Janellen was stunned. “Do you believe her? Could Clark have been that devious?”
“Devious is a strong word, but our big brother was fairly adept at weaseling his way out of trouble.”
“He never really got out of this trouble, though, did he?”
“No, he didn’t,” Key said slowly. “And as long as Lara’s around to remind everybody of it, he never will.”
“So you agree with what Mama did. If she did.”
“No. I want Lara Mallory out of Eden Pass, but I want her to hang herself. Left alone, I think she eventually will.” Once again he glanced upstairs. “But you know Jody. She’s never been one to let things follow their natural course. If things aren’t moving along according to her plan and her timetable, she plays God.”
“Please don’t be critical, Key. She’s sick. Can’t you try and talk her into seeing a doctor?”
He barked a laugh. “That’d be a surefire way to guarantee that she wouldn’t. But I agree. She should have a complete checkup, have some tests run.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “But I’m afraid that persuading her to do it is up to you, sis. Stay after her.” He squeezed her shoulder, then headed for the stairs, taking his beer with him.
“Are you going out tonight, Key?”
“As soon as I shower.”
“Are you going out with Helen Berry?”
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned. “Why do you ask that?”
Gauging by his expression, Janellen knew she’d struck a nerve. She also realized why people were sometimes afraid of him. “Helen’s been going steady with Jimmy Bradley since they were freshmen. The gossip is that…” she paused to wet her lips, “that Helen recently broke up with him, very sudden.”
“So?”
“Oh, Key.” Taking hold of her courage by both hands, she asked, “Why? Why, when there are so many other women for you to choose from, would you pick her? Helen’s half your age.”
“Careful, Janellen. If you start digging into my personal affairs, I’ll have to start digging into yours.” He moved down two steps and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “For instance, I might ask what’s going on between you and Bowie Cato.”
Her stomach dropped. “Nothing’s going on!”
“No? Then why all the rushed, breathless explanations when I came into the kitchen? I haven’t heard such fast talking since Drenda Larson’s daddy caught us in his hay barn when we were thirteen.”
“Bowie’s an employee. We were talking business.”
“Okay, I’ll believe that,” Key said, his cocky grin back in place. “If you’ll believe that all Drenda Larson and I were doing in that haystack was looking for a needle.”
Lara’s prediction proved correct.
A week following Letty Leonard’s funeral, the media moved to greener pastures to graze on other personal disasters and dilemmas. During that week, however, Lara had been hounded each time she stepped across her threshold. Sheriff Baxter had done his official duty, albeit grudgingly, and seen to it that the reporters and cameramen stayed off her property. But their presence on the public street made her a virtual prisoner at the clinic.
The TV network affiliates from Dallas and Shreveport had filed stories that were aired on national newscasts, but Lara Porter and the key role she’d played in the downfall of Senator Clark Tackett five years earlier only rated fifteen seconds of air time in the last few minutes of the newscasts. She’d lost her rank as a lead story.
The Leonards, too, had been thrust into the spotlight but had hired an attorney to do their talking. He was a wet-behind-the-ears graduate of Baylor Law School who had only recently passed the bar. He rose to the occasion, however, and wasn’t intimidated by being in the limelight. Stubbornly and repeatedly, he told reporters that his clients had no statements to make and were trying to deal with their bereavement before addressing the question of liability for their daughter’s death.
Lara had done some intensive soul-searching. It had been a judgment call as to whether to use an anticoagulant on Letty. After hours of review and research, she stood by her original decision. However, in order to ease her mind, she conferred with the emergency room doctor who had next tended to the young patient. He backed her decision and assured her he would testify to such if it ever became a matter of litigation.
As days passed and Lara didn’t hear from the Leonards’ lawyer, she hoped that the rumor of the malpractice suit against her was just that—a rumor. No doubt it had been spawned by one of the Tacketts. Her repeated calls to them had rendered nothing and only increased her frustration. Jody Tackett was either indeed too ill to take a telephone call, or she had good liars protecting her.
Lara had spoken to the housekeeper and to Janellen, but she hadn’t seen or spoken to Key since the night he’d brought Helen Berry to her. He probably thought she’d been joking when she mentioned his taking her to Central America. Another opportunity to broach the subject hadn’t presented itself, but her determination hadn’t wavered one iota. It was just that so many other events had temporarily distracted her.
When she had awakened this morning, the last of the TV vans was gone, but because of the negative publicity, the patients with appointments had called to cancel. It was difficult to remain optimistic about cultivating a practice when she couldn’t get people inside her door. She and Nancy went through the motions of working, but they had more idle time on their hands than either wanted to acknowledge.
By midafternoon she left her private office with the intention of dismissing Nancy early. Nancy, surprisingly, was speaking to someone in the waiting room.
“We’d like to see the doctor right away. I know we don’t have an appointment, but then you’re not exactly overflowing with patients, are you?”