Laying Down The Law (#4, Cowboy Way) (The Cowboy Way) (13 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Melanie stood and stopped to swipe the back of her hand over her forehead to think.  When she worked for Dr. Carter he’d always kept his unfiled lab reports in the credenza behind his desk, but they weren’t there.  The bookshelves on either side were empty, so his medical books must be packed up and in the storage room which she hadn’t tackled yet.  But she hadn’t checked the cabinets underneath to see if they were empty too. 

With a huffed breath, she knelt in front of the glass-fronted bookcase to the left of the desk and grabbed the knobs to open the cabinet door.  Something on the floor in the narrow space between the credenza and bookcase caught her attention so she released the knobs.  She couldn’t fit her hand between the two pieces of furniture, so she crawled to the front of the credenza and peeped underneath, fighting back a cough from the musty odor of the carpet. 

Near the back wall, lay Dr. Carter’s dictation recorder.  She knew that’s what it was because when she worked here she’d transcribed many of those tapes since he didn’t use a computer or know how to type.  That’s where half of her medical knowledge came from. 

She flattened her body and stretched her arm under the credenza, but her arm was about three inches too short to reach it.  Sitting back up, she looked around for something to use to sweep it out.
Sweep
—the broom was in the outer office in the closet and would work she thought, pushing up to her feet. 

When Melanie walked into the front office a chill swept through her all the way to her toes, raising the hair on her neck.  Suddenly, she felt like she was being watched, and the hair on her arms raised too.  Electricity or not, maybe working alone here so late at night wasn’t a good idea after all, she thought, as she walked swiftly toward the broom closet, opened it and reached for the broom.  Her eyes fell on the dustpan on the floor, but what really got her interest was the heaping box of yellow-part report copies that sat beside it. 
Bingo, baby
.

Excitement shot through her as she opened the door wider and grabbed the edge of the heavy box to pull it from the closet.  She might be on a wild goose chase that would keep her here all night looking through these reports for nothing, but it was a chance she’d take.  She tugged the box backwards in forceful jerks toward Dr. Carter’s office, and just as she cleared the doorway, she heard the front door creak open and froze. 

Adrenaline and more than a little fear shot through her as she thought about what she could use to defend herself here.  Nothing—there was nothing here to protect herself.  She needed to buy her mother a shotgun like she told her she would before she left, so Melanie put that on her to-do list for tomorrow.  But that didn’t help her tonight with whomever had just come into the office at nearly
midnight
.  Letting go of the box, she flattened her back against the wall beside the door, her heart pounding.

“Melanie?” Brock called from the outer office, and her breath came out on a rush as she pushed off the wall and stepped into the doorway. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, putting a hand to her pounding heart.

“I saw the lights on and figured you were still here.”  He held the Styrofoam box in his hand out to her. “I picked up some dinner for you at the diner earlier, and it’s probably cold but I thought I’d drop it off.”

“At midnight?” she asked, as she walked toward him to take the box.  She hadn’t eaten, but this was too strange.

He huffed a breath and his shoulders slumped.  “I had to go over to Lucy’s tonight.  Brady had a bad day at school.  I guess the kids are picking on him about his new glasses.”

“Had to?” Melanie asked, setting the box on the only table in the outer room.

“She called, so I went,” Brock replied with a shrug.

“She calls and you always go,” Melanie replied trying to keep her tone even as she crossed her arms over her chest.  “That could be part of the problem.  Have you ever thought that this might be a ploy for
her
to get your attention?” 
And so might your son’s illness if I’m right
.  “Did you happen to get any mail for me today at the ranch?”  The results from the lab in Atlanta were supposed to come in, but she’d been so busy she hadn’t had time to call Brock or drive out to the ranch to check.

“I did and more medical records came in too.  That’s another reason I stopped by,” he replied as he reached behind him, pulled a white envelope from his pocket and handed it to her.  “I’ll go get the records.  Be right back,” he said and turned toward the door.

Of course that would be the only reason he’d stopped by to see
her
since Sunday.  He’d dropped off records he’d received on Tuesday to her mother’s house, but hadn’t even said hello. He handed them to Merry on the front porch to give to her then drove away.

Melanie ripped off the end of the envelope and slid the papers out then unfolded them and read the top sheet.  She scanned the ingredients for toxic substances and her heart dropped when she reached the bottom of the list and found none.  But then she scanned the summary below the ingredients and her heart stopped, and her mind whirled as she ticked off Brady’s recurring symptoms.
Nausea, vomiting and stomach pain, vision problems and clumsiness, muscle weakness, bleeding problems, skin flushing, listlessness
.

“What’s wrong,” Brock demanded as he walked back in with a stack of manila envelopes then leaned over her shoulder to look at the papers.

“You know those gummy bears Brady is always eating?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think he’s cutting back on them.  We had a talk when we went camping and I told him all that candy wasn’t good for him.”

“Those aren’t candy, Brock,” she said, her heart in her throat.

“They’re not?  What are they then?” he asked as he walked across the room to set the envelopes down beside the Styrofoam box.

“I sent them to a lab in Atlanta to be analyzed and they are multi-vitamins.  The reason Brady is so sick is he has hypervitaminosis.”

“What the fuck is that?” Brock growled, as he spun around strode back to her and snatched the papers from her fingers to look them over himself.

“It’s vitamin
poisoning
, Brock. Lucy is
poisoning
Brady by giving them to him like candy.  Thank
God
they weren’t the ones with iron or his liver could be toast!  He could still have lasting effects from it for years—nerve damage and all kinds of other things.  She could’ve killed him—eventually
would
have!”

Brock’s body jerked and his eyes snapped to hers.  “Are you accusing her of
intentionally
making him sick?!?” he shouted, and Melanie flinched.

Melanie had wanted solid proof of that before she broached this with him.  All she had proof of from these test results was that was what was making Brady sick.  She really had nothing that said Lucy was doing it intentionally or that this was a case of MBP.

Melanie dragged her eyes away to look at the wall across the room.  “I’m just saying Brady is sick from ingesting megadoses—
overdoses
of vitamins on a daily basis and since she’s been giving them to him, I’d suggest you find out why.” 
While I look for more proof that she’s doing it on purpose.

Brock grabbed her shoulders.  “Look at me, Melanie.  You think she’s doing this to make him sick don’t you?” he demanded.  “Why do you think that?”

“Have you ever heard of Munchausen’s by Proxy Syndrome?” she asked meeting his eyes, and Brock’s frown deepened.

“No, I’ve never heard of it.  Is that something else he has?” he asked, swallowing hard.

“No, it’s something
Lucy
has most likely.  It’s a mental illness, a behavioral disorder, where mothers or caregivers either make up fake illnesses, or cause real sickness in their children to get attention.  It’s a form of child abuse.  I think she’s doing it to get your attention.”

“You think?  You have no proof of that,” Brock said defensively as he started to pace.  “That’s a heavy accusation to throw around without proof.”

“I know it is, and that’s why I haven’t told you my suspicions before.  I wanted to get that proof before I brought it up.  I didn’t intend on you being here when I got those test results,” Melanie replied calmly, and he stopped pacing to face her, his face angry.

“Lucy is a good mother—she cares about Brady and is as worried as I am about him being sick, why else would she take him to every doctor under the sun to try and help him?  I don’t believe you!” he grated, then scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Those calls you get every night from her, all the doctors she’s taking him to, the fact that she’s giving him those vitamins like candy—those are all signs, Brock—big red flags.  That’s attention-seeking behavior and it points to Munchausen’s.  She’s getting your full attention, and the doctors’ too and you’re giving her exactly what she wants.”

He strode to her, grabbed her shoulders and his fingers dug in. “I can buy the vitamin overdose diagnosis—it makes sense and I will make damned sure he never takes another one.  It’s a relief to finally know what’s wrong with him. 
But
without proof of any kind, you just automatically
leap
to the conclusion that Lucy is doing it on purpose—that it’s
abuse
?”

“I’ve seen it in case studies a million times, and vitamins are a common device with the disorder when a child is involved.  I’m not leaping, Brock, I’m stepping toward that conclusion and you should consider it.” 
But you won’t, because your eyes are fixed on a tree so you can’t see the forest
.  Melanie kept her eyes fixed on the wall as he released her shoulders and stepped back.

“Are you doing this because you’re jealous, Melanie?” he asked, and she lost her breath as her eyes flew to meet his. “Or maybe paying her back for how she treated you in high school?  If so, that’s pretty damned childish and maybe you’re the one who needs help.”

Melanie’s entire body went numb as she stared into Brock’s eyes—he was serious.  At that moment, her heart shattered into a million pieces and the shards tore gaping wounds throughout her insides. 

“I can’t believe you just said that,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling.

“I can’t help but think it since you’re basing your diagnosis on her calling me when my son is sick, and me running there when she calls. Brady is my son, so of course I’ll go when he needs me.  Lucy is there, yes, but she knows I’m only there for him.  That is a
caring mother
, Melanie—not an abuser.”

“I’ve told you what I know, Brock.  I’m done, so you’ll have to figure out the rest.” Melanie crossed her shaking arms over her waist to hold herself together, because she was not letting the emotional shitstorm raging inside her loose in front of this man.  She’d fall apart after he left.  “But I have to warn you if I find evidence that she is doing it on purpose, I’ll have to report that to the state by law.  Child Protective Services will investigate everyone close to him, and you could lose him if they find that you knew about it, or suspected it, and didn’t do something.”

“Are you
threatening
me, Melanie Fox!?!” he shouted, and she flinched.

“No, I’m stating facts.  And just so you know, I’ll be leaving at the end of next week so you don’t have to worry about this
jealous
female bothering you again.  I’ll leave all of Brady’s records at my mother’s house so you can pick them up there after I’m gone.”

If Melanie had to work twenty-four hours a day until then to get this office ready for the new doctor who was arriving next month, that’s what she would do.  Because as of next Friday at five o’clock—she was checking out of this godforsaken town—forever.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“I swear I had no idea they were hurting him, Brock. I thought I was boosting his immune system to help him feel better.  I can’t believe you’d even
think
such a thing,” Lucy replied, her blue eyes filling.  “Melanie Fox doesn’t like me, so I’m not surprised she suggested that, but you believing it?”  A single fat tear slid over her lower lid and she dabbed it near the corner of her mouth with a tissue, then sucked in a shuddering breath.

Brock studied her flushed face for signs of deception, but found none.  No muscle tics, she was holding his gaze head on, and she seemed to be genuinely traumatized by his questions.

“I didn’t believe it,” Brock replied with a huffed breath.  “I told her you were a good mother and that she was way off base.  I had to ask, though, because if I didn’t and something happened, I’d never forgive myself.”

“I’m thankful that she figured out what was wrong with Brady, but pretty upset she is being so mean and hurtful.  I’m also upset that you’re seeing her if she has that opinion, because she could mention it around Brady.”

It was Brock’s turn to drag his eyes down to his hands.  He twisted his fingers, fought through the incredible burning pain in his chest then swallowed hard. 

“I’m not seeing her.  She’s leaving on Friday, so you don’t have to worry.  I won’t bring Brady around her before she leaves.” 

Because I won’t be seeing her before then either, or ever again for that matter
.  

Brock had nothing but time to think since she walked out on him Sunday night.  After the endorphin fog cleared, the euphoric haze she brought with her faded—he figured out there was no way he could hurt as bad as he was, miss a woman so much, without loving her.  And yes, maybe he was an imbecile for not figuring that out sooner, but he’d never been in love before or had those kind of feelings for a woman. 

He knew he couldn’t say all that to her though or
he
would appear off balance.  They’d only known each other again for a few very hot weeks.  Last night when he’d gone to the office, he just planned to ask her to stay so they could figure it out, because other than when they were having wild ass monkey sex in the woods, Melanie had remained cool, calm and detached.

And damned confusing. 

First, she said she didn’t want a relationship with him other than friendly sex, then she said she couldn’t do friends with benefits with him which made him think she wanted more.  He gave her more, showed her he wanted more too, then without explanation, she told him she was leaving town.  None of that mattered now, though.

Going to the office last night to talk to her had opened his eyes to the fact she hadn’t changed a bit.  Thank goodness she’d saved him from embarrassing himself by revealing that fact
before
he could tell her how much he’d missed her and wanted her to stay.

The very short chapter in his life that included Melanie Fox was now over and he’d been stupid to ever think things might ever work out between them.  He should never have gotten involved with her.  They were too different, and her attitude entirely too superior, just like it had been in high school, which was half the reason she drew so much fire from the other kids. 

Melanie Fox had always thought she was smarter—
better
—than the people in this town and she was dead wrong.

“Just so you’re not hit cold if they show up, she also said she may send her
findings
to Child Protective Services,” Brock said, and Lucy gasped.  His eyes flew to hers, and he saw genuine fear there, terror even.  “I’ll try to run interference, so don’t worry.  I’m the sheriff in this town so I know people at that agency too.”

Lucy exhaled and her body wilted in the chair.  “Thank you, Brock.  I just need to be able to focus on getting Brady better.  I’ll make an appointment with that nice general practitioner I found in Mountain Ridge on Monday to get him checked out and make sure there’s no permanent damage.”  She dragged her eyes down to the table.  “I’m so sorry for being stupid and putting you both through this.”

Brock reached out and covered her hand with his and a fine tremor shook Lucy.  Her emotions had to be as raw as his right now, and he was sure guilt was at the top of the pile.  He knew it was with him for not checking those gummy bears sooner himself.

“You didn’t know, and Brady will be fine now.”  He picked his hat up off of the table and stood.  “Just don’t give him any more of those vitamins,
or
candy.”

Lucy looked up at him and smiled.  “I won’t give him any more gummies, I promise.  Thank you for being so good to us, Brock.  You’re a good father.”

“And you are a good mother, Lucy.  Remember that,” he said, then slapped his hat on his head as he turned toward the front door.

“Brock?” Lucy said as he grabbed the knob, and he turned back.  “You know Brady really enjoyed his camping trip with you, and I enjoyed the break.  Why don’t you take him up there today and stay until Sunday?  I have a few things to do later and I’d get them done faster if he wasn’t with me.”

Relief washed through him, and right now Brock couldn’t think of anything he’d rather be doing. “That sounds like a great idea.  I’ll pick him up from your mother’s and we’ll head out.  Have a good weekend, Lucy.”

“Oh, I will,” she said as he walked out and shut the door.

***

Melanie made one more sweep under the credenza with the broom handle and the recorder finally slid close enough that she could reach it.  Her hand closed around it, but before she pulled back she saw something else in the far dark corner under the credenza. 

It looked to be the gray marble frame that Dr. Carter had used to frame his distinguished service award from the Georgia Medical Association. She glanced up at the wall where it used to hang and there was a discoloration there in the shape of the frame, but no award. 

She crawled there on her belly and used the broom handle to try and nudge it toward her, but it didn’t budge.  She’d get it later, because right now she wanted to see what was in the briefcase she found in his bottom desk drawer.

After spending all day going through that box of lab reports and finding nothing that pertained to Brady Cooper, Melanie was glad to have something else to focus on.  Finding that key in his center lap drawer had been totally accidental because it had been wedged into the back corner and buried by candy wrappers, various extra medical supplies and sundry other things. The drawer was so full it took a few tries to get it open.

Inhaling as she got up, Melanie sucked in a lungful of dust and sneezed loudly as she stood with the recorder in her hand.  Her eyes watered as she pushed the play button, but nothing happened, so she beat it against her palm a few times and tried again.  Still nothing—which meant the batteries were probably dead.  She walked into the outer office and toward the supply cabinet to see if she could find more.    As soon as she reached the center of the room she got that being watched feeling again and her eyes locked on the bank of windows on the left side of the room.  One by one she inspected them, but saw nothing except pitch blackness.

It was almost midnight again, so she should probably head home, but she knew the only thing waiting for her there would be more junk food she didn’t need while locked up in her room having a cryfest, or a lecture from her mother if she was still up.  The one last night after midnight, and the second this morning while they ate breakfast, had been enough. 

Melanie was not changing her mind about staying in this town, no matter how much her mother begged, cajoled or tried to guilt her into doing it. 
They’re your people, Melanie Ann.  They need you, so how can you leave them—leave me?  I’m getting old and I really need you around.

Old enough to go out into the woods naked to meet your lover.  Yeah, Aunt June had slipped up and told Melanie that her mother wasn’t only going into the woods to
moon bathe
, she was meeting someone out there.  A man who’d been her undercover lover for years. 

That’s why June didn’t go with her. 

If Melanie hung around this town, kept up with Brock Cooper, not that she would after the way he treated her last night, that would be her in thirty years or so.  The thought made her shiver.  Or maybe it could be the sudden cold wind that whipped around her shoulders and face.  It left a tingly sensation behind on her skin and she shivered again. 

Yeah, this old office had started to give her the creeps now.  She’d be glad when this was over so she could go back to her simple life in Texas. 

Melanie walked to the cabinet and opened the doors, then pushed things around until she located an opened pack of batteries.  There were only two in the pack and she knew the recorder took three, so she kept looking.  A stray rolled out of the corner of the cabinet when she moved a ream of paper and she smiled as she tiptoed to grab it.  On the way back to the office, she replaced the batteries and threw the old ones in the trashcan in the lobby, then walked inside to sit behind the desk. 

Placing the recorder beside the briefcase, she pressed the play button and smiled as Doctor Carter’s deep voice filled the office, just as it should.  Hearing his voice was like a balm to her soul and peace settled inside of her as she opened the clasps on the leather case and threw back the flap.  Flipping through the folders, she stopped when she saw one labeled Cooper and pulled it out, hoping it was for Brady and not Brock.  When she unwound the tie close and reached inside she figured out why it was so thick.  A manila mailing envelope was stuffed inside the folder.  When she pulled it out, two yellow lab reports slid out with it and she spread all of it out on the desk in front of her. 

Her eyes snagged on the mailing label on the envelope and her heart stopped.  In Dr. Carter’s precise block print, which was odd for a physician, was written Georgia Department of Family and Child Services—Child Protective Services.

Melanie’s hand shook as she turned the envelope over and used the letter opener on the desk to unseal the flap.  It shook more when she slid the contents out and spread them out before her.  He must’ve gotten a new assistant after she left, because the letter on top was typed.

Dr. Carter’s voice droned in her ear dictating case notes for various patients as Melanie read through the letter and reviewed the supporting documents.  When the picture came clear in her mind it was reinforced by Dr. Carter’s voice on the recorder. 

Come in Ms. Morris—there’s something I need to talk to you about.  Followed by Lucy Morris’s answer.  Make this quick old man, I don’t have time for more of your senile foolishness today.

“I don’t have time for your foolishness either,” the same voice said, and Melanie’s eyes whipped up to meet the cold, hard, and she knew now certifiably crazy, stare of Lucy Morris.   In the tall blonde woman’s hand was something even colder and harder—a mean looking pistol that looked a lot like the one Brock carried.