“You’re done!” he shouted as the security guards heaved him out into the hall.

Or had he said You’re dead?

I STUMBLED on wooden legs back to the medical office.

Alice Jones was dead.

I hadn’t helped her when she’d needed it, so she’d turned to illegal drugs. And where had she gotten those?

The thought was as fleeting as a hummingbird, there and then gone.

I should’ve prescribed her something to help the pain when I had the chance.

I had to get out of here. I grabbed my coat and purse and hurried out of the clinic, down the stairs, and outside. People rushed past, huddled under umbrellas to escape the pelting rain. The wind blew my hair, cutting straight through my wool coat to my bones. My hands and ears went raw with cold.

I was pulling an umbrella from my bag when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I let out a little shriek.

“I’m so sorry!” Dr. Palmer looked surprised.

“No, I’m sorry!” I forced a smile, letting myself slide back into my other persona: Dr. Sweeney, calm and capable. “I’m just overtired.”

“It’s understandable.” Dr. Palmer hunched his shoulders against the cold. The small blood vessels across his nose and cheeks were starker than ever. I wanted to suggest a topical vasoconstrictor like oxymetazoline, but it seemed inappropriate.

“I’m so sorry you’re going through this. It’s incredibly unfair. I wish—”

I held up a hand. “You’ve done so much for me my whole life. And I know you’ve helped Ben too. I heard you helped him get a place to live after he got out of prison.”

“I met him one day while visiting you. He seemed so broken up. So when he called me after he got out… I just wanted to help.”

“We—I—owe you everything.” I put a tentative hand on his arm. “And now I owe you an apology. I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch. I was really messed up for a long time. I’m sorry.”

Dr. Palmer pulled me into a tight hug. At first I stiffened, unused to public displays of affection and a little worried that a colleague might see. But it was nice to be hugged by someone who reminded me of my father. He even smelled the same, like Old Spice and well-worn leather and just faintly of cigarettes.

We pulled apart and laughed a little awkwardly.

“I better…” I motioned to my car.

“Yes, off course.”

I dashed across the parking lot and was just opening my car door when the sound of sudden revving jerked my attention to my right. The now-familiar black truck accelerated past me, sending rainwater arcing into the air. I jumped out of the way, avoiding most of the splash as the truck drove away.

But not before I’d seen who was driving.