Don’t Fall for the Doctor by Lacey Bolt
Chapter 17
Thursday morning came too early. Ashley managed to survive her shift, but her back, legs, arms, and head ached by mid-afternoon. Avoiding Michael at work took every last ounce of energy. And a lot of caffeine.
By dusk, Ashley parked her car in Kelly’s driveway, her trunk full of groceries. Cooking was better than a nap or an extra cup of coffee. Plus, Kelly would know how to deal with the Michael situation. Who almost kisses a guy and then runs away at the last moment?
She parked in the driveway and carried the first two bags of groceries to the front door. She left them there and had returned to the trunk to unpack the rest when a dark, sleek Tesla silently slid up to the curb in front of Kelly’s house. She turned, putting her hand in front of her face to see who the driver was.
Kelly hadn’t said she was expecting company tonight. Besides, she wouldn’t know anyone who drove a car like that. Probably someone had the wrong address or needed to turn around. Kelly lived in a decent part of the city, but it wasn’t the type of neighborhood for fancy cars.
She carefully grabbed the last of the groceries out of her trunk and walked towards the door. The Tesla remained motionless, with the driver hidden in the shadows.
She shivered as a sense of dread spread from her neck to her toes. Kidnappers usually used vans, not expensive cars. Unless the kidnapper planned to sneak up on an unsuspecting victim in a safe neighborhood at dusk when people closed their curtains and didn’t look out at the street. No one would hear a silent car speed away from the scene of a kidnapping.
She regretted drinking so much caffeine today and listening to the Real Crime podcast while shopping for groceries. Why were they so addictive?
Ashley picked up her speed and walked quickly to the front steps. A dog barked somewhere from down the street. She clenched her jaw and ran up the steps to the front door where she shoved the door open and dropped the bags on the entryway floor. Stepping back outside, she quickly grabbed the remaining bags. One bag ripped, sending butter, a head of broccoli, two lemons, and several avocados across the floor in Kelly’s foyer. She slammed the door shut behind her and locked the deadbolt.
“Kelly, I’m here, and you really shouldn’t leave your front door unlocked like that. You have no idea who might come in!”
She was greeted with silence.
“Kelly?” She glanced around. The podcast she listened to last week started out the same way. Quiet evening, quiet street, then the woman was murdered.
She scanned the entryway. Nothing looked unusual. The entry table displayed a fresh bouquet of flowers and a small lamp, both perfectly arranged. The mirror on the wall was slightly tilted, with its right corner lower than the left. Ashley stepped closer and adjusted it slightly, but the mirror slid back to its tilted position. Ashley let out a breath and relaxed her shoulders. Everything was the way it should be. Everything was safe. Not every evening would turn into a brutal crime worthy of a podcast episode.
She grabbed as many of the grocery bags as she could and marched back to the kitchen, her steps echoing off the hardwood floor. She could only imagine what Kelly would say if she’d seen her race inside. But Kelly never came home to find out that someone broke into her apartment, like some of the victims in the podcast episodes.
She opened the fridge and surveyed the contents, pushing the thoughts about the podcast to the back of her mind. Her hands tingled with familiar anticipation, but cooking was much better when she didn’t have to pay for the ingredients.
A faint voice drifted down through the ceiling. “Ashley, is that you? I’ll be down soon.”
Ashley rolled her eyes. As soon as she had enough extra money, she’d buy Kelly a guard dog. Not one of those cute little poodle mixes that looked like a teddy bear and couldn’t scare a flea. Kelly needed the largest dog with the fiercest bark, one that would scare away anyone who would want to harm Kelly. Ashley pulled a few items out of the fridge and froze as the hairs on the back of her neck rose again. She walked over to the glass sliding doors that led from the kitchen to the back porch and flipped the lock.
Back at the counter, she pulled out two pots, a frying pan, and a cutting board. Maybe she could afford a guard dog of her own after she finished graduate school. She’d need something bigger than the dog she had when she was a kid, but not too big. A medium-sized dog would be perfect—one with floppy ears to scratch and who would stay by her side. As long as the dog had a fierce bark, size didn’t matter. She could even make homemade dog treats for her future dog.
She’d finished organizing half of the groceries when the doorbell rang. She jumped, dropping a pint of creamer on the floor. Her hand clutched her chest, and she looked to the sliding glass door behind her. No one stood there. She furrowed her brow and bit her lip. She needed to calm down.
No sound came from upstairs. Ashley picked up the creamer from the floor silently, eyes glued to the kitchen doorway. The doorknob to the front door rattled.
Kelly didn’t mention any guests for dinner. This evening really was turning into that podcast episode. The woman was home alone, someone stopped by unexpectedly, broke in, and . . . Ashley shivered.
The person in the Tesla must be a stalker. There could be no other explanation.
Unless Kelly invited over a guest. But she never had guests on Thursday nights.
The doorbell rang again. Kelly’s voice floated down. “Ashley, can you get the door, please?”
Ashley squeezed her eyes shut and counted to three. Kelly trusted everyone. She’d invite a group of thieves into the house, make them tea, and give them a tour. That’s exactly why she needed a dog who’d bite first and ask questions later.
She grabbed the paring knife from the drawer and straightened her spine before beginning the walk to the entryway, not daring to blink. She kept a firm grip on the paring knife.
She saw a flash of movement through the frosted window next to the front door. If she could see movement, then whoever stood outside the door would be able to see her movements too. She stepped nimbly to the door, clutched the knife by her side, and swung the door open.
Her jaw dropped open.
No, no, no, no, no . . .
Kelly’s voice rang out from the hallway behind her. “Michael, come on in!”
He stood on the welcoming mat, the porch light shining on him like he was the leading man in a dream. Or a nightmare. He locked eyes with her.
Kelly stepped next to Ashley. “Do you plan on staying outside all evening? Come in before any bugs enter.” She waved her hand in the air, shooing away an army of non-existent insects.
Ashley stepped to the side and shoved her hand behind her back, hiding the paring knife.
Michael stepped through the doorway, looking only at Kelly. “I picked up some ice cream on the way over.”
Kelly stepped forward and enveloped Michael in a hug. “You shouldn’t have. But I’ll accept it as a peace offering for not coming by last week.”
Michael returned Kelly’s hug as if it was normal to stand in her entryway, hugging the woman who was old enough to be his mother. Ashley gripped the knife handle harder.
“Couldn’t help it. Work emergency.” He pulled away, shrugged off his jacket and shoes, placing them casually in the closet by the door.
Kelly crossed her arms. “You work too hard.”
“It’s the only way I can afford your favorite ice cream.” He smirked and held out a cloth grocery bag, which Kelly snatched from his hands.
Kelly peeked inside the bag. “You’re forgiven.”
Ashley tried to take in the scene unfolding in front of her. This man couldn’t be the same man from the hospital. And what happened to Kelly? She took a step backward toward the kitchen.
Kelly looked up from the bag and caught Ashley backing up. “Ashley, sorry I didn’t come down sooner. You know Michael, right?” Kelly barely paused to give Ashley a chance to answer. “I’ve been looking forward to your eggplant parmesan all week. Are you still making it?”
Ashley nodded her head.
Kelly and Michael both stared at her.
She gripped the knife harder and stepped backward again. They still stared. “I, um . . . I bought everything for all the meals this week, including eggplant parmesan. I have the receipt in the kitchen.” She glanced over her shoulder.
Kelly clapped her hands together, causing the bag of ice cream to bounce wildly. She turned to Michael. “Ashley is an amazing cook. She comes over each week, and after a few hours, my fridge is full of enough food to last me until her next visit.” She faced Ashley again. “You really should charge me more for making my meals.”
“You really should stop paying me more than I charge you,” Ashley responded automatically with the familiar words, then cringed. She glanced at Michael. He met her gaze. Her stomach lurched and she looked down. “I need to go back to the kitchen.”
Kelly narrowed her eyes and stepped closer to Ashley. “Ash, are you ok? You’re awfully flushed.” She placed her hand to Ashley’s forehead before she could stop her. “Michael, what do you think? You’re a doctor. Does she look sick to you?”
Ashley brushed Kelly’s hand off her head with her free hand and ducked her head. “I’m fine.”
Kelly crossed her arms. “You look tired.” She gave Ashley the look that always made her feel like a five-year-old child who got caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. “How much coffee did you have today? You know how too much caffeine makes you jittery.”
Ashley shrugged. “I was tired. Remember? I took over your shift yesterday. You don’t look very sick.” As soon as the words flew out of her mouth, she felt the blood drain from her face. The almost-kiss from last night. She shouldn’t have mentioned anything in front of Michael. She looked back to the kitchen and instinctively reached both hands up to tighten her ponytail.
A loud gasp came from Kelly. “Young lady, what is in your hand?”
A muffled snort came from Michael. Ashley glared at him. The corners of his lips were drawn down, but his eyes mocked her.
She set her jaw and refused to look away first. “I thought there might be a robber at the door.”
The corners of his mouth quivered.
Kelly shook her head. “Hmph. You always do that. You drink too much coffee, get all hyped up, and let your imagination run wild.”
Ashley pursed her lips. “You trust people too easily.”
Kelly let out a loud sigh. “Michael, help me out here. She doesn’t think I can protect myself.”
He cleared his throat. “I agree with Ashley.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
Kelly punched his shoulder playfully. “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”
He laughed. “I’ve told you a hundred times. You need a guard dog.”
Ashley crossed her arms, careful not to stab herself with the knife. “How do you know Kelly?” She stepped closer to Kelly. This woman was her friend, not Michael’s. Even though they weren’t related, Kelly had stepped in as her mother figure years ago. No one criticized Kelly. She could tell Kelly that she needed a guard dog, and Michael could mind his own business.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You might say that Kelly helped raise me.” The smile disappeared from his face.
Ashley waited a moment, then looked at Kelly.
“It’s true. He grew up next door to me. Played with my sons all the time. I even changed a few of his diapers—”
“We should put that ice cream in the freezer before it melts.” Michael stepped forward and grabbed the bag from Kelly’s grasp, keeping his eyes on the knife in Ashley’s hand. Ashley stifled a laugh.
Kelly raised her hands in defeat. “Fine. I’m going to go relax in the living room while you cook, Ashley. Unless . . .” Kelly looked slowly between Michael and Ashley. “Michael, why don’t you help Ashley in the kitchen?”
“No.” His voice came out firm.
Ashley tightened her grip on the knife handle and turned to him.
His face flushed. “I shouldn’t help. I mean, I don’t know anything about cooking. All I can make is spaghetti with sauce from the jar. I’d get in your way.” His words came out rushed, as though the thought of spending one minute helping her would cause him to spontaneously combust.
Ashley’s stomach dropped at the sound of his weak excuse. Last night he tried to kiss her, and tonight he couldn’t even bear to spend time alone in the kitchen with her. She made the right choice by walking away from him before they could kiss.
“You two go relax. I’ll get you when dinner is ready.” Ashley forced a smile which she hoped didn’t give away how much she wanted to burn his chicken dumplings.
* * *
An hour later, Ashley looked around the kitchen, satisfied. Kelly’s granite counters were clean, the dishes washed or placed in the dishwasher. Now, the only signs of the cooking that occurred over the past hour were the casserole and eggplant parmesan baking in the oven, caramel brownies cooling on the counter, a pot of chicken dumpling soup simmering on the stove, and the pasta salad chilling in the fridge.
She set the dining room table for two people and dished out the soup. The soup came out amazing, as always. The broth had a full flavor from the onions, carrots, and celery, and the homemade dumplings were perfectly cooked. Ashley clenched her jaw. Her mother had made her promise to keep the family recipe a secret and only make it for people who were special.
Well, tonight, Michael would try it. If she had known he’d be there, she’d have planned something different. Liver and onions. Something that wouldn’t make her skin crawl at the thought of him eating it.
He probably wouldn’t even like it. He’d probably think it was made from a can instead of requiring a multi-day process that started with making homemade broth.
Well, if he couldn’t even appreciate the finer things in life, that was his problem. Not hers. She planned to head home anyway, so she’d never know what his unsophisticated palate would think of this meal.
She walked to the entryway and slid on her shoes before she grabbed her purse and jacket, then paused in front of the hallway mirror.
Overall, she looked ok. A little lipstick would be nice, or mascara. She rummaged through her purse and found some chapstick. She slid it over her lips. Too bad her purse didn’t contain a nicer shirt, one that didn’t feature large letters over her chest that stated, Need More Cowbell.
She walked to the doorway of the living room. Kelly and Michael were absorbed in a talent competition show. One contestant stood on stage, singing a country song while spinning a hula hoop around his waist. Ashley covered her mouth to stop the laugh that nearly burst out. She loved this show. Kelly never watched these types of shows. She preferred shows about medical drama. She slid her gaze to Michael, who sat at the edge of his armchair, eyes glued to the screen. She could only see the side of his face, but his mouth hung open, and his head bobbed in sync with the hula hoop rhythm. He pumped his fist in the air when the song finished, and the hula hoop kept spinning around the singer’s waist.
She cleared her throat and forced the corners of her lips down. “Kelly—” The words caught in her throat as Kelly and Michael looked at her. She tried to focus on just Kelly. “Um . . . I’m leaving. Turn off the fridge in twenty minutes and put the food in the oven after it cools. I mean—no, the food is in the oven. Put it in the fridge for twenty minutes. I mean . . .” She inhaled deeply and looked at the ceiling.
“Got it. I’ll take the food out of the oven and put it in the fridge once it’s cool. Dinner ready? Smells delicious.” Kelly’s quiet voice filled the room.
Ashley glanced at Michael. He stood, hands in pockets. “Dinner’s on the table. I’ll, um, see you tomorrow, Kelly.” She paused. Kelly would kill her if she left without any attempt at good manners. “Bye, Dr. Michael—Tobers, I mean . . . bye.”
She turned and rushed out the front door.