Over the Edge by Brandilyn Collins Read Free Book Online

"No."
    "Jannie, we have no choice. For all we know he could have injected you with some kind of poison."
    Poison?
    "Maybe he did tell the truth about when he broke in," Jud said. "It's possible the nightmares started long after the actual event."
    Brock nodded. "Maybe. Look, if his story's true, and she's got Lyme—great. A round of antibiotics will take care of it."
    "He said I'd need long-term treatment because I've had the disease for awhile."
    Brock puffed out air. "Jannie, no matter when you got it— if you have Lyme at all—two to four weeks of antibiotics eradicate the spirochetes in the body, it's as simple as that. The man's lying through his teeth. He's one of those nuts in the Lyme community who'll stop at nothing to prove his point. Maybe he's working on some so-called medicine that could be worth millions, if only my committee will declare the disease is serious and widespread." Brock's face contorted. "What's even more amazing is that he thinks he can get away with this. That I would disavow clear scientific findings to please some madman!"
    I fixed Brock with a dull stare. I did not want to go to the hospital.
    Brock and Jud Maxwell continued talking, the detective prodding him for more information about his committee and why its findings were so important. I half listened as Brock explained how the findings were crucial to the correct health care of patients. That they were key in determining treatment procedures, and ultimately insurance companies used them in fixing coverage policies—although insurance was not the committee's focus.
    Jud stood and clicked off the tape recorder. "I'd like to check that sliding door in your kitchen—the one the caller said was his entry point. And I'll look around in the backyard."
    I looked to Brock. "What'll we tell Lauren?"
    "I'll just step out back." Officer Maxwell smiled at me. "I'll be unobtrusive about it."
    Brock rose. "I'll take you."
    They left the room. I sat like a lump in my chair, listening to the distant mumble of the television. Maybe if Lauren was involved enough in some show she'd pay little attention to the policeman searching her backyard.
    Sometime later the men returned, Jud reporting he'd seen nothing. No sign of a break-in or even a scratch on the door lock. No discernible footprints in the grass. I could have told him as much. I'd been through that door and out in the backyard many times in the past few days. If anything were amiss, I'd have spotted it.
    The detective prepared to leave. He gave Brock and me each one of his cards. "I'll be in touch with you soon about tapping the phones, Dr. McNeil. And I'll need you to keep me apprised of the hospital test findings."
    "Right."
    "You're headed to the hospital now?"
    No, Brock.
    "Yes."
    "You need help transporting?"
    "We'll be all right." Brock thumbed the corner of the business card. "Look, I want this kept quiet. Last thing we need is for this to be in the media."
    Jud held up a hand. "They won't hear it from me. But in investigating this case I will have to talk to your associates at work. Someone may have seen or heard something that will trigger a lead."
    Brock frowned. "There's no point in doing that. Nobody at Stanford's going to know a thing. This is the work of some Lyme awareness nut."
    I don't want to go to the hospital.
    "That may well be," Jud said. "But we have to start somewhere. And that somewhere is the people around you. In this case those closest to your work."
    Brock stared at the detective, clearly not happy. Well, what did he expect? You call the police about a break-in, they have to follow up.
    My husband never liked not being in control.
    After an awkward moment, Brock gave a curt nod.
    He showed Jud Maxwell to the door. I remained in the chair, my mind numb. Vaguely I registered the smell of roast wafting through the house. I looked at my watch. Four forty-five. The meat would be done in another . . . what?
    How long did roast take to cook, anyway?
    I stared