Chapter Twenty-Two
The Mill Village Clinic
CJ scanned the chart of her next patient. Follow-up. She’d had a series of STD tests on Friday. The same day as Shelley.
Pushing open the door to the lobby, CJ called the patient’s name. “Celeste Martin.” Eight patients still waited, and she’d seen twenty already. No wonder Juanita was overwhelmed.
A young white woman, twenty according to her chart, pushed out of the molded plastic chair and slinked toward CJ.
Fiery red hair, a color nature hadn’t intended.
Puffy blue eyes accentuated with far too much eyeliner and mascara.
Judging by her acute thinness and her too-pale skin, her diet was less than adequate and she rarely stepped out in the daylight.
“Good morning, Ms. Martin.”
Celeste gave CJ a long, cautious look. “Where’s Juanita?”
“She’ll be back on Friday. I’m Dr. CJ Patterson.” CJ held the door open for her patient. “Room two.”
The woman walked with a bit of a hitch in her stride. CJ wasn’t sure if that was her usual gait or if she was reacting to pain. Judging by the stilettos she wore, she could have twisted her ankle. If so, she’d climbed right back into the saddle again, so to speak.
Celeste slouched against the exam table. “How’d my tests come out?”
“They were all negative.” CJ flashed a smile. “Nothing to worry about there.”
Celeste grimaced as she straightened away from the table. “I’ll just come back Friday to see Juanita ’bout the rest.”
“Come on.” CJ patted the table. “Scoot up here and let me have a quick look and listen.” When the woman didn’t oblige her, CJ added, “You’re here. Might as well.”
Celeste hesitated, doubt lingering in her eyes. “Juanita knows me. I like talking to her.”
Chalk one up for Juanita. She’d built quite a patient-physician relationship. This wasn’t the first patient today who wanted to come back on Friday.
“I understand.” CJ closed the chart. “But I couldn’t help noticing you’re in pain. I can help you now; why suffer until Friday?”
The woman’s hand went to her right side. “It hurts bad.” Her face scrunched with the pain she’d obviously been trying to hide. “I got real scared last night. I couldn’t sleep, it hurt so bad.”
“Why don’t you take off your blouse and let me have that look?” The spaghetti-strap camisole and mini miniskirt didn’t cover that much, anyway.
Celeste hesitated another moment but then grabbed the hem of her cami and peeled it over her head. CJ clamped her mouth shut to prevent the gasp.
Angry red marks, recent, and purple and yellow bruising, several days old, colored her torso. Her bare breasts were covered in the same.
“Come on.” CJ patted the exam table. “Ease up here and lie back, please.”
Celeste grunted with the effort. She tugged her short skirt, which had slid upward, back over her hips. No panties. Not surprising. The bruising extended to her hips as well.
Not wanting to put her off until she’d completed her exam, CJ kept the questions related to any symptoms the patient had experienced. Grimaces and soft groans came whenever she touched the fresher injuries.
“Let’s get an X-ray. Make sure this is all soft tissue damage. Then maybe an ultrasound.”
“I could use some Vicodin.”
“We’ll talk about that after we see what’s going on.”
Since there was no nurse or medical assistant, CJ searched for a gown, got the patient into it, and escorted her to the last exam room on the right. It was the largest, and that was where the X-ray machine was. She’d volunteered in enough free clinics to know her way around an X-ray machine.
As CJ prepared the patient for the images, she did what she’d been doing all morning. “You grow up around here?”
“Nah, I’m from Mobile. I came up here last year. Got a place over on Beacon a couple months ago.”
“Okay, I’m going to step behind the screen.” CJ headed that way. “Don’t move.”
CJ selected the appropriate settings. “Here we go.” A couple of clicks and she moved back to the patient’s side to position her for a second view. A third view and CJ was ready to have a look. “Just stay put while I process these.”
As she went through the steps, she continued her questioning through the open door between the exam room and cramped developing room that had surely once been a closet. “You like it here?”
“It’s okay.”
“I hear Ricky can be a tough guy to work for.” CJ held her breath. She’d skipped several questions and gone straight to the ones that might rouse suspicion.
“I don’t work for him no more. Tyrone wanted me working for him.”
CJ’s heart thumped. “You must be a hard worker.” It was the best she could come up with.
“Have to. I don’t do my part, he’ll kick my ass.”
CJ paused before pulling the films. “Did he do this to you?”
“Hell no. Uh-uh. No way. He ain’t gonna damage the merchandise.” She made a face and put a hand to her side. “Shit happens, you know?”
Yeah, CJ knew all right. “I guess you heard about the woman who was murdered last weekend.” An ache speared CJ. It still didn’t seem real. “You can sit up now.” She clipped the films onto the viewing box. She had to do this as nonchalantly as possible.
“Yeah.” Celeste rolled to her side and pushed up. She’d been through this before. “I partied with her a couple of times before she gave up the life. She was cool. She let me stay at her place once when Tyrone was punishing me.”
Anticipation pounding in her veins, CJ barely restrained the need to dive into a long list of questions. The woman had just said that Tyrone didn’t damage the merchandise. Instead, she said, “Good news. No fractures.” She helped the woman off the table.
“That’s good.” She turned to CJ at the door. “Do I still get the Vicodin?”
“Does Juanita usually give you medication for your pain?” Bruising this bad warranted something for pain, but CJ didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. She saw none of the notes Juanita had mentioned in Celeste’s chart. Also, she’d like to do an ultrasound as well.
“Yeah. She knows being a foot soldier is hard sometimes.”
“I’m not sure I understand the whole foot soldier concept.”
Celeste shrugged. “He’s the King, we’re his army in the streets.”
Talk about an ego. “You were saying that he punished you.”
“Like he did Shelley, you know. And anybody else who don’t do as they told.”
CJ tensed. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“The first time you mess up, he tells you what for. Makes you feel bad for screwing up.”
Back in the exam room, Celeste shouldered out of the gown and reached for her cami. “The next time you get shunned. Can’t work. You get pretty hungry. That happened to me not too long after I got here. Shelley helped me out. Gave me a place to stay. Something to eat.”
CJ’s heart squeezed. Shelley had liked helping others. “That treatment sounds a little harsh.” This girl, like the others she’d seen today, didn’t look as if she could afford to miss even one meal. Most were living on drugs. This was abuse clear and simple.
Truly sick bastard.
“If you stupid enough to piss him off the third time, then you in big trouble. That could get you dead.”
More of that tension stiffened CJ’s muscles. “Dead? Tyrone kills people who make mistakes?”
CJ snapped her mouth shut. She hadn’t meant to ask that question. She’d gone too far.
The deer-caught-in-the-headlights look in Celeste’s eyes signaled that she recognized she had said too much.
That frightened gaze suddenly narrowed. “Your name is Patterson too. You’re her sister.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why you asking all these questions.” She shook her head. “Goddammit.” She glared at CJ. “Bitch, you’ll get me killed if you go mouthing off to Tyrone.”
“No.” CJ gave her head an adamant shake. “I told you, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Yeah. Uh-huh. You gonna give me them Vicodins or not?”
“I’d like to do an ultrasound.”
Celeste shook her head. The simmering fury on the woman’s face warned that CJ wouldn’t be getting anything else from her.
Truth was, CJ couldn’t blame her. “Okay.” Providing her with some relief was the least CJ could do.
“Let me see what we have on hand. But if the pain persists, I’d like you to come back on Friday for that ultrasound. ”
“Whatever.” Celeste didn’t look at her.
There were more patients in the lobby. CJ would just keep asking questions until she got the answers she needed.
Or until Tyrone found out what she was up to and stopped her.
He, of all people, should know that stopping her would be easier said than done.
6:35 p.m.
CJ didn’t lock up until she’d seen the last patient, even if they’d showed after closing time.
She collapsed into one of the ugly molded plastic chairs and rested her head in her hands.
The quality of life in the village was unspeakable. She’d known it. She’d grown up here. But seven years away had faded the worst memories from her mind. On the rare occasions when she’d come home, Shelley had made it a point to conceal as much of her life from CJ as possible.
Instead of complaining to Shelley, why hadn’t she asked real questions?
Instead of making demands, why hadn’t she listened?
A rap on the door jerked her from the troubling thoughts.
CJ was exhausted. She pushed to her feet. But if there was someone else who needed medical care, that was why she was here. And maybe, just maybe, she would learn something more.
She dragged to the window and split the blinds to see who was out there before unlocking the door. Some old habits were instinctive.
A man, ragged clothes, disheveled hair, waited at the door.
He turned slightly as she watched. Blood stained the front of his shirt.
Her pulse thumped. She surveyed the parking lot and didn’t see anyone else, which indicated the blood had likely come from him.
No vehicle. He’d apparently walked from one of the village streets.
Muggings and fights, usually over women or drugs, were an everyday affair.
She rushed to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. “You’re injured?” The idea that he could have left someone injured and had come here for assistance flashed through her mind.
“It hurts bad.” He pressed a hand to his chest, grimaced.