He knew it was coming. Every morning after for the last three years, the call came through first thing and Lucas knew better than to ignore it. It was like a band-aid. Grab it quick, give it a tug, and get it the hell over with. Yeah, it might hurt. It was still better than dragging it out.
If only she had the decency to wait until he was up and ready to deal with her. It was Sunday, the only day that he shut down his office and allowed himself any rest. He would always take in any emergency patients, of course, but at least the rest of the townsfolk were considerate enough not to bother him on Sunday if what ailed them could damn well wait until Monday.
Lucas didn’t even open his eyes. When the first buzz came through on his Hamlet radio, he blindly groped out until his fingers brushed one of the knobs on the side. He always slept with his communicator on his nightstand in case of some medical emergency. Stifling his groan, he mentally prepared himself for what was coming.
He already knew who was buzzing him today.
His fingers tweaked the nearest knob. Pressing the side button, he answered. “Hello?”
No response.
A second later, another buzz.
His eyes opened to slits. That wasn’t Caity’s call signal. It was the sheriff’s—and it was set to emergency.
Sitting up, Lucas clicked his radio over to the right channel. “This is Dr. De Angelis. What’s the emergency?”
“Luc. Hey. You up?”
He was now. “Yeah. What’s going on?”
There was a pause. “We’ve got something over at Bonnie’s inn. A real live DB. Do you think you can come over and check it out?”
DB. Dead body. As the only trained medical doctor in town, Lucas knew his way around a corpse, both in his practice and because of his adopted duty as the local medical examiner whenever necessary. Only a few months ago he’d had to wheel Mrs. Birmingham’s withered old body out on a stretcher. It wasn’t his favorite part of the job, but he could handle it. He had to. No one else in Hamlet would.
“Of course. I’ll be right on my way.” He was already out of bed, searching for something to wear. His gaze fell on the alarm clock resting on the edge of his nightstand. It was 11:33. Even for a Sunday, he’d slept in much later than he usually did—and Caitlin hadn’t buzzed him before this. Yesterday was the anniversary of their divorce. She should’ve called him hours ago, drunk and babbling and begging him to give them one more shot.
Something wasn't right.
Grabbing a change of underwear from his dresser, he signaled back to Caity. “Is there anything else I have to know before I go?”
“Shit, Luc. I think we’ve got a homicide.”
With one sock halfway on his foot, Lucas froze. He gripped his radio so tight, he nearly cracked the plastic side. “Anyone we know?”
Caitlin might be, in his very experienced opinion, a paranoid shre
w who drove him absolutely batty with her insecurities, but she was loyal to a fault. As far as she was concerned, when the people of Hamlet voted her in as their sheriff, she became their protector. If one of them was hurt, Caity wouldn’t stop until she found out who did the hurting and made them pay for it.
“Negative. It’s a— he was an outsider.”
Lucas let out a sigh of relief. He was a doctor. He hated the loss of any life but, well, he was loyal to their village, too. If someone had to die, at least it was just an outsider.
“Gimme ten, Cait. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Don’t worry about rushing.” Her laugh was hollow. “Trust me, he’s not going anywhere.”
Lucas usually found a hundred different reasons to avoid Caitlin, especially so close to the anniversary of their divorce. As bitter as it was when they first split, they both eventually agreed that they were much better friends and neighbors than they had ever been lovers or partners.
Most of the time Caitlin remembered that—until the reminder came that he was the one who instigated the divorce and she gave him hell for it.
It wasn’t too difficult to avoid her. There was a handful of professionals who made their homes year round in Hamlet. As the only doctor and the town sheriff, they were often too busy for Caitlin’s childish tantrums. He humored her on the anniversary of their divorce because he still cared for her, even if he wasn’t in love with her anymore.
If he was honest, he didn’t think he ever actually loved her. She’d just always been there, as constant as the sunrise.
That was why he answered her buzz that morning. He expected the leftover ramblings of her annual drunken binge, the pleas that they could make it work again. Instead, he received a summons to work.
A summons to death.