Page 65 of Spiced!

“Alan gave it to her,” she said. “Apparently, it takes a village.”

She left before I could respond to this.

I looked at my desk. Then at the imaging. Then I picked up my phone. There was a text waiting for me that I hadn’t noticed before.

Adrian: Doña Carmen just looked at me and said “¿el veterinario?” without me saying anything.

Me: How does everyone know everything? My staff is all over me this morning.

Adrian: This is not the comfort you think it is.

Me: Doña Carmen sounds like Gerald.

Adrian: Gerald doesn’t KNOW things. Gerald just IS.

Me: That’s what I said.

Adrian: That’s not what you said at all. That’s the opposite of what you said.

I put the phone down, looked at the imaging again, and tried to remember what I’d been thinking about before lunch. My brain was mushier than whatever was left in my bowl.

The pulmonary density readings. The direction that wasn’t a theory yet. Right. Focus.

Instead, I picked my phone up.

Me: The case is getting interesting.

Adrian: Tell me.

So I typed a long paragraph, giving him the highlights, not the full picture. His replies were rapid, insightful, and asked the right questions, which both surprised and intrigued me.

Adrian: Is she eating?

Me: This morning, yes.

Adrian: Then she’s not scared yet. She’s confused. There’s a difference.

I sat with that for a moment.

Me: How do you know that?

Adrian: Animals stop eating when they’re scared. When they’re confused, they still eat. They just don’t enjoy it the same way.

I looked at the screen, then scanned the imaging again.

Me: That’s actually useful.

Adrian: I know things.

Me: You are a surprising man, Adrian Voss.

Adrian: I know bread, dancing, and a little about animals. It’s something, I suppose.

I set the phone down and went back to work.

The afternoon was filled with patient after patient. Between my four o’clock and five o’clock appointments, I pulled up the imaging one more time. The direction I’d identified was still staring back at me, still specific enough to feel real, yet still vague enough to be wrong. I wrote it down, not because I was committing to it, but because sometimes writing things down made them easier to examine when the light was different and my brain was fresh. Then I folded the paper and put it under my phone, where I’d see it when it was time to leave for the day.

Diane knocked at five-thirty. “Last patient is out. Marcus is closing up.”