“Are we in the medical district?” she asked.
“I think the hospital is nearby.”
“Always is near those assisted-living facilities, isn’t it? And then the graveyard.”
“Nice, Zoe.”
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be good and happy if Guy dropped dead and made this simple for you.”
Jocelyn closed her mouth, unwilling to lie. Instead she squinted at the GPS on her phone. “Just keep going a few more blocks.”
“Okay, back to Will-I-Am. Did he pop your cherry?”
Oh, God. Jocelyn tsked. “ Remind me again why I’m friends with you.”
“Easy.” Zoe grinned. “I held your head when you got drunk and threw up after the Alabama game. Remember?”
Actually, she remembered next to nothing, but Zoe loved to remind her of that night their freshman year at Florida. “First, last, and only time I’ve ever been that drunk. And yet you will lord it over me forever.”
“That’s what friends are for. And for sharing secrets. Tell me about Will. I want to know if—” Zoe slammed on the brakes so hard Jocelyn smashed into her seat belt. Jocelyn scanned the road; no car or pedestrian or errant dog in sight.
“What the heck, Zoe?”
Zoe stared to her left, her jaw open.
Leaning forward, Jocelyn tried to see who or what had caused Zoe to nearly kill them. Dream shoes? A hot guy? No, a simple Spanish-style office building next to a frozen yogurt shop.
Following Zoe’s stunned gaze, Jocelyn read the elegant gold lettering on the undertstated building.
Dr. Oliver Bradbury
Oncology
For a long, silent moment, Jocelyn just stared at the words.
“He doesn’t need an oncologist,” Jocelyn said. “And, whether you want to believe it or not, I’m grateful for that.”
Very slowly, Jocelyn looked straight ahead, all color drained from her cheeks. “He must live here,” she whispered.
“Who?” Jocelyn looked at the name again and instantly a memory flashed. “That’s the same guy we saw in front of the Ritz in Naples last year, isn’t it? The one who freaked you out.”
“I didn’t freak out,” she said. Behind them, a car honked impatiently. Jocelyn expected a typical Zoe response, which could be anything from a friendly wave to the finger, but she just gently put her foot on the accelerator and drove about five miles an hour.
“You freaked out,” Jocelyn said. “You dove onto the floor of this very car—or one a lot like it from the same rental company—and…” Jocelyn snapped her fingers, the whole thing coming back now. “It was an oncology conference at the Ritz. And that guy, Oliver, was there with his wi—” She let the word fall away.
Zoe was biting a damn hole in the bottom of her lip.
“You okay?” Jocelyn asked gently.
“Fine,” she croaked. “Where’s my next turn?”
“Zoe, who is this guy? What happened?” Other than the obvious. Only, God, she hoped Zoe wasn’t stupid enough to get involved with a married man.
“Nothing. Ancient history.”
It was so tempting to tease, if for no other reason than to make Zoe laugh. But something about this Oliver wasn’t funny. Not to Zoe.
“Straight ahead, just a few more blocks,” Jocelyn said instead, and they drove in silence until they reached a two-story stucco building with meager landscaping and, oh Lord, bars on the windows.
“I thought you said this place was in high demand.”
“I got that impression from the marketing materials,” Jocelyn said. “Maybe it’s nicer in the back. Plus, the octogenarians probably don’t notice.”
“He’s in his sixties, Joss,” Zoe said as she threw open her door. “Not eighty, which, correct me if I’m wrong, is what an octogenarian is.”
Jocelyn didn’t answer, but came around the car and headed to the front door. As they got closer she saw chipped paint, a flowerless trellis, and rust on the giant doorknob. Inside, the reception area was dim, just two beige sofas and a plastic panel hiding the top of a woman’s head. Jocelyn approached her and waited. The woman didn’t look up.
“Excuse me,” Jocelyn said.
“Hang on.” The woman continued to write something. Finally, cold gray eyes met Jocelyn’s. “Yes?”
“I was contacted about an opening and came for the tour.”
“Patient’s name?”
“Um… well, I just really wanted to look around first.”
“Insurance?”
“Some, but I really don’t—”
“Hang on.” She pressed an earpiece Jocelyn hadn’t noticed earlier. “What is it, Mrs. Golgrath?” She closed her eyes and let out an impatient sigh. “Well, that’s the only channel you pay for, so you have to watch Singing in the Rain one more time, dear.” She paused, biting off the last word. “No, an aide cannot get to your room for at least two hours. So watch