Knock Off (24 page)

Lisa confirmed they were typically medications adminis-tered to improve organ function. “Is this a transplant donor?”

“Yesss.” I heard the voice slur.

“Fin? What’s wrong?”

“One more,” I managed, swallowing as I fought to pronounce the last one. “Me-per, mepreri—”

“Meperidine?”

“Yessss.” I was really feeling woozy, so I steered on to the narrow shoulder of the road.

“It’s a pain-killer.”

My fogged-in brain barely processed the concept. “Why would you give a donor a pain-killer?”

“You wouldn’t. Brain-dead people can’t feel pain.”

Oh God. “That’s what he knew.”

“Fin? Where are you?”

“Sing—Singer Island. Need help.”

“How long have I been here?” I asked Becky, who just happened to be the first person I saw when my eyes and my brain were finally back in sync.

“Four hours. You’ve been in and out. Mumbling. Not making a whole hell of a lot of sense for the most part.

There’s a line out in the waiting room. We’ve been assigned specific shifts until visiting hours end.”

“Dr. Hall?”

“I’ll have Liam come in and bring you up to speed on that, but you might want to turn up the volume on the TV.”

“He’s in jail?” I asked Liam a minute later when he stepped into my hospital room. Flicking through the television stations, I was dying to see Dr. Hall doing the perp walk, hands and feet shackled. Would he be humiliated or overcome with remorse? Who cared? Hopefully, he was going to go to prison and spend the rest of his days being some gang member’s bitch.

“He’s being questioned. Then they’ll probably file formal charges. And, by the way, you were right about the car. The Halls bought an S-Class Mercedes, midnight blue, the week before their daughter’s birthday. How are you feeling?”

“Good. Really relaxed,” I added with a grin. “Ready to get out of this hospital.”

“Patience,” he reminded me. “You’re here for the night.”

“Swear to me they didn’t cut my clothes off. Do you have any idea what that outfit cost me?”

“You worry about the strangest stuff. Hall almost killed you, and you’re concerned over a skirt and top?”

“Well . . . yeah.”

“You better be grateful for your twelve-cup-a-day coffee habit. The high level of caffeine was the only reason the alprazolam didn’t stop your breathing and kill you.”

I shuddered, then looked up and said, “There he is. Wait!”

My stomach fell into my feet. “He’s not handcuffed. What’s the deal?”

“I’ll make a few calls,” Liam said as he jogged from the room. He came back twelve agonizingly long minutes later, his eyes glistening with anger. “Son-of-a-bitch has an airtight alibi for Vasquez and for Marcus Evans.”

“How airtight?”

“Out of town, teaching transplant techniques at other hospitals. There’s, like, a hundred people who verified his alibi, plus the airlines and hotels where he stayed.”

“But he could have killed the others, right? We know he was in town when Daniel Summers was murdered.”

“Banging Nurse Callahan. That’s why she called in sick.

Apparently the two of them have been having a fling for years.”

“Then why wasn’t he charged with killing Ivy Novak?

My sister said she wouldn’t have needed a pain-killer if she was really brain dead.”

“He’s claiming it’s a mistake. The pain-killer only shows on the pharmacy bill, not the OR notes.”

“It has to be him,” I said, crossing my arms as anger simmered in every cell of my body. “Dave Rice all but came right out and told me he was blackmailing Hall to cover his wife’s cancer treatments.”

“Hall claims that was just a charitable act on his part.”

“Then get Dave Rice in to talk to the police.”

“That’s going to be hard.”

“Why?”

“He blew his brains out right after you left him.”

I felt a stab of pain. “And you believe that?”

“He left a note. The handwriting was verified by his two sons and exemplars the cops took from his house.”

“What did the note say?”

“Two words—‘I’m sorry.’ ”

“Everybody’s sorry, but no one’s responsible? Can’t the police search Hall’s house? He put something in that nasty-ass tea they made me drink.”

“They searched. Nothing.”

“Who is that good?”

“Hall’s got a genius-level IQ, and his wife is no slouch, either. She graduated with honors from Wellesley. The daughter got the smart genes, too, though it appears she’s been slacking off recently.”

Some imaginary bell must have sounded because my
mother appeared in the doorway, hugging a large bouquet of flowers in one hand and a linen hanky in the other.

“That’s my cue,” Liam said before slipping out of the room.

The parade continued until eleven, when the nurse emphatically refused to let anyone else cycle in. I had flowers from Patrick, Liv, Becky, Jane—who also smuggled in a coffee—and a huge spray from Dane-Lieberman. So I was guessing my suspension would be lifted soon, if not immediately, but they were crazy if they thought flowers would be enough.

The drug I’d been given at the Halls’ hadn’t totally worn off. The only things keeping me from falling into a much needed sleep were anger and frustration.

I knew I’d been dozing in and out, mainly because every time I opened my eyes the images on the television had changed. I didn’t see a clock anywhere, but I kept reminding myself that I needed to call Lisa and thank her. Calling 911 from two thousand miles away had probably saved me as much as the coffee.

I wanted coffee but was happy to settle for water. Feeling pretty awake, I decided I’d grab my Styrofoam pitcher and do a little self-service refill. I was sure the night nurses had better things to do than play waitress for me.

Barefoot and holding the slit in the back of my hideously ugly hospital gown, I strolled down the corridor. After about five minutes, I finally found a small room with an ice dispenser and some water. With my pitcher filled, I went back to my room. By the light cast through the partially opened door and the silent images on the television screen, I poured myself a drink. That was when I heard the sound.

Whipping around, I noticed the hypodermic needle first and Zoe Hall second. My instant reaction was to toss the ice water in her face, then grab her wrist and hold on for dear life.

Zoe was eighteen, and both taller and stronger than I was.

I, however, was an exceptional screamer. Though it took a few minutes, orderlies finally arrived and subdued the girl.

Since I was still relatively new at the whole “someone tried to kill me” thing, I simply crumbled to the floor and watched mutely as she was dragged, flailing, from my room.

*

Patrick was away again. Liam had disappeared since
our last conversation at the hospital. I’m so pathetic I can’t decide which of them I miss more. It’s a week later and I’m back at my desk. Correction, I’m back at a better desk. I got a modest raise, back pay, and an office with a view of the street instead of the air-conditioning condensers. Dane didn’t apologize, though he did send a welcome-back e-mail. At least he was consistent—he was, is, and always will be an asshole.

This morning I read that Zoe Hall’s attorney—who, coincidentally, is Jason Quinn, the same Jason Quinn who threatened Dane into practically firing me—was going to plead temporary insanity. “Good luck with that,” I scoffed.

It was a tough defense and, in my opinion, an impossible one given that she’d planned and executed her crimes nearly perfectly.

I did feel a little sympathy for her parents. Apparently, Zoe had overheard one blackmail call and knew only that it was a man who’d served on the civil jury. She didn’t know that her father not only recognized the blackmailer as Dave Rice, but that he was ready, willing, and able to pay for Jenny’s cancer treatments. Zoe’s desire to protect her father had simply spiraled out of control. But crazy isn’t the same as legally crazy, so I hoped the girl liked bright orange jumpsuits because I figured she’d be wearing one for years and years to come.

I was just on my way out to the copy room when I
nearly collided with Liam. He looked as good as ever and smelled wonderful. And, being the cool, calm, aloof, professional woman that I am, I couldn’t even coax a simple
“Hi” out of my throat.

He practically backed me into my own office. “I see they gave you new digs. Nice.”

“Bigger, better.” Babbling.

“How have you been?”

“Great. You?”

“Busy. I’ve had a lot of things lately.”

He didn’t sit down. Instead he just kept inching closer until I felt my hip hit the edge of my desk. Those incredible eyes were fixed on mine. “Do you need something?”

“Yep.”

His head dipped fractionally, and his gaze dropped to my mouth. Time froze. He froze. I freaked.

Oh, to hell with it. If I could fend off an attacker, I could ask a simple question. “Well, are you?”

“Am I what?”

His warm, minty breath tickled my skin, and I felt a flush rush to my cheeks. Liam was still close in, his mouth no more than a few inches above mine. “Well, um, are you going to kiss me?”

“No.”

I blinked. “This feels like you’re about to kiss me.”

He smiled. It was slow, crooked, and very sexy. “That’s just one of the differences between you and me, Finley.”

“What?”

“I’m very, very patient.”