Jane frowned. “I’m sorry?”
“You and I are going to take a little walk. Ehlena is going to stay here and monitor things. If we’re needed, she’ll come get us.”
“What is this about?” Jane looked back and forth between them. Then shook her head. “Whatever, I’m just going to check on—”
Manny put a hand on her arm. “I’ve checked everything. He’s conscious. His vitals are stable, if a little on the low side, and he’s still restrained. There is no reason for you to go in there. You’ll only be interrupting them.”
Jane opened her mouth. Closed it with a grind. “I don’t see what the problem is.”
“And that is precisely why you and I are going to talk.”
Manny steered her in a circle and led her away from the clinic—and with each step, the compulsive need to go into that patient room and just…do something…made her want to scream.
“This is ridiculous.” She glared at her partner. “I mean, what is this, an intervention?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, it is.”
As she faltered, he swept her along, forcing her to keep up or get dragged. And then they were all the way down by the pool, Manny opening the way into the humidity and warmth. He let her go first, and she was so pissed off, she walked ahead with hard footfalls, crossing over the tiled anteroom and entering the pool proper with its lofty ceiling and Olympic-sized lanes.
She wheeled around on him. “Are you saying there is something wrong with my patient care? I’m a goddamn good doctor and an even better surgeon. You have nothing to complain about—”
“There is no nice way to say this, Jane.”
“What the hell are you—”
“You’ve lost your objectivity.” He put his hands on his lean hips, his handsome face serious. “You’re down here too much—you’ve worked yourself into a state past exhaustion, and sooner or later, you are going to make a mistake.”
For a moment, all she could do was stare at the man like he was a stranger. And yet he wasn’t one. He was still the big, tall, dark-haired guy she had been in the trenches with for years, Hawkeye to her Hunnicutt.
“I cannot believe I’m hearing this from you,” she snapped. “You’re working all the time, too.”
“I take breaks. I sleep with my wife. I see her every day—”
“Do not make this about Vishous. Don’t you dare turn this into a personal issue—”
“It is a personal issue, Jane. As well as a professional one.”
“Whatever, I am doing important, necessary work here. I give everything to my patients and you know it—”
“You’re giving too much. That’s the problem.” He put his hand up when she went to cut him off. “No, you’re going to listen to me. And then when I’m through, you can tell me to fuck off, if you want. But you’re going to shut up and hear me out.”
“I don’t believe this,” she muttered.
“Believe it. And do you honestly think you’re the first physician I’ve had this conversation with? Huh? Really? I was departmental chair at St. Francis before I came here. I’ve gone the rounds in this ring with a shit ton of people like you and me. You need to take some time off before you make a bad call and never forgive yourself.”
Jane went to run a hand through her hair and discovered it was wet from the shower. Probably still had some suds in it. Who cared. “Listen, we are short-staffed and you know it. It’s only you and me and Ehlena. The Brotherhood and the fighters can get hurt at any time—”
“And that’s what they make phones for. Jane, I’m telling you, as a friend and a partner, that you need some perspective. And then maybe you and Vishous can finally—”
“Wait, hold up here.” She leaned forward with anger. “Did he call you and ask you to do this? Because that is bullshit, Manny. Don’t you dare take his side in this out of some kind of guy code—”
“Side? I’m not taking anyone’s side—”
“Did he tell you he cheated on me? Huh? Did that come up?”
Manny recoiled. “Jesus, Jane.”
“Guess he neglected to mention that, huh.”
“Vishous and I haven’t talked about this—”
“Whatever, you men always stick together. I just expected more from you after everything we’ve been through together.”
Manny looked away, to the aquamarine water that was still. When he refocused on her, his face was cold and his eyes were flat. “You know what, we’re done talking, you and I.”
“Good. Can I go back to work now, sir?”
“No, you can’t.”
“Excuse me?” Jane cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re not in charge. I was here before you.”
“Wrath is in charge. And unless you take twenty-four hours off, I am prepared to go to him and tell him that in my professional opinion, you are unfit to function as a physician at this time. Your choice, and make it now. Either you leave or I have you removed.”
“I have done nothing wrong!”
“Maybe in your opinion, but I am not comfortable with how fast you moved in there with Assail. You were flying around that room, grabbing syringes and using them without checking—”
“I filled those myself! I knew what was in them!”
“There is a reason we double-check things. What if Ehlena or I had switched them out for something else.”
“But you didn’t!”
“How did you know that?” Manny also leaned forward on his hips. “You and I run this place together, and we have to be each other’s oversight. There’s no Patient Care Assessment Committee checking on outcomes, no hospital Board of Trustees we’re accountable to, no Joint Commission coming to inspect us and make sure we have, and are observing, best practices. It’s you and it’s me, and we need to police ourselves.”
“Ehlena doesn’t have a problem with me.”
“Who do you think raised this in the first place.”
Jane shook her head and stared at the tile, tracing the pale blue and black pattern. Then she started to walk away.
“Fine,” she said over her shoulder. “You want this place to yourselves, have at it, genius.”
SEVENTEEN
After Streeter left the art gallery, Vitoria locked herself inside and went to her brother Eduardo’s first-floor office. She didn’t have to ask which one it was. It had a gold-leafed door.
As she went to enter the code that had worked on everything else, she worried it would not function here. Eduardo had had his own ways of doing things—but she needn’t have worried. This was, after all, Ricardo’s establishment, and therefore he would expect to be able to get into every space under its roof.
Also, at the end of the day, their younger sibling had always done what he was told.
Opening the door, she walked into the pitch-black room, and instantly, lights flared from brass sconces.
“Oh, Eduardo.”
No minimalism here. No, it was Versace everything, lush with animal prints and gold accents, the desk like something a French royal would have had made in the eighteenth century. And talk about your messes, although not because the office had been sacked. Eduardo had been obsessive only about math and money, not neatness: There were papers everywhere. An adding machine with tape drooling out of its printer onto the floor. Three phones, cockeyed with one another. Pens here and there. A coffee mug with an inch of dehydrated stain at the bottom.
The modern padded leather chair that Eduardo had sat in was turned about and facing the exit, as if he had bolted up and left the room in a hurry. Or perhaps risen with alarm due to an intrusion.
No windows. No closet. Air that was so musty, she wanted to sneeze.
Heading around, she braced herself as she looked at the floor behind the desk. No body there, however—and someone would have smelled that a year ago, anyway.
She had almost expected to find him here.
When her two brothers had gone into business together, they had been a poor pairing on paper, the elder so disciplined and decisive, the younger so flashy and exuberant. The only thing they had in common was trust born out of familial connection—which was necessary in a line of work wherein the legitimate law could not be used to govern interactions and contractual arrangements. Still, there were limits to brotherly love.