“You can’t be here,” she said in a near-panic that seemed genuine. “The real James Winter is going to approach the desk when he realizes his name was called.”
Burke and Tessman exchanged side glances.
“Did you or did you not file a request for help?” Burke asked, his voice very soft.
“I did,” she said, still appearing to be in a panic. “It’s not safe to talk here.”
Tessman was getting annoyed. He didn’t understand why it wouldn’t be. They were in a private room. “If not here, then where and when?”
“Out by my car in the back parking lot. I get my lunch break at noon. Now get out of here,” she said, and then opened the door. Without another word spoken, she left the treatment room, pushed through the door that separated the lobby from the treatment area, and returned to the waiting room. Once there, she called out again. “James Winter.”
A man, just exiting the men’s room, raised his hand and walked towards her. “Here.”
Burke and Tessman slipped through the door as Valerie Butler led the man to it. Once outside, they returned to the car Wilson and Rogers waited in. They told the two men about the conversation with her. “It was the weirdest thing,” Burke said.
“Yeah, and when she did acquire the right patient, she passed us without a glance, and unflustered as she had been in the treatment room before we identified ourselves,” Tessman added.
“I would think the treatment room would be the safest place for her to talk to us,” Burke said.
“Did she tell you which car was hers in the lot?” Wilson asked.
“No, she didn’t,” Burke replied, suspecting they’d been played. “And there’s no real employee parking area back here designated with signage beyond the entire back area, which is the entire length of the building and about eighty cars, not all employees.” He shook his head, pissed off that the supposed client had basically given them the brush-off.
“Yeah, so what? She’s going to come out the back door and stand by her car waiting for us to find her?” Tessman said. “It's unlikely that would be safe if inside a treatment room wasn’t.”
Mike Rogers opened his car door. “I’m going to surveil the front door of the clinic. Five will get you ten, our girl slips out the front door.”
“What the hell kind of game is she playing?” Burke thought aloud as he watched Rogers’s back move away from them.
“She’ll need to answer some hard questions,” Wilson said. “And she better have the right answers, or we walk. This could turn out to be the fastest case ever.”
Burke agreed, and he was glad Wilson was on the same page. His phone vibrated a new incoming message. Checking the display, he saw it was from Donna.
I passed. I can’t believe I passed! Can you talk?
A smile pulled at Burke’s lips. He tapped out his reply.
Congrats! I knew you could do it. Sorry, can’t talk right now. On a case. I’ll call as soon as I can. I’m proud of you, Donna.
Bravo
In Virginia, Donna read Rich’s return text and couldn’t help but feel disappointed he couldn’t talk. He was the one person she wanted to share this news with. She wanted to hear his voice saying he was proud of her, which was different from reading it on her phone screen.
It was because of his encouragement and confidence in her that she had enrolled in the program. It had been a long nine months of classwork, clinicals, and endless reading of the textbooks to get through the anatomy and physiology and medical terminology classes that were prerequisites to enroll in the phlebotomy program at the local community college. But she’d done it. And now she’d passed her national certification test and could look for employment as a phlebotomist.
Many part-time jobs were out there that would allow her to work while the boys were at school, which was what drew her to this career choice. Her mom could watch Jeriah, who would beturning three in a few months at which time she would qualify for the reduced-price full-day Preschool Headstart Program, enabling Donna to work more hours without burdening her mother.
She dialed her phone.
“Hi sweetie, Jeriah is down for a nap,” her mom, Dorthea Saxton, answered.
“I passed, Mom! I passed,” she said, with tears in her eyes.
“Oh, Donna, I’m so proud of you. It’s quite an accomplishment completing the program as a single mom. I’m glad I could watch Jeriah so you could go to school.”
“I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“You’ve accomplished a lot in this last year,” Dorthea Saxton said. “And you’re down, what, twenty pounds?”
