Second Opinion Read online

  Second Opinion

  Hannah Alexander

  Chapter 1

  Gina Drake awakened from a storm of dark images and screams, an endless strobe of confusion. She cried out and tumbled from sofa to floor. But she didn’t know which sofa or which floor, where she was or why.

  It was happening again.

  She winced at an onslaught of ragged light from a strange window. Past blobs of furniture she saw a door and pulled herself off the floor to stumble toward it. Had to get out of this place. Had to get to air. She was suffocating, couldn’t get enough oxygen, couldn’t fight her way past the attack of piercing light.

  A garbled cry, soft and plaintive, reached her through the pounding of her heartbeat. That sound checked her escape for just a moment. But she couldn’t see past the tearing in her eyes. The cry didn’t repeat before the waking nightmare returned to envelop her in terror. She grabbed the doorknob and forced her way outside. Had to find her children, protect them!

  She tripped and nearly fell. That strange cry reached her once more, this time from behind. She turned and saw nothing except blurred shapes and gray splotches. She had to escape. There was danger here. She ran into the haze.

  ***

  Evan Webster stared at his father across the dinner table, thinking about the pills he’d taken. Shouldn’t he be feeling better by now? He glanced at the large clock on the wall. Twenty minutes and nothing had changed. Kent had told him they would give him more energy, make him feel more alive, be more coordinated. Ha! Coordinated. That would be an improvement.

  A sudden hard thump of his heart startled him.

  “Evan, are you okay?”

  He looked up into his dad’s gentle eyes and nodded. Maybe the pills were working. He took a deep breath and once again felt the thumping pressure of his heartbeat pound through his system. He even felt the jolt of its force for a couple of seconds. This wasn’t what he’d expected at all.

  “How’s the goulash?” Dad’s voice sounded a little different. It came in spurts of sound.

  Evan blinked. Weird. “Good, Dad.” He straightened in his chair and forced himself to eat, trying hard to concentrate on what he was doing.

  “You’re not eating much,” Dad said.

  Evan took a bite and chewed automatically. He usually loved Dad’s special family recipe, which was why Dad cooked it almost every visitation weekend. Tonight it tasted like dirt. So did the homemade rolls and the butter, even the milk.

  Dad laid his fork at the side of his plate, picked up his napkin, and patted around his mouth in his precise way. He watched Evan for a moment, then swallowed and cleared his throat. Norville Webster, Evan’s father, tried to be precise and thoughtful in his movements, his words, his whole life.

  “So, how’s life treating you these days?” Dad asked. “Is it good to be out of school for the summer?”

  “Not really. I like school.” He wouldn’t admit that to a lot of people but Dad understood.

  Evan already missed his friends. He looked forward to seeing some of them tonight. He glanced at the clock. Ten minutes before he had to leave for the theater and he hadn’t broken the news yet. He reached for his milk glass. His arm jerked involuntarily. He nearly knocked over the glass and his hand continued to jerk. He placed it in his lap, hoping Dad wouldn’t notice.

  “Did you get a summer job at the mill?”

  “They won’t hire me until I’m sixteen.” Five months before he could get a driver’s license. Five whole months. Would he last that long? Every one of his friends had their licenses.

  “The school grades were okay, then? Your mother didn’t send me a copy of them this semester.” Dad stared at the table. His voice had that casual tone he used when he wanted to disguise his disapproval of his ex-wife.

  An alien rush of anger caught Evan unaware. “Why didn’t you complain to her about it?” he snapped. “You could have called her. You don’t have to use me as your messenger—” His voice skidded to a stop as Dad blinked at him in shock.

  It surprised Evan too. He seldom got mad at his father and when he did he never said anything. What is happening to me?

  Some of the color drained from Dad’s face. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  “Oh no, hey listen, I didn’t mean—”

  Dad held his hand up. “I know better, I just forget sometimes. I guess the grades were as good as always.”

  Evan slumped in his seat, feeling worse than ever. Dad was bitter because Mom had won custody. And Mom would rather be with her stupid boyfriend than with her own son. Why did she fight so hard for custody when she didn’t want it? She was the one who’d wanted the divorce in the first place, not Dad.

  It was getting easier and easier to hate life.

  “Evan?”

  “Yeah?” Evan looked up again to find those serious eyes studying him a little too closely.

  “Is everything okay? The grades were as good as always?”

  “Oh sorry. I meant to tell you I’m on the honor roll again. And I got an achievement award in English. My teacher says I should think about being a writer.” His heart thumped loudly a couple more times and he flexed his neck muscles to push away some of the tension that made him want to squirm in his chair. “Ms Bolton wants me to help on the school paper next year.”

  Some of the lines of terminal sadness lifted from Dad’s expression for a few seconds. His pale lips flexed in the closest thing to a smile Evan had seen tonight. “That’s great. I’m proud of you.”

  Evan hunched his shoulders forward then straightened and leaned closer to the table. At least he was good for something. He stared at his skinny arms and hands. He’d never been good in sports. Everything at school seemed to revolve around football or basketball or something else that demanded coordination. The jocks didn’t need anything between their ears to be popular, they just needed the right moves. Evan didn’t have those.

  “Evan?” Dad’s voice rose slightly. “Are you okay?”

  “Huh? Yeah I’m fine.”

  “I said I’m proud of you. I always have been.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” The good thing was that Dad meant what he said. He always did. Not like Mom, who’d promised to come to the debate last month then canceled at the last minute because her boyfriend showed up. Dad was there, though. He’d made it embarrassingly obvious to everyone in the audience who his son was and how proud he was of him. Dad had never been the silent type.

  Too much pain hovered in this house. Evan loved his father but he took everything way too seriously. And Mom wasn’t just impatient, she was spastic—always nagging him to pick up his things and do his laundry and put the toilet seat—

  “Evan,” Dad said.

  Evan blinked and looked at him.

  “You sure you’re not coming down with something?”

  “Oh sorry. Yeah.” Actually, he didn’t feel that good right now. His head was starting to hurt. “I’ll be okay.” He placed a final forkful of Dad’s homemade goulash into his mouth and washed it down with the milk that tasted like dirt. He could feel Dad still watching him. It made him nervous. The pills. Yeah, that’s what he was feeling and it wasn’t good. Strange that he’d expected the mixture of caffeine and pain relievers to make him feel better. All he’d wanted was to stop feeling so bad all the time. So sad.

  Dad cleared his throat again. “So is she still seeing Mr. Tygart?”

  “Yeah.” Swallow food. Get out of the chair. Make the excuses. Apologize. Get out of here. Meet Kent. Ask him exactly what was in those pills. Evan felt like a rock being skipped across a pond. He pushed back from the table. “I’m supposed to meet some of the guys at the theater for a movie. I’d better leave now if I’m going to get there in time.” His voice caught, held, vibrated.

/>   “Oh.” Dad was obviously disappointed. He’d probably rented a movie for tonight. He was always doing stuff like that. His enjoyment came when Evan enjoyed a movie. Mom said that was one reason she divorced him, because he suffocated her.

  “Do you need a ride downtown?”

  Evan shrugged. “It’s only four blocks.”

  Dad slumped in his chair. “Well then, I’ll see you when you get home. Hurry back after the movie?”

  “Sure will.” As Evan grabbed his jacket and pushed his way out the front door he felt a tingle shoot down his back and into his legs. How much caffeine was in those pills he took?

  ***

  Levi Drake watched out the front door for his mother. It was getting dark. She never left them alone after dark. He knew the shadows outside were just bushes but sometimes he thought they could be monsters. He hated the dark.

  He turned on the porch light and then the living room light and then he walked over to the two lamps and turned them on. He walked through the rest of the house turning on all the lights he could reach and then sat down on the couch next to his little brother Cody. They couldn’t turn on the television because the rules were no TV when Mom couldn’t sit and watch it with them.

  “Mommy’s not home yet.” Cody scooted closer and pressed his head against Levi’s arm. “Go find her.”

  “She’ll come back soon.” Levi hoped Cody wouldn’t start crying. Cody was only four and he threw tantrums when he didn’t get his way, especially when Mom was gone.

  “Does Mommy have fur now?”

  Levi looked down at his silly brother. “Fur?”

  Cody nodded. “Like the werewolf.”

  “Mom isn’t a werewolf.”

  Cody nodded again. His eyes got big. “Uh-huh. Cartoon werewolf.”

  “Oh.” That old cartoon Mom put into the television sometimes was Cody’s favorite. Levi liked it too. He was a nice werewolf who ran away when he started to grow fur so nobody would see him. He bashed the bad guys and saved the children.

  “I’m hungry.” Cody patted Levi’s side.

  “We can eat when Mom gets back.” Levi turned to look out the window. The cars driving along the street had their headlights on. What if she couldn’t find her way home in the dark?

  He’d tried to stop being afraid when Mom left them alone but he couldn’t. He wasn’t as grown up as she needed him to be. This time she’d looked scared and she was breathing funny and she didn’t answer him when he asked if she was sick. Maybe she really was the werewolf. Maybe she was out there right now saving other little kids from the bad guys.

  But if she was doing that, why did she always cry and tell them she was sorry when she came back home? She said she had bad dreams that scared her but that everything would be okay. Levi didn’t feel okay now.

  Cody patted Levi’s leg. “Can I have soup?”

  “I’ll get you some crackers. When Mom comes we can have soup.” Levi slid off the couch.

  Cody climbed down and followed him. “You cook soup, Levi.”

  “Mom doesn’t want us to turn on the stove when she’s not here. I’ll get some cheese. You like that, Cody. Cheese and crackers.” Levi got some slices of American cheese out of the fridge and used a step stool to reach the crackers in the cupboard. But when he opened the cupboard door there were all the cans of soup stacked on top of each other next to the box of crackers.

  Cody caught his breath. “Soup! I want soup, Levi! You cook soup!” His voice grew so loud Levi wanted to cover his ears with his hands.

  “I can’t. Mom said six-year-olds aren’t supposed to play with fire.”

  “Soup soup soup! I want soup!”

  “Stop it, Cody!” Levi turned around and almost fell off the step stool. “Shut up!” Mom would get mad if she heard him say those words.

  Cody shouted louder. “I want soup! I’m hungry!” He banged his fist against the cabinet door below the sink and stomped his foot.

  “Okay, I’ll get you some soup. Just be quiet!”

  Cody kept banging and stomping but he stopped shouting. Levi was hungry too. Where was Mom? Why didn’t she come back?

  Levi grabbed a can with the noodles on the front picture and set it carefully on the counter. Then he pulled the box of crackers out and set that beside the can. He had to do everything just right the way Mom showed him. He stepped down from the stool and opened the cabinet door for the pots. He pulled out the one she always used to cook the soup and closed the door.

  Cody stopped the banging and stomping. “I can help!”

  Levi jerked the pot away and said in his meanest voice, “If you touch anything I won’t feed you.”

  Cody looked at him in surprise for a moment. His lower lip stuck out and big tears filled his eyes. A whine grew in his throat and burst into a loud cry that went through the kitchen like a car horn. Levi tried to ignore it as he pulled at the ring on the top of the can. It was hard to do anything with Cody screaming behind him. The ring wouldn’t move.

  Levi got a knife from a drawer and stuck it under the ring until the top came up. He got the lid off and poured the soup into the pot, only splashing a few drops out onto the floor. He reached up and turned the knob on the stove to the place where Mom always turned it. He heard a click click click sound but nothing else happened. He turned it off again, told Cody to be quiet, and then turned the knob back on.

  Click click click but no fire.

  Cody kept screaming. Levi climbed onto the first step of the stool and turned the knob a little farther… just a little bit and then once again… and a big whoosh of fire reached out for him. He jerked back and fell off the stool. He landed hard on the floor and for a little bit he couldn’t breathe.

  Cody stopped crying.

  Click click click.

  Levi tried to see the fire around the bottom of the pot but he couldn’t. Mom said when it clicked he had to turn the knob some more to stop it because it might not be safe. But he wasn’t sure if he could get up to turn that knob.

  “Levi?”

  Click click click.

  He looked up to find Cody bending over him, eyes wide and scared. And the clicking kept on. Levi’s head hurt where he’d bumped it.

  Cody bent closer. “Levi?”

  He had to try hard to be a big boy for his little brother. He raised his head and then pushed himself up and sat for a minute while Cody watched.

  The clicking continued.

  Levi shook his head and pushed himself to his feet. He had to get to that knob. He could hear the soup sizzling on the sides of the pot. He reached the knob and turned it. The clicking stopped. He pulled a spoon out of the drawer and stuck it into the soup. It looked easier when Mom did it. There were too many things to remember and he couldn’t think very well with Cody patting his leg.

  He turned to Cody. “It’s okay, I’m getting soup. You go sit down in your chair.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No. Go to your chair.” Levi put his hands on his hips like Mom did when Cody was being bad. “I mean it, Cody. Sit down!”

  Cody started to cry again but he went to his chair. Levi stepped up onto the stool. He reached for the spoon he’d put in the pot. The spoon was hot. His arm jerked backward, knocking against the handle of the pot and tipping the pot over to the side.

  Hot soup splashed out onto Levi’s shoulder. He screamed. Cody’s cries mingled with his.

  ***

  Evan’s hands shook as he walked down the dark street. He felt like hurling. He couldn’t go into the theater like this. His heart thundered in his ears.

  “Hey!” A voice came from the street so suddenly it scared him. He jerked around to see his friend Kent in a pickup truck smiling at him through the open passenger window. “Get in. Dad let me use his truck. We’ll go cruising. The movie’s lame.”

  Evan rushed over and pulled the door open. “I thought you said those pills you gave me were supposed to make me feel better. Where’d you get them?”

  “A friend. Don�
�t worry, you’ll be okay. Get in. Haven’t you ever done speed before?”

  “Speed!” Oh no. Oh no. Oh. No.

  “Hey relax, it’ll give you go power.”

  Evan jumped into the truck and slammed the door. He wanted to strangle the jerk. “It’s making me sick! Why didn’t you tell me what it was? Where’d you get it?”

  “Peregrine gave me some last week.” Kent sounded suddenly defensive.

  “Who’s that?”

  “Don’t you know anything? He’s a guy who hangs out around town.”

  “Peregrine? You mean like a falcon? What a stupid name. Is he a pusher or something?”

  “No way. He gave me the pills. He’s okay. He’s in his twenties and the guys like him ‘cause he’ll buy booze for them on weekends.”

  Evan buried his face in his hands. He was suddenly taking illegal drugs that came from some loser who thought he was a bird of prey. Why hang out with Kent anyway? It wasn’t as if he had any brains.

  “Evan? You okay?”

  “No! How could you do this to me? I don’t do drugs.”

  “You didn’t have to take it. Don’t blame me.”

  The tingling in Evan’s arms and hands accelerated. It felt as if ants had burst into his veins and arteries and were crawling up his neck. “Do something! This feels awful.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  Evan felt another spurt of rage. His heart beat louder, faster, like it might explode. He grabbed Kent by the arm. “Get me help!”

  Chapter 2

  Dr. Grant Sheldon knew better than to believe in love at first sight. Forty years of living had taught him not to get carried away by surface attraction but he had lost his heart after one glimpse of Dogwood Springs in a morning blanket of late spring dew. Love for this place had claimed him when he first drove down to interview for this job.

  The Ozark hillside village had a bustling homey five-block downtown with bricked streets and streetlights that looked like century-old gaslights. The town’s modest population of seven thousand gave welcome relief from the teeming hordes of St. Louis.

  Settled deep in the southern Missouri hills thirty minutes from Branson, Dogwood Springs offered Grant the convenience of taking off for a weekend with his kids without a long drive.