It's Nothing Personal (41 page)

Lyle was frustrated.
 
Because of Jenna Reiner’s stubborn
resolve, this case was going into the red quickly.
 

Glaring at Allison, he said, “Every other
doctor, without exception, has settled and done so quickly and quietly.
 
Not only is pursuing this case costing
us a small fortune, which we may never make back, but I’ve also got Keith Jones
breathing down my neck.
 
He’s fuming
over this.
 
He says St. Augustine
can’t afford the negative publicity that would come with a trial, and he’s
right.
 
If we don’t get this case to
end, and soon, he’s threatening to stop paying us.”

From the beginning, Allison and Lyle were
the only members of their practice to have any involvement with the hepatitis
cases.
 
That was by design.
 
Keith Jones agreed to pay one hundred
thousand dollars directly to Anders and Silverstein for each case that
settled.
 
It was a hefty price, but
it was miniscule in comparison to what Keith Jones stood to lose if this ordeal
bankrupted his hospital.
 
So far,
Anders and Lyle were each half a million dollars richer than they were before
Hillary Martin started stealing drugs and infecting patients.

Closing her eyes, Allison replayed the phone
conversation with Walt in her mind.
 
He had given nothing away.
 
However, as Allison reflected on the call, she thought she heard him catch
his breath at the mention of the punitive damages filing.
 
Allison guessed that Jenna would
sacrifice herself and her career, but not her family.

Allison opened her eyes and smirked.
 
Snapping her fingers, she said,
“Punitive damages.
 
That’s where the
money is, so to speak.
 
The question
is, how do we get a judge to rule in our favor?
 
My guess is that Judge Krantz will leave
that ruling to Judge Wilson.
 
That
bodes well for us, because I don’t think Krantz would buy the argument that
this is a punitive damages case.”

“That leaves us with Judge Wilson,” said
Lyle, rubbing the stubble on his chin.
 
“I don’t like him.
 
He’s
young, and he’s trying to prove himself.
 
Ruling in favor of punitive damages is going to draw attention, and he’s
not going to like that.
 
Somehow, we
have to get Wilson recused.”

Allison contemplated the situation.
 
She had some vague memory, something
about Judge Wilson that had circulated through the rumor mill, but Allison
could not pull it into her consciousness.
 
In a flash, it struck her.
 
She turned to face Lyle with a wicked grin.

“Do you remember hearing about a judge’s
wife who had surgery at St. Augustine during the period when Hillary Martin
worked there?”

Lyle tried to shake the cobwebs from his
memory.
 
“Holy shit!
 
How could I have forgotten about
that?
 
Wasn’t it Judge Wilson’s
wife?”
 

A malicious look swept across Lyle’s face,
like a tiger about to pounce on its prey.

Allison gloated.
 
“I strongly believe it was.
 
I heard he was really torn up about it,
as was his wife.
 
I remember
thinking, I pity the anesthesiologist that infected a judge’s wife.”

“Then why would he have accepted the
case?
 
Surely he would know it’s a
conflict of interest,” Lyle replied.

“Unless . . .” said Allison.

“Unless what?”

“Unless he wants revenge, and he planned on
using this case to get it.
 
Regardless of his motives, this is definitely grounds for recusal.
 
I have a contact at St. Augustine.
 
I’ll have them check the medical records
to confirm our suspicions.”
 
Allison
quickly picked up the phone.

Fifteen minutes later, the two attorneys had
their answer.
 
Mrs. Wilson had
undergone a cosmetic procedure during the critical period.
 
She was tested for hepatitis C, and the
results were negative.

**********

Later that evening, Allison Anders sat
crouched in the driver’s seat of her BMW.
 
She had been waiting for over an hour in the dingy parking garage
attached to the courthouse.
 
It was
well past 7 p.m., and only a few cars remained.
 
Allison, however, cared about only one.

From her rearview mirror, she spied Judge
Wilson.
 
He had nearly reached his
car when his phone vibrated.
 
He
pulled it out of his pocket to check the screen.
 
The text message was from an anonymous
number.
 

“How’s your wife?
 
Still hep C negative?”
 

The judge scanned the parking lot, fearing
someone was watching him.
 
He never
noticed Allison Anders sitting in the front seat of her sedan, hidden behind
heavily tinted windows, and gauging his reaction.

CHAPTER 62

January
16, 2012

Late in the afternoon, Jenna and Mia were
snuggled up in front of the fireplace on a cold and snowy Monday.
 
Jenna was about to make some hot cocoa
when she received a call from her attorneys.

“Hey guys, how’s everything going?” Jenna
asked, never knowing what to expect.

Jim took the lead.
 
“We just wanted to touch base with
you.
 
There were some, well,
interesting developments today.”

Jenna sat up straight.
 
She had developed a profound distaste
for the word “interesting.”
 

“What happened?” she asked anxiously,
leaving Mia for the privacy of her office.

“Judge Wilson recused himself from our
case.
 
He didn’t provide an
explanation.”

“So what does that mean?”

“It means he’s removed himself from your
case.
 
It will be up to Chief Judge
Hastings to appoint someone else.”

Jenna’s mind started projecting
forward.
 
Her trial date was only
two weeks away.
 
She instantly
feared this could delay things, which was more than she could handle.
 
Jenna had mentally prepared herself to
be sitting in a courtroom for three weeks starting at the end of January.
 
She could last that long, but no
longer.
 

“Will this delay the trial date?” Jenna
asked, fearfully.

Jim answered, “It may.
 
It depends on how quickly a new judge
can be assigned and how quickly that person can get up to speed.”

Nancy’s voice came over the phone.
 
“There are a couple of other issues we
need to talk about.
 
We have some
bad news.
 
We have decided not to
use Dr. Ramano as one of our experts.”

Flabbergasted, Jenna asked, “Why not?
 
He’s local, respected, and
accomplished.”
 

Nancy tried to explain, “When the story
broke in the Tribune, Dr. Ramano got a pretty heavy beat down from the higher
ups at his hospital.
 
The
administrators had a heart-to-heart with him.
 
They threatened his job.
 

“When he came in to do his deposition last
week, he was a mess.
 
In spite of
all the pressure he faced, he still believed in your practice strongly enough
to proceed as your expert witness.
 

“In good conscience, we could not put him or
his career in jeopardy.
 
We are also
concerned that the damage done to him by the Tribune’s article would lessen his
credibility.
 
There was no choice –
we had to let him go.”

For a moment, Jenna forgot about herself and
what this ordeal had done to her.
 
To see what it had done to someone who was merely on the sidelines left
her saddened and repulsed.
 
She felt
guilty for bringing Dr. Ramano into this, even if she was not directly
responsible.

“What does this do to our case?”

Jim replied, “I don’t see it as a huge
blow.
 
We still have Dr. Muzzani,
who makes a great expert witness.”

Jenna was not completely convinced.
 
It seemed like things were falling
apart.

“Anything else?” asked Jenna, silently
praying for the bad news to end.

Jim cleared his throat.
 
Jenna could hear the clicking of his
keyboard in the background.
 
Once
the clicking ceased, he said, “We got a letter from Allison Anders today.
 
It’s a posturing letter and nothing
more, but you should know about it.”

“Go on,” Jenna grumbled into the phone.

“I’ll email you a copy as soon as we hang
up, but it basically advises us that you could face punitive damages in excess
of your one million dollar policy limit.
 
Anders felt obliged to remind us of the dire ramifications to you personally
if the jury finds in favor of exemplary damages.
 
This letter is intended to scare
you.
 
Don’t let it.
 
As we’ve discussed before, this is not a
punitive damages case.
 
No judge
would see it that way.”

CHAPTER 63

Lyle Silverstein and Allison Anders huddled
at a back table in a dark, obscure tavern in lower downtown.
 
Each of them sipped on a glass of
scotch.
 
There were a few other
patrons scattered throughout the bar, but since it was mid-afternoon on a
Tuesday, the tavern was not yet crowded.
 
In the somber atmosphere, Lyle and Allison blended into the scene.
 
Neither of them spoke a word to the
other.
 
They were each lost in their
own thoughts.

The front door to the bar opened and a large
man sauntered in.
 
Only his
silhouette was visible as the daylight illuminated him from behind.
 
The door closed, and the man’s presence
darkened, melding into the surroundings.
 
He exchanged glances with no one.
 
Purposefully, he strode over to Lyle and Allison.
 
Lyle covertly motioned to the bartender
to bring their guest a scotch.

“Grant Hastings!” said Lyle with warmth and
familiarity, as he shook the man’s hand.

Lyle was a man of considerable stature, but
Grant Hastings clearly outsized him.
 
In the grasp of his acquaintance, Lyle’s bulky hand seemed feminine and
small.
 

Allison sat back and quietly watched the
exchange.
 

“Grant,” Lyle announced, “I’d like to
introduce you to one of our shining stars, Allison Anders.
 
Allison, Judge Hastings.”

Appearing infinitely confident, Allison was
poised, polished, and intensely focused.
 
Firmly, she exchanged a handshake with the Chief Justice for the
Thirteenth District Court.
 
Although
the judge dwarfed her in both physical presence and professional rank, Allison
never demonstrated any hint of weakness or intimidation.
 
By the time the introductions were completed,
Judge Hastings sat down and took a drink of the scotch that had been placed in
front of him.
 

“Good stuff,” he said.

“Nothing but the best,” replied Lyle with a
sinister grin.

The judge’s expression turned stern and
serious.
 
“Okay, Lyle.
 
Let’s cut to the chase.
 
I know you must need something on a
large scale for you to lure me out of my chambers during the middle of the
day.”

Lyle also preferred to avoid wasting time on
idle chitchat.
 
The three of them
sat clustered around the table.
 
Lyle quickly glanced around.
 
Nobody was paying them any attention.

“We have a sticky situation, and I need your
help.
 
The hep C cases.
 
As you know, we are representing the
bulk of the patients.
 
St. Augustine
is making it well worth our while to make the cases against the
anesthesiologists go away quietly.
 
The hospital can’t afford any more press.
 
But we have a case coming up with an
anesthesiologist who seems to have a wild hair up her ass.”

Grant Hastings knew the cases well.
 
They had all been filed in his court.
 
He was acutely aware of how close the
case in question was to going to trial.
 

“This troublesome doctor,” asked the judge,
“what’s her name?”

Allison snatched the opportunity to become
part of the conversation.
 

“Her name is Jenna Reiner.
 
So far, Your Honor, our efforts to
convince her that settling would be in her best interest have only seemed to
further motivate her to pursue a trial.
 
She’s truly an enigma.
 
On
the outside, she seems unworldly, weak, and vulnerable.
 
We thought she’d be one of the easiest
to bring down, but we were wrong.
 
Dr. Reiner is irritatingly unshakable.”