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“Make sure you shut the computers down and lock the front office door today, from the waiting room. Cancel all appointments for tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said.
“I’ll explain later.”
“Speak to you then.”
Lane Jones was the discharge manager. Dr. Parks had created the position when she realized the importance of a well-timed exit; how crucial it was to fight the hospitals to get the elderly out and into their homes before death. To kiss loved ones goodbye. To see their own beds for the last time and surround themselves with things they loved.
Lane, she could be abrasive, true, but the doctor needed a brazen fighter. Could she be capable of something like this? Stealing? Murder?
And why? The doctor wondered if any of her staff were struggling somehow or needed a loan. The downturn meant they all took cuts, but she couldn’t be sure.
Either way, she had to furlough the whole team until the investigation was over. She called Lane and told her so.
“Dr. Parks, I have bills,” Lane said, a few minutes later, over the phone.
The doctor took a deep breath. “I’m going to wire you six months’ pay. I’m wiring everyone six months’ pay.”
She had done this before. She’d paid her employees six months upfront during the first pandemic shutdown. She felt as if it were the least she could do. She had the savings, her staff did not. She went on the hospital visits herself, sometimes ten or eleven a day. She’d do the same now. She’d take over for a few weeks or a couple of months.
Thirty minutes later, she’d secured the software, and her mobile phone rang. The area code was 818, so maybe the Valley? Josh’s school? She hung up the landline and picked up her mobile.
“Mrs. Parks?” said the voice. On the line, a girl was sobbing. “This is Lulu Belmont from Buckley?”
“Lulu?” said the doctor.
“Do you remember me?”
Remember Lulu? The doctor sat back. Was this kid kidding? Dr. Parks had seen this girl naked. In bed. In her house. Lulu had broken stay-at-home orders, sneaked from her house in Calabasas, driven across town, and somehow broken into the doctor’s house. They had no idea how. She got through the gate, past the alarms, and climbed right into Josh’s bed.
It was a careless and lethal move that neither Parks parent could abide or forgive. And like Romeo’s parents, they forbade Josh from contacting Lulu again.
“Dr. Parks?”
The doctor startled. “Lulu, hold on.” The housekeeper, Masha, stood in the doorway. “Masha, you need me?”
“No. I don’t.”
“How can I help?”
“I’m going to the stores. I won’t be back until late tonight. What can I get you?”
“Nothing. Thank you,” said Dr. Parks. “I’m great. We’re fine. I don’t need a thing.”
Masha nodded, turned, and left, and Dr. Parks went back to her call. Masha was part of the household, yes, but she didn’t need to know everything.
Back on the phone, she said, “Lulu, of course I remember you. Are you all right?”
“It’s Josh,” Lulu said. “The people at that place are torturing him!”
CHAPTER 5
MASHA KEPT HER rusty Chevy behind the wall of privacy hedges at the bottom of Dr. Parks’s drive near the gate—out of sight from guests and the family. She supposed if she drove a nicer car, Dr. Parks might let her park near the house.
But maybe not.
She drove to East Crenshaw to pick up Sophie.
