“Dr. Thornton? This is Angela Raiden.”
My skin crawled at her snooty voice. “Yes? Can I help you?”
She sighed. “I have a horrible headache. I’ve tried the over-the-counter medications, but they’re not helping. I think I’m having a migraine. But also, I’m afraid I’m having an aneurysm.”
“I highly doubt you’re having an aneurysm.”
“Could you come to my house? I’ll pay you extra. With my head pounding like this, I don’t want to drive. I really do think something is terribly wrong with me.”
Rolling my eyes, I gripped the steering wheel. “I’m not actually seeing patients yet.”
“Well, I told you I’d pay you extra.”
“That’s not really the point.” I knew that arguing with her was probably futile. She was so entitled she wouldn’t begin to understand why I wouldn’t just do what she asked. Would it be easier just togive her what she wanted? Probably. Perhaps I could just go over there quickly, give her some medication to help with her headache, and be on my way. After all, that was what a good and decentperson would do. And I was trying to be a better version of myself, wasn’t I?
But it’s so much easier not being good and decent.
“Please, Dr. Thornton. I’m begging you.”
I exhaled, feeling grumpy. “Fine. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Oh, thank you,” she breathed, and she hung up immediately.
“God, I loathe that woman.” But since I’d already agreed, I decided to follow through. It wouldn’t take very long to hand out some headache medication. She might call me all evening if I didn’t do her bidding.
I drove to the Raidens’ sprawling home, wondering if Janelle still lived with her parents. I hadn’t thought to ask her the other day when she’d come to my clinic. At least if I ran into her, the visit wouldn’t be quite so unpleasant. I parked the car near a large fountain and got out. After grabbing my bag out of the trunk, I hurried up the steps to the front door and rang the bell.
The door opened, and Angela stood there, looking pale. Usually her hair was immaculate, but she looked a little worse for wear. Silky tendrils dangled on the side of her thin face, and her eyes were bloodshot. “You came so quickly. I can’t thank you enough.” Her tone was emotionless, so it didn’t ring true.
I grunted and stepped inside the home. “Have you taken any other medication?”
“I took a Xanax because I was having a panic attack.” She closed the door and led the way into a spacious sitting room. The couches were burgundy, and the large mantle over the fireplace, mahogany.Huge oil paintings depicting the Civil War and other various battles were hung on the gold brocade walls. There were also several large display cases of antique weapons on one far wall.
“Why are you having a panic attack?” I asked, noticing she looked as if she’d been crying.
“Because my world has come to an end.”
I frowned at her dramatic statement. “I don’t understand.”
“Never mind. I made my bed, and now I must lie in it.”
I really had no idea what she was talking about. She was obviously emotional and in a rather unstable state. “When did you take the Xanax?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you give me a ballpark?”
“Not really.”
Sighing, I said, “Why don’t you sit? I’ll check you over.”
She perched obediently on the edge of one of the couches. I moved closer to her, opening my bag. “Why don’t you tell me what has you so upset?”
She sniffed. “I don’t think I should. My husband… he doesn’t like it when I talk to people about my feelings. He can be such a cold, heartless brute.”
She was playing the victim card very nicely, but from my memory of her at Janelle’s wedding, she’d been anything but. Angela was a woman who did what she pleased. I had little doubt her marriage was unhappy, but I’d certainly never seen any indication she was cowed by her husband.
I pulled out a stethoscope. I wanted to check that her heart rate wasn’t too high. She winced at the coldmetal against her chest but didn’t speak. I listened to her racing heart, feeling a little concerned. “You said you took a Xanax?”
