"He did." Nate scans the clinic, checking sight lines and exits. "You okay?"
"I'm fine. Just annoyed that someone thought they could walk in here and get me to violate HIPAA."
"Did they threaten you?"
"Not directly. But there was an implied threat before he left. Something about how word gets around in small towns."
Nate's jaw tightens. "That's not official business. That's intimidation."
"I know."
My phone rings. Zeke.
"Miller confirmed there are no federal wellness checks scheduled for Glacier Hollow," he says without preamble. "Victim services doesn't do unscheduled drop-ins, and they sure as hell don't work alone without coordinating with local law enforcement first."
"So whoever that was, they're not legitimate."
"He might be federal, but he wasn't who he claimed to be." Zeke's tone is grim. "Either way, he was fishing for information."
"Which means someone's looking."
"Yeah. They're looking." He pauses. "I'm coordinating with Rhys and the task force. In the meantime, you see that man again, you call me immediately. Don't engage, don't answer questions, just call."
"Understood."
I hang up and look at Nate. "They're looking."
"Then we make sure they don't find what they're after." He settles into a chair near the door. "I'll stay until closing. After that, you should probably stay somewhere other than your house tonight. Just in case they're watching."
The suggestion is practical but it hammers home how serious this has become. In the time since Eli arrived with Traci we're already implementing security protocols.
I finish my appointments with Nate keeping watch. Every time the door opens, I tense. But it's just patients. Locals needing prescriptions, routine check-ups, the normal flow of small-town medicine.
By closing time, exhaustion has settled into my bones.
"I'm staying at the clinic tonight," I tell Nate. "There's a cot in the back room. I've slept here before during emergencies."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure. If anyone comes looking, they'll check my house first. Let them find it empty. And Zeke upgraded the security here after an incident last year. The clinic's more secure than my cottage."
He considers this, nods. "I'll patrol the area. Radio if you need anything."
After he leaves, I lock the front door and move through the clinic, turning off unnecessary lights. I leave the waiting room dark, the exam rooms dark, with just the back room illuminated. It makes it harder for anyone watching to track my movements inside.
The back room is small—barely more than a storage closet I've converted into emergency sleeping quarters. A cot sits against one wall, shelves are stocked with supplies, and a small window looks out toward the alley and the forest beyond. I've slept here before during blizzards when getting home wasn't safe, and during emergencies when a patient needed monitoring through the night.
Never because someone threatened me.
I settle onto the cot with medical journals and a thermos of coffee I brewed fresh after my last appointment. The cot's thin mattress does nothing to cushion the metal frame underneath,and the pillow is flat from years of use. I've slept on worse—during residency, during field rotations in rural clinics that made Glacier Hollow look luxurious.
Through the small window, darkness settles over the town. Mountains rise in the distance, black shapes against the deep blue of twilight. Ancient and unmoved by human concerns. The forest presses close to the clinic's back lot, spruce and pine thick enough to provide cover for anyone who wanted to approach unseen.
I don't let myself think about that too long.
Instead I focus on the familiar sounds of the clinic at night. The building settling, wood contracting in the cold. Wind finding gaps around windows and making them whistle softly. The hum of the refrigerator in the supply room where I keep medications that require temperature control. The tick of the heating system cycling on and off. Sounds that usually mean safety, tonight just marking time.
Somewhere out there, Eli's probably securing the cabin. Checking perimeters, making sure Traci's safe. That's what operatives do—establish defensive positions, map sight lines, control what they can.
