Chapter 16
‘There’s a couple of prescription requests here, doll, when you have a moment.’ Viv passed Nel two Post-it notes. ‘And one of the locum interviews has been cancelled. He took a job somewhere else apparently.’
Nel sighed. ‘Really?’ She looked over at her next patient, who was watching her instead of scrolling mindlessly on his phone like people usually did.
An uneasy feeling came over her. She turned her attention back to Viv and the locum.
At this rate, she would never get out of here. ‘Can we line up a replacement?’
‘Trust me, I’m working on it,’ Viv said.
Nel turned back to the patient. ‘Trent?’
He pushed his floppy hair out of his face and nodded.
‘Have a seat,’ she said when they reached the consult room. ‘I’m—’
‘Penelope Foley.’
She frowned. ‘Nel, actually. Nel Foley.’ She studied his face as he sat down. Should she recognise him? He was about her age. Early thirties. Handsome in a dishevelled way.
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’ She swallowed. ‘How can I help?’
Her heart raced as he reached into the side pocket of a worn leather laptop bag. He obviously wasn’t here as a patient. He passed her a business card.
TRENT DONOHUE. Investigative Journalist.
A knot formed in her stomach. ‘Look, whatever it is you want, I don’t have time for it.’
‘I just want a couple of minutes.’
She was irritated now. ‘This is a medical practice. Unless you need a doctor, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’
He didn’t move. ‘I’ll pay for the appointment,’ he said as if that was the point.
Nel’s mind raced as she considered her options. She needed to know what he was working on.
‘Let’s make this quick then. What do you want from me?’
‘I’m writing a profile piece about Geoff Marshall for The Weekend Magazine.’
A lump formed in her throat.
‘Obviously it will cover the death of his daughter.’
‘Isn’t it …’ Her voice faltered. ‘Isn’t it old news?’
‘There’s a lot of new interest in the story. If the conservatives win the election and Geoff Marshall wins his seat, he’ll be the Deputy Prime Minister.’
She sighed. Why couldn’t Maddie’s father be an accountant or a schoolteacher? Something ordinary, anonymous.
‘What story though?’ She hoped he couldn’t hear the tremor in her voice. ‘There is no story. It was just an accident. A terrible, tragic accident.’
‘The thing is … I don’t think you really believe that.’
‘Why does it matter what I believe?’
‘You must have a theory. What do you think happened?’
Nel shook her head. ‘I’ve been trying to put this behind me for sixteen years.’
There was a charged silence as he waited for her to say more.
‘I’m writing this story,’ he said eventually, ‘with or without your cooperation.’
‘I just can’t go back there.’
‘Then you’ll continue to be a suspect.’
A bolt of rage shot through her and she stood up. How dare he come in here and ambush her while she was working.
‘You need to go,’ she said, opening the door.
He thanked her for her time and started down the corridor, but then he turned back to face her.
‘Oh, there’s one other thing.’ He spoke as though it had slipped his mind, but it felt like an act. ‘I understand you told the police about a missing ring?’
Shit. How did he know that?
Nel held his gaze, but she was rattled now. ‘I don’t know anything about that. Have a good afternoon.’
She’d regained her composure quickly, but maybe not quickly enough.
He studied her for a long moment. ‘You too,’ he said with a nod.