“Timmy?”
“He got the worst of it.”
“You fought with him? I thought you’d left.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
Rye had watched from several blocks away as the black Mercedes left the parking garage. When it passed his observation point, he saw that Goliad was driving and Timmy was slumped against the passenger door.
By all appearances, they were done for the night. But Rye wouldn’t have put it past Goliad to circle back. Following the fight, he might have gotten orders regarding Rye.
He’d given them five minutes, which had seemed interminable. They didn’t return. On his walk back to the garage, he booked an Uber car. When it arrived, he gave the driver an extra twenty to wait and texted Brynn. He’d taken a risk by hanging around, but he figured that she would rush right down when he dropped her mystery patient’s name, and she had.
“Does it hurt?”
She would have taken his hand, but he kept it out of her reach. “No.” Then, “A little.”
Timmy’s knife had made a neat slice across each of the first knuckles of his left hand. The blood wasn’t coagulating as rapidly as it should because he’d been repeatedly flexing his fingers, then contracting them into a fist. “To keep them from getting stiff,” he said to Brynn, who was watching him do it. “I’ve got to be able to grip the yoke. I’m flying tomorrow.”
“I heard. You should put something on them. My office is on the fourth floor. We could go up—”
“Forget it.” He secured her biceps and steered her toward the exit. “Who are the Hunts?”
She dug her heels in and jerked her arm free. “Where did you hear their name?”
“Your dickhead colleague let it slip. Hunt. That’s the deep pockets behind this drug smuggling operation?”
She held her tongue.
“Nothing? No? Okay, I gave you one last chance. From here out, you’re on your own. Remember, I gave you fair warning.”
He left her standing there and walked away. He was almost to the exit, and beginning to think she’d called his bluff, when she ran after him.
Short of breath, she asked, “Warned me of what? Where are you going?”
He kept walking. “The nearest police precinct. I don’t want my ass hauled to jail when the rest of you go.”
“Wait!”
He stopped and turned, looming over her. “You were going to steal that box for yourself up there in Howardville. Then everything that could go wrong did. You played me, you played the deputies, but ultimately, you were given no choice except to go along with the goons Hunt sent and deliver the box to Lambert.”
She didn’t respond, but he took her silence as affirmation of all he’d said.
“Is it even a drug, Brynn?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“GX—”
“Yes. Yes! Everything I told you about it.”
“Okay. Is the patient Mr. Hunt or Mrs.?”
“Mister.”
“And he’s—”
“Desperate.”
“He’ll die without it.”
“One can hope that with treatment—”
“Skip the bedside manner. Will he die?”
She gave curt nod.
“So why didn’t you want Lambert to have the medicine?”
She said nothing.
“Brynn? Why? Why were you planning to steal it?”
She made a small, defeated sound and pushed back her hair. “What difference does it make now? Nate’s got it. As you said, everybody’s happy.”
“Everybody but you.” He stayed as he was, holding her stare, then took her arm and propelled her toward the street.
Again, she put on the brakes. “I told Nate I would be right back.”
“You won’t be.”
He continued nudging her out the exit. On the street, the fog was noticeably thinner, but the temperature was much colder. It had started to rain. He hurried her toward the Uber car idling at the curb, opened the rear door, and motioned her in.
“I can’t walk out on him now, Rye. We’re doing the procedure tonight.”
“The stuff doesn’t go bad till tomorrow night.”
“They don’t want to wait. If I disappear again, they’ll panic.”
“Oh, we wouldn’t want to start a panic, would we? I can prevent that right now by going back up to the fifth floor and spilling my guts to Lambert. He’ll probably be as curious as I am to hear why you were trying to keep that life-sustaining drug out of his soft, pasty hands.”
“What’s it to you, mister no involvement?”
“Because without my knowledge, you made me an accomplice in your scheme. Whatever the hell it is. God only knows. I sure as hell don’t. But I’m going to find out. From you.
“So either you and I go have a private little talk about your mountain escapade, or we go up and have a three-way with the colleague that you wanted to cheat out of his miracle cure. You decide, Brynn. You’ve got one second.”
5:34 p.m.
Delores shrugged the mink jacket off her shoulders and asked the chauffeur to turn down the heater. “It feels like the tropics in here.”
The driver apologized and made an adjustment on the limo’s thermostat. Delores thanked him and raised the partition. Privacy now secured, she smiled over at Richard. “Well?”
“It was brilliant, Del.”
“I thought so.”
She deserved to gloat over the success of their afternoon project. Richard reached across the car seat and stroked her cheek. “It was an inspired idea. One I wish I could take credit for.”
She kissed the back of his hand. “I hope it didn’t exhaust you.”
“I’m tired. But it was worth the effort.” He took his phone from his breast pocket and turned it on. “Nate has called me four times.”
She reactivated her own phone. “And me three. That must mean he has it.”
“He does.” Richard gave her a campaign poster smile. “Goliad texted that Dr. O’Neal and the goods were delivered into Nate’s hands about an hour ago.”
“Thank God.”
“Call Nate. He’s probably apoplectic.”
She made the call and put the phone on speaker. Nate answered immediately. “Delores, where in God’s name—”
“Before lecturing me, wait until you hear why we were temporarily out of touch.”
She gave him the lowdown. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. The only person we notified beforehand was Richard’s assistant. She’d been a little miffed at us for not doing something publicly in observance of Thanksgiving, so she jumped on the idea, scrambled, and got media there. We were seen, photographed, recorded. Richard gave a sound bite. It will be on tonight’s news.”
“Good play!” Nate said.
“We thought so.” She cast Richard a smug smile. “Meanwhile, you took delivery on a package for us?”
“It’s right here. Where are you now?”
“In the car on the way home.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Nate?” Richard said. “Is there any special preparation I should make?”
“Yes, pour Delores a stiff drink.”
They all laughed.
Nate continued. “Really nothing. Get comfy. Brynn and I will put in an IV. Basically that’s all there is to it.”
Delores said, “We don’t know how to thank you for this, Nate.”
“Oh, I have lots of ideas for that. Maybe you could arrange for a wing of the hospital to be named after me.”
“You think large, Nate,” Richard said.
“If I didn’t, Delores would soon be a widow. See you in a bit.”
Delores clicked off. Richard frowned. “With what we’ve paid him, he could buy his own hospital wing. Cocky bastard.”
She unbuckled her seat belt and scooted across the back seat to snuggle against him. “He is. But he’s our cocky bastard, and it’s always beneficial to have one indebted.”
Chapter 17
5:43 p.m.
After ending his conversation with the Hunts, Nate went into the bathroom in his office. He took the box with him. He was not letting it out of his sight again.
He washed his hands and brushed his teeth. He checked his head and reasoned he had time to shave it. He took off his tie and shirt and went about the ritual proficiently.
He was buffing his sleek head with a towel when he realized that Brynn was taking an awfully long time in the garage. He called her to alert her that they would be leaving promptly for the Hunts’ estate.