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Chapters (86)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Booklist
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. 76
  81. 77
  82. 78
  83. 79
  84. 80
  85. 81
  86. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

“What do you have to feel old about?” Now she didn’t sound snappish at all. She sounded interested. Again. Always.

“The usual. I always wanted to be a doctor. Did my four years in college and got into a medical school, but the cost choked me so I decided to do the smart thing.” Dr. Brocklebank sneered at his younger self. “I joined the military so I could earn the GI Bill. I was a medic in the Marines, did two tours in the Middle East, one of them on the fringes of that Syrian ethnic annihilation, and a third in Korea.”

Adam had never heard any of this.

“That sounds awful.” Elle examined Brocklebank as closely as he had her. “You must have been devastated.”

“Every day. Every damned day.” Brocklebank stepped out of the pen, but he didn’t take his gaze off the suckling kid. “By the time I finished my stint, I was done with pain and death. I swore I wasn’t going to stitch people up so they could be medevacked to a hospital where they died in agony or from blood loss or a lost limb. Instead I became a veterinarian, and now I deliver baby goats.”

She touched his arm and smiled into his face. “That sounds like the perfect solution.”

“Yes. Yes, it was.” He cleared his throat, and when he spoke, he once again sounded like a concerned medical professional. “So I repeat, young lady, what happened to you?”

12

“OH. WHAT HAPPENED. I don’t know. I know it wasn’t as bad as a whole bunch of months spent in battle trying to put people back together, but I—” Elle’s voice caught for a moment, and she put her hand to her throat.

“Open your collar and show him,” Adam instructed.

Her fingers trembled so much Dr. Brocklebank stepped closer—Adam noted he didn’t crowd her—and opened the first two buttons. He spread the collar, and as the bruises were revealed, he muttered, “Bastard.”

“I don’t remember what happened, but I’m pretty bruised and battered.” She stepped away from him. “I think someone’s hunting me.”

“You really don’t remember?” He seemed to have his doubts.

That made Adam’s own doubts seem a little less callous, and for that Adam felt a profound relief.

Brocklebank continued. “As in, you got yourself into a risky situation, got hurt and you don’t want to admit it? Because I would never—”

“No! I don’t even remember my whole name, and I want...” Once again, she was on the verge of tears. “I don’t want to hurt in my body, I don’t want to be afraid to drive up the road, and I don’t want to glance around in my brain and see a shadowy shape lurking.”