Fractured Eden by Steven Gossington

the music loud.
    He hadn’t thought about those strange eyes outside his window.
     
    Aaron drove farther away from his home that evening for dinner and strolled into a dimly lit Italian restaurant. After wolfing down grilled salmon with pasta and vegetables, he complimented the server and left a generous tip. “Now I know where I can get a decent salmon dish.”
    As he walked out, he caught a glimpse of the side profile of a man at a table in one corner of the restaurant. That looks like Dale McCorkindale, the car dealer.
    Aaron watched as the man’s hands flew back and forth in front of him, directed at another man sitting opposite with crossed arms and a grim look on his face.
    Probably just an animated discussion between friends, Aaron thought.
    Back home, Aaron checked computer emails and messages at his desk, and then he sat back, his hands behind his head.
    So, Race Taggett wants me to stay away, and maybe I damn well should.
    He sighed. But Marley and Grant asked me to check on them.
    Aaron shook his head. Race’s eyes . . . the way they glinted at me. A shudder shot down his back. Kind of reminds me of the chief of staff back at my old hospital.
     
                                                            ****
     
    Not far away, Grant Belkin sat at a table in his kitchen. His words echoed throughout the house.
    “Your hair looks whiter today.” He directed the words across the table to an empty chair. “It’s gettin’ longer, too. I like it.”
           He smiled at the chair, and then nodded. ”Yeah, I’m sure it does take quite a while for you to brush all that hair.”
    Grant sipped from a glass of water. “We have a new doctor in town,” he said. “I need to look after him.”
    He listened for a few seconds.
    “Now, don’t you worry your pretty head. I’ll keep my distance. He won’t know I’m watchin’.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
                                              Chapter 9
     
     
    Aaron had the impression that his neighbor—the owl—hooted during the night.
    I wonder what challenges are in store for me this week, he thought as he opened the clinic door.
    A short while later, he watched from the waiting room as Rocky Donnigan, his alcoholic patient, pedaled a shiny red bicycle into the parking area. Rocky was registered and escorted to a room.
    Aaron winced at the smell of cigarettes as he entered Rocky’s room. I’ll ask Stella to deodorize in here.
    “How’s the infection?” Aaron said.
    “Fine, Doc.” Rocky held up his forearm. “It’s doing real good.”
    Aaron examined the infected area. “Great. Go ahead and finish the antibiotics.”
    “I will.”
    “That’s a nice bike you have.”
    “It’s how I get around, so I take good care of it.”
    Aaron stepped back. “Any more weirdness going on lately?”
    Rocky looked down and squinted his eyes. “Come to think of it, I saw something strange a couple of days ago.”
    “What was that?”
    “There’s a woman that lives down this road. It dead ends at her house.”
    “Wanda Taggett?”
           “That’s her. I saw her buying something, drugs probably, in an alley in town.”
    Aaron’s eyes flew open. “Buying drugs?”
    “Yeah. I know the guy she met up with. He’s a drug dealer, and I’m pretty sure she handed him money.”
    On his way out, Rocky stopped at the door of the room and turned to Aaron. “When your car needs maintenance or has a problem, shoot it over to my shop. I’ll take care of it.”
    “It’s a deal. So you’re good with bikes and cars.”
    “Yes, sir, I am.”
     
    Just after lunch, Stella motioned to Aaron in the hallway. “This next patient is Buck Bogarty. He’s a troublemaker and he’s always getting into fights. I removed his bandage so you could see his hand wound.”
    Aaron walked into the room and greeted a young man with short black hair and several