“It’s Angela.” The young nurse clears her throat. “Um, Dr. Lambert has the flu. She can’t come in today. I know you don’t usually work the first part of the week, but could you cover for her?”
I should say no. I want to say no. The clear blue sky beckons. It’s a perfect day for flying. An even better day for camping.
“The waiting room is almost full.” Angela’s voice catches. “And there’s a DV case in Exam Room 2 with her eight-year-old son. She’s terrified her boyfriend will find her. I called Detective Mitchell, but he can’t get here for at least two hours. I know Dr. Lambert said we can’t afford a security guard, but what if it happens again…?”
Fuck.
The free clinic in one of Seattle’s rougher neighborhoods sees at least one domestic violence case a week. Sometimes more. A few days before Christmas, a patient’s husband broke in just after closing and threatened to kill Angela if she didn’t tell him where his wife was.
She was lucky. Someone at the donut shop next door heard her scream and came to investigate. The asshole fled, and the cops picked him up a few hours later. Angela was so traumatized, she almost quit.
“Dr. Reynolds?”
That others may live.
The PJ motto floats through my head on repeat. I can’t leave Angela to handle this alone.
At the next light, I turn onto Airport Way and floor it. The clinic is only fifteen minutes away, but I can make it in ten if I’m lucky.
“I’m headed in. Lock the front door until I get there and keep your phone handy.”
“But—”
“Do it, Angela. If anyone else shows up, use the intercom and ask them to wait outside. It’s a nice day, and I’ll be there before you know it.”
“Okay.” She lets out a slow, heavy breath. “If you’re sure…”
“I’m sure. And I’m making some calls when we close for lunch. One way or another, we’re hiring that security guard.”
Easingthe silver Lexus into a parking spot behind the building, I relax my grip on the steering wheel. In five minutes, I’ll be able to assess that domestic violence case myself—and keep an eye out for the woman’s boyfriend. If he tries to get to her, he’ll regret the day he was born.
I’m not losing another one.
I send Angela a quick text to warn her I’m coming in the back door, then enter the six-digit code. The lock is a fucking joke, but it’s light years better than the simple deadbolt we had when I started here.
Tears shimmer in her eyes when she sees me. “Dr. Reynolds, thank you. I didn’t know what I was going to do if you hadn’t answered the phone…”
“Dr. Lambert should have called me first thing this morning. It’s not your responsibility to make sure we’re fully staffed. And we need a better system for DV cases than just ‘call Detective Mitchell and hope for the best.’” Shrugging into my doctor’s coat, I head down the hall. “But we’ll figure that out later. Let’s see what our patient needs.”
“You sure youwant the full package?” Lucas asks. He tucks one of his shoulder-length dreads behind his ear and stares down at his tablet screen. “We could start you on the basic system. Anything else would be…well…”
“Massive overkill?” He’s trying to be nice, but I know what this place looks like. The flimsy glass door. The threadbare carpet. The plywood over one of the smaller windows that’s been there for six months.
“Like wearing a pair of Louboutin’s to karaoke night at The Little Red Hen,” he says with a grin.
“Never been. No one wants to hear me sing. But I’m assuming it’s not one of Seattle’s more…upscale establishments?”
Lucas snorts and shakes his head. “Not even close. We’ll take your money, Doc. But even our entry-level system would be about a hundred steps up from what you have now.”
I should listen to him. My bank account would be happier. Dr. Lambert can’t fund this work. The clinic barely breaks even. But McCabe’s given me a small fortune over the years. Enough for me to pay off my house, buy my sea plane, and live a comfortable life. Our patients don’t have that luxury. They deserve to feel safe when they’re here. We all do.
Scanning the list I made on my lunch break, I shake my head. “The basic plan isn’t enough. I need panic buttons in every exam room. Backup power. Biometric locks at the front and back doors, and cameras covering all the public areas.”
“Oversight Platinum it is, then. Cam is gonnaloveme when I get back to the office.” At my confusion, he grins. “CamillaDelgado? She owns Emerald City Security. Oversight is her baby. She designed it.”
Cam. I know that name.
“She wouldn’t happened to be married to a former Navy SEAL, would she?”
