Chapter 16: The Front Desk

On Monday morning I went back to work.

I had called in sick for four days, and my boss had told me twice to take as long as I needed.

The clinic was warm and loud and smelled like wet dog.

I put my badge on, and a regular's beagle came straight over to put his chin on my shoe.

It was the first time in a week I felt like myself.

At nine fifteen the front door opened, and the bell over it rang.

Bernadette stood in the doorway in a camel coat and her good pearls.

She had a woman from the church beside her, who looked at the floor.

Five people sat in the waiting room with their animals.

They all looked up.

"Freya," Bernadette said, in the voice she saved for sermons. "There you are, sweetheart."

"Bernadette. You can't be back here."

"I'm your family. I've come to bring you home."

She said it loudly, to the room, with her hand on her chest.

"She's been through a terrible shock," she told the man closest to her.

He held a cat carrier on his lap.

"Her father. A very unhealthy influence. We're all so worried."

The man looked at the carrier.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry," I said. "If you have a pet appointment I can check you in. Otherwise I have to ask you to leave."

"I have no intention of leaving without my daughter."

"I'm not your daughter."

"You're my son's wife."

"I'm the woman whose bank account you spent for six years."

The woman from the church let go of Bernadette's sleeve and stepped back toward the door.

"I'm just going to wait in the car," she murmured.

"Dear!"

The woman left.

Someone in the waiting room had taken out a phone.

"That's the video," a young woman said quietly. "From the airport. That's them."