Free Where Angels Fear to Tread by Thomas E. Sniegoski Page A

boy's parents hustled him by, his gaze tracking Remy as they passed.
    Remy smiled, then turned to the reception window.
    "May I help you?" a receptionist asked, sliding back a glass pane and looking at him with unblinking, laser beam eyes.
    "Good morning," he said, flipping open his wallet and showing her his identification. "My name is Remy Chandler. I'm a private investigator working a missing person's case, and I was hoping to speak with Dr. Parsons."
    The woman's glasses hung on a chain around her neck, and she placed them on her face so she could scrutinize his license. "Missing person?" she asked.
    "Yes, a little girl, Zoe Saylor. I believe she is, or was, a patient of Dr. Parsons'."
    The receptionist removed her glasses and gazed up at Remy. "I'm sorry, Mr. Chandler, but the laws of patient confidentiality won't allow us to acknowledge that a child has or has not received care at this hospital."
    "Yes, I'm aware of that, but the child's mother did call Dr. Parsons this morning. . . ."
    "I'm sorry, Mr. Chandler," she said with a dismissive smile, handing back his identification. "Have a nice day." Then she slid the window closed as she reached for the trilling phone.
    That was it; Remy was dismissed. It was as if he were suddenly invisible, and that gave him an idea.
    Remy stepped back, as if he planned to leave. Then, glancing around to be sure no one was watching, he willed himself unseen. It was an angelic talent that had proven quite useful over his many years, but it bothered him to use it. Anything that fed the power of the force he kept locked inside him was never a good thing.
    Remy walked past the reception desk toward a bank of elevators, where he found the hospital directory. Dr. Parsons' office was on the first floor, so he headed down the corridor where he had seen the parents take their child, perusing the names over the doors until he found PARSONS.
    The door was ajar, and he peered inside to find a middle-aged African American man with graying hair sitting at his desk looking over a file. Willing himself visible, Remy tapped his knuckle upon the door.
    "Yes?" the man asked, looking over the top of a pair of bifocals balanced precariously on the tip of his nose.
    "Dr. Parsons, I'm Remy Chandler," Remy began as he pushed open the door to stand fully in the doorway. "I'm a private investigator." He pulled out his wallet again and showed the man his identification.
    "Mr. Chandler, you've already been told we can't speak to you," the man said with a hint of irritation.
    "I guess news travels fast around here," Remy chuckled. "Look, I have only a couple of very simple questions. Your patient's confidentiality won't be affected, I promise. Besides, Zoe Saylor's mother did call to give her permission for you to speak with me."
    Parsons closed the file and stood. "A telephone call is not good enough, Mr. Chandler. We must have the parent's permission in writing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm late for a consultation." He turned to one of three filing cabinets against the wall near his desk and stuffed the file into the second drawer.
    "I just need to know if Zoe's father was acting strangely on the day you last saw her or if he said anything out of the ordinary to anyone on your staff. Please, Dr. Parsons, even the smallest piece of information could be helpful," Remy begged.
    The doctor slammed the file drawer closed, then grasped Re-my's arm by the elbow and guided him toward the door. "If you'd like, I can ask security to escort you out," he said tightly.
    Not wanting to cause a scene, Remy simply thanked the doctor for his time and headed down the hall. As soon as he was certain the doctor wasn't watching him, he willed himself invisible again and walked back to the office.
    Dr. Parsons had gone, so he quickly let himself inside and went directly to the file cabinets. Zoe's file was in the top drawer of the last file cabinet. Pulling it out, he carried it to the doctor's desk and began to thumb through the