connection with another case, and I'm following up on it," Anna said. "We may have gotten a couple of patients with the same name mixed up. But you didn't do anything wrong, so don't worry about it. Thanks."
"I'll walk out with you," Will said. "It's time for me to get back to work."
They stopped in the hall and Anna put her hand on Will's arm. "Hang in there. It's a tough rotation, but it's worth it— sort of like putting iron into a fire to temper it."
As she started down the hall, Anna couldn't help wondering whether the problems that plagued her right now would temper the iron of her resolve or shatter it.
"Hi, Lisa. I'm picking up some things. Pretend I'm not here." Anna ducked into the sanctuary of her office before her administrative assistant could reply.
She scanned the mail and rummaged through the papers in her "In" box. Nothing that couldn't wait another day. And if things didn't get straightened out pretty soon, none of it would matter anyway. Anna unzipped the backpack she used as a briefcase and pulled out a manila folder bulging with the documents to duplicate. She was still shuffling the papers, deciding how many copies she'd need, when Lisa appeared in the doorway.
"Dr. McIntyre, I know you said to pretend you aren't here, but there are two detectives out there, and they want to speak with you."
Anna decided she was getting entirely too experienced at meeting with members of the law enforcement community."Have you looked at their credentials?"
Lisa nodded. "Yes. They're with the Dallas Police."
Anna squared her shoulders. "Very well. I'll talk with them."
Lisa paused with her hand on the doorknob. "I want you to know that I think this whole mess with narcotics numbers and forged prescriptions is ridiculous. Nobody in the department thinks you did anything wrong."
"Thank you," Anna said. "I guess you'd better send them in."
The moment the two men—one white, one African American—came through the door, Anna decided she would have pegged them as policemen without any advance warning. Not just because of the wardrobe—off- the-rack sport coats, slightly rumpled dress shirts, shoes obviously chosen for comfort rather than style. No, it was a subtle presence that said, "I'm in charge and I've got my eye on you."
Anna held out her hand. "May I see your credentials?" She left the men standing while she sat and carefully examined their badges and identification cards. She jotted down their names and badge numbers, adding them to the sheet she'd started for the DEA agents.
Lamar Green was a burly African American with a shaved head and what looked to be a permanent scowl on his face. His whole demeanor said, "Don't mess with me."
Burt Dowling was a rail-thin white man with a pronounced five o'clock shadow and thinning dark brown hair. Whereas Green seemed to jangle with nervous energy, Dowling appeared to observe the world with a touch of disappointment through hooded eyelids.
She handed the credentials back and motioned the men to the two chairs across from her desk. "How may I help you?"
Green pulled a notebook from his pocket but didn't open it. Instead, he fixed her with a glacial stare. "Doctor, we need to ask you some questions about all the prescriptions you've been writing for large amounts of narcotics."
Anna fought to control her temper. "I believe you mean that some prescriptions bearing my DEA number and forged with my signature have turned up. I'm unaware of any evidence that even vaguely suggests I'm anything but a victim in this situation."
Dowling patted the air in a calming gesture. "Doctor, we understand you're upset. Now, it may be that you're as innocent as a lamb." Then, like Texas weather in the spring, his manner turned dark. "On the other hand, maybe you're ticked offthat we've found out about this little racket of yours. Now, if you'll come clean about your involvement, I'm sure we can put in a good word for you with the district attorney."
Anna took a deep breath.
"I'll walk out with you," Will said. "It's time for me to get back to work."
They stopped in the hall and Anna put her hand on Will's arm. "Hang in there. It's a tough rotation, but it's worth it— sort of like putting iron into a fire to temper it."
As she started down the hall, Anna couldn't help wondering whether the problems that plagued her right now would temper the iron of her resolve or shatter it.
"Hi, Lisa. I'm picking up some things. Pretend I'm not here." Anna ducked into the sanctuary of her office before her administrative assistant could reply.
She scanned the mail and rummaged through the papers in her "In" box. Nothing that couldn't wait another day. And if things didn't get straightened out pretty soon, none of it would matter anyway. Anna unzipped the backpack she used as a briefcase and pulled out a manila folder bulging with the documents to duplicate. She was still shuffling the papers, deciding how many copies she'd need, when Lisa appeared in the doorway.
"Dr. McIntyre, I know you said to pretend you aren't here, but there are two detectives out there, and they want to speak with you."
Anna decided she was getting entirely too experienced at meeting with members of the law enforcement community."Have you looked at their credentials?"
Lisa nodded. "Yes. They're with the Dallas Police."
Anna squared her shoulders. "Very well. I'll talk with them."
Lisa paused with her hand on the doorknob. "I want you to know that I think this whole mess with narcotics numbers and forged prescriptions is ridiculous. Nobody in the department thinks you did anything wrong."
"Thank you," Anna said. "I guess you'd better send them in."
The moment the two men—one white, one African American—came through the door, Anna decided she would have pegged them as policemen without any advance warning. Not just because of the wardrobe—off- the-rack sport coats, slightly rumpled dress shirts, shoes obviously chosen for comfort rather than style. No, it was a subtle presence that said, "I'm in charge and I've got my eye on you."
Anna held out her hand. "May I see your credentials?" She left the men standing while she sat and carefully examined their badges and identification cards. She jotted down their names and badge numbers, adding them to the sheet she'd started for the DEA agents.
Lamar Green was a burly African American with a shaved head and what looked to be a permanent scowl on his face. His whole demeanor said, "Don't mess with me."
Burt Dowling was a rail-thin white man with a pronounced five o'clock shadow and thinning dark brown hair. Whereas Green seemed to jangle with nervous energy, Dowling appeared to observe the world with a touch of disappointment through hooded eyelids.
She handed the credentials back and motioned the men to the two chairs across from her desk. "How may I help you?"
Green pulled a notebook from his pocket but didn't open it. Instead, he fixed her with a glacial stare. "Doctor, we need to ask you some questions about all the prescriptions you've been writing for large amounts of narcotics."
Anna fought to control her temper. "I believe you mean that some prescriptions bearing my DEA number and forged with my signature have turned up. I'm unaware of any evidence that even vaguely suggests I'm anything but a victim in this situation."
Dowling patted the air in a calming gesture. "Doctor, we understand you're upset. Now, it may be that you're as innocent as a lamb." Then, like Texas weather in the spring, his manner turned dark. "On the other hand, maybe you're ticked offthat we've found out about this little racket of yours. Now, if you'll come clean about your involvement, I'm sure we can put in a good word for you with the district attorney."
Anna took a deep breath.
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