Jama bit down on her tongue to keep from saying something she would regret.

Ted looked at Jama. “I don’t care if she’s the President of the United States, Jama Sue, if you’ve been away long enough to forget about the stubbornness of the Claybaughs, then you’ve been gone too long.” He sounded as if he was addressing a football team after a fumble.

Ruth crossed her arms over her chest and took a step closer to Ted. It appeared to Jama that in Tanzania, bedside manner had not been high on the list of priorities.

Jama gestured to Ted. “Dr. Lawrence, meet our former teacher and football coach, who controls this town and everyone in it.”

“He can call me Ruth.” She approached Ted’s side. “Very pleased to meet you, Doctor Claybaugh,” she said dryly.

Jama was surprised to detect a glint of gentle humor in her director’s eyes, though she couldn’t be sure.

Their patient raised his thinning gray eyebrows. “You can call me Ted.” He didn’t break Ruth’s stare.

“Ted.” The gentleness of Ruth’s expression expanded into her voice. “As Jama has already explained, it is unfortunate that we don’t have the personnel we need to give you a proper medical workup today. The few tests we can do would not qualify as standard of care.”

“And as I have already told Jama, I’m not too concerned about-” He winced again.

Ruth looked at the chart the aide had brought in. “Ted, you have every right to go to whomever you please for your medical care, and we would be thrilled to have you as our patient as soon as we’re open for business.”

“Thank you. That’s what I intend to do.”

“I understand that you mean to wait until Jama is able to take your case, but that wouldn’t be wise.”

“I’ll take responsibility for that.”

“Consider our position here,” Ruth said. “The future of this clinic depends on a strong flow of new patients. For that to happen, we need to keep a flawless reputation. How do you think our clinic’s reputation would fare if we tried to treat you today, and something went wrong? Or if we sent you away without treatment, and you grew worse?”

“I would never blame this clinic for anything.”

“If there is truly something wrong with you-and it appears that there may be-then that may no longer be up to you.”

He studied her for a moment. “Nobody in my family would dream of suing this clinic.”

“Symptoms suggest you could have a blood clot in a lung,” Ruth stated flatly. “Left untreated, that could be fatal.”

Jama bit her tongue. Those symptoms could mean anything at this point. These were scare tactics, pure and simple.

Ruth continued. “Word would get out about it. People don’t want to go to a clinic where the patients die because the doctors misdiagnose.”

Ted frowned and looked down at his hands for a moment, then looked at Jama. “Your director’s been around the block a few times, hasn’t she? Handled a few crotchety old men.”

Jama grinned at him. She had worked with other arrogant doctors during her residencies. From what the mayor had said earlier in the day, and from Ruth’s response to her husband’s call today, it sounded as if she might be going through a divorce. Jama might be hard to get along with, herself, under the same circumstances.

Of course, she was dealing with comparable circumstances-actually, even worse circumstances. So maybe she was overly sensitive today, as well.

Give it a better try, Jama.

“I’ve got a lot of pride in this town,” Ted said. “And we can’t have something going wrong for this clinic before it even gets up and running. So I guess I’d better do what the doctor orders,” Ted said.

Jama felt a rush of relief, though she wasn’t ready to thank Ruth for bursting in and commandeering the patient. “Your family doctor is Stewart in Fulton, isn’t he?”

Ted nodded.

“I’ll call him and let him know you’re on your way to the E.R.”

Jama walked beside Ted’s wheelchair out the door, hugged him goodbye and returned to her own office. She would call Ted’s physician, and give her erratic emotions time to settle before facing Ruth.

How she missed her old relationship with Tyrell at times like these. In the past few months, she’d become accustomed to calling him to talk about whatever was on her mind. He’d always listened.

Why had he gone and blown it all by asking her to marry him?

Tyrell’s crew had the hay bales set and ready to light as soon as the temperature dropped far enough on the large thermometer mounted on the side of the nearest shed. He also had a cord of firewood scheduled for delivery any minute. The crew had stacked limbs for bonfires down by the peach and apple trees.

There was something about dependence on God’s mercy for a livelihood that made a man realize just how puny he was in the scheme of the universe. And yet, God still showed that mercy.

Tyrell’s cell phone beeped yet again.

As he flipped open the phone, a truck entered the property through the front gate a quarter mile from the house. The wood was arriving.

“Me again,” Renee’s voice informed him over the airwave. “You made a bunch of phone calls this afternoon, didn’t you?”

“Everybody in my book.”

“Calls have been coming in fast and furious. There are reports of a brown pickup speeding southeast of Columbia on H Highway near the Mark Twain National Forest, and one report of a truck with the same description headed east on Highway 94.”

He felt a flare of hope. “That sounds as if the truck’s headed toward River Dance.”

“That’s what I think, too,” Renee said, “but why?”

“If they’re on their way to St. Louis, 94 is a good route to take to be less visible than on the interstate. Old farm trucks are commonplace in this area.” And Tyrell knew a lot of old farmers along the highway who could be on the lookout for that pickup.

“Do you think Doriann could have somehow convinced her abductors to drive to River Dance?” Renee asked.

“An eleven-year-old girl is not likely to convince these people of anything.” Tyrell waved to the driver of the wood truck to pull around to the back of the house. “Just because several people spotted a brown truck on 94 doesn’t mean it’s the truck driven by Doriann’s abductors.” Although that was exactly what Tyrell hoped. “That kind of thinking could mess up an FBI operation.”

“Obviously, it isn’t going to mess up this one. No one is listening to me.”

He heard the frustration in her voice. “Don’t feel bad. Police get faulty tips all the time.”

“Three of them? All in the same area? And don’t forget the truck was spotted leaving I-70 suddenly.”

“Wasn’t that because of information the abductors might have heard over the scanner?”

“Merely supposition. Believe me, I know how capable Doriann is of making up very believable stories, and nobody knows if that truck was headed to St. Louis.”

“I understand from the news reports that’s where these people came from in the first place.”

“Well, maybe not both of them.”

“What do you mean?” Tyrell asked.

“Description of the woman with him has changed.”

“You mean there may be three killers?”

“It’s possible, Tyrell.”

“That wasn’t reported on the news.”

“It isn’t something the FBI wants to reveal yet. I’ve learned these agents do what they want when they want, and nobody changes their minds.”

“If the reported sighting was of the right truck, and if Doriann has actually been abducted-which is something we still can’t be positive about at this point-then the FBI will need to be prepared.”

There was a pause, and he thought he heard a quick intake of breath. “You do at least think it’s possible they’re coming in your direction, then.”

“It’s possible.” It was also possible, though not probable, that they could actually be coming to River Dance for some reason, as Renee suggested. But to think an eleven-year-old could convince them to come here? Not a reasonable idea.