Rachel Goddard 01 - The Heat of the Moon

off me.
    He might have been a boy standing there, tall and lanky and handsome, wearing jeans and athletic shoes, his hair grown shaggy between cuts. But he wasn’t a boy. He was in his mid-thirties, a respected veterinary cardiologist, and he’d recently bought this big state-of-the-art clinic for a staggering amount of money. I was a junior associate whose contract he acquired along with the building. I wanted his good opinion. Until now I’d been sure I had it.
    I stepped into the hallway and closed the door, glad to be out of his sight.
    In the staff restroom I stripped off my lab coat, dropped it on the floor, then spread my hands and watched them tremble. Blood on my fingers. Good God, I’d grabbed that child with bloody hands. Leaning over the sink, hot water scalding my skin, I scrubbed furiously.
    Mommy. Mommy! The plaintive cry dragged me back to that vast open space where my sister and I huddled in the rain, thunder rumbling through the sky above us, so alone, alone and scared.
    I gripped the cold hard rim of the sink and watched pink-tinged water swirl down the drain.
    It was starting again. So many years—how long? Years of peace when I didn’t have to fear my own thoughts, and now it was starting again. Memories, visions, dreams. I’d never known what to call them. I’d never wanted to define them. I’d wanted only to be free of them.
    I had to get out of here and pull myself together. After drying my hair as best I could with paper towels, I hurried to my locker in the staff lounge.
    Maude. I should check on her before I went home.
    No. I couldn’t. Seeing her would bring it all back, I’d get swept up again.
    “Oh, for God’s sake,” I muttered, jerking open my locker door. This was ridiculous. I was an adult, a professional, and I’d be damned if I’d let myself behave this way.
    I was yanking a comb through my hair when Dr. Campbell walked in.
    “Just checked on the basset,” he said. “She’s stabilizing already, she looks good. No sign of internal injuries.”
    “Oh, that’s great,” I said, momentarily forgetting my self-consciousness. “How bad’s her leg?”
    “Comminuted fracture, just the diaphysis involved. Tony thinks she’ll be able to handle anesthesia by morning, then he’ll go in and put a plate on it.” 
    “Can I do anything to help?”
    He shook his head. “It’s under control. Go on home.”
    I covered my relief with activity, dropping my comb into my purse, swinging the bag out of the locker and over my shoulder.
    Dr. Campbell took a couple of steps beyond me, headed toward the coffee maker in the corner. Then he stopped, backed up and openly studied my face. I met his gaze, annoyed by this scrutiny and equally irritated at myself for bringing it on.
    Breaking eye contact, I banged the locker door shut. “Don’t worry about me, Dr. Campbell. I’m fine.”
    “Okay. Good.” He watched me turn the locker’s key. “You know, I wish you’d call me Luke.”
    How many times had he asked me to use his first name? I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t been able to do it, why I drew this line between us and balked at crossing it.
    I nodded, gave him a quick smile and said, “Well, good night.” I forced myself to add, “Luke.”
    “Good night, Rachel.”
    I drove home at dusk, up Chain Bridge Road past the low buildings that made up McLean’s Central Business District, then along narrow residential streets shadowed by tall trees. The rain had slacked to a drizzle. Dark pools of water glistened in the gutters. In every yard, masses of azaleas appeared as shapeless dripping mounds, their gaudy blossoms ravaged by rain and dulled by twilight.
    Alone with my thoughts, I couldn’t banish the image of my little sister, a child again, crying in the rain, and I couldn’t fight off the unaccountable desolation that enveloped me. The press of hot tears against my eyelids surprised me. It had been a decade since I’d cried about anything.
    Then something cold slithered through me, my throat constricted, and although it made no sense at all I was suddenly desperate to see my sister, I had to get home and make sure she was all right.

Chapter Two
    I was hardly conscious of parking my car behind Michelle’s in the driveway, flinging open the kitchen door, hurtling past Rosario where she stood plump in a white apron at the island counter. 
    “No snacking from the dinner platter,” she said the moment she saw me. She held out a saucer with something on it, I