Free Double Blind by Carrie Bedford Page B

working on the story for the
Messenger
.” It was a huge lie but now I’d come this far, I’d keep going. “I would just need a couple of minutes of your time.”
    He leaned forward in his chair. “Go on.”
    “Statistics show that doctors suffer, on the whole, a disproportionately high incidence of depression, alcoholism and substance abuse,” I said, recalling the research I’d done when I’d first learned about Reid’s aura. “Surgeons in particular work under intense pressure, which leads to a high burnout rate and suicide.”
    I stopped, looking at him, searching for a reaction. To my surprise, he nodded. “I know the numbers,” he said. “And I know some doctors who’ve experienced ‘burnout’ as you call it, which is in fact a clinical syndrome characterized by emotional exhaustion and a reduced sense of personal accomplishment — among other things. But most of us, in my experience, love what we do. We are extremely well trained. We think on our feet, we have positive interaction with our peers, and we save lives. I can’t imagine getting burned out, to be honest.”
    “So you’re not unduly stressed?”
    He smiled. “No. But I will be if I’m late for my next meeting, so if you’ll excuse me?”
    “Do surgeons have regular medical check ups?” I blurted out as I stood up.
    He laughed. “I know a few hypochondriacs who do. Practicing medicine can do that to you. You get one little symptom and extrapolate from there. Before you know it, that slight cough is TB and a headache is a brain tumor. But no, in general, I’d say we get checked out much like anyone else does.”
    I desperately wanted to keep him talking. “So you’re feeling good?” I smiled, trying to make a joke of it. “All healthy? No particular pressures?”
    For a microsecond a frown crossed his face. Not a frown so much as a moment of introspection, while he thought about his answer.
    “Nothing specific,” he said. His aura was moving fast. Based on what I’d seen in the past, death could arrive at any moment.
    “Good. I really appreciate your time. If you have anything else you’d like to contribute to the story, will you contact me?”
    He pushed a pen and notepad across the desk towards me. I scribbled down my fake name and my real mobile number.
    “Goodbye, Ms. Harrison,” he said, turning back to his keyboard.
    I walked out of Dr. Reid’s office just as Anita turned into the corridor. She stopped dead, staring at me. I pulled the door closed behind me.
    “What are you doing here?”
    I was feeling lied out, unable to think of a single plausible explanation. I shrugged. Taking a couple of strides forward, she grabbed my arm and tugged me towards the small staff kitchen, which was empty. Macintyre, the drug rep, must have taken his coffee somewhere else to drink it. She closed the door, leaning against it to stop anyone else entering.
    “What are you doing?” she asked again. Her aura moved around her head, slow but distinct. I looked down at the floor, not wanting to see it more than I had to. It felt like it must have done when people saw the telltale signs of the bubonic plague on a loved one, except that back then death was inevitable. I was going to fight to save Anita.
    “I wanted to talk to Dr. Reid, just to see if I could get any hint about what’s causing his aura.”
    “And did he actually speak with you? Did you tell him about the aura? What did he say?” Not waiting for me to answer, she carried on. “I can’t believe you’d do this, Kate. Dr. Reid is my boss. You can’t just go swanning into his office, talking rubbish about auras. He’ll think I’m crazy too. It’s bloody ridiculous.”
    I moved a couple of steps away from her, propping myself against the countertop, shaken by her anger. We’d never fought before. For one thing, I knew she’d win if we did, so I’d always managed to defuse potential conflicts before we reached the point of arguing.
    “He doesn’t know I’m your