The woman—Imogene, according to her name tag—looked up at him. “Can I help you?”
“I’d like to see Dr. Li Chinn. ”
“And your name?”
“Tell him an out-of-town doctor is here for an emergency consult. I’ve come a long way to see him. ”
Imogene studied Joe, no doubt noticing his cheap clothes and small-town haircut. Frowning, she buzzed Li’s office, gave him the message. A moment later, she hung up. “He can see you in fifteen minutes. Take a seat. ”
Joe went to one of the chairs in the waiting room, remembering that Diana had picked the fabric and colors for the office. There had been a time when their home had been wall-to-wall samples.
I want it just right, she’d said when he made fun of her. Your job is the only thing you love more than me.
He wished he could smile at the memory; it was a good one.
“Doctor? Doctor?”
He looked up, startled. That was a word he hadn’t heard directed at him for a long time. “Yes?” He stood.
“Dr. Chinn will see you now. Go down the hall and turn right—”
“I know where his office is. ” He went to the door, stood there, trying to breathe evenly. He was sweating and his palms were damp. His fingerprints would be all over the envelope.
“Doctor? Are you okay?”
He released a heavy sigh and opened the door.
The interior hallways and offices were filled with familiar faces. Nurses, physician’s assistants, radiology techs.
He forced his chin up.
One by one, the people he’d known made eye contact, recognized him, and looked quickly away. A few of them smiled awkwardly or waved, but no one spoke to him. He felt like a ghost passing through the land of the living. No one wanted to admit they’d seen him.
Some of the gazes were frankly condemning; that was the look he remembered, the one that had sent him running in the first place. Others, though, seemed embarrassed to be seen looking at him, confused by his sudden appearance. What did you say to a man you’d once admired who’d been prosecuted for killing his wife and then vanished for three years?
He walked past the row of women in hospital gowns waiting for mammograms, past the second waiting room, then turned onto another, quieter hallway. In the far end, he came to a closed door. He took a deep breath and knocked.
“Come in,” said a familiar voice.
Joe entered the big corner office that had once been his. Huge picture windows framed the Seattle high-rise view.
Li Chinn was at his desk, reading. At Joe’s entrance, he glanced up. An almost comical look of surprise overtook his normally impassive face. “I don’t believe it,” he said, remaining in his seat.
“Hey, Li. ”
Li looked awkward, uncertain of how to proceed, what to say. “It’s been a long time, Joe. ”
“Three years. ”
“Where did you go?”
“Does it matter? I meant to come by here and tell you I was leaving. But—” he sighed, hearing how pathetic he sounded “—I didn’t have the guts. ”
“I kept your name on the door for nearly a year. ”
“I’m sorry, Li. It was probably bad for business. ”
Li nodded; this time his dark eyes were sad. “Yes. ”