Introduction

A young Asian woman seeks emergency care at Dr. Sean Nolan's clinic. The next day she is found murdered, her semi-nude body dumped in a city park. When all of her personal information turns out to be fabricated she becomes Jane Doe 73. With no identification, no clues, and no witnesses, the police quickly lose interest in her case. To Dr. Nolan it has just the opposite effect. Now it's time to look more closely.

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Excerpt

1

It was late June and Covid-19 had tightened its stranglehold on the nation. After ravaging the East and West Coast ports of entry, the relentless wave of infection had invaded the south and south- west, and was now reaching into the Ohio Valley. Small towns and rural communities were learning the painful lesson that they were not immune or insulated from harm, and the promise of a magical victory over the enemy was nothing more than a myth. The complete and catastrophic failure of the federal government to craft and prosecute a mitigation strategy had granted the virus the one thing it most craved; an unlimited supply of new victims.

The shelter-in-place order issued by the governor of Washing- ton, coupled with a shortage of personal protection equipment had forced Dr. Sean Nolan to close his small town clinic for over a month. He had managed to survive by making house calls on his most vulnerable patients, and devoting more time to the local geri- atric care facility. It had been a struggle, but he had kept his entire staff on full payroll. In comparison to the countless businesses that could not, or would not recover, he considered himself lucky.

Open again by mid-May, the pandemic still dictated every aspect of his practice. While there had only been a few cases of coronavirus in the local area, the threat it posed remained a constant reality. The airborne infection had rewritten the rules of patient care. Every appointment began with a temperature check before entering the building. Masks were mandatory, and following a generous bath with hand-sanitizer, one patient was allowed into an exam room, and a second could occupy the waiting room. Anyone in line after that took up residence in the parking lot. The new restrictions had cut their patient volume nearly in half, but it was the best they could do. Almost everyone in the country was in the same boat, and it was not a very seaworthy vessel.

Guided by habit, Dr. Nolan arrived at his office before any of his staff. After the coffeemaker was coaxed awake, he retreated to his office to review lab and test reports waiting in the fax tray, then logged into the CDC website. He scanned the Monday morning update on new COVID cases, noted the rising infection rates and reported deaths in Texas, Georgia, and Florida, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. To him, it had all been a predictable certainty, and the sheer insanity of what was unfolding was nearly unbearable. He wondered why politicians couldn’t be charged with negligent homicide?

“You napping already?” His head nurse for nineteen years, Catherine Engram, breezed into the office they shared, smiling as she set her purse on the desk across from him. Nicknamed Cat, she knew him as well as anyone on earth.

“Just dreaming of a white Christmas,” he answered wistfully. She glanced at the computer screen and gave a nod of under- standing.

“Yeah. Better times,” she said. “I’ll get coffee, and you should get ready. Sheriff Dent is your first patient. He’s scheduled for his yearly physical, and not exactly thrilled to be here.”

Dr. Nolan laughed out loud.

“God bless you, Cat. You just made my day,” he told her. “Get blood work and an EKG, and I’ll get dolled-up.”

Cat disappeared down the hall, returned with two cups of coffee, then went to get the sheriff settled into an exam room. Following the new protocol, Dr. Nolan put on a blue surgical cap, a full-length yellow gown, a face mask, a face shield to cover his eyes, and a pair of latex gloves. After draping a stethoscope around his neck, he stepped out of his office. Evie, his other medical assistant, was sitting at the nurse’s station.

“Good morning,” Dr. Nolan said. “How do I look?”

Evie, her expression concealed behind her own surgical mask, eyed him from head-to-toe with a critical tilt to her head.

“Like a cheapskate in a homemade astronaut costume,” she informed him.

Dr. Nolan gave her a dramatic drop of his head and shoulders.

“How caustically abrasive,” he announced. “I was shooting for ‘dapper’.”

Evie giggled.

“How about safe? You look safe,” Evie repeated.

Dr. Nolan bowed slightly.

“Close enough,” he said. “You have a good weekend?”

“Stayed home and read a book,” Evie answered. “Not very exciting.”

Dr. Nolan nodded.

“Being bored is better than being dead, at least in the short term,” he noted.

Cat came out of the first exam room with two vials of blood, handing Dr. Nolan the heart tracing from Sheriff Dent. He quickly scanned the twelve-lead printout.

“His ticker looks good. He still whining?”

“Threatened to leave twice already,” Cat answered. “You better get in there.”

Dr. Nolan heeded her advice. He knocked twice on the closed door, then entered. The sheriff was still sitting on the exam table, peeling the EKG pads off his chest.

“Robert. How lovely to see you,” Dr. Nolan greeted him, offering an elbow bump in place of a handshake.

“Can’t say the same, Sean,” the sheriff grumbled. “Wouldn’t be here if there was a second choice. No offense.”

“None taken,” Dr. Nolan assured him, sitting down on the small stool near the counter. “I have days where I feel the same way. I’ll try to keep this as quick and painless as possible. Anything new you want to complain about?”

Sheriff Dent allowed a barking laugh to escape from behind his mask.

“My only problems come hitched to your wagon. Every time you stumble into one of your secret fact-finding missions, I seem to get dragged along for the ride. When you’re in the corral, my life’s pretty much a bed of roses.”

It was not a jagged edged rebuke, but more of a softly laced observation, and Dr. Nolan could see the amused expression in his eyes. While they had known each other for nearly two decades, both dedicated to the health and safety of the town, their friend- ship had only begun three years ago during Dr. Nolan’s discovery of the toxic waste site near the river. The sheriff had proven himself a reliable and trusted ally. In spite of the sixteen year difference in their ages, their bond was linked to a shared, passionate belief in right and wrong, with no acceptable gray areas in-between. While they frequently disagreed on what route to travel, the final destination was never in doubt.

“Then rest easy, Robert,” Dr. Nolan told him. “I’m officially retired from the amateur detective business. The hours were terri- ble, and the pay was worse. Come to think of it, every time I actu- ally solved something I lost money.”

“And almost your life,” the sheriff reminded him. It was a reference to the Shepperd serial murder case, followed by the drug smuggling operation Dr. Nolan had accidentally uncovered near Algodones.

Dr. Nolan nodded.

“Thanks for pointing that out,” he said, reaching up and touching the small scar just below the hairline on his left forehead. It was a souvenir from him and his car being pushed over a cliff. “Anyway, that’s all in the past. No more moonlighting.”

Sheriff Dent stared him down for a long minute. “I recollect that promise tried out before,” he said at last. “Bird-dogs don’t give up chasing birds till they give up breathing. Goes against their nature.”

Dr. Nolan pointed his right index finger in the direction of heaven.

“But I have the advantage of intellect and free will, at least some of the time,” he argued. “I know from experience you’re a miser, but fifty bucks says I stay clean for the next year. How about it?”

The sheriff shook his head slowly from side to side.

“Easiest money I’ll ever make,” he said. “You should just give me the fifty now.”

Dr. Nolan stifled a laugh, then opened the chart on the desk, pen in hand.

“You’ll see. You don’t think I’m serious, but you’ll see. Now, let’s get down to business.”

For the next fifteen minutes, a steady stream of questions covered a review of systems to highlight and uncover any new or suspect changes in his physical condition. At sixty-six, Sheriff Dent was still at ideal weight, and exercising three times a week had delayed the inevitable debt owed to the passing of years. He appeared much younger than his stated age.

Dr. Nolan finished his preliminary note, then had the sheriff lay back on the exam table. In a practiced rhythm, he examined his heart, lungs, abdomen, large arteries, skin, joints, and extremities. The only abnormal concern was a palpable liver edge just below the right ribcage. Finished, he sat down on the stool again, retrieving a tube of lubricant from the drawer in the desk.

“Okay, Robert, fun part,” he announced. “I want you to step down and drop your drawers. I’m keeping this face shield on so you don’t poke me in the eye with anything.”

“Geez, very funny,” the sheriff said, slowly unfastening his trousers. “Can’t we just skip this part?”

“No, and don’t be like a baby. Underwear down, too.”

The sheriff followed instructions. After a hernia check and a search for any unusual masses, he tried to redress.

“Not so fast, big boy,” Dr. Nolan warned him. “We’re not done. I need you to turn around and lean over the table. One rule. If you enjoy this, I charge you a little extra.”

Sheriff Dent gave an audible groan.

“You’re killing me, Doc,” he said, assuming the requested position.

Dr. Nolan completed a prostate exam and a chemical test to detect any traces of blood. He handed the sheriff a box of tissues.

“Now you can get dressed, then have a seat in the nice, comfy chair.” While the sheriff gathered his clothing, Dr. Nolan jotted down his exam notes. Finally done, he wheeled his stool back a few feet, then took off his face shield and mask. He indicated with a gesture that Sheriff Dent could remove his mask as well.

“God, I hate wearing this,” the sheriff said. “Too damn hot.”

“Me too,” Dr. Nolan answered. “But we’re both in the vulner- able age group and we both have a lot of exposure to other people. For now, it’s the best way to stay as protected as possible.”

Sheriff Dent nodded.

“So, what’s the verdict?”

Dr. Nolan met his look with a half smile.

“The good news is that your heart, lungs, and blood pressure are like a teenager. Your diet could be better, but that goes for all of us. Bad news is that your liver is a little enlarged. Where you at on your alcohol intake?”

Sheriff Dent folded his hands in his lap but held eye contact.

“Some.”?

Dr. Nolan’s smile grew ever so slightly.?

“That’s man talk. Where I trained, the rule when patients gave an answer about alcohol consumption was to multiply by three. That makes you a three-some. If you were setting up a golf game or filming a sex video, that would be perfect, but it doesn’t help me much. So, let’s try this one more time. How much have you been drinking lately?”

Sheriff Dent was not smiling. He broke his gaze away.

“Just enough,” he answered.

“Enough for what?” Dr. Nolan pressed him.

“Jesus, Sean, enough to sleep, to put things to rest for awhile. And only at night. Off duty. It’s not a problem.” There was a warning in his tone, the denial more of a barrier than words could scale. Dr. Nolan had more questions, but paused long enough to let them temporarily retreat. For the term of their friendship, he had known that Sheriff Dent entered each new day weighed down with baggage from the past. He wondered if it was PTSD from Vietnam, or something separate, whether it was real or magnified by perception, agonized over failed efforts to help, and wished he was more skilled at opening closed doors.

“Okay, Robert. I’ll give you a call in a day or two and go over your blood tests. I didn’t have a sermon prepared, and if I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t be so pushy.”

The sheriff put his white Stetson on and adjusted the angle, the first hint of a smile crossing his face.

“Yes you would,” he said. “It’s in your nature.” He went to the door, opened it halfway, then paused. “That girl reporter. She doing alright?” The referral was to ABCDE Garner, the freelance jour- nalist that Dr. Nolan had taken under his wing. Involved in his last investigation, she had been abducted and beaten. With help from the sheriff and two other ex-military team members, they had rescued her at gunpoint.

“Doing great, thanks to you. She’s still in San Francisco covering the Black Lives protests and this damned virus.”

The sheriff nodded.

“Another one of your projects,” he noted with a grin. “Send my regards when you talk to her next.” He closed the door behind him without looking back, tipped his hat to the nurses as he went up the hall, then escaped into the warm, mid-morning sun.

Dr. Nolan sat alone in the exam room for a few minutes. The city was paying for the sheriff’s physical, but after a brief debate he decided to leave any reference out of the chart that suggested an alcohol issue. There was still time to try and deal with it on a more private level.

The real question was how? He had reached out to Sheriff Dent on more than one occasion, only to have the offer politely rejected. Dr. Nolan was not concerned about a deepening depression or any possibility of self-inflicted harm, but more bothered by the imposed isolation that defined Robert Dent’s existence. He had officially withdrawn from life. As the legal guardian of the town, he was respected, valued, and always guided by fairness in the prac- tice of his duties. Out of uniform, he went fishing alone, worked his small ranch, and drank himself to sleep. Each day was a copy of the last.

A knock on the door brought him back to the moment.

“I know, I know. I’m running late,” he yelled.

Cat broke the seal on his hiding place, her expression shadowed.

“You are, and we’ve got a problem,” she informed him. “There’s a girl outside with abdominal pain and a fever of 104 degrees. She’s not one of our patients, but she’s got a magazine with ABCDE’s article about you. She wants to see you, and only you.”

Dr. Nolan stood up, handed Sheriff Dent’s chart to her, then put on his mask and face shield. His mind was already outlining a list of potential diagnostic problems.

“Such is the price of fame and celebrity,” he said with a sigh. “Any respiratory complaints?”

“No, but younger people with coronavirus can have GI pain, so I thought I better check with you,” Cat explained.

“Pure genius. Let’s go.”

Dr. Nolan headed up the hall, out through the waiting room, spotting the young woman leaning against the rear bumper of a parked car. She was short and lithe, almost child-like, her perfectly shaped almond eyes watching as he approached.

“Hello. I’m Dr. Nolan. You’ve got a pretty high fever, and my nurse says you have pain in your stomach?” He held out his gloved hand, hoping she spoke English. She was most definitely Asian by ancestry.

“Yes. Two days now. I read your story. No hospital. I come here to see you,” the girl explained, her accent framed in short frag- ments. She kept hold of his hand.

“Any vomiting or diarrhea?” Dr. Nolan asked.

“No. Just pain here sometimes,” she said, pointing to the upper right side of her abdomen.

“Any bleeding? Any trouble going to the bathroom?”

The girl nodded.

“Some blood when I pee. Not too much. You fix?”

Dr. Nolan smiled behind his mask, hoping she could see it in his eyes. He guided her by the elbow toward the front entrance.

“We fix,” he told her, then looked at Cat. “Let’s put her in the far exam room to be safe. I’ll see patients in surgery while you get me a urine sample and a white blood cell count. Oh, and try to get her to drink some liquids. Anything wet is good.”

Cat held the door open.

“This feels like we’re a real clinic again,” she remarked. “Just like the old days.”

Dr. Nolan nodded.

“Geez! Your name? What do we call you?” he asked the girl. “Lien. I am Lien.”

“Okay, Lien. You go with my nurse, and I’ll catch up with you in

a few minutes. We need to get some tests started,” Dr. Nolan explained.

Lien nodded her understanding, walking with Cat to the far end of the hall. Amanda, his receptionist for many years, was already busy putting an information sheet on a clipboard.

“You even bother to see if she has insurance?” she asked Dr. Nolan.

“Slipped my mind. Besides, that’s your problem,” he quipped.

“No, it’s your problem when there’s no money to pay bills at the end of the month,” she reminded him.

Dr. Nolan narrowed his gaze and glared at her.

“Why do you always have to ruin my fantasies?” he asked. “I felt needed, elated by the challenge of helping this poor traveler on life’s highway, momentarily lifted in spirit by the gift of giving, of trying to make the world a better place. And now...!”

“And now you better hope she has insurance,” Amanda repeated, oblivious to his theatrical performance.

Dr. Nolan sighed heavily.

“Did I score any points at all?” he asked.

“Not with me,” Amanda noted, “but your delivery was good. If I didn’t know you, I might have fallen for some of it.”

Dr. Nolan gave a dejected shake of his head.

“Alright then, I’ll be in surgery if anyone cares,” he said, heading off to see the next patient while Cat started gathering preliminary information on Lien. Twenty minutes later he caught up with her at the nurse’s station. He peeled off his gloves and squeezed into a new pair.

“Okay, what have we got?”

“White count only slightly elevated at 11,800, hematocrit’s normal. UA’s under the microscope,” Cat answered, all business.

“Excellent. You get her to drink anything?” He scooted a chair close to the counter, sat down, then squinted through the micro- scope lenses as he adjusted the focus. The girl’s urine sample was a marsh-land of both red and white blood cells, with an explosive overgrowth of paired, round bacteria.

“Ro, Ro,” Dr. Nolan said in a low voice. He scooted back and nodded for Cat to look at the slide. “Send a sample to the lab and ask them to check for gonorrhea and Chlamydia.”

“Yikes! That hurts just looking at it,” Cat added. Evie, his other nurse, took a quick peek through the microscope, scrunching up her face.

“That’s your future if you don’t change your evil ways,” Dr. Nolan warned her. “It’s not too late.”

Cat snorted out a laugh. Evie’s social life was boringly tame, and accusing her of a notorious, brazen secret life was one of Dr. Nolan’s favorite pastimes.

“Ha, ha,” Evie responded. “Don’t we have to notify the health department?”

Dr. Nolan shook his head.

“Not till the lab confirms it. Cat, let’s go have a chat with our new patient. I want you in the room with me at all times, and we’ll probably need to do a pelvic exam. You ready?”

“Lead on,” Cat said, making room for him to pass. At the door, he took a deep breath, gave Cat a nod, then knocked and went in.

The girl was lying back on the table, wincing in pain as she sat upright.

“Lien. I need to check a few more things, but it looks like you have a bad infection. We can make it better with medicine. You understand?”

The girl shook her head.

Dr. Nolan first checked her throat, felt the lymph nodes in her neck, listened to her heart and lungs, then had her lie back again. Her abdominal exam elicited tenderness in the right upper quad- rant and the low pelvic region. He stood in front of her to keep eye contact.

“Now, the last thing we need to do is a pelvic exam. The nurse will get you ready while I wait outside, okay? You know what that means?”

The girl nodded again, but said nothing.

Cat was already arranging the necessary medical equipment on the counter. Dr. Nolan stepped out of the room, listening as she explained to the girl every step of the exam, reassuring her it would be a quick and painless process. When he was summoned back, Lien was already positioned in the stirrups with a paper sheet covering her.

“Okay, quick and easy,” Dr. Nolan said. He put on new gloves, moved his stool to the foot of the exam table, then lifted the drape just far enough to gain access. “Try to relax for me. This will be kind of cold.”

Gently he applied a lubricant, then slowly inserted the plastic speculum and rotated it until the girl’s cervix came into view. On quick exam there was a thick discharge from the cervical opening, and a number of large bruises and small petechiae deep in the vaginal vault. Dr. Nolan could also see a healing tear near the anal rim. He removed the speculum, helped the girl free her feet from the metal bracing, then gave her his hand, pulling her back to a sitting position.

“Good job,” he said. “You did great. No more torture.” He snapped off his gloves and went to wash his hands. “I’m going to give you two kinds of medicine. One is an injection. A shot. Understand?”

“Yes. I know shots,” Lien answered.

“Good. One injection, and five pills you take at the same time. That will fix you, but I have two questions. Both are important. This is not to cause trouble, but to keep you safe. Okay?”

Lien looked down at the floor, giving a brief nod in response.

“Have you had any new sexual partners in the last week or two?” Dr. Nolan asked.

“No boyfriends,” she quickly answered, the lie not even delayed by thought.

“Okay. Last question. Are you safe where you’re living? Is someone mistreating you? If there’s some kind of problem, some- thing wrong, maybe we could help.”

He saw Lien shoot a quick glance toward Cat, then look away almost immediately.

“No. No. Everything is good. I am safe,” the girl said.

Dr. Nolan took in a long breath, letting it escape slowly. He was not having a good day in matching answers to questions.

“Alright young lady. I’m going to give you one of my cards,” he explained, taking an official clinic placard from his wallet. He neatly wrote out his home and cell phone number on the back, then handed it to her. “If you ever need help, or just want to talk, all you have to do is call.”

The lift of her cheeks told him she was smiling.

“I practice my English reading your story,” she told him, pointing to the magazine lying on the chair in the corner. “You are a good story.”

“On occasion,” Dr. Nolan answered. He went to the door, held it open for Cat, then turned back to Lien. “Take your mask off for a second. I want to see your face.”

The girly slowly removed the security straps from around her ears, allowing her face covering to fall away. He was almost surprised by how pretty she was.

“Stay well, Lien. You can get dressed now, and the nurse will be back in a few minutes with your medicine.”

The girl pressed her hands together over her chest and bowed as he closed the door. Cat was just a few feet up the hall.

“What do you want me to give her?” she asked.

“Five hundred of Rosephin in the butt, and a Z-Pack,” Dr. Nolan answered. “That way we cover everything. And make sure she fills out a patient information sheet. I’m already in trouble with Amanda, and I don’t want to make it worse.”

He grabbed up the chart belonging to his next patient, but was still frustrated by how little he had learned about Lien. While Cat was still occupied with the young girl, he dealt with one of his regular customers plagued by poorly controlled diabetes. After a diet review and medication adjustment, he came out of the surgery suite and made a quick turn back down the hallway. He wanted to try and interview Lien one last time.

“She’s already gone,” Cat called after him. “Paid her bill in cash and said she had to go.”

“How long ago?”

“Just a minute. Why?”

Dr. Nolan turned and ran through the waiting room, a car just pulling out of the parking lot when he got outside. He took out his pen and scribbled the license plate number across the back of his hand, watching as it disappeared around the corner.

Back inside, he asked Amanda to dial the number Lien had given as her contact phone. After two ring cycles, the computer voice announced there was no such number.

“Address is probably phony, too,” Amanda added, still with a needling sting to her voice.

“Don’t say it,” Dr. Nolan warned her. He copied the license plate sequence onto the phantom girl’s worthless information form. “Don’t say a word.” He gave the clipboard back to Amanda, then headed down the hall. He was only a few feet away when the word chased after him.

“Sucker.” view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

Discussion Questions from the Author:

More people are in slavery than in any other time. What are the geo-political stresses that have led to this? How do some established religions contribute to women being sold into slavery? What factors have made sex trafficking more lucrative than the drug trade? Is it possible that climate change may increase slavery ten-fold in the next decade?

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