Teacher Beware (A Grace Ellery Romantic Suspense Book 1) by Charlotte Raine Page B

nod. It seems to me that by telling me to call him by his first name, something has shifted within our relationship. He knew something was going to happen in which he could no longer associate me with his son.
     
    ~~~~~
     

Grace, 2014
    SAM PICKS ME UP from school since I still don't have my truck. I called the police department during my lunch break and they told me they had to send the car into Richmond to be thoroughly examined by a forensic team that has better technology than they do. I doubt they have done anything at this point, but I also don't think they will find anything. It doesn't matter. My car insurance sucks and I'm sure they'll find a way to blame me for my truck being shot up.
    As we drive in his Dodge Charger, I take in the streets of Murray. I can see the old Murray peeking through the dirty streets and various franchises—American flags flying every twenty feet, tulips planted around a gazebo, and young children riding their bicycles without concern about adults with cruel intentions. I imagine it was idyllic a decade ago.
    "Have you always lived here?" I ask Sam.
    "No," he says. "I'm originally from Maryland. I grew up in a small town, but I lived in Annapolis from the time I was eighteen to thirty years old."
    "Why did you decide to move here?"
    "I used to work in a large practice that had cardiologists, general physicians, dermatologists, gynecologists, and a podiatrist," he says. "I began working there after graduation. It was convenient for the people there…essentially like a hospital, where we could recommend someone to see a different kind of doctor and send them down the hall. But, I felt…lost. There was a high turnover of patients and assistants. The practice work was pooled, so I rarely saw the same patient twice, and more often than not, as soon as I developed an easy working rapport with one of my assistants, he or she would be gone…usually to go to New York City or some other place they thought would be exciting. Five years ago, I read a newspaper article about how people in the rural areas of Northern Virginia often had to drive an hour or more to find a medical specialist and those people would choose not to see a doctor because it took too much time to travel. There were also comments from a couple of students who had interests in becoming medical specialists, one of them whom wanted to be a cardiologist, but they also didn't want to move away from their small town. So, I moved here. I bought an office building, hired the student who wanted to become a cardiologist, and worked hard to make the experience good enough for patients that they wouldn't hesitate to come back."
    "Wow," I say. "I didn't know that you had only been here for five years. From how much people respect you, I thought it had to have been at least…seven years."
    "I'm fair," he says, shrugging. "I won't advise patients to get any kind of medical procedure or medication that I don't think they need. I've raised money and run for charities to help those who can't afford to come. All I did was become one of the citizens of Murray, and they accepted me."
    "Was the town like this when you came?" I ask. "All of the businesses?"
    "I came around the same time that a developer started building the first phase of what is now a large, multi-section subdivision called Murray Farm. Murray Farm has sprawled out around the old town, with new houses and commercial services. Like it says… build it and they will come . What about you? Why did you come?"
    "I needed to start over," I tell him. He nods, understanding the implication of my words…understanding that you don't nearly die and completely return to life. It comes back slowly. Sometimes, life doesn't come back at all.
    "Is it okay if we stop by my house first?" he asks. "I need to drop off one of the lacrosse kid's gloves."
    "Sure," I say. "I'd love to see your house. How does a cardiologist live? Is it macabre or does it look like an operation room?"
    "Not quite," he