don’t,” Naomi spit out, probably the most forceful thing she had said since they got in the car. “What Amish man will want me if he thinks I’ve been...” She let her words trail off. “Nothing really bad happened to me. Someone put something in my drink. I’m fine now. But I don’t want people to talk about me. Make up stories about things that never happened.”
Christina turned to face Naomi as best she could. “Don’t blame yourself.”
“I went to the party. I drank the beer.”
“That doesn’t give anyone the right to take advantage of you.”
“Nothing happened,” Cheryl repeated, a hint of annoyance in her tone. “Everyone said Ben noticed you acting strangely so he got you out of there. Ben’s a good guy.”
Naomi sniffed but didn’t say anything.
“Let’s go back to the clinic. See about Naomi’s dress. Once it’s dry, she can change, then I’ll drive her home,” Christina said with her well-honed bedside manner.
“What will I tell my parents?” a panicked Naomi asked, as if she had only now thought of the fact she’d have to go home eventually. “They’ll wonder where I’ve been. I hadn’t planned on staying out this late.”
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Christina said. “If it makes it easier for you, I’ll explain that you were with me. They know you clean my office. We’ll omit the details so you don’t have to lie.” Christina paused. “If you think that will help.”
“Yah, denki.”
When they reached the clinic, Dylan climbed out of the car and met Christina, Cheryl and Naomi at the door.
“Well, I better go,” Cheryl said. “I don’t imagine Naomi’s parents will want me dropping her off.”
Naomi smiled, a sad smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you for being a gut friend.”
“I try,” Cheryl said with more than a hint of self-deprecation. “Even though being English is rotten eggs and you’d rather be Amish.”
Naomi’s eyes widened. “It’s not that.”
Cheryl smiled and took a step backward toward her car. “I was teasing. Trying to lighten the mood.” Then Cheryl’s expression grew somber. “I feel bad that I didn’t warn you to never leave your drink unattended. They taught us that in high school health class.”
“Do you remember who gave you the beer? Was it already opened?” Dylan asked, mentally scolding himself for not asking the question earlier.
Naomi slanted her eyes away as if giving it considerable thought. “I don’t remember.”
Cristina unlocked the door to the clinic. “I’ll go check on her clothes.”
They made small talk while they waited for Naomi’s clothes to dry. Finally, once they were done, Christina handed them to Naomi who gave her a weary smile.
“Go change and we’ll take you home.”
Naomi disappeared into the exam room and Dylan turned to Christina. “Chasing down the bad guy goes above and beyond the duties of the town doctor.”
Christina’s eyes held a clarity he had never noticed before. “If I don’t help her, who will? She’ll never go to the police.” Turning her back to him, she straightened a stack of papers on the counter behind her. “It will eat at her forever.”
Dylan resisted the urge to touch Christina’s arm, to comfort her. He could tell by the rigid set of her shoulders that his attempts would only be rebuffed. He wanted to ask her so many questions, but right now, one question lingered foremost on his mind. “What next?”
She turned around. “Take Naomi home.”
“That’s fine. But you can’t go snooping around on your own. It’s not safe. Do you think, even if they’re kids, that they’ll take kindly to you turning them in for using drugs?”
Christina jerked her head back. A shadow lurked in the depths of her eyes. “Snooping around? Don’t make it sound like I’m some cartoon sleuth.”
Dylan held up his palms, realizing his protective—his controlling—nature had offended her. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, softening his tone.
“I know. And I appreciate that.” She tilted her head. “What brought you out here tonight anyway?”
“I thought you might have changed your mind about that ride, with the rain and all.”
“I’m fortunate you were there. Thank you.” The corners of her mouth tipped up, softening the concern in her eyes. “But please don’t think I’m helpless. I can take care of myself.”
“We don’t know if this is related to the other assault where the girl was drugged.” He widened his eyes, trying to emphasize the seriousness of this situation, trying to dissuade Christina from asking too many questions on her own. “We’re talking about a real sociopath.” He paused a minute. “Who does that? Who drugs women at parties?” The criminal mind had always fascinated him, especially the moment a person took their first steps toward a life of crime. How did a person go from hanging out, drinking with friends, to drugging drinks? Was it premeditated? Random? Or was Naomi targeted?
Dylan missed working a case for the FBI. Teaching law and ethics didn’t give him the same adrenaline rush.
“Promise me you won’t go looking for trouble.” As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them.
Christina planted her fists on her hips. “I’ve run this clinic for years. I’ve dealt with everything from runny noses to spaced-out patients trying to get me to write them a script for painkillers so they could get their next high.” Her eyes flashed anger. “I know how to handle myself. I know how to handle people. I know how to dial 9-1-1. If someone thinks he can drug girls at parties, he needs to be stopped.” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I have every right to ask questions. And I’m careful. I know it can be a dangerous situation.”
Dylan dared to step forward and touch her chin with a hooked index finger. He waited for her to look up at him. When she did, he said emphatically, “Not. Your. Job.”
Christina jerked away. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “No, I suppose it’s my job to patch up the women after they’re attacked.”
* * *
Christina woke up in the middle of the night with a blinding headache. Fortunately it had dulled to a quiet roar by morning. She was grateful for that. Lying awake most of the night rehashing the events surrounding Naomi had contributed to her blah feelings. But as much as she’d like to, her work ethic wouldn’t allow her to stay in bed all day. Before Georgia, she could never call in late. Even now, she didn’t like to take advantage. But today she decided she had to. Fortunately, Georgia had already been scheduled at the clinic this morning and insisted she had everything covered.
By the time Christina climbed behind the wheel of her sedan and pulled out onto the main road, the midmorning sun was like needles to her eyes. She dropped the car’s
