Lethal Lies. Lara LacombeЧитать онлайн книгу.

      “You should get going.”

      Dr. Jillian Mahoney glanced up from the computer screen and blinked. Her friend Carla stood in front of her, wearing neon-green scrubs that were bright enough to land planes at Dulles airport. It was a color Jillian could never wear, thanks to her Casper-the-Ghost-like coloring, but it looked good against Carla’s café-au-lait complexion.

      “You’re very green today,” she observed, turning back to the computer screen.

      “I was feeling festive this morning,” Carla replied dryly.

      “Christmas is still over a week away. Besides, I’m pretty sure neon is not a holiday color.”

      “It is in my book.” Carla leaned across the desk, casting a shadow over the keyboard. “I’m serious, Jilly. You need to get out of here before the storm hits. We’re supposed to get twelve inches of snow. That’s a foot.” She held her hands out in an exaggerated approximation of distance, her expression earnest.

      “I know,” Jillian said, typing faster. “I just need to finish up these charts.”

      “Got enough food to last you a couple of days?”

      Jillian huffed out a breath. “For God’s sake, Carla, it’s just a bit of snow. It’s not the end of the world or anything.”

      Her friend cocked an eyebrow and narrowed her eyes in a gimlet stare. It was an expression Jillian had seen before, one used to great effect with uncooperative patients or egotistical doctors. She’d never had it directed at her, though, and she ducked her head, feeling chastened.

      “Sorry,” she muttered, clicking through to the next page of the chart.

      “I’ll let it go, because I know you’re tired,” Carla said. “But I worry about you. I know you’ve been too busy to go to the grocery store, but with this storm coming, you don’t want to have to get out in the next couple of days. You need to take the time to relax and recharge, maybe get some sleep.”

      “I’ll order in,” Jillian said, entering the final notes with a flourish.

      “There’s no delivery when the city has shut down,” Carla said, her tone reproving.

      Jillian pushed back from the desk and stood, reaching for her coffee. “I’ll be all right,” she said with a smile, knowing her friend was only trying to help. “I’ll stop at the store on my way home, pick up the essentials. You don’t need to worry about me.”

      Carla nodded, apparently satisfied with this plan. “Be careful getting home,” she said. “And try to enjoy the next few days off.”

      “Thanks,” she said, rounding the desk and setting off down the hall. “And good luck,” she called back, remembering that tomorrow was a full moon. Carla gave her a mock glare and Jillian chuckled. She shook her head, thanking her lucky stars that she was off for the next seventy-two hours. A full moon and a winter storm? The ER would be crazy, and she’d had enough crazy this week to last a lifetime.

      She retrieved her coat from her locker in the doctors’ lounge, not bothering to take off her white coat before shrugging into the outer layer. The puffed black jacket came down to her knees, long enough to cover the telltale fabric. Normally she didn’t like to wear the white coat when out in public because it attracted too much attention, but today, she was too tired to care if anyone saw the hem of her coat.

      Keeping her head down, she walked quickly through the hall, wanting to make it out of the hospital before anyone stopped her. She’d been on for the past three days straight, and though by all rights she should have left an hour ago, it was all too easy to get caught up in the eternal rhythm of the emergency room. All it would take was one question from a medical student or an interesting case from an intern, and she’d be sucked back into the vortex. Given the coming storm, she had no desire to be waylaid, as it would likely result in her being stuck until the weather passed. As much as she loved her job, she did not relish the thought of sleeping on the stained, lumpy couch in the doctors’ lounge, subsisting on cafeteria food and bad coffee for the next three days.

      She made it to the entrance without incident and she breathed a sigh of relief as she walked out into a blast of arctic air. Huddling into her coat, she pulled it closer to her body while she made her way to the parking lot. She didn’t have a car, but the employee lot was much closer to the Metro station, so she frequently cut through it on her way to and from work.

      It had already begun to snow. Small flakes drifted down, landing on the exposed skin of her face and melting into her hair. She was damp within a few paces of the entrance, her nose and ears already going numb as the wind picked up. Great. The grocery store would likely be packed, if the shelves weren’t already bare. She’d probably have to be content with frozen dinners, and she could forget about fresh milk and vegetables. In the face of any winter weather, city inhabitants descended like a plague of locusts on the grocery stores, stripping the shelves of supplies and leaving dented cans and ripped packages in their wake. Given the dire predictions of snow, Jillian would be lucky to find any type of food. It was almost enough to send her back into the hospital to scrounge up some pudding cups from the cafeteria.

      Almost.

      The streetlamps cast an eerie yellow glow over the parking lot and she picked up her pace, her mind already focused on the comparative warmth the Metro station would provide. With her head down, she didn’t see the man step out from between parked cars, would have never known he was there had he not spoken.

      “Doctor?”

      She turned reflexively, stopping out of habit. Encouraged, the man stepped closer, emerging into the light. She wished he hadn’t. He was big, tall and broad through the chest and shoulders. Scruffy, too, with several days’ worth of beard on his face and dark hair that was a bit on the longish side, curling over his ears and at the nape of his neck. She couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but she felt the intensity of his gaze like a brand.

      Jillian took a small step back, alarm bells jangling in her mind. He didn’t seem overtly threatening, but he wore only a hooded cotton jacket against the chill. Hunched though he was, she could see his muscles were drawn tight, tense with cold or withdrawal, she couldn’t tell which. It wasn’t unusual for junkies to patrol the neighborhood surrounding the hospital, although she wasn’t sure what they thought they would find. Occasionally violence would erupt when one desperate soul tried to rob another in a bid to get the next fix.

      The man standing in front of her didn’t appear to be an addict, even though the burned-plastic smell of meth smoke clung to his clothes. He was too big, too healthy-looking, for one thing. He lacked the gaunt, haunted look that was so common among users, although he did have the same fierceness to his gaze. He reminded her of a coiled snake, ready to strike, and she had no desire to be in the vicinity when he did.

      “If you’re injured, the emergency room is right there.” She withdrew her hand from her coat pocket to point. He didn’t seem hurt, but it was hard to tell in the shadowy light of the parking lot.

      “It’s not me, it’s my friend. Can you please help me?”

      Jillian bit her lip, feeling torn. As a doctor, it was her duty to help people, even if they gave her the willies. She glanced around, searching for his companion. There was no one else in the lot, and she took another step back, suddenly feeling very alone.