The Unknown Daughter

She raised a hand to the ache at her temple, fingering the bandage she found there. The nightmare she’d stumbled into last night kept getting worse and worse. “Can I have a word with you alone, Doctor?”

Dr. Burns hesitated for only a second before turning to face a looming Eric.

“Will you excuse us, Sheriff?” He nodded toward the partially closed curtain that separated Carrinne’s alcove from the rest of the ER floor.

“I need more information about the accident,” Eric countered. “If another car was involved—”

“I understand, Sheriff. But that can wait.”

“Not if—”

“The longer we stand here—” the doctor’s hands found the pockets of his lab coat “—the longer it’ll be before we both find the answers we need.”

“Eric, please,” she added. No way could he be here for the conversation she knew was coming.

Eric pinned the doctor with an unblinking, bad-boy stare. To Dr. Burns’s credit, he didn’t budge. With a worried look at Carrinne, Eric turned and left.

Closing the curtain, Dr. Burns returned to the bed. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” She continued to toy with the edge of the bandage, the list of disasters playing havoc with her plans growing by second. “I’m only visiting Oakwood. No one but my grandfather knows about my condition, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“It’s important that I know what we’re dealing with, if I’m going to help you.”

Glancing at the curtain, she sighed. “I was diagnosed with primary sclerosing cholangitis about six months ago. That may be what’s causing some of the symptoms you mentioned.”

“I see.” After a slight pause and a professional nod, he scribbled even more notes onto the chart. “Have you had a liver biopsy?”

“A few months ago. I’m in the very early stages, so my symptoms have been mild so far. The doctors wouldn’t have diagnosed it this early if it weren’t for the battery of blood tests they ran at my yearly physical. I’d felt run-down for a few months. At first, they thought it was just stress.”

“Okay. We’ll do some additional lab work to test your enzyme levels. I’ll need your doctor’s name and number so we can compare them to his baseline.” Dr. Burns looked up from the chart. “Have there been any recurring symptoms?”

“The fever you mentioned, and I tire more easily than I used to. The cough only happens every now and then, when I can’t catch my breath.”

“Any weight loss?”

“A little, but I’m working with a nutritionist to design a better diet. I’ve skipped several meals lately, so I’m not exactly where I should be.”

“You must be aware that with your condition, your system absorbs fat less efficiently. Your abnormally low blood pressure and heart rate are symptoms that your body’s not getting the energy it needs. Even though you’re in the early stages of the disease, your stamina will deteriorate without regular meals and rest. The fever’s probably a sign of infection, and the more run-down your body is, the less able it will be to fight off illness.”

“I understand. It’s just been a difficult few days.”

“I’m going to prescribe some antibiotics for the infection.” More notes on the chart. “Are you taking vitamins?”

“Yes. Every morning.”

“Good. Leave the nurse a list. Maybe there’s something more we can suggest to help.” He set the chart aside. Crossing his arms across his chest, he gave her the kind of look doctors always give you when they’re about to say something they know you don’t want to hear. “I’m recommending several days of bed rest until we have the infection cleared up.”

“Here?”

“No. We’ll release you as soon as you’re cleared for the concussion. But I want you doing as little as possible once you’re home. You need to rebuild your strength before things go from bad to worse.”

“But I’m only in town for a few days, and there’s something critical I need to be doing.”

“Then I’d suggest you find someone who can help you with whatever it is. Keep going at the pace you are, and you’ll wind up right back here.”

Carrinne knew he was right. If she pushed her body, she’d only get sicker. But she couldn’t stop looking for her father. Even with Oliver’s help, she might never find the diary, and then her search would only become harder. And the only other person in town she knew well enough to ask for help was—