Barely used, the fabric creases poked at me through my knit top. A chill from the Pacific wind crept under both my layers and prickled my shoulders.The doorbell ding-donged some church hymn on brass pipes. Despite his fake prayer in Clayton, Leland didn’t strike me as religious, but maybe his sister was. Helena didn’t keep her door unlocked like her brother. The chimes knelled a few more times with no answer. Eventually I stage whispered, “Helena, it’s your nurse. I’m here for our appointment.”Leland had given me keys, but I didn’t want to use them. I imagined that mammoth of a woman behind a shotgun. Don’t ask me why. Something in the video made her seem volatile, and if violence ran in the family, she could be ready to fire that canon as soon as I entered.When I rode the rig—sorry, the ambulance—I’d gotten weapons pulled on me. If the police were involved, the paramedics would park the ambulance in a safe area, and we only came in once the suspect was restrained and the cops had made a sweep.
