WAS I TOO LATE?

Shadows dont warn twice

The words lingered in my mind long after Eleanor Briggs walked out of the clinic. Some truths come with consequences, Doctor, I let out a slow breath before shaking my head.

"No," I muttered to myself. "She's grieving."

People said strange things when they lost someone they loved. I'd seen it countless times over the years. Grief could make a person bargain with reality, deny the truth, or blame the wrong people.

Surely, that was all this was.

I picked up the next patient's file and forced myself to focus.

By sunset, the clinic was empty.

I locked the medicine cabinet, organized the patient records, and reached for my handbag. Just as I was about to leave, something caught my attention.

The vase sitting on the windowsill had been knocked onto the floor.

Glass covered the tiles.

I frowned.

"I'm sure I left this here."

Kneeling, I carefully picked up the larger pieces. It was the handmade vase the children had given me after I treated them during last year's flu outbreak.

I smiled sadly.

"I guess I'll have to glue you back together."

After sweeping the broken pieces into a small bin, I switched off the lights and stepped outside.

The village was unusually quiet.

Most families had already gone home for dinner.

As I locked the clinic door, I heard footsteps approaching.

"Working late again?"

I looked up and smiled.

"Ethan."

The village police officer slowed to a stop beside me, a paper bag in one hand.

"I figured you skipped lunch."

"I didn't skip it."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You forgot, didn't you?"

"...Maybe."

"I knew it."

He handed me the bag.

Inside was my favourite meat pie from Mrs. Martha's bakery.

"You really don't have to keep feeding me."

"And you really don't have to keep forgetting to eat."

I laughed softly.

"I'll pay you back."

"You've been saying that for three years."

"And I'll keep saying it."

For a brief moment, neither of us spoke.

The cool evening breeze rustled the leaves above us.

Then Ethan's gaze shifted to the broken glass still visible through the clinic window.

"What happened?"

"My vase fell."

"Fell?"

"I think so."

He frowned.

"You think?"

"I don't remember leaving it that close to the edge."

Without another word, he unlocked the clinic and stepped inside.

"Ethan?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he slowly examined the room.

His eyes moved across the shelves.

The cabinets.

The windows.

The back door.

Finally, he crouched beside the broken glass.

"You cleaned most of it already."

"I didn't want anyone getting hurt."

He ran his fingers across the windowsill before looking at me.

"Did you lock this window this morning?"

"Of course."

"Hm."

"What is it?"

He stood.

"Nothing."

That one word told me it wasn't nothing.

"You don't believe the vase simply fell."

"I'm not saying that."

"But you're thinking it."

His silence answered for him.

I folded my arms.

"You're worrying too much."

"I hope I am."

He walked toward the back door.

Something immediately caught his attention.

There, on the dusty wooden floor, was a muddy footprint.

Fresh.

My smile disappeared.

"I cleaned this floor before opening the clinic."

Ethan slowly knelt beside it.

"This wasn't here this morning."

A knot formed in my stomach.

"So... someone came inside?"

"Looks that way."

"But nothing's missing."

His eyes narrowed.

"Sometimes people don't break in to steal."

The sentence sent a chill down my spine.

He followed the trail of footprints to the back window.

It was unlocked.

I stared at it.

"No..."

"I always lock that window."

"I know you do."

"Then how..."

Ethan looked outside.

The footprints disappeared into the trees behind the clinic.

Whoever had entered knew exactly how to leave without being seen.

He pulled out his radio.

"This is Officer Brooks. I need Deputy Collins at the village clinic immediately."

Static crackled before a voice answered.

"On my way."

I wrapped my arms around myself.

"I don't understand."

Ethan turned toward me.

"Tell me everything that happened today."

I hesitated.

"Everything?"

"Everything."

I thought back through the day.

Patients.

Grandpa Ben.

Children bringing flowers.

Then...

"Eleanor Briggs came to see me."

His expression changed instantly.

"What did she want?"

I repeated every word of our conversation.

I told him about the envelope.

The money.

The request to change Harold Briggs' death certificate.

And finally...

Her warning.

When I finished, Ethan's jaw was clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might c***k.

"You should've called me."

"I didn't think it was necessary."

"It was."

"I can handle one angry widow."

"This isn't about an angry widow, Ariana."

"Then what is it about?"

He looked toward the open window again before lowering his voice.

"Harold Briggs didn't die from natural causes."

"I know."

"The investigation isn't closed."

"I know that too."

"What you don't know..." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "...is that Harold Briggs made a lot of dangerous enemies before he died."

I frowned.

"You think one of them broke into my clinic?"

"I don't know what to think yet."

The sound of an approaching vehicle interrupted us.

Deputy Collins climbed out and hurried over.

"You called?"

Ethan pointed toward the muddy footprints.

"I want this area searched tonight."

"Think we'll find something?"

"I hope so."

As the two officers discussed the search, I looked out toward the dark tree line beyond the clinic.

For the first time since deciding to leave Ashwood...

Home no longer felt completely safe.