Innocent Secret. Josie Metcalfe

at first. It was only when I told the caller that I was too busy to waste time and I was going to put the phone down that he spoke, and then he hung up.’

      ‘And the other times?’

      ‘I hadn’t really noticed them,’ she confessed. ‘It was only this time that made me realise that the other “nobody there” phone calls could have been from the same person.’

      ‘Did he say anything else or make any noises?’

      ‘Just my name,’ she said with a renewed shiver.

      ‘And how did he say it? What tone of voice did he use? Was it normal volume or whispered?’

      ‘Not exactly a whisper, more like…Victoria.’ She tried to give it exactly the same stress that he had, in the same singsong way. ‘But I didn’t recognise his voice and I couldn’t really say whether he had a local accent or not.’

      Those changeable hazel eyes of Joe’s were dark with concentration and she could tell that he was going over everything she had told him. She knew it was stupid but she really wanted him to be able work it all out, to be able to come up with a simple answer to what was going on.

      ‘Has anyone else taken one of these calls for you?’ he asked suddenly, his gaze almost too analytical for comfort.

      ‘Anyone else?’ She frowned as she tried to work out the significance of the question. When it struck her she was devastated at the implication and dragged her hand away from him to leap up from her seat. She refused to let herself dwell on the pang of loss she felt when the contact was broken between them. What was the point of physical contact when there was suspicion between them?

      ‘You mean, can anyone corroborate my story or am I making the whole thing up?’ she glared down at him, lounging so nonchalantly on the corner of the desk as though he hadn’t just accused her of fabricating a stupid lie. What on earth would be the point? It wasn’t as if she lacked a social life, in spite of the fact that her wedding hadn’t taken place. ‘Do you think I’m inventing it to get the sympathy vote now that I’ve been left on the shelf? What kind of misfit do you think I am?’

      ‘Calm down, Vicky,’ Joe ordered, grabbing for her hand as she stomped past him for the second time, trying to control her rising temper by striding up and down in the restricted space. ‘That’s not what I meant at all. I was only wondering if he’d said more than your name so another person might have picked up on an accent or something.’

      ‘Oh.’ She hung her head and blew out an exasperated breath while she gathered up the courage to meet his gaze. ‘I’m sorry, Joe. That was unfair of me, especially when you’re only trying to help. It’s all probably a lot of fuss about absolutely nothing but…but I’ve got to admit it’s got me a bit spooked.’

      ‘With good reason. By all accounts this sort of thing is happening far too frequently these days. The statistics probably don’t show the full extent of the problem because most women are afraid to say anything for fear of being ridiculed.’

      ‘And then I turn on you,’ she said apologetically. ‘Will you forgive me?’

      ‘Of course. Or should I say, provided you promise to let me know if it happens again?’

      Vicky’s independent streak made her want to insist that she could deal with the problem herself, and that if the incidents didn’t escalate from the present level, she would probably be able to. But that wasn’t what Joe wanted to hear.

      Anyway, could this be an excuse for her to keep in contact with the elusive man?

      ‘I promise, Joe, on condition that you let me cook you a meal to say thank you.’

      ‘Thank me for what? You already did more than your share after I had that argument with the bullock. All I’ve done is promise to listen.’ He seemed quite uncomfortable with her suggestion, his cheeks going an endearing shade darker.

      ‘And you took care of me when I fell apart after the wedding,’ she reminded him, determined that she wasn’t going to let him off the hook even if it meant bringing up that embarrassing loss of control again. ‘Now, where’s it going to be? Your place or mine?’

      The sound of a throat being cleared startled both of them. Joe was the only one who seemed relieved by the interruption. Vicky was cross, especially as she was certain he’d been about to agree.

      ‘Can I help you?’ she asked crisply when she turned to face the man standing in the doorway to the office.

      For just a second there was something unsettling in his expression as he looked at Joe but then he slid into a pleasant smile as he held out his hand.

      ‘I came to show my face. Grant Naismith, locum,’ he said. ‘I sent a patient into the hospital last night and thought I’d combine a visit to check up on her with a look around. Actually, I think we might have met before,’ he said when he turned to Vicky. ‘I believe we trained at the same hospital.’

      Vicky conceded that they must have been there at the same time, but silently she couldn’t say she remembered him particularly. But, then, she hadn’t been interested in anyone else but Nick in those days.

      He held Vicky’s hand just a little longer than he should have and his pale grey eyes were leaving her in no doubt that he liked what he was seeing. It was a shame she didn’t feel the same way about him and just seeing him standing beside Joe was enough to tell her why.

      He might be nearly the same height as Joe—about six inches taller than her own five feet six—and his face might be prettier than Joe’s rugged taciturnity, but there wasn’t the same instinctive attraction towards the man of absolute integrity and hidden strength that she knew Joe to be.

      ‘Which patient did you send in?’ She used the pretence of needing to check the screen on the computer to put a little more distance between them. She had to behave in a professional manner towards him even though she was exasperated with him. If he hadn’t arrived at that precise moment she was sure she could have persuaded Joe to let them spend the evening together.

      ‘Mrs Frawley.’ He mentioned the name of the nearby practice for which he’d been standing in as locum.

      ‘No. We haven’t got her here. What was wrong with her?’

      ‘She’s an elderly lady and she was in a lot of distress when I saw her. According to her notes she’s got a history of heart problems.’

      ‘If she’s elderly, she’s probably gone to Geriatric,’ Vicky pointed out. She was hoping to hurry him on his way before Joe decided to leave without agreeing to her suggestion.

      ‘I tried there first but they said you were taking their overflow at the moment.’

      Vicky tapped in another code to cross-check and couldn’t find any reference to a Mrs Frawley, until she checked the last option.

      ‘I’m sorry, Dr Naismith, but Mrs Frawley didn’t survive the journey to hospital. She’s listed as dead on arrival.’

      There was a brief flash of emotion in his pale grey eyes before it was swiftly hidden behind lowered lids.

      ‘Not a good start,’ she heard him say under his breath, and found herself sympathising. It couldn’t be easy, feeling you’d let down a colleague when taking care of his patients. ‘Are there any formalities I need to comply with, as I was called out to her, or will the hospital have done the certification? I haven’t been in this position before.’

      ‘If you like, I’ll take you down to Records and show you how our system works,’ Joe offered, and Vicky had to stifle a growl of frustration.

      Now she wasn’t going to get the chance to speak to him alone, and who knew how long it would be before they had the chance to spend any time together? She certainly wouldn’t sink to using this telephone pest as an excuse, no matter what the temptation.

      Joe ushered Grant Naismith out into the corridor but at the last second