Ninety minutes later, Marissa was lying in a bed in the ER of Denver General waiting for the results of an MRI. Braxton was hovering, refusing to leave her side. She finally got him to sit down in a chair beside the bed instead of pacing, but he insisted on staying and driving her home if she was released. While it was very nice of him, she did not want him around when the doctor gave her the test results. If he (the ER doctor) said anything about the tumour, the jig would be up.

“Do you not like me?” he had asked.

“You are very nice”, Marissa replied. “But you don't know me. We met just a few hours ago and that was only because I had the wrong address for a hair salon.”

Braxton sighed. He was afraid to push too hard about Marissa being “June”, lest she tell him where to go and what to do on the way there. If she got mad and had security called, he would have no choice but to leave. He had to choose his words carefully. “I sense there is something you want to tell me, but you feel you can't.”

“Such as...?”

“I don't know. But it's something big and it's something you can't control.”

Wow, he is really perceptive, she thought. But I can't tell him he's right. “Interesting.”

“Am I right?”

She looked away. “No comment.”

“I thought so. Look, Marissa, regardless of whether or not you are the patient that was supposed to come this morning, I feel you need a friend.”

“I thought therapists can't be friends with patients.”

“You aren't my patient right now. Or are you?”

“I'm not.”

“Then there is no reason we can't be friends.”

“Maybe I don't want to be friends.”

“Why not, Marissa? You've said you don't have any friends here. Why is that?”

She didn't know what to say. She couldn't very well tell him that the Cartel discouraged it's mules from forming friendships due to the possibility of accidentally saying things that could give them away. She was saved by the ER physician assigned to her, Dr Brody Pratt. “We have your MRI results, Marissa.”

“I'd like to get them in private, please.”

“You don't want your therapist hearing them?”

“He's not my therapist. I just met him this morning when I had a wrong address for a hair salon.”

“Oh, well, then – you'll have to leave the room, Braxton. Sorry, but you know about patient confidentiality.” Braxton knew he had no choice. He left but not without giving Marissa a hurt look. “Is he bothering you?” Dr Pratt asked her when Braxton had shut the door behind him.

“Yes ….no ... not really.”

“That's quite an answer.”

“He means well, Dr Pratt. He just thinks I'm someone I'm not. But he was kind enough to take me into his apartment/office and give me dry clothes to wear while he dried mine. I was soaking wet as I can't carry an umbrella.” They had forgotten all about her clothes when the ambulance arrived, so she was still wearing Braxton's when she got to the hospital.

“I've known Braxton for years. He's a very kind man and he cares about people. A bit too much sometimes. He doesn't always know when to back off. That's why I asked if he was bothering you. Rest assured, though, he would never harm you and you couldn't ask for a better friend.

“Now, for your test results. As you know, you do have kidney stones. There are quite a few that we can see. Normally, I would refer you to a nephrologist, but given the other finding, that won't be necessary. The scan also showed a tumour on the kidney.” Marissa had to look surprised as she couldn't tell them she knew she had a tumour. “Didn't they tell you that in Central America?”

“No, they didn't.”

“This is why you shouldn't get medical care there unless it's an absolute emergency. I will give you a referral to a specialist for the tumour. Don't get all anxious about it. It could very well be benign, you won't know until you have a biopsy. I'll write you a prescription for some pain medication and do the referral, then you can go home.”

As he left the room, Marissa heard Braxton approach him. “Brody, I'd like to talk to you, if you have a few minutes. In private.”

“Sure, Braxton, but you know I cannot discuss a patient with you without their permission.”

“I know, but I can tell you things I know that I think you need to know.”

Pratt took him into a room they used when talking to families. “What is it, Braxton?” he asked when he'd shut the door and they had sat down.

“The scan showed a tumour on her kidney, didn't it?”

“I told you I cannot discuss her case.”

“The look on your face says it all.”

“Where are you going with this, Braxton?”

Braxton told Brody about the referral he had received from Dr Maynard for a patient named June. While he was also governed by patient confidentiality, he could discuss a patient with a non referring doctor if he felt the patient was a danger to him/herself. He rationalized this by the fact that “June” likely had cancer and if it was not treated, she would die. He also told him about how he found Marissa outside the building his office was in and how he assumed she was June, but she denied it. Of how he got her to come in out of the rain and then her being in such pain and of his friend calling an ambulance for her, concluding with “I am almost certain that Marissa is June. Which is her real name and which is an alias, I don't know.”

“That's quite a story, Braxton”, Brody said to him.

“You don't believe me?”

“Oh, I do. I know you wouldn't lie. But I don't know if your suspicions are right.”

“Can you look June up in the computer system?”

“I can. All the hospitals' systems here in the city are connected, so it doesn't matter which one she had the tests done at.” Brody got up and went over to the computer screen. He entered his password, then asked Braxton “What is June's last name?”

“Rivers.”

Brody called up June's records and read the file. “Okay, June's scans show a tumour and kidney stones. She was referred to Maynard. His notes say she refused a biopsy, saying she would not allow removal of the kidney, even if it is cancerous, which he suspects it is. He told her she had to be certified as competent to make that decision and that if she didn't agree to see you, he would have her involuntarily admitted and the biopsy forced.”

“For the life of me, Brody, I can't figure out why she would refuse a simple biopsy, let alone a life saving operation. We can live with just one kidney.”

“I agree, but I'm troubled by Maynard's insistence on her getting a psych evaluation. Rumour has it that he does this a lot – that he has a hard time with patients saying no to him.”

“Nevertheless, the fact is that we have a lady here refusing when there's no real good reason to do so. She's so young, she has decades left if she would only get this done.”

“These notes say she wouldn't give him a reason. Told him it's none of his business. I have to say I'm pissed off at her deceiving me – and you. And she does have insurance – well, June does. Marissa, maybe not. Hey, do you think she has Multiple Personality Disorder?”

“No, that isn't my impression. I'm pissed off, too – though I do think there's much more to this. Something she is afraid of and that she feels she has no control over.”

“Let's go find out.” Brody logged off the computer and they headed for Marissa's room, only to find it empty. Her clothes, purse and crutches were gone as well. “Where's my patient?” he hollered out into the ER. Nobody answered him.

The men split up and searched the Emergency Room, to no avail. One person told Braxton he'd seen a woman in a wheelchair going through the exit into the main hospital. He thought she had crutches with her, but wasn't sure. When they met up again, he told Brody what he had learned. “I have to get going as I have patients for the rest of the afternoon up into the evening.”

“All right. I'll let you know if I find her.”

“Call me even if you don't.”

After Braxton left, Brody went out into the hospital. He found some people talking near the elevators. “Excuse me, did any of you see a woman coming from the ER? She would have been walking with crutches.”

“I saw a woman in a wheelchair”, a woman replied. “She got on one of the elevators.”

“Did she have crutches with her?”

“I don't remember for sure, but I think so.”

“Did you notice if it went up or down?”

“I'm pretty sure it went up.”

“Thank you, you've been very helpful.” He pushed the button to go up. When the elevator arrived, he got on and went to the next floor up. There were no people nearby. He tried the next floor. A couple nurses were waiting to go down. Brody asked them if they'd seen a woman in a wheelchair on the floor and gave Marissa's description. The response was negative.

He tried one more floor before giving up and going back to the ER. There were no people near the elevators. He couldn't spend any more time looking for her. God only knew what floor she'd gotten off on or where she'd gone afterward. He would call Security and have them keep an eye out for her. That was all he could do. He'd call Braxton later and update him.

=========================================================================

Marissa got off the elevator in the basement and wheeled down the empty corridor. Brilliant idea, she thought, to go up five floors and then take the elevator next to it down. She doubted either Braxton or Dr Pratt would think of her doing that. When they had gone off to talk, she knew Braxton was going to tell her ER doctor about June and his suspicions of Marissa being her. She didn't have a lot of time, she was sure. She found the wheelchair just outside her door. Afraid to take the time to get into her clothes, she threw them onto the chair and grabbed a blanket from the bed to put over her bare legs. Hopefully, people wouldn't think it too odd that a patient would wheel herself around.

She tried the first door she came to. It was unlocked. Pushing it open, she found a small, empty room. Perfect, she thought. Less chance of someone coming in. She wheeled in, turned on the light and closed the door, making sure to lock it. She would stay here for a few hours before leaving the hospital. Right now, they probably have security guards looking for me, she figured. After a while, they will forget about me.

She was tired, so she put the blanket on the floor and lay down on it. She was asleep in no time. When she awoke, she looked at her watch. She'd slept for a few hours. It was now just after 7pm. She got dressed and back in the wheelchair. Out in the corridor, she made her way to the other end, where she found a flight of stairs up to the first floor. It took her a while to get up them, but fortunately, she didn't see anyone.

On the first floor, there was a door leading to the back of the hospital. She opened it, hoping it was not connected to an alarm. All was silent, so she went through and let it close behind her. It was getting dark, but there were enough lights that she could see clearly. She walked around to the sidewalk at the front and headed to a coffee shop a couple blocks away. She went in and ordered a coffee to go. She asked the clerk to call a cab for her and gave the address of a restaurant a few miles away. She had a cell phone with her – the one she used for her other aliases – but she did not want the call traced to it should the police look at cab records for the vicinity of the hospital. That was, IF Dr Maynard called the cops – which she was sure he would do. Maybe not tonight if he had left work by the time word got to him about her not keeping her appointment and leaving the hospital, but surely the next day. She had to make sure they couldn't find her apartment. The address she had given the other hospital for “June” was an address the Cartel maintained for it's mules to use for things like insurance etc. The Cartel did not want them to use their real addresses.

When the cab got there, she offered the driver a $100 tip to drop her off at a different address than had been given to dispatch, but enter the original address in his records and keep quiet about it if asked. Cabbies don't make a lot of money, so he was only too eager to agree. The address was an apartment building a few blocks from hers. From there, she walked home. When she got in, she checked her “June” phone. Sure enough, there were a few calls from Braxton, but nothing else. She went to the bathroom, took a couple pain pills and got into bed. All that walking after her nap had made her tired again.

While she lay in bed waiting to fall asleep, she tried to figure out what to do. She had no idea how hard Dr Maynard or the police would try to find her. Or Braxton, for that matter. Something told her he would not give up easily. What she wanted to do was go home to the family farm in Alberta, but she couldn't walk out on the Cartel. Not if she wanted her parents and siblings to live. Not coming up with anything, she gave up for now. In a couple days, she was flying to the Caribbean on another run. To make things believable to the border agents coming back home, the mules stayed for a few days to a week. The Cartel paid them enough to have some fun while there. This time, she was going for a week. She was glad of this. Hopefully, things cooled down during that week. While lying on the beach, she would try some more to think of a way out of this situation with the Cartel. Though if worse comes to worse, she thought, the cancer will take me. If I die from it, they can't take that out on my family.