“What is it?” Phoebe whispered urgently. She froze and listened. The dog stopped and then started again almost instantly, this time her growl laced with threat. Somewhere nearby there was something the dog didn’t like. Phoebe searched with her hand to make sure her phone was within reach on the trunk next to the couch.
For a minute Phoebe detected nothing. But then, from outside a window along the side of the house, she thought she heard a sound. She strained to hear. It might have been nothing more than the creak of a tree branch in the wind. No other sound followed. For the next two hours Phoebe lay with her head against the armrest, listening. Around dawn she finally fell back to sleep. When the sun nudged her awake an hour later, Ginger crawled up toward her head and licked her face.
“You’re such a good little doggie,” Phoebe said. “What if you stayed with me forever?” Her words surprised her—she hadn’t even sensed them in advance—but as soon as she spoke, she knew it was what she wanted to do.
Ginger licked her face again.
“I’ll take that as a yes, okay?” Phoebe said.
She spent her morning reviewing the assignments that had begun to trickle in. But her mind kept returning to the appointment with Dr. Rossely that lay ahead. She wasn’t sure why she felt so agitated about it. It all means something, she told herself. I’m just not yet sure what.
His office wasn’t far from her, just two blocks south and one west in an area that was part residential, part business. There were a few older clapboard houses still on the street, but others had been torn down to make way for two-story office buildings like the one Rossely was in.
The space inside wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. Rather than some fussy or run-down-at-the-heels reception area, there was a spare, modern space with posters on the wall from exhibits of the Barnes Foundation. The two patients in the reception area never gave her a second glance, but the receptionist, a middle-aged woman dressed attractively in a pink satin blouse and pearl stud earrings, seemed to study her with recognition. Of course, Phoebe thought as she filled out the necessary forms. I’m a celeb around here now. I can’t tell them I had a bad fall from a bike.
A nurse popped into reception about ten minutes later, called out Phoebe’s name, and led her to an examining room. The doctor arrived shortly after that. He was around Phoebe’s age, six-one, and more urbane than she was expecting. He had on a pair of fancy-looking frameless glasses, and he’d had his thinning hair trimmed into a buzz cut, a hip look she rarely saw in Lyle.
“Dr. Rossely,” he said, shaking her hand. He practically oozed bedside manner. “My, you’ve had a busy week.” So either he’d recognized her, too, or the receptionist had tipped him off.
“Oh, so I’m busted, then?” Phoebe said, smiling.
“I’d hardly say busted. You’re a local star. It must have been some ordeal to go through.”
“Yes, unfortunately it was. I’m a bit battered and bruised.”
Rossely glanced down. “I see from your records that you were treated at Cranberry Med. Aren’t you working with the doctors you had there?”
“By and large, yes,” Phoebe said. “From what I can tell so far, they did a nice job repairing my elbow. But I’d like a second opinion on my right shoulder blade. It got whacked pretty bad and hurts like crazy. They told me it’s only a bruise, and there’s nothing they can do for it.”
The words had sounded so forced and fake as she said them—it was as if she were doing a bad job performing in a high school play—and she wondered if he suspected that she was remolding the truth.
“And they didn’t prescribe anything?”
“Tylenol with codeine. I tried it just for a few days.”
“Well, let’s take a look,” he said. “In my opinion, there’s always something that can be done. I don’t like seeing people suffer needlessly.”
He edged around the side of the examining table and opened the back of her gown. With a firm but careful touch, he probed the area with his fingers. Twice, she winced in pain. The part about her shoulder hurting hadn’t been a lie.
“Sorry about that,” Rossely said. “The area definitely seems inflamed. Let’s get an X-ray and see if there’s also swelling.”
Rossely departed, and the nurse came back; she escorted Phoebe into another room for the X-ray. As Phoebe was led back to the examining room, she heard a buzz of activity coming from rooms up and down the corridor. Finally Rossely returned. He was holding an X-ray, and with one swift movement of his hand snapped it onto a light box mounted on the wall.
“Well, the good news is that there’s no fracture,” he said, smiling. “But as I said, there’s definite inflammation, and that should be treated. Off the record, they should have paid more attention to this at Cranberry, but things get pretty crazy up there.”
“Thank you,” Phoebe said. Rossely opened her folder on the counter and jotted a few words down. Out of the corner of her eye she studied him. Though she found him unctuous, he certainly didn’t look sinister in any way. Was this just some stupid wild goose chase on her part?
He swung around slowly, smiling.
“I also want to give you something for the pain,” he said. “Pain’s a funny thing. People often think they should tough it out and try to ignore it, but you can start a weird cycle that way. The pain almost feeds on itself, and then the cycle is hard to break. It’s better to nip it in the bud.”
“Of course, I did try the Tylenol with codeine,” Phoebe said. “But I didn’t feel it helped.”
“This is much better,” he said. “It’s OxyContin. You should take two every twenty-four hours.”
Instinctively, Phoebe’s mouth parted in surprise. OxyContin, she knew, could be addictive. Hutch had even mentioned it going for $80 a pill on the black market.
“Is something the matter?” Rossely said, obviously noting her reaction.
“No, I was just wondering if it was safe. I’ve heard people sometimes have problems with it.”
“It’s safe if used correctly,” Rossely said. He smiled tightly. “It’s essential with any drug to follow the directions to a T. No more than two a day, as I said.”
“Of course,” Phoebe replied, realizing she’d ruffled his feathers a little. “And thank you. It’s actually wonderful to have someone take my situation seriously.”
Rossely lightened up again. “Good,” he said. “That’s what we’re here for.” He turned toward the counter and began to scribble the prescription. “I should see you again in a week.”
“Will do,” Phoebe said. As she slid down off the examining table, Rossely turned back around and handed her the prescription with long, slim fingers.
“By the way, do you mind my asking who recommended you?” he said. “You didn’t note it on our form.”
“A professor at the college who had heard your name. But I believe you treat several students from Lyle. Rachel Blunt?”
She saw the muscles of Rossely’s face tighten.
“Rachel, yes.” He seemed uncomfortable suddenly. Phoebe decided to go for broke.
“And Blair Usher, too,” she said. “She had a sports injury as well.”
“Forgive me, but I actually shouldn’t be discussing patients with you,” he said. Again, the tight smile, with lips as white as a clenched knuckle. “It’s not only inappropriate, it’s also against the law. I hope you understand.”
“Of course,” Phoebe said. “I’m sorry.”
But she saw that she had clearly hit a nerve.