Tuesday (The Days of the Week #2)

Chapter One

T he gentle hum of the air conditioning and the steady tick of the wall clock formed a soothing backdrop to the quiet Tuesday morning in my clinic. Outside, a light rain painted the windows with intricate patterns, blurring the view of Main Street. I sat hunched over my desk, the glow of my computer screen illuminating a stack of patient files as I updated Mrs. Johnson's chart with notes from her last visit.

The room was more crowded than usual, with a stack of white file boxes piled beside the door. It was the only wall space not covered by bookcases. My eclectic mix of medical textbooks and secondhand novels was a constant source of fascination for my young receptionist. I glanced away from the computer screen to scan the nearest shelf, raising my arms over my head and wincing at the loud crack from my spine.

Books had always been my weakness. Since I was a child, I read anything I could get my hands on. My grandfather’s westerns, my mother’s bodice rippers, and cozy mysteries lifted from bargain bins. If it had a story, I wanted to read it. I had considered being a writer in high school, but that had never been in the cards for me.

I came from a family of doctors. My parents had expected me to follow in my older brother’s footsteps, and become a doctor in the city. But that was not the kind of medicine I wanted to practice. Instead, I moved to the country to a town small enough to be called a village.

I reached up to massage my temples before I turned back to the computer. Weather and heavy workload aside, being the only doctor in a village of nearly two hundred was exactly what I imagined it to be. Everyone in each other’s pocket. The rumor mill working faster than the phone lines.

I smiled faintly. It had been five years and I had never regretted a single day. I finished my notes and pushed back from my desk. I crossed the room in three steps, and the moment I opened the door Sarah’s head popped into the hallway.

“Mornin’, Doc!” she said brightly. “More coffee?”

She was up out of her chair and heading toward me before I could answer.

“I got more of that cinnamon and toffee blend you liked last month. Me and Josh went to the city over the weekend. I totally forgot to bring it in yesterday.”

I retreated into my office to get out of her way, as she breezed in with a large thermos. A cartoon unicorn grinned from the glittery pink container as Sarah twisted off the lid and filled my mug.

“There you go, Doc! Much better than that mud water you used to drink. Did I tell you Joan Sherman is coming in at ten?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Sarah was already retreating. She tossed a wide smile over her shoulder as she pulled my office door closed, and I raised my eyebrows.

The scent of coffee wafted from the mug on the corner of my desk. I had to admit, it was far better than ground coffee that had been sitting on a store shelf for months. It was more expensive, too. Sarah refused to let me pay her back, but that did not stop me from quietly adding a little extra to her holiday bonus every year.

I sat and lifted the mug to my lips. I took a cautious sip and had to bite back a moan at the taste. I would never buy it for myself, but the artisan coffee had become one of my small pleasures. As I slid Mrs. Johnson’s file to the side and started to open the next folder there was a sudden commotion from the waiting room.

Muffled voices grew louder, urgent. Then a sharp knock at my door. I was already half out of my chair when Sarah poked her head in. The worry in her blue eyes immediately put me on alert.

“Dr. Blackwood, there's a situation. It's Lisa Wilson. She's…”

“Bring her in,” I said, already reaching for the stethoscope draped over my lamp.

Sarah nodded and disappeared. A moment later, the door swung open and Lisa Wilson stumbled into my office, supported by her husband Mark. Sarah followed close behind, her hands fluttering nervously. I took in Lisa’s shaking body.

“Have a seat,” I said, gesturing to the sofa under the window. “What happened?”

Mark tore his eyes away from his wife to stare at me blankly as if his mind was elsewhere. Lisa let out a wretched sob that made my own chest hurt. Her dark hair was a tangled mess, her face ashen and tear-streaked, but I could see no visible wound. Her breathing came in short, sharp gasps.

“Lisa, I need you to take a deep breath for me,” I murmured, pressing my stethoscope to her heaving chest.

“Sarah, what happened?” I asked my assistant without looking away from my work. The couple did not seem to be in any state to tell me the situation.

Sarah opened her mouth, but Bill Whimer, the owner of the town’s only grocery store, appeared in the doorway. He had his hat in his hands, twisting it out of shape as he watched the proceedings with wide eyes.

Bill stepped into the room and spoke, his deep voice uncharacteristically shaky. “It's Aiden, Doc. He's missing. Been gone since last night. Lisa here, she's not doing so well with the stress.”

I nodded, turning my full attention to Lisa. Her pulse raced under my fingers as I checked her wrist, her skin clammy to the touch. “Lisa, I need you to try and take deeper breaths for me. Can you do that? Let's breathe together.”

As I worked to calm Lisa down, demonstrating slow, deep breaths for her to mimic, the pieces of the story emerged between her gasps and Bill's explanations. Aiden, Lisa and Mark’s ten-year-old son had not come home after playing with friends the day before. They had searched all night, but there was no sign of the boy.

“Mrs. Hendricks saw him on the north side of town,” Bill said, his voice dropping as if he were sharing a dark secret.

I frowned but did not reply. I had heard whispers over the years. The Ashcroft Estate lay just north of town, stretching for nearly ten square miles. Composed of a sprawling manor and numerous smaller homes and outbuildings, it was a large source of income for the village. While the inhabitants of the estate spent a sizable amount in the village, the owner had never been seen in town.

Most people in town simply referred to him as The Duke, because the first Ashcroft had brought his title with him from the old country. I was not sure if the current Ashcroft held that title or if it was something the locals made up to add to his mysterious persona.

Either way, those were not the more troubling rumors. According to locals, people went missing sometimes. Not many and never anyone from Ashton, but every so often over the years, someone passing through would head toward the north side of town and never be seen again.

Some of the more imaginative people in town liked to say the estate was dangerous. Cursed. The usual small-town silliness. Like how every town had a condemned house that was always called “The Witch’s House”. It was more likely the missing people had moved on without announcing their departure.

I was a woman of science. Curses were for fairy tales and Shakespearean plays. If anyone had truly gone missing, it was likely due to the dense forest surrounding the estate. The Duke was probably a lonely, old man simply wanting peace in his twilight years.

I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on Lisa. Her breathing was steadier now, but her eyes were beginning to droop as panic gave way to exhaustion.

“Did she get any sleep last night?” I asked Mark.

“I couldn’t,” Lisa slurred, the adrenaline crash hitting her hard. “My baby is out there somewhere.”

“I know. Why don't you rest here for a bit?” I suggested, helping her lie back on the sofa. “I’m going to talk to Mark for a minute, okay?”

Lisa nodded weakly, her eyes already closed. “Thank you, Christina,” she murmured, using my first name in a rare moment of informality that spoke volumes about her state of mind.

I ushered everyone out of my office, quietly closing the door behind me.