I would not risk being late again by leaving this parking lot.
It was an unseasonably cold mid-November day, the temperature dipping well below freezing, so I turned on my heater, then decided to drive to a less conspicuous parking spot away from the front of the building so it wasn’t obvious that I arrived so early. I’d gotten away with no one realizing I was late—best to leave that as my little secret.
As I sat in my car, I observed the traffic on the main road. It wasn’t a densely packed suburban area. There was a sidewalk and some landscaping between the parking lot and the street, with a few businesses scattered across the road. I took another sip from my water bottle and put it back in the cup holder. Drumming my hands on the steering wheel, I sighed.
I hated waiting.
Almost as much as I hated sitting still.
I had to be better than this. I couldn’t continue to be this late and expect to make it through residency. Taking some deep breaths, I decided to do some quick mental organization of my tasks for the day.
-Go into the clinic at 8:40
-Set alarm for 8:35 just in case you get distracted!
-Review program information and interview questions
-Eat a small snack. Check your teeth afterward!
After setting what probably was the tenth reminder alarm on my phone, I began reviewing the program’s information. Forty minutes later, I was halfway through my emergency M&Ms as I scanned the program’s social media page. I’d forgotten that one of the reasons the program had gotten so popular was because of a particular resident who joined them this past year. During the match this past March, their social media posts welcomed all the new residents in individualized posts. The one for Dr. Eli Jerzeck, a Tufts Medical school graduate, gothundredsof likes. Clicking on a link in the post, I got transferred to an article from the Tufts Medical School page, where an entire article was written about the Jerzeck Family. Apparently, his father was the head of Tuft’s Radiation-Oncology Residency Program, and his mom was a Pediatric Surgeon at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. I couldn’t help but be impressed, wondering why on earth this Eli Jerzeck would be interested in a family medicine residency program in Wisconsin with prestigious parents like that. At my self-deprecating thought, I could almost hear my dad’s voice in my head saying, “Yeah, but do they know how to drive a stick shift?”
Suddenly, movement caught my attention in my rear-view mirror. A tall, dark-haired man was walking up to the clinic’s entrance. I turned in my seat, inspecting him a little further. He had short, dark hair and a five o’clock shadow. He wore baggy gray sweatpants which were in direct contrast to an almost too small white T-shirt that hugged his body like a second skin. He certainly didn’t look like someone on his way to work.
A knot formed in my gut. It was cold out. There wasn’t snow on the ground yet, but there was enough of a chill in the air to make me wear my heavy-duty winter jacket. Why was he only wearing a T-shirt?
Instead of going up the stone stairs toward the front doors, he walked onto the grass and right up to the side of the building, directly across from where I was parked. It was one of those buildings where the basement was partially exposed, and the first row of windows was at hip height.
I held my breath as I saw him crouch down next to the first window. Suddenly, he glanced over his shoulder. I instinctively hunched further down in my seat, glad I’d turned the car off and my running lights weren’t on. I was tucked in the corner of the lot, but my car was completely visible. I hope my car looked empty. After a few moments of silence, I peered between the space of the headrest and the top of the seat to spy.
The guy was running his hands along the window edges—why, I had no idea. Maybe to see if there was an alarm? Then, hands going to the bottom of the sash, he gave it a tug.
It didn’t budge.
Standing up, he put his hands on his hips and stared down at the window for a few moments. Then, he walked determinedly to the next window.
Jeezy freaking Petes! Hewasbreaking into the clinic. Thief! He was a thief!
Albeit—a very obvious thief. I mean, there was a car right here—and we’re facing the main road. At least go to the other side of the building that’s more secluded and facing the trees. Isn’t that just basic thievery 101?
It’s possible I’d been listening to too many crime podcasts.
I watched as he found the second window locked and moved on to the next. I should call the police. If I confronted him alone, he could overpower me and steal my car. I’d just bought my hybrid Toyota Camry and loved it.
“He could also attack and kill you, Millicent,”my brain supplied with monotone frustration and an eyeroll.
Seeing the guy find the third window down the row locked as well, I watched as he shook his head at the window, clearly frustrated at finding it locked.
The police. That’s what I had to do. I would never forgive myself if he managed to break in and hurt someone while I had the opportunity to stop him.
Resolved, I dialed 9-1-1, then went back to watching him.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“I’d like to report an attempted break-in at 2600 SW Barstow Road.”
***
It took fourteen minutes for the cops to get to the clinic, but really, they could’ve taken twice as long, and the building would have been 100% secure.
