The Doctor's Perfect Match

“Will do.”

He pulled an envelope from inside his coat and tossed it into her lap. “Give that to the doctor who does it.”

She looked at the envelope but not at him. “All righty.”

Shifting in his seat, he added, “I suggest you get a good night’s sleep before you drive.”

Turning back to the window, she gave him a noncommittal answer. “Very well.”

After a few more blocks, he said, “Don’t throw that envelope away.”

“I won’t.”

“I mean it.”

She finally looked at him again. “I said I wouldn’t. What’s with you?”

“I tucked a few bucks in there, if that’s all right with you,” he snapped. Then, more mildly, he added, “You said you were broke.”

“Oh.” Surprised and truly chastened, she looked down at the envelope. “That’s very kind. Thank you.”

“No problem,” he muttered, staring straight ahead.

A few seconds later the comfortable car turned into the grocery store parking lot and stopped.

Eva looked around. So did Leland. Then they looked at each other.

“Uh-oh,” he said.

She chose a more colorful word. “Crud.”

Her van was gone.

Chapter Two (#ulink_4936460e-0853-5432-b516-c9eeddae766e)

“There were only four payments left!” Eva Belle Russell squawked. “And I just had it repaired.”

Brooks dropped the small cell phone into his coat pocket, sighing deeply. “According to the police, you were four payments behind. They had no choice but to impound the vehicle.”

What a mess. At least he had learned her name and that the vehicle had been financed through a bank in the Kansas City area, though what good that information did him, he wasn’t sure, especially if she continued to refuse treatment.

“Well,” she drawled, employing that broad wit of hers, “my aunt always said I’d wind up a streetwalker. Looks like she was right. Literally.”

She reached for the door handle, but of course he couldn’t let her just get out and walk away, not in her condition. Objecting would undoubtedly cost him, though; in fact, he had to make himself do it. She actually got the door open and one foot out before he could speak.

“Eva, wait.”

She looked around at him. “Got my name, did you?”

“Eva Belle Russell.”

She wilted, sinking back into the seat as if defeated by the simple fact of being known. “What are you going to do?” she asked warily.

“Depends. How much trouble are you in?”

Some of her spunk returned. “My head’s cracked. I’m broke. I’m stranded. My car’s been repossessed! Is that enough for you?”

“Are you in legal trouble?” he demanded.

“No!” She folded her arms, muttering, “Other than the repossession thing. And I guess that’s taken care of now.”

“I mean, criminal trouble,” he clarified.

She gaped at him. “You think I’d be going without meals if I didn’t have scruples?”

That made a certain sense. A criminal would have simply shoplifted her next meal or walked out on an unpaid bill. He supposed the threat of repossession could be reason enough to want to keep her identity a secret, though with the original license plate hanging out there for all the world to see, such secrecy felt pointless. On the other hand, given her physical condition, who was to say that she was even thinking clearly? He wished she’d let him take the EEG. That, however, was not the immediate problem.

“Is there anyone you can call?” He knew she had a cell phone on her and that it contained no preprogrammed numbers and not one iota of personal information.

“No.”

“Where are you headed? Maybe I can take you there.”

She pulled in a deep breath. “Um, what’s the next town of any size down the road? Waco?”

Obviously she had no real destination in mind. The woman was a gypsy, a free spirit, peddling her artwork wherever she could. A free spirit with very real problems.

“I’ll take you back to the hospital.”

“Forget that.” She shook her head, rippling her blond locks and making her eyeballs roll with pain so that she clasped the bandage beneath her hair gingerly.

“Look,” he said, tiring of the game, the situation and the whole endless day. “I know about the brain tumor. We did a non-contrast CT while you were unconscious. It’s standard proce—”

She all but leaped out of the car. It was nearly dark and the middle of January, but the fool woman actually got out of the car and headed off as if she had someplace to go.

“Eva!”

“Thanks, Doc. I’ve had fun. So long, now.”

“Eva Belle Russell,” he hollered, at the end of his tether, “you get back in this car!”

She walked off toward the grocery store. Grinding his teeth, Brooks got out and went after her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Where it’s warm.”

“You can’t sleep in the grocery store.”