Diagnosis Death by Richard L. Mabry Read Free Book Online

something. She wouldn't be at the shower, though, even if her schedule allowed it.
    Now her social activities consisted of an occasional meal with David. She'd miss him when they left for their respective practice locations. That thought brought to mind her trip to Dainger in a few days. She'd promised to call Dr. Sewell and confirm her visit. Elena looked at her watch—half past nine. Too late to call? Not for a doctor.
    She located the number, punched it in, and listened through four rings. She expected to hear a voice mail message. Instead, a soft voice answered. "Dr. Sewell."
    "Dr. Sewell, this is Elena Gardner. Dr. Gross told me you're looking for someone to help out in your practice."
    "Elena, thank you for calling. And please, call me Cathy. I was so sorry to hear about your husband."
    Elena had learned the best response, and she gave it. "Thank you, Cathy." She paused a beat, inserting a verbal paragraph mark. "Dr. Gross says you'd like me to come to Dainger this weekend to talk with you."
    "Yes, I'd like to show you around, talk with you, see if we can work out an arrangement."
    They talked for about ten minutes, and Elena was glad to find that Cathy was as detail-oriented as she was. Most of the questions she had would be answered during the interview, but Elena had a good feeling about the situation as Cathy described it. She hung up with a smile on her face.
    Had Helen Bennett been right? Was God behind this opportunity? Or was it a random set of circumstances? She'd withhold judgment for now.
    Elena fired up her computer, deleted a mountain of e-mail spam, read the two or three messages that were actually significant, and finally opened Google maps.
    She plugged in the address Cathy gave her and, after a few minutes, found that the drive to Dainger, Texas, would take her about ninety minutes, maybe less if traffic was light. She printed out the directions and put them in a manila folder labeled "Dr. Sewell." Elena left the folder on the desk in plain sight, where its presence could remind her that there was hope for her future.
    For about the millionth time after his death, Elena wished Mark were here so she could talk with him about the practice opportunity. That led to another crying spell. Should she call David? No, she'd seen him only a few hours before this. She had to learn to get through these times on her own.
    She read for a while, or at least she turned the pages of a book. When she put it down, she had no idea what she'd read.
    Elena channel-surfed long enough to decide that the guy—she couldn't recall who—was right. Television was indeed a barren wasteland. She left the set on for noise.
    She wandered into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, stared into it as though waiting for some secret to be revealed, then closed it again.
    Elena showered, laid out her clothes for tomorrow, and crawled into bed, where she lay and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity. She must have fallen asleep, although she didn't know how or when. She was struggling through a nightmare where she defended herself in court on some unspecified but terribly serious charge when the phone woke her. She squinted at the bedside clock and was immediately wide awake, one nightmare replaced by another. Midnight.
    What day was it? Was it Tuesday? She snatched up the phone and whispered, "Hello?"
    "Are you all still open? I want to order a pizza."
    Elena sighed. "No, I'm sorry. You have the wrong number."
    She returned the phone to its cradle and sat up on the side of the bed. Might as well have a glass of milk and read. Sleep was probably going to be a long time coming. A long time.

4
     
     
     
     
     
    E lena turned off the alarm well before it was time for it to sound, swung her feet over the side of the bed, and wondered how she could face the day. Her head pounded. Her mouth was dry. Sweat plastered her pajamas to her. She had never been drunk, but this had to be what the mother of all benders produced.
    Had