T. Lynn Ocean - Jersey Barnes 03 - Southern Peril (28 page)

Leo felt nervous but didn’t want his partners to pick up on it. He leaned back in the desk chair, fingers laced behind his neck. “Here’s the deal, Castello. We know who you are. So you have something on us, we have something on you. The good news is that we have the rest of your money. All of it. We give you the last payment and we’re done. You go about your merry way and we get on with the business of running our practice.”

The silence held thick as the doctors stared at the telephone base.

“That’s a right interestin’ proposition,” the drawl finally came through the speaker. “How’d you come up with the cash? To hear you whine and complain before, you was all piss-poor broke.”

Leo nodded at Michael. It was his turn to talk. They wanted to reinforce the fact that they were, after all, three against one. “We did some creative financing,” Michael said. “The details aren’t important, but basically, we took out a loan using our building as collateral. We’ve got the cash. Do you want it or not?”

Another long silence. “Okay. I accept your proposal. I’ll call the cell phone later with a drop spot and instructions.”

Jonathan grabbed the telephone handset, cutting off the speakerphone. “Listen, asshole. You want your money? We do it on
our
terms. Don’t send your girl this time. You want your money, you come to get it. Right here, tonight, after the office closes. And bring my damn student ID card with you. I want it back.”

Leo reached across the desk, took the handset away from Jonathan, and punched the speakerphone button. “Our last patient
will be out of here by four-thirty and all the staff will be gone shortly after that. Come then.”

“If this is a setup, I’ll have friends standing by,” Denny said. “You make a lot of good friends in prison. Anything happens to me, they’ll have the list. Your home addresses, your kids’ addresses, your mamas’ addresses. They’ll start at the top and keep going.”

“It’s not a setup, Denny,” Michael said. “We don’t want to lose our medical licenses any more than you want to go back to jail. This deal is between you and us. Just come get your money and then leave us alone. That’s all we want.”

Leo disconnected before any further conversation could take place. Pumped with adrenaline and nauseated, Michael held his stomach. Jonathan’s entire body vibrated with rage. Maybe he should kill the bastard.

Leo made a call. “Jersey, it’s Leo. He called us. We went with the plan. Told him to pick up his final payment tonight, here at the office.”

He listened, nodded, hung up, and pulled a medical supply bag from beneath his desk. It held about fifteen thousand dollars in cash—nowhere near the half million that Denny would be expecting. At a glance, though, the twenty-and fifty-dollar bills on the top of the banded stacks concealed all the one-dollar bills beneath. And if everything went according to plan, they’d be able to deposit all fifteen thousand back into their general office fund, where it belonged.

I hung up
from talking with Leo at the Divine Image Group and immediately called the Barnes Agency. Andy the masseur answered.

“Tell JJ to get her ass off your massage table,” I said. “She has a doctor’s appointment.”

“No massages around here for a few days,” Andy said. “I hurt my wrist playing basketball.”

“Good, then maybe my partners will actually get some work done.”

JJ came on the line and I gave her the rundown on the time frame. Her toy bag—as she called it—was already loaded with weapons and ready to go.

“Great,” I said. “See you in an hour.”

We
met in the public library parking lot, at the back of the building, and took JJ’s car to the Divine Image Group. Looking com
pletely unlike a sniper, she wore a pair of oversize glam shades, heeled sandals, and a chic, above-the-knee dress.

“Nice hair color on you,” she said, cruising through traffic. “A little lopsided, though.”

I flipped down my visor and, using the vanity mirror, adjusted my dark brown wig.

“And I love the nose bandage,” she said. “Nice touch.”

My face was wrapped in one of those funny-looking splint things that rhinoplasty patients wear while they heal. “It’s uncomfortable as hell, but at least I’ll blend in with the other patients.”

We parked in a convenience store lot a block away, bought junk food, and walked to the Divine Image Group’s building. All of the people in the waiting room looked like patients or loved ones, but then you never know. I looked like a patient, too. After an appropriate amount of waiting, JJ and I were escorted to the conference room, where we settled in to wait. Meanwhile, Brad and his team were taking undercover positions around the area. Somebody had installed a tracking device in the handle of the money bag, and another person had attached hidden cameras above the main entrance and back exit doors. Two agents turned themselves into a mobile car detailing team. One was a stocker at the convenience store. One roved on foot, walking a dog. Another, dressed as a nurse, roamed the halls at Divine Image Group.

Staff members were told only that there had been a threat from one of Dr. Rosch’s patients, so security measures were being implemented.

At four-thirty, a woman walked in and announced to the receptionist that she was the niece of Dr. Haines. After I hid in an exam room and JJ stuffed herself beneath Leo’s desk, Leo personally escorted the woman into his office. I stepped into the hall and stood just outside the door of the office, my back against the wall.

“Funny, I don’t recognize you,” Leo said.

“I’m here for the delivery,” she said, and shut the office door behind her.

I strained to hear through the closed door.

“Where’s Denny?” Leo asked. “He was supposed to come in person. After the office closes.”

“He couldn’t make it,” she answered.

I burst through the door, holding a hand to my bandaged face. “Dr. Haines! My nose just went numb! Totally numb. I can’t feel a thing. What if there’s no blood circulation and it falls off?”

“He’ll be with you in a minute. Get out of here.” The woman gave me a one-handed shove back through the door. Her other hand went inside a leather purse that was slung across her body with a long strap.

“You don’t have to be so rude.” I punched her in the stomach, a straight jab, and twisted enough to put my body weight behind it. She doubled over with a grunt. JJ Tasered her in the back. Yelping, the woman crumpled to the ground. Unlike a stun gun, a Taser delivers electrical pulses by shooting out two tiny metal probes that are attached by wires, and it keeps doing its thing for thirty seconds. While the woman was incapacitated, I stomped down hard on her wrist—the one concealed inside her handbag—and removed a .45 Taurus revolver. Big gun for a little woman. I ejected the ammo—tactical rounds designed to mushroom upon impact—and pocketed them. The woman began to move. She rolled over and threw a string of choice words at JJ. The Taser probes were still attached, and JJ hit the button to deploy another thirty seconds of agony. Another yelp. I cuffed the woman’s hands with a zip-tie restraint.

The DEA agent dressed as a nurse appeared, gun drawn.

“All secure in here,” I said. “She came in alone, but he might be outside.”

The nurse spoke into a hidden shoulder microphone and sprinted off.

Denny’s runner sat up and moaned. She didn’t have the presence of mind to yank out the Taser probes when she regained control of her muscles.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

She used the F-word in a combination run-on sentence I’d never heard before.

JJ delivered another thirty seconds of electrical impulses. “Aren’t Tasers great? The battery pack in this one is brand new. It could probably go for days.”

“What’s your name?” I asked again.

“Theresa.”

“Is Denny with you?”

She felt her back, reaching for the tiny metal probes that stuck in her like fishhooks. “I came alone.”

JJ pulled out the probes before Theresa had a chance, ejected her spent Taser cartridge, and popped in a new one.

Leo sat quietly in his desk chair, like a spectator observing an interesting stage play A crowd had gathered in the hall, and I toed the door shut for privacy. Under threat of being Tasered again, Theresa stopped with the foul language and confirmed that she was Denny’s girlfriend. She was also the person who recruited his drug runners—usually cash-starved college kids—whom Denny would use for a month or two before dropping them for fresh runners. Denny had a rental house, Theresa said, but swore that she didn’t know where he lived. She’d originally met him while he was incarcerated. After his release, he had always come to her house. Never the other way around.

“Don’t you get it?” I said. “You are as disposable to Denny as all the runners you’ve recruited. He’s just using you, and at some point, you’ll no longer be valuable to him.”

Hands secured behind her back, she awkwardly got off the floor. JJ helped her to one of Leo’s guest chairs. “We love each other,” Theresa said.

Brad came through the door and told Theresa that we could help her only if she was willing to help herself.

“The deal was for Denny to pick up the final payment,” Leo said. “He needs to honor our agreement.”

“He’ll kill you, you know. You should just give me the money.”

I found a cell phone in Theresa’s purse and flipped through the stored numbers until I came across one labeled only “D.” I dialed and held the phone to her face. “Nobody in this room is a cop, Theresa,” I lied. “You tell Denny that we’ve got the money. If he wants it, he comes in person.”

Leo unzipped the medical bag, slung it atop his desk, and held it open so Theresa could see the cash.

“Denny? I’m at the doctors’ office. They have our money. I’m looking at it right now. Cash. But they’ll only give it to you in person, like y’all agreed.”

Theresa’s eyes teared up at the response we couldn’t hear. She nodded toward Leo. I passed her cell phone to him.

Leo spoke briefly, listened, hung up. “He says the deal is off. That we can take our money and, well, shove it you-know-where. And that he doesn’t give a you-know-what about Theresa or what we do with her. He said we can turn her over to the cops for all he cares. And then he said that he’s
very much
looking forward to meeting Lilly,” Leo said. “That’s my wife.”

“We’ll get immediate coverage on your house and the other doctors’ houses, too,” Brad said. “You need to warn all your kids and other family. They need to be on alert.”

Leo returned the phone to me. “We’ve already done that. Hired private guards for all of our kids—even my daughter, who is overseas right now. Costing us a shiny dime, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Keep them in place until this is over,” Brad said. “And you’ll need to cancel your patients. Shut down the office.”

“Who are you people?” Leo asked. “You sure as hell aren’t average private citizens.”

Brad produced a badge. “I’m DEA. Jersey and her friend are associates from a private security firm.”

“We’re going to lose everything, aren’t we,” Leo said. “Our licenses. Our practice. Everything.”

“The main priority right now is to stop this drug ring,” Brad said. “We’ll figure the rest out later.”

“And my main priority,” I added, “is to straighten out the situation at Argo’s and eliminate all danger to Morgan so he can get on with his life.”

“We’re working together,” Brad said with just a touch of sarcasm. “Jersey and I.”

Leo
closed the office and sent staff members home with lists of patients to notify about the temporary shutdown. Jonathan’s patients would be referred to another psychiatrist. Leo’s and Michael’s patients would be asked to reschedule their cosmetic procedures, even though the Divine Image Group doctors weren’t sure whether or not they’d ever practice medicine again. One thing was certain: Life, as all three doctors knew it, had changed forever.

Once the office had mostly cleared out, there was the issue of what to do with Theresa. Brad could turn her loose and hope she’d lead him to Denny. Problem was, Denny could kill her first. The other option, and the one that made the most sense, was to retain her for questioning. JJ escorted her to the Divine Group’s employee break room and kept a loose eye on the woman.

“Let me have a go at Theresa before you arrest her,” Jonathan said.

Everyone agreed: Not a good idea.

“I might be a damn drunk,” Jonathan said, “but at one time I was the best psychiatrist in North Carolina. I got referrals from stumped peers. I was called on to testify in high-profile court cases. I won awards.” He paused to make eye contact with each of us. “I think I can handle interviewing a woman with abandonment issues and a thrill complex.”

Brad shrugged. “I’m in no hurry. Why not?”

“I’ll take her in my office. Alone. Just the two of us. I need to gain her trust. The sooner we get information out of her, the sooner you can track down Ray Donnell Castello.”

Surprisingly, they agreed
to let him have an hour with Theresa. But then, he did have a knack for sincerity. People trusted him. People opened up to him. People told him things.

Except this screwed-up woman. Theresa was a tough case. She had convinced herself that Denny loved her. She refused to betray him. Denny would love her even more, she said, once he realized that they’d tried to get information out of her but she’d held strong. She didn’t care if she ended up in the can, Theresa told him. She’d be comfortable in a prison environment. After all, she’d originally met Denny through a penpal correspondence program, and the first time she’d visited him in person, she’d known they’d end up together. She went as often as they’d allow—once a week—and had the drill down pat. For years and years and years. Until, finally, he got out. And they could be together every single day, forever. As much as Jonathan tried asking the same question in different ways, Theresa kept swearing that she didn’t know where her boyfriend lived.