. Lanier paced around the kitchen and kept returning to the window over her sink and looking out. From there, she had the perfect view of where I parked Stella.

"Ms. Lanier? Did you see someone take Stella?"

She turned around and looked at me. Fear and uncertainty in her eyes. "Yes. I saw you drive off in it early this morning."

What in the world was going on?

*  *  *

"Uh, that wasn't me."

"Well, you know my distance vision isn't all that great. But it was a woman with red hair. And she got in the car and drove off."

My mind whirred.

"Wait a minute. Red hair?"

"Yes, Mandy. I could see that much." She waved her hand at me as if I needed to catch up to the story more quickly.

I reached up and ran my fingers through my long, dark hair. Newly colored and not currently red as of this morning.

It finally sank in to Ms. Lanier and she put her hand over her mouth. "Oh, dearie. I'm so sorry. That wasn't you. You've had your hair colored. And I stood here and watched someone steal your car!"

She trembled slightly and began to sway. I went to her, wrapping her in my arms. "It's okay. Don't worry. I'll figure this out."

But I had one suspicion of who the red-haired culprit might be. If I only knew the why.

First things first: I needed a set of wheels.

"Ms. Lanier, can I borrow your car?"

She was sniffling into a crumpled Kleenex. "Sure. Sure. It's a little rusty and temperamental, but you're welcome to take it." She opened a drawer by the sink and handed me the key. "You know, I don't drive much anymore. My vision and my hearing are just not what they used to be."

"That's smart of you to be aware of that and to take precautions." I gave her a hug and then took off through her back door and into her garage.

There, was Ms. Lanier's 1958 Cadillac Eldorado Seville. It wasn't in the best condition I'd ever seen, but it looked pretty good considering the fact that it was the only car she'd ever owned. Her husband had left it to her when he'd passed away many years ago. I remembered that it was only then that she'd learned how to drive, and she took Aunt Patty everywhere with her, as Aunt Patty never drove. After she lost her brother—my dad—in the accident, she put Stella aside for me and never drove again.