A flicker of annoyance crossed the doctor’s expression. “Their families may not want that information shared with anyone.”
“That they’re dead?”
“If you’d prefer, we will obtain a warrant,” Henry said, speaking over his friend.
“I look forward to seeing if you succeed.” A hard light glittered in her eyes, suggesting she was not the least intimidated by a visit from the police.
Or that she had expected it.
“Where did you receive your training, Dr. Thorne?” Henry asked, pencil at the ready.
If he hadn’t been watching closely, he might’ve missed the tightening of her lips. “A variety of schools, mainly abroad, including training with a well-known physician.”
He deliberately shifted his gaze to the diploma framed on the wall behind her, the print—other than her name—small enough to be illegible from this distance. Was that purposeful?
“Beginning with?” he asked. If he had to drag the information out of her, he would.
She heaved a sigh and glanced at the watch pinned to her chest, suggesting her time was precious.
Henry simply waited for an answer.
Another huff. “I began my education in America at New York University.”
“And why did you decide to pursue medicine?” Henry asked.
“I was often ill as a child, something that distressed my parents.” She paused to draw a breath as if emotion flooded her, and she was uncertain how much to share.
Was that real or feigned vulnerability, Henry wondered. He’d wager the latter. Clearly, she’d told this tale many times and had perfected it.
A shadow crossed her expression. “When one is ill from a young age, there is a tendency to turn inward for answers.”
Fletcher’s fingers drummed against his uniformed trouser leg, a sign he’d prefer specifics instead of a story.
So would Henry, though he wasn’t opposed to listening to what the doctorthoughtthey should know. Often that provided insight into a person’s character, even if they did not realize it.
Dr. Thorne continued, “As with many less fortunate families, food was sometimes scarce in our home. Through inadvertenttesting, I realized some of my...my symptoms eased when I didn’t eat.”
“Starvation and fasting are hardly the same thing,” Fletcher murmured.
“Yes and no,” the doctor said politely with a patronizing look. “But if you endure either, you soon realize what the human body can stand, and what makes you stronger. If positive results await you afterward, you can manage the uncomfortable feeling, knowing it is but temporary.”
“So you used the success with your own health to refine the health regimens here,” Henry suggested.
“In many ways, yes.”
“Along with education from where?” Fletcher glanced at Henry’s notebook, where he’d written the one university she’d shared thus far.
Trust the sergeant to stay focused, like a dog with a bone.
Dr. Thorne released an impatient sigh then listed several schools, none of which Henry had heard of. One additional one in America, one in Switzerland, and another in Italy.
“Your medical degree is from which one?” Henry asked, unsatisfied with her rambling answer.
“The university in Padua, Italy.”
“Why did you attend so many?” Henry asked. Had it been her choice, or had her unconventional ideas forced her to leave?
Dr. Thorne was clearly unworried by the question. “My interests were varied, and not all educational institutions respond well to that. My preference is to treat the whole person, not the ailment. The human body functions together, so why shouldn’t we understand the whole system?”
