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He gulped at the candid question. Kylie wouldn’t like his answer, at least not yet. Things between them had been too rough to believe she was now fully on board with how he felt about Annie. “Um, I—”
His phone rang and he snatched it up, feeling as if he’d just escaped a bear trap. The screen showed a Houghton phone number, and his pulse jumped. “Dr.Jon Dunstan.”
“Jon, it’s Mike Willis. Hope I’m not calling too early.”
“Not at all, Mike. I’m at the beach searching for agates and have been up for hours. We surgeons are early risers.”
The other doctor chuckled. “You’ve got that right. I checked out your references right after you left the other day, and wow,you’re a talented surgeon. Patients from as far away as United Arab Emirates.”
Thank the Lord Mike had checked right away. If he’d called yesterday, he might have heard about the charges against Olivia. Should he tell Mike about it up front or hope it never came up?
He turned his back to the water and paced a few feet back. The right thing to do was to tell him, even if it meant the end of his hopes for a job.
“Could we meet for dinner tomorrow to discuss moving forward together? My wife will join us, so feel free to bring a significant other.”
Maybe it would be best to talk about the “wrinkle” in person. “I’d like that. I’ll bring my girlfriend.”
“Wonderful. About six at Joey’s Seafood and Grill? I’ll text you the address.”
He’d feared Mike would want to go to an Italian restaurant and he would have had to ask for a change to something more gluten-free friendly. “I know it. It’s one of my favorite spots.”
After the final goodbyes, Jon shuffled back through the sand to rejoin Kylie. How could he even broach the subject with Mike? He was tempted to ignore the issue and hope Minnesota’s problems never came to his haven here, but guilt pricked him for considering it. And money would be a problem, too, most likely. Several obstacles to moving forward with Mike existed, so Jon needed to temper his hopes.
What if it didn’t work out? What did he do then? He could start a private practice, but he’d have to be associated with a hospital since he couldn’t afford to buy all the equipment necessary for a remote clinic. He had never wanted to do that once he’d tasted being part of a prestigious practice.
And why did he always go back to whathewanted? Why did fame and money mean so much to him? The opinions of others had always mattered to him, and he wasn’t sure why. Was he so insecure that he had to derive his value from other people? It shouldn’t be that way, and he knew it. Every time he thought he had his values straight, he was tempted to compromise.
He should have told Mike up front about the problem and allowed him to do more research and think about the situation before he made a formal offer. But Jon knew what Mike would decide if he heard all that. What doctor would run the risk that a partner’s name might be tarnished in the newspaper? It would be professional suicide.
Was there a way to make sure he was cleared? Maybe he should fly back to Rochester and tackle the trouble head-on. The police might look kindly on him if he came in willingly to tell them he had no knowledge of Olivia’s actions.
He rubbed his forehead. Why did this have to happen now?
Thirteen
This interview wouldn’t be easy. Annie parked her truck down the block of the modest Houghton neighborhood and got out into a hot and humid day. The nondescript two-story house she approached appeared to be like all the other ones on the block. Built in the thirties, it was a farmhouse style with white aluminum siding and a large porch, where several preschool children rolled a ball. A chain-link fence ran around the perimeter of the property. The windows were all open, which told her the place didn’t have air-conditioning.
A middle-aged woman sat on the porch swing with a book in her hand and put it down when Annie reached the fence and opened the gate. “Can I help you?” While not openly hostile, her brown eyes held reserve and suspicion. Her bleached-blonde hair was frizzy from the humidity.
Annie paused at the caution and warning in the woman’s tone. “I’d like to speak to whoever runs the shelter.”
“How’d you find us?” the woman demanded.
She’d better try another tactic. “I’m Annie Pederson, a law enforcement ranger investigating a disappearance. I have reason to believe the person I’m searching for might have come here for assistance.”
“Who is it?”
“Are you the manager?”
The woman went to the screen door and called inside, “Roberta, can you take the watch for a while?”
A younger woman came out and shot Annie a curious stare. “Anything wrong?”
“No.” The older woman gestured for Annie to follow her into the house.
Annie stepped past a tricycle and a soccer ball into the warmth of the home. A modest living room was down the hall to the right. The woman led her past that space to double French doors into what had originally been a dining room. It now held mismatched metal filing cabinets and a massive metal desk that had seen better days.
The woman folded her arms and glance at Annie. “We try to keep a low profile, Ranger Pederson. Who gave you our name?”
