Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

“It was just an accident. I tripped and ran straight into the door frame.” Rene Forbes gave a nervous laugh. “I’m such a klutz.”

Miranda looked down at the hand-shaped bruise darkening Rene’s wrist. “And when did the door grow fingers?”

Had she not been holding the hand and wrist to examine it, Miranda had no doubt that Rene would’ve tugged her sleeve down to cover the injury. As it was, she dropped her gaze to somewhere around Miranda’s left shoulder.

“Rene.” She kept her voice gentle. “You didn’t fall into a door. You didn’t step in a hole last time or have a box fall off the top shelf onto your head the time before that. Let me help you.”

“I just need to know if my wrist is sprained or broken.”

Miranda resisted the urge to grind her teeth. “All right. I’ll get Keisha to take you back for an x-ray.”

While her nurse ushered Rene down the hall, Miranda slipped into the break room and called the police station. Inez Barlow, the dispatcher and admin who’d been running the place for thirty years, answered the phone.

“Hey Inez, it’s Miranda Campbell. I wondered if you could send an officer down here to take a statement about a domestic abuse case.” She didn’t know if she could convince Rene to cave and report Harley, but there needed to be some kind of documentation of his escalation on file.

“Is there any danger presently at the clinic?”

“No. The victim is alone. Could you ask whoever shows up to be circumspect? I want to protect her privacy as much as possible. Have them come to the back door.”

“Can do, Doc.”

As soon as she ended the call, she sent a text to Shelby Abbott, her office manager. Called Theresa’s Mom. Theresa Hammond had been the first domestic abuse patient Miranda had treated when she moved back to Wishful. She and Shelby had established a shorthand around that to let the rest of the staff know, per their established protocol for this kind of situation, that they’d be sneaking police in the back and to keep all patients out of the halls as much as possible.

That done, Miranda continued seeing patients.

She’d just stepped back into the hall and ordered a strep test for little Rachel Keeney, when Ethan Greer came through the back door of the clinic.

Of course, it would be him. After she’d damned near knocked him over at Dinner Belles earlier in the week. Well, no, he was incredibly solid. She hadn’t been able to avoid noticing that when she’d been pressed up against him for that all too brief encounter.

He hadn’t called about the report on her car. His dispatcher had. She refused to analyze the flare of disappointment she’d felt at that.

Focus.

He strode down the hall with a long-legged swagger that reminded her of a cowboy in an old Western, an impression helped along by the well-worn boots on his feet.

“Chief.” She took him into one of the empty exam rooms and shut the door for privacy. “Thank you for coming. I’m gonna be honest with you—my patient probably isn’t going to be willing to report her husband today. But I have a documented escalation of injuries in her medical records over the past year, and I want to make sure that the police are aware of it.”

“Sensible.”

Did it take a crime of some kind to elicit more than three syllables at a time?

“Can you wait here, while I go over the x-ray with her? I’m going to make my case. If she’ll agree, I’ll bring you in. If not, I’ll make the report myself after she goes.”

“I’ve got time.”

Not sure what else to say for the moment, Miranda gestured to a chair. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Keisha met her in the hall with the radiograph and followed her back into the exam room. Miranda slid the x-rays onto the lightbox to view them. The hairline fracture wasn’t a surprise. Perhaps the bigger shock was that it wasn’t any worse. Given the bruising, he’d cranked his hand around her fragile wrist like a vise.

“Well?” Rene asked softly.

Miranda used a capped pen to point. “It’s fractured. See that line right there? You’ll need a cast for a few weeks.”

“Can you do that here?”

“Yes. The bones aren’t separated or out of alignment. If it was any worse, I’d have to send you to an orthopedist.” She glanced at Keisha. “Non-displaced wrist fracture.”

“On it.”

As her nurse slipped from the room to retrieve supplies, Miranda spoke again. “Rene, I want you to look here, too. See that?” She pointed to several thick, white lines across the ulna. “Those are previous healed fractures. This has happened before.”

Rene hunched her shoulders. “I told you, I’m clumsy.”

“I’m sure that’s what he tells you.” Miranda dragged a stool over to the exam table and sat. “Are you aware you’ve been in here seven times over the past year for injuries? Three times since Thanksgiving. And I know I saw you in the emergency room once last year. Your records at the hospital indicate that wasn’t your first visit. Harley is getting violent more often.”

“Holidays are hard. Since he got laid off from the factory, he hasn’t been able to find steady work.”

The fact that Harley was seldom sober probably had a lot to do with that. “You don’t have to stay with him. You have options. The women’s shelter out at Hope Springs has both room and resources.” Well, not as much room as they needed, but they were nearly done constructing an expansion, and Miranda knew that Lily Mae Pollard, the woman who ran Monarch House, wasn’t about to turn away anyone in need.

“I took vows.”

How many times had Miranda heard that from Rene and others like her? “So did he. And he’s breaking them. He assaulted you. You need to report this.”

“The police can’t do anything. What happens in a man’s home—”

“That’s where you’re wrong. The law doesn’t stop at the doorway to a residence. Assault inside the home is still assault. Now you can ignore this like you’ve been doing. You can go on home and tiptoe around his moods, hoping you can anticipate what will set him off. But one of these days he’s going to snap, and it’s going to be worse than a fractured wrist and some bruising. Based on the escalation I’m seeing here, that’s not far off. He could kill you, Rene.”

Miranda’s hope that the words would shock her patient into action were dashed when she only lifted a stubborn chin. “He wouldn’t. Harley loves me.”

Maybe he had once, though Miranda questioned how much a man like that could really love. She chose her words carefully. “He probably wouldn’t mean to, but he gets aggressive when he’s been drinking. He’s not in control of himself. He needs help.”

Rene brightened somewhat at that. She wouldn’t reach out to take help for herself, but she’d think about it for him? Miranda didn’t like what that said about the woman’s self esteem, but she pushed for whatever advantage she could get.

“If you report him, a judge could order him to counseling, to treatment for alcohol addiction, if he thinks it’s necessary.”

The woman chewed her lip. “Harley would be really mad about that. He doesn’t trust therapists and head doctors.”

“Maybe not. But if a judge says he has to go, he doesn’t have a choice. And while he’s there, he could deal with his anger issues and get the drinking under control.” Miranda knew perfectly well a hostile, court-mandated patient wasn’t a good candidate for any of those things, but if they could get him out of the house and away from Rene long enough, they could maybe finally convince her to leave his ass and go to Monarch House.

“You really think it could help?”

I really think it could help you. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

Repressing the urge to do a victory dance, Miranda rose. “Okay. I know you don’t want to go into the station, so I’ve called someone to come take a statement. Meanwhile, we’ll get started on that cast.”

In the hall, she snagged Keisha. “She’s agreed to report it.”

“Praise Jesus.”

“I’m not taking any chances that she’ll change her mind. If you’ll set out the casting materials, I’ll do it when I bring in our guest.”

“You got it.”

After putting Delaney on duty in the hall to see that none of their patients left their exam rooms, Miranda went to grab Ethan. “She’ll talk to you. She doesn’t have the self-esteem to pursue it for her own sake, but I convinced her it was in Harley’s best interest. I may have implied that a judge could order him to treatment.”

His dark brows winged up faintly and an expression of respect crossed his face. “Not inaccurate, even if not guaranteed. Good move, Doc. I can work with it.”

Wow, three whole sentences.

He followed her back down the hall to room three.

“This pink wrap is gonna look so nice and cheerful,” Keisha said as they opened the door. “Doctor Campbell is gonna put this on you now.” She’d already fitted Rene with a plastic drape to keep her clothes dry during the process.

“Thanks, Keisha.”

With a raise of her eyebrows that clearly said good luck, the nurse stepped out.

Ethan stepped quietly into the room in her wake. Rene’s eyes went wide at the sight of him. He shut the door and nodded at her. “Ma’am.”

Again, Miranda had the ridiculous notion that he ought to be wearing a cowboy hat so he could take it off in the presence of women. His pause had that air of polite respect.

“Rene, this is Chief Greer. He’s here to take your statement. Chief, this is Rene Forbes, Harley Forbes’s wife.”

He kept his focus on Rene as he came over, folding himself into the visitor’s chair as Miranda started the casting process.

Good move. Make yourself look less intimidating.

His eyes fell on the bruises as Miranda tugged up her sleeve. “I understand you’ve had a little trouble.”

Rene instinctively clutched her wrist against her chest, covering the bruising with her other hand. But Ethan had already seen. Gently, Miranda nudged the wrist back down and slipped the stockinette over her hand. “I need you to hold your thumb and forefinger together. Yes, exactly like that.”

“No, no trouble.”

Ethan just offered a reassuring smile. “You know, I’ve met your husband.”

“Oh?” Rene’s eyes flickered back and forth between them, as if she couldn’t decide who was the greater threat.

“Hauled him in a couple times for drunk and disorderly. Once for simple assault in a bar fight. Not a new thing based on his record. I’m guessin’ the bar isn’t the only place he gets aggressive after he’s had a few.”

“A man has a right to a few drinks in peace.” The words fell from her like rote. Clearly a common phrase in the Forbes household.

“Not everybody can drink responsibly. Some people get foolish. Some get mean. It’s not their fault. Just how they’re wired. Those kinda people need help learning how to handle it.”

“He’s not gonna want help. If I wasn’t so stupid all the time—”

“You’re not stupid.” Miranda snapped the words like a bullwhip. She cursed herself as Rene flinched back at the tone.

Chill out. You’re not the one being called stupid. But Miranda couldn’t stop the instant flash of temper that particular term engendered, no matter who it was directed at. Gentling her voice, she repeated it as she wrapped the arm with cotton padding. “You’re not stupid. Don’t let him tell you that you are.”

Rene’s throat worked. “How…how would this work?”

Miranda all but held her breath as she began to wrap the Scotchcast around Rene’s wrist.

“Well now, I’ll take a statement about what he did to you. I know that’s likely to be difficult. Dr. Campbell will stay right here with you, if you want.”

“Of course, I will.”

“Given Harley’s history, I’d then have to bring him in to the station to talk to him about what happened. And chances are, I’d have to arrest him.”

“Arrest? No. No no no. You can’t do that.”

“I’m afraid that’s how we’d get him in front of the judge. He’s the only one with the power to order Harley into treatment.”

“I’m not doing that. I’m not. I won’t turn in my husband.” Rene’s breathing went short, her voice rising.

Miranda choked back a curse. But Ethan stayed steady as a rock. “It’s a scary thing going up against somebody who’s got power over you. Someone who’s hurt you. Nobody can make you do it. We won’t push you about it today. But I’m gonna give you my card. It’s got my number at the station and my cell number. If ever you feel ready to press charges, or if you need help, or if you’re just scared and need to talk, you call. All right?”

Rene didn’t answer, so he just tucked the card into the purse by her side.

“I’ll just let y’all finish up with that cast. I hope you feel better soon, Mrs. Forbes.”

With one last look at Miranda that told her he’d be waiting when she was through, he slipped out the door.

Miranda took a hard grip on her temper. She finished up the cast in silence, with her patient staring at the floor. Once she’d applied the final wrap, she stayed calm and professional as she gave Rene her discharge instructions. As the woman slid off the exam table, Miranda stopped her. “Chief Greer is a good man. He wants to help you, just like I do. We’re here whenever you’re ready.”

Rene jerked a nod. “Am I finished?”

“Yeah.”

The woman couldn’t get out fast enough.

Miranda stayed where she was. A minute later, Ethan came back into the room.

Frustrated and heartsick, she scooped a hand through her hair. “I thought I’d convinced her this time.”

“I wish I could say this kind of thing didn’t happen all the time. I expect you know that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. It’s always so hard to balance walking the line between HIPPA regulations and duty to report. And worrying over whether they’ll stop seeking treatment if the incidents are reported.”

“Hey, you tried. That’s more than a lot of people would do. Plenty of others look the other way.”

Miranda lifted her gaze to his. “I have never been that person.”

His lips curved, just a little, as if he appreciated that about her. Then he sobered again. “She wasn’t going to press charges. Not when she got up close and personal with the idea. But I’ll still make a report, add it to the file. Every little bit of evidence helps.”

“I’ll write up what I saw. I have no problem testifying about it, should it come to that. He’s escalating.”

“That’s my read, too. Believe me, I’m keeping an eye on Forbes. He does anything else I can put him away for, I’ll do it.”

“Let’s just hope nobody else ends up in the hospital when he does it.”

“Your mouth to God’s ear.” He shifted, reaching into his pocket for something. “Speaking of reports. You haven’t picked yours up.”

Miranda reached automatically for the folded paper he offered. “We’ve been swamped this week. Thanks for bringing it by.”

He shrugged. “Since I was coming over anyway.” His radio crackled. Without breaking eye contact, he answered the call. “Greer.”

The dispatcher came back. “Chief, we’ve got a report of a theft off of Buddy Dibley’s grill.”

“You mean somebody stole his grill?”

“No, sir. Somebody stole the ribs he was cooking right off it.”

Ethan’s face went slack with shock. “Come again?”

“You heard me. Texting you the address.”

Clearly baffled, Ethan looked to Miranda. “I used to track dangerous fugitives for a living. This is my life now,” he muttered.

Miranda hadn’t thought she could smile again so soon. “I’m sure Buddy would appreciate those investigative skills being put to the cause of locating his ribs. He’s spent the last five years trying to beat Abe Costello in the annual summer barbeque cook-off.”

His lips twitched up into an answering grin and wow. It transformed his sober face into something that set her pulse tripping. “So you’re saying it’s prospective espionage in the name of barbeque?”

Miranda shrugged. “It could happen.”

“Never a dull moment.” He nodded at her again with that hat tipping motion. “See you around, Doc.”