“Dr. Cameron LaRoche …” I read out loud. A physician at Bloomfield Medical Center back in 2016, the time of this report. According to what I was reading, Dr. LaRoche had filed numerous complaints against Suzanne, which escalated to accusations of stalking. He even pursued criminal charges against her but eventually dropped it. And that wasn’t the only stalking accusation I read in Suzanne’s file. There were two other physicians at the same hospital who accused her of harassing them, and their wives, one even went so far as to say that Suzanne has tried to blackmail one of the doctors when he outright refused her advances.
Pulling out my phone, I did a quick Google search for Dr. Cameron LaRoche and was elated to find that he no longer worked at the hospital where he met Suzanne, but now had his own practice. He, too, was a plastic surgeon. Putting the address of his practice in my phone, I saw that it was only a fifteen minute drive from the police station to his office.
Less than fifteen minutes later, I found myself pulling into the parking lot of a nice looking office building. Shutting off my car, I grabbed the envelope with the police reports in it as well as my purse, and climbed out. I paused at the main entrance to locate the correct office, as there were more than one doctors’ office in the building. A few minutes later, I exited the elevator on the third floor and was happy to see that the lights to the office I was searching for were on.
Pushing the door open, I saw there was no receptionist at the front desk but the little bell overhead that sounded when the door opened must’ve alerted someone of my presence. A second later, I heard footsteps from down the hall moving in my direction.
“Cheri, is that—” the man who started to ask stopped when his eyes landed on me. A wrinkle appeared in his forehead. He was average height with dark, curly hair. A slightly better than average looking guy. And he was exactly who I was looking for, unless he was some imposter wearing Dr. LaRoche’s white coat.
“Hi, I’m Grace Young,” I started with my hand outstretched, moving toward him. “And you’re Dr. LaRoche, correct?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry, did I have a consult?” He started for the desk, reaching for the clipboard that sat there.
“No. My apologies for coming into your office like this but I’m doing … um, some research on a very important matter and your name came up.”
He frowned and his eyes scanned me up and down. He must’ve noticed the scrubs I wore because his next question was, “Are you a medical or nursing student?”
I shook my head. “I’m a nurse at Memorial Hospital in Williamsport.”
“And your research led you out here to Bloomfield?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the topic of your research?”
“Suzanne Greene.”
Dr. LaRoche’s eyes widened and his eyebrows nearly touched his forehead but I didn’t get to fully explain myself because the office door opened behind me.
“Cam, I’ve been waiting in the—”
I turned, looking over my shoulder to see a beautiful woman with blonde hair entering the office. She stopped as she peered between Dr. LaRoche and I.
“And you are?” Her voice was immediately terse and defensive.
I looked from Dr. LaRoche to this woman.
“Grace Young.”
“Cheri, Grace just came in asking about Suzanne Greene.”
The woman’s mouth curled in obvious anger.
“Grace, this is my wife, Cheri,” Dr. LaRoche stated, moving around me to his wife’s side.
“What the hell are you asking questions about that witch for?”
I sighed. “Good, you have the same impression of her as I do.”
That seemed to take some of the wind out of Mrs. LaRoche’s defensiveness.
“Look, Dr. and Mrs. LaRoche, I didn’t come here to start trouble. Trust me when I say I’d rather not have to be here at all, but Suzanne is causing trouble for someone I care deeply about, and I’m not convinced she’s telling the whole truth. I stopped by the police station before I came here.” I pulled out the envelope and the papers inside. “There are over fifty pages in here and complaints made by three different doctors at Bloomfield Hospital. But the most detailed report is yours, Dr. LaRoche,” I looked him in the eyes. “You started to pursue criminal charges against her but dropped them …” I let that hang in the air.
Dr. LaRoche looked from me and then to his wife. He had a guilty expression on his face. Mrs. LaRoche rolled her eyes, her shoulders slumping. “We might as well tell her. If Suzanne’s up to her dirty tricks again, then it’s best she knows.”
I let out a relieved breath.
The LaRoches were courteous enough to order Chinese takeout, while we sat in their conference room. Turned out, Mrs. LaRoche was the office manager of Dr. LaRoche’s medical office. The couple seemed to work well together but as they told me about how Suzanne’s manipulations had nearly destroyed their marriage and Dr. LaRoche’s career, I grew hot with anger.
