Page 59 of Vetted for Vengeance
Usually she understands the objective, but today I literally hear about her day.
“Pumpkin is such an adorable girl.” She talks more to the dog at her feet than to me. “She is so friendly. I hope we're finding homes with people who don't work.”
“Not my department, but you've met Noah, right? Can you see him letting them go to anyone who wouldn't be besotted and devoted to them?”
“Or people who work in dog-friendly environments and could have them sitting under their desk all day.”
I can take a hint; the question is, do I want to? If I say yes to Martha, I have to say yes to everyone. And if I say yes to everyone else having one, that is practically promising Noah can have ten.
“Dr Calder.” Claudia hurries through. “Noah is taking a lunch break.”
She sounds overly concerned about Noah’s mealtime, but I'm sure the practice can survive for thirty minutes without his presence.
“There is a man in reception demanding to see Noah.”
Well, that is a totally different matter. My posture changes instantly. I straighten, tapping a little too deeply into my darkness. I head out into the waiting area, currently empty for ten minutes before afternoon appointments begin. The man is late forties, wearing a well-fitting dark suit.
“Can I help you?” I call. Just because he isn't our shadow man from yesterday doesn't mean he isn't connected.
“No, thank you. I'm here to see Noah.”
“I own this practice, and we have certain policies in place to protect my staff because of the filming we do here. One of those is requesting all visitors identify themselves.”
“It's personal,” he replies, turning away from me to examine a display of brightly colored dog leashes.
“Then you cannot conduct personal matters on professional property. You can wait until his shift finishes.”
I turn to walk away. This arrogant man can dismiss me all he likes; he isn't getting anywhere near Noah without my approval.
“Now wait here a minute, we're his parents,” the man snaps. “We have a right to see our son.”
“And I own this building. I have the right to know who wants to see my staff while on the clock.”
“Henry Humphries, and my wife Elizabeth is just parking the car. Now, can we please see our son?”
On cue, the wife appears, equally well-pressed and glamorous. These do not look like Noah’s parents.
“I'll see if he's free.”
I find Noah in Honey's kennel, playing with her puppies more than anything useful, but giving the dog attention is good for her mental health.
“Noah, do you know anyone called Henry and Elizabeth?”
“Oh. Right. Yes. Um.” Noah buries himself deeper in the kennel. “They're my parents.”
Okay, fine. But knowing them doesn't make me any less wary.
“Do you want to see them?”
“I suppose I should. It's the easiest way to get rid of them.”
“No.” I'm not sending Noah out there like a lamb to the slaughter. “You keep running everything for this afternoon's broadcast. I'll give your parents a tour.”
“Sure.” Noah sounds calm as he nods gratefully.
I return to collect Mr. and Mrs. Humphries, stating Noah is busy but I'll show them around. It seems getting what they want triggers a personality change.
“We saw Noah on the news. We're so proud of him.” Elizabeth walks behind me, beaming with pride for her son.
