Page 6 of Out of the Shadows

“Bean, my dear, the fact that you called me is telling. I’ll see you in twenty.”

“I’ll let security know you’re on your way. Thanks, Doc,” she said before hanging up.

Bean quickly sent an interoffice message to both Mel at the front desk and the guys monitoring the security gate about Doc’s arrival, then she leaned back into her chair with a groan. Well, more like a whimper. Her face was on fire and her hands trembled. Whether that was from her fall or the impending visit with Doc, she wasn’t sure. The man hadn’t been wrong. She avoided doctors of every stripe as much as humanly possible. But if shehadto see a doctor, Doc was the one. The man was efficient, quick, and to the point.

Bean wasn’t a fan of needles, hated being poked and prodded, and that heavy-duty disinfectant smell that was universal in every medical facility never failed to make her stomach turn. Her earliest memories were flashes of her sitting in a bright, sterile room working on various projectswhile a handful of doctors in white lab coats studied her every move. But regardless of her hangups, she needed to figure out what was wrong. Get it fixed. Then move on.

Fifteen minutes later, her desk phone buzzed. The display indicated it was Mel at the front desk. “Yes?” Bean asked, pressing the speaker button.

“Doc Buchanan is here to see you.”

“Thanks, Mel. Please send him back.”

Scanning her monitors, Bean began closing out the screens that contained confidential information, which was basically all of them.

A knock sounded at her office door. As the last screen went dark, she called out, “Come in.”

“Hi, Bean,” Doc said, a warm smile on his face as he closed the door behind him.

She rose and stepped toward him with her hand outstretched. “Thanks for seeing me, Doc.” After shaking his hand, she gestured to her office’s seating area—aka the comfy couch she often crashed on during long cases and missions. “Please, have a seat.”

Instead of sitting, he set his bag on the coffee table and tilted his head to the side as he studied her face. “I’m not going to lie. I was surprised when you called. But considering the shiner that’s blooming, I’m glad you did. Would you be more comfortable doing the exam on the couch or sitting in your office chair?”

Neither.She frowned. “Couch, I suppose.”

“Have a seat.” He pulled an oxygen monitor, blood pressure cuff, and a stethoscope from his bag and sat on the coffee table across from her. “Pull your sleeve up, please.”

Undoing the button at her wrist, she rolled up the sleeve of her blouse. Moving the material to her shoulder, she stilled when Doc’s hand settled over hers.

“What are these from?” he asked, his gaze on the two large bruises on her biceps.

Her frown deepened, and for a moment, her words lodged in her throat. “I, um, passed out a few days ago at home. I think I hit the edge of my dining table on the way down.”

Concern was evident on Doc’s face as he fit the cuff around her upper arm. “Any blurry vision or headaches?”

She contemplated lying, but that defeated the entire purpose of seeing Doc. “Yes to both,” she said with a soft sigh. “But the blurry vision was for just a few seconds, and the headache’s nothing big.”

His lips pressed together as he placed the stethoscope’s earpieces into his ears. “Try to relax,” he murmured, taking her blood pressure.

The cuff tightened around her arm, and she tried to think calm, pleasant thoughts, but it was pointless. The hiss of the cuff deflating matched her spirits.

“One-thirty-eight over eighty-eight. A little high.” Placing the cuff back into his bag, he pulled out a package of exam gloves, hand sanitizer, and a clear bag that contained a tray and multiple plastic boxes. After sanitizing his hands, he put on a pair of gloves and scanned her face, asking, “May I?”

She nodded and then winced as he gently prodded her bruised cheek.

“How many times have you passed out?”

It took all her willpower to hold still. “Just the two times. I thought the first time was a fluke, but today...” She shrugged. “I figured it was better to give you a call.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” he replied, removing his gloves.

After shining a flashlight in her eyes and checking the bruises on her arms, he had her stand and do a number of exercises that reminded her of field sobriety tests she’d seen done. Seemingly satisfied by her actions, Doc gestured forher to sit back on the couch. Then he donned a new pair of gloves, opened the clear bag, and quickly assembled a mini phlebotomy station.

Her stomach rolled. Violently.

“We’ll do a quick blood draw and should have the results back in two to three days.”

She may have nodded. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that it took every bit of concentration to remain calm. When he disinfected her arm with an alcohol swab, she wanted to yank her arm away from him. When he came at her with a giant needle, she wanted to stabhimwith it. Instead, he jabbed it into her arm.

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