in a crystal vase that had been passed down from her mother. The memory made him pause and stare at the mums on the doc’s table. His mother had been a woman of faith, but God didn’t play favorites. Or so it seemed.
Shaking off those thoughts, he moved quickly through the living room, then checked the master bedroom with an attached bath and the guest room with its own bath. A third room served as an office. Unlike the clinic, this one had pictures of children on the wall. Zach stepped closer.
A few of the girls wore long dresses, and some boys had dark trousers and hats that covered their bobbed hair. Amish children. From what he knew of the sect, they didn’t like photographs. Evidently the doc had gotten special permission to snap the shots.
Diplomas from a number of universities hung near the pictures, along with a picture of Ella and a slender man of medium height with deep-set eyes. He was frowning, as if the photographer had surprised him when he didn’t want his photo taken.
Ella stood awkwardly at his side, her hand reaching for his. Had the stoic husband rejected his wife’s attempt at closeness, or was that merely Zach’s imagination adding a dramatic spin to the reality of what Ella’s life had been?
He liked to think he could read people, but the doc was a closed book. Her husband appeared to be equally hard to read.
Turning from the photos, Zach backtracked through the clinic and hurried outside to where Ella waited in his car.
“Did you find anything?” She opened the door as he neared.
“Nothing except a lot of chaos in your office. The treatment area and your residence seem untouched, but the guy was looking for something. Patient records are scattered on the floor. Any ideas?”
“None at all. You tell me what someone might want.”
“Information. He attacked Mary Kate. Perhaps he followed her to your clinic, then cut the electricity so he could enter in the dark. He attacks her, probably thought he had killed her, which may have been his goal.”
Ella’s hand rose to her throat. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to do her harm.”
“What information could he be searching for in your patient files? Tell me about the girls’ condition.”
She shrugged. “Childhood enzyme deficiency is a newly emerging condition. There’s a symposium this coming Friday in Atlanta that will focus on a number of conditions, including CED, followed by a charity dinner that will celebrate the research center’s success. The proceeds raised will help Amish families with their medical bills and also fund the clinic to ensure the research continues.”
“The research center is where your husband worked?”
“That’s right. The Harrisburg Genetic Research Center.” She pointed to her clinic. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to go inside and assess the damage.”
Zach held up his hand. “Not yet. The local authorities have to process the crime scene first. You wouldn’t want to contaminate the evidence.”
“Contamination is something found on a petri dish,” she groused.
He tried not to smile, knowing she didn’t think waiting on the porch was humorous. Nor did he, but her nose wiggled sometimes when she was upset, which he found amusing, if not charming.
“Does anyone else have a key to your office?”
“Just my nurse and nurse-receptionist, but I trust them completely. I’m more inclined to think someone didn’t secure the doors last night. Who was the last one here?”
“We’ll ask the officers when they arrive. Sergeant Abrams is on the way.”
Ella rubbed her forehead. “Everything still seems so foggy about the attack. I lost consciousness briefly. Short-term memory loss sometimes follows, which seems to be the case.”
“Have you remembered anything else?”
She shook her head. “Only my surprise in finding someone standing by my desk. He raised the light he was carrying, and I was caught in its glare. I couldn’t see his face. Then...”
Zach saw the anguish in her eyes.
“I...I remember his kicks. The pain. I couldn’t breathe.”
“You fought back.”
“Did I?”
Zach reached for her hand. “Look at your nails and the scratches on your skin.”
She glanced down at her broken fingernails and scraped knuckles.
“Does that surprise you?” he asked.
“A little, but it makes me glad. Quin...” She hesitated before adding, “My husband claimed I never stood up for myself.”
“Maybe you didn’t need to assert yourself when he was around.”
“You mean because Quin kept me safe?”
Zach nodded. “That sounds logical to me.”
“From what I’ve seen of you, Special Agent Swain, you are a protector. My husband? Not so much.”
Her comment about being a protector gave him pause. He hadn’t been able to protect his mother, and while that was long ago and he’d been a young boy, the memory troubled him still.
“You’re a doctor,” he said, hoping to deflect the conversation away from himself. “You save lives. That’s a big responsibility.”
“I like children. Being a pediatrician seemed like a good fit, but you’re giving me more credit than I deserve.”
Before Zach could reply, a patrol car raced along Amish Road and turned into the clinic drive. Sergeant Abrams stepped from the car and nodded as he approached.
“Doctor.” He glanced at Zach. “Long time no see, Special Agent Swain.”
“Sorry to call you out again.” Zach extended his hand. In short, clipped sentences he explained the chain of events that had them hanging out on the porch of her clinic.
“I’d like to go inside as soon as possible to assess any damage that may have occurred,” Ella said.
“Yes, ma’am. Just as soon as we take some photos and make a sketch of what we find.”
“We?” She glanced into his car, then raised her gaze as another police sedan approached the clinic and turned into the parking lot.
“Officer Taylor,” Abrams said by way of an introduction as the driver came forward.
“Sir.” The younger cop nodded respectfully before shaking Ella’s and Zach’s hands.
“We met last night,” Zach said with a smile.
“You brought your camera?” the sergeant asked.
“Yes, sir. I’ll take pictures inside. Shouldn’t be too long.”
