What She Didn't Know (What She 1)

1

The buzzer on my desk phone went off and I ignored it, preferring to push papers around on my desk, pretending to look busy. I had patient charts to review, medications to approve, and a plethora of patients who were waiting for me to make my rounds. But first…first I had to find her. I had to find Lynn.

I had to at least try, although in my heart of hearts I knew she wouldn’t be found until she was good and ready.

The phone buzzed again, and I hit the appropriate button to mark myself busy so no one could buzz me anymore. I had too much on my mind. I knew I might even have to take a few days off so I could get my shit together.

I’d checked her bank accounts. I’d checked her credit cards. Her social media profile. Her phone. I’d checked everything, and I still had no idea where she was.

Suddenly, the door of my office flew open, slammed hard against the opposite wall, and in rolled a ball of fire.

Ash.

My secretary followed her, trying to stop her forward trajectory, to no avail.

“What the fuck did you do?” the intruder snarled, bending over my desk so she could slam her fist on the wood in front of me.

My heart eased a little. If Ash was here, things would be okay. She could help me find Lynn. She might already know where she was.

I sat back in my chair and made a steeple of my hands in front of me. “Ash,” I said with a nod. “Always a pleasure.”

“Dr. Peterson, I’m so sorry,” my secretary stammered from behind Ash. “I told her you didn’t want to be disturbed, but she wouldn’t listen.” She reached for Ash’s arm, but Ash jerked back and then made a move like a charging bull at the poor woman. Mrs. Anderson blanched and backed up against the wall, her hand upon her heart.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Anderson,” I said calmly.

“I told her, Dr. Peterson, I really did,” she said, her voice shaking in the presence of the fury that was Ash.

“It’s okay,” I said again calmly. “She can stay. Can you close the door on your way out?”

“Do you want me to call security?” Her gaze dragged up and down Ash’s clothing, stopping on the torn jeans where we could all see a little too much of Ash’s thigh. Then paused again on the cropped shirt that was short enough to show a strip of soft, supple stomach. The lace of her bra, which stuck out the top of the ripped shirt she wore, was torn and frayed. The dirty, scuffed, overfilled backpack she carried had all her worldly possessions in it, I was sure. Ash liked to travel light. And dirty.

“No,” I said, still not moving. “You can close the door. We have a little business to take care of.”

“Are you certain, Dr. Peterson?” she insisted, her gaze jumping from me to Ash and back.

Ash lifted her voice high and mocked Mrs. Anderson. “Are you certain, Dr. Peterson?” she chimed. “Of course he’s certain, bitch. Now get out.” Ash made a move like she was going to jump toward Mrs. Anderson, and Mrs. Anderson scurried quickly to the door. Ash slammed it shut behind her.

“So nice to see you, Ash,” I said slowly.

“Where the fuck is she?” Ash perched her curvy little ass on the edge of the chair on the other side of my desk. She rested her arms on the desk and glared at me.

“What makes you think she’s gone?” I asked. I pretended to be occupied with the papers on my desk, stacking them into organized piles.

“I just left your house. She’s not there.”