“You feel better?”
Miranda lifted her head from his shoulder. “About what?”
“Us. You seemed a little off when we left the house. Like—I don’t know—you’d been too much in your own head and were overthinking things.”
“I suppose I was. I was worried we were suffering from The Speed Effect.”
“From the what now?”
“You remember that old Keanu Reeves movie, Speed? The take away lesson is that relationships that develop under extreme circumstances don’t last.”
Ethan tried to remember anything about that movie, but all he could bring up was something about a bus that had to be maintained at a certain speed or a bomb would detonate. “There was a romance in that movie?”
“Exactly.” She nodded, as if that explained everything.
“Legs, I’ve been crazy about you pretty much from the moment you plowed into me at Dinner Belles. Maybe before that, when you tried to tell me off for driving into the ambulance bay that first time I saw you. That’s got nothing to do with my wanting to protect you from whatever trouble’s got you in its sights.”
He felt the subtle relaxation of her body. “It’s nice to have that confirmed.”
“So we’re okay?”
“Cowboy, we’re way better than okay.”
Smiling, Ethan bent to kiss her again.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Miranda, but your phone was ringing.” Norah handed over Miranda’s little purse.
Miranda winced as she dug out the phone to check the readout. “I’m sorry. The answering service isn’t supposed to call me tonight. I gave them explicit—”
The frown had Ethan going on alert. “What?”
“It’s the alarm company I use for the clinic.”
Ethan led the way, weaving through the crowd until they passed beneath the balloon arch and out into the hallway, away from the worst of the noise.
Miranda hit redial. “Yes, this is Miranda Campbell. I had a missed call.”
Ethan listened as she confirmed her information and knew their fun night was over before she’d even hung up the phone.
“Something set off the alarm at my clinic.”
“Let’s go.”
Chapter 17
Two police cruisers sat in her parking lot, lights reflecting off the building like a garish red and blue disco ball. Darius Greeley and Rowan Beale stood in front of the open door. None of the interior lights were on, so it was just a gaping, dark hole. What would she find inside? The grim set to the officers’ faces extinguished any lingering hope that it had been a false alarm. Miranda closed her eyes for just a second and prayed it wouldn’t be too bad.
Ethan squeezed her hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”
She could only nod. When he pulled a gun from a lockbox and armed himself before sliding out of the truck, Miranda said nothing. They walked over to join his officers.
“Doctor Campbell, I’m real sorry about this,” Darius said.
“Have you already cleared the building?” Ethan asked.
Rowan nodded. “Yes, sir. Whoever did this is long gone.”
“Are there cameras?”
Miranda tore her attention from the open door. “No.” It hadn’t seemed necessary. This was Wishful. But she thought about the robbery at the pharmacy as she followed him inside. Using a pen, he flipped on the lights.
The waiting room was largely undisturbed, though the potted plants Shelby babied had been upended all over the floor. She was going to have a hissy fit. Together, she and Ethan moved through the door to the back, turning on more lights as they went. Miranda hissed in a breath as she saw patient files ripped and scattered all over the floors. It seemed all of them had been yanked from their shelves behind Shelby’s desk. The front desk computer monitor had been smashed and the tower lay cracked open on the floor. The phone was tipped over, the handset dangling by the cord. The automated voice of the operator echoed in the otherwise quiet space. “We’re sorry. You must first dial a one or—”
One by one, they checked the patient rooms. With each and every one, Miranda felt herself closer to absolutely losing it. Rolls of paper had been yanked from the exam tables. Glass jars of supplies were shattered on the floor. Exam instruments were scattered everywhere. Each would need to be examined for damage and resterilized. The x-ray room was blessedly locked, so at least the most expensive piece of equipment was probably safe, but everywhere she looked, Miranda saw dollar signs adding up and flowing out of the accounts that were already taxed by the weight of her student loans and the cost of her business loan on the practice. Even with insurance, this was going to be a huge blow.
“Where do you keep the drugs?”
“In the lab.”
“Show me.”
Miranda led Ethan to the back, clinging to her control by a thread. A lot of good the lock had done. The vandal had simply smashed open the glass case. The contents of the case were scattered across the floor, along with the bottles and boxes of other medications and testing supplies. More money, down the drain.
Keep it together. Keep it together. She didn’t want to lose her shit in front of Ethan. She didn’t want to stress him out or make him feel like this was somehow his fault for not doing his job. He’d been frustrated enough with this case, and no one could’ve predicted this. Except he’d been telling her for days this was more than she’d made it out to be. She hadn’t wanted to believe him.
“Do you have an inventory?” Ethan’s calm, matter-of-fact voice pulled her back to the present.
“Yes. We reconcile it at the end of every day.”
“So you can check what’s left against that to determine what, if anything, was taken?”
“Yes.”
“Do you keep much on hand that would appeal to thieves?”
“Not a ton. The injectable pain meds would be about it.”
Ethan glanced around, his mind clearly churning through possibilities. “There have been a string of robberies of pharmacies and doctor’s offices over in Lawley. Judd’s team had a bust a couple weeks ago. Didn’t catch the guy, but seized most of his stash. It’s possible the thieves have expanded their territory.”
Miranda crouched down in her heels.
“Don’t touch anything,” he warned.
“Either the vandal didn’t know what he was after or this wasn’t about drugs. The Demerol is still here.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Can you tell if anything’s been taken?”
Miranda looked around at the chaos that had been her nice, pristine clinic and wanted to weep. This…this was where she lived. This was the heart of her. “Not offhand. I’ll need to bring in my entire staff to help deal with all of this. The mess has to be cleaned up, and Jesus God, the files. Shelby’s gonna murder whoever did this. It’s going to take...I don’t even know how long it’s gonna take to put them back to rights.”
“It’s possible someone was after particular medical records. Do you have any means of determining what’s been taken there?”
“I bought this practice from Dr. Klein, so there are paper records going back a ways. We’re required to keep them for seven years from last service. When I bought the practice, I invested in an electronic data management system because most insurance requires electronic filing now. We’ve been working on digitizing old patient records so that the electronic record is complete, but that’s not finished yet.”