Sin & Bone: A Medical Thriller (The Gina Mazzio Series Book 2)

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Sin & Bone: A Medical Thriller (The Gina Mazzio Series Book 2) Page 3

by Bette Golden Lamb


  “There’s nothing you can do now. Tell your manager about it when you get back to work on Wednesday. You know, after everyone has finally started calling you Mrs. Lucke.”

  “I can’t let go of it, Harry. What if there is some sicko out there.”

  “And what if it’s just some Neanderthal playing a rotten prank?”

  Gina kept hearing the caller’s words as a replay, over and over and over: Someone has to stop the cutting, the killing.

  “But suppose he’s murdered a woman?” Gina returned to the sofa and plopped down. If Harry didn’t believe her, who would?

  “Okay. So on Wednesday, tell Alexandros–”

  “–and she’ll tell the administrator, and neither of them will believe me. This time I’ll probably get tossed out into the street. Good ole troublemaker Mazzio.”

  ₪ CHAPTER 4

  Three times the caller circled the block, slowing down as the St. George Specialty Meats sign came into view. Instead of turning into the parking lot, he floored the accelerator, taking another spin around the block. He wracked his mind, went thought of every possible scenario to keep from doing what had to be done. It was too late. The ER nurse had recognized him, could tell the world what a monster he really was.

  Maybe that would be better. Just get it over with.

  But he finally drove through the opening in the chain link fence, parked the Jaguar in the shadows at the rear of the building, and walked to the back of the car. When he lifted the trunk lid, the woman unfolded like a striking viper – teeth bared, fingernails extended. She lunged for his eyes.

  He flinched, held her off with one arm, and punched her hard on the side of the head. She whimpered like a small puppy and collapsed back into the trunk. He stood transfixed, looking at her closed eyes, her limp body. The back door to the shop swung open, slammed into the outer wall with a bang.

  “It’s about time,” a gruff voice shouted. “I’ve been waiting more than an hour.”

  Eddie St. George yanked the woman from the trunk, carried her inside, and dropped her onto a large, scarred cutting table.

  “Can’t even get here on time. Jeez, you’re useless as tits on a boar.”

  Eddie ignored the tirade, used a boning knife to cut away the raincoat and scrubs. When she was naked, he duct-taped her ankles together, hoisted her on his shoulder, and hung her upside down between two sides of beef.

  “Get out of my way!”

  Eddie stepped back, dropped onto a stainless steel stool.

  “Look at her! What have you done to her face?”

  “I had to–“

  “How many times have I told you to stay away from their faces?”

  “I thought–“

  “You thought?” Jacob sneered at him, flicked the back of his hand at Eddie.

  “Maybe we should let this one go, Father.” Eddie clutched hard at the sides of the stool.

  Jacob laughed, fingered the woman’s arms, then squeezed her thighs. “No, she’s ours now.”

  Eddie fed a spark of rebellion. “You promised you’d tell me. Where is she?”

  Jacob leveled a burning gaze at him. “I’ll tell you where your mother is when I’m good and ready. Stop asking me every damn time we do this.”

  “You’ve been promising that for ten years.”

  “So?” Jacob swung the naked nurse into one of the beef carcasses, then waited for her to bounce back before pushing her again. “And during those ten years you’ve been up to your ass in this whole shtick.” Jacob pointed a finger at him. “Right?”

  Eddie closed his eyes, nodded his head.

  “I still remember that first little tasty piece you brought me.” He started swinging the woman again, back and forth, back and forth. “Little Eddie will do exactly what I tell him to do. Now get off your ass and get things ready. Milty Hiller will be here any minute. He’ll expect the packages to be sealed and ready for pick up.”

  The woman’s eyes fluttered, opened wide. “What?” She stared at them from her upside down position.

  “This is how you treat them. Watch!” Jacob spun the woman around and kicked her in the back of the head.

  “Please,” she pleaded, the word barely understandable. “Let me down. Please!”

  Another harsh bark of laughter cut through the room.

  The woman continued to spin. “Stop! Stop!” she screamed. “Please stop! I’ll do anything you want.”

  “You’re not fucking your way out of this, Ms. Nightingale.”

  High-pitched shrieks lanced Eddie St. Georges’ brain.

  ₪ CHAPTER 5

  Gina had backed out of their wedding again.

  Harry walked out on her Friday night after a horrendous fight, convinced she was never going to marry him. She’d never seen him so angry

  She spent the weekend hiding out in the movies. All she wanted was to forget her own problems, get lost in someone else’s story. But each time she left the theater’s cocoon and headed home, the reality that Harry might be gone forever hit her hard – her head ached, her stomach roiled, and her legs trembled.

  Monday morning, dressed and ready for work, she called her manager at the stroke of 8:00.

  “Lexie? Gina! I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

  “Really? I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with your derriere not being where it’s supposed to be on Wednesday morning.”

  “Sort of.”

  “Not one extra day off. That’s final!”

  “Not what I had in mind,” Gina said. “I’m home and available to work today, if you need me. But we have o talk later–“

  “Home?”

  “Like I said, we can talk later. Do you want me or don’t you?”

  “Gina, you know damn well the answer to that. It’s Monday!”

  * * *

  When Gina entered the Advice Center, her two co-workers were stunned into a rare silence. She said nothing as she slipped into her chair and began taking calls.

  “This is Gina. Yes, I do remember. We talked last week. You still have that infection? Even after you tried what I suggested? Guess we better bring you in and have a look. How about tomorrow at ten?”

  While she waited for the patient to check her schedule, she started entering notes in the computer.

  “Okay. Sorry things haven’t cleared up.” She said, clicked off, and said aloud, “I swear, if I have to talk to one more female about a yeast infection, I’m going to go bonkers.”

  “Yeah, you’re already bonkers,” Shelly said. “Besides, you’re supposed to be on your honeymoon, not here taking yeast infection calls.”

  “Cut to the chase, Mazzio,” Tina said. “What happened? Why no big, rosy I-got-fucked expression?”

  Tina and Shelly cocked their heads, waited for her to explain.

  “We didn’t get married. That’s it! What else do you need to know?”

  “So the Bronx bombshell really bombed, huh?”

  “Just like you to blame it on me, Tina. How do you know it wasn’t Harry’s fault?”

  “Give me a break,” Shelly said. “That guy would do anything for you.”

  “Admit it,” Tina said, “you don’t want to get hitched, no matter what kind of bullshit story you make up.”

  “You have such a professional way of expressing yourself.”

  “If you don’t grab that guy while the grabbin’s good, someone else is going to come along and steal him right out from under you … so to speak.”

  “Man, he can park his naked buns between my sheets any time,” Shelly said, shaking her shoulders to jiggle her ample breasts.

  “Don’t you guys ever listen to me? I’m seriously gun-shy about getting married again.”

  “Oh-oh!” Tina said. “I think we’re back in the middle of that boring, never-ending ‘Will Mazzio Ever Get Married Again’ soap opera. I can hear the violins now as you chatter on about the abusive ex-husband.”

  “You don’t know the whole story.”

  “So yo
u’ve been messed with, been through the wars,” Tina said. “It’s time to move on, baby.”

  “The milk of human kindness just gushes through those skinny veins of yours,” Gina snapped.

  Shelly pointed at Tina. “Hey, she’s got a point there, girl.”

  “So, maybe you’re both right.” The room turned silent except for Gina blowing her nose into a tissue.

  “It’s not that we don’t empathize with your past,” Shelly said, “it’s just that you keep living in it.”

  “I wish it were different, but when it comes to marriage, something always makes me turn and run.”

  “To hell with that,” Tina said. “Marry them and worry about it later.”

  “Stop, already.”

  “Madre de Dios.” Tina pretended to pull her hair out. “Why do you always have to be such a drama queen?”

  “Look, something creepy happened here Friday. It scared the bejesus out of me. And Harry was anything but supportive.”

  Gina swiveled back and forth, her chair squeaking, echoing in the room. After a couple of minutes, she got up. “I’m going to take the early break.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not,” Shelly said. “You’re not going anywhere until you finish telling us what happened.”

  She hesitated, reluctant to relive the moment. Both the women sat on the edge of their seats, staring intently at her.

  “Look, it was like a graveyard around here when I took my last call. This guy came on the line–“

  “Guy? Wouldn’t mind talking to a few more of those,” Tina interrupted. “At least the ones who aren’t calling for the little woman because he thinks the poor thing can’t handle herself.”

  “Let her tell the damn story,” Shelly said.

  “Believe me, I wish it’d been you here instead of me. This was one scary dude. He started right off talking about a woman being all cut up.”

  “All cut up?” Tina said.

  “That’s what the man said. Kept wanting to know my full name.”

  “God, you didn’t tell him, did you?”

  “I know you both think I’m nuts, but I’m not that nuts.”

  “Why didn’t you call for help?”

  “Like who? Lexie left on the stroke of five, and you know how this place is on a Friday evening – like a tomb. You two were out, I was here by myself. I don’t think there was a living soul in the whole clinic except me.”

  “Not even Security?”

  “Couldn’t get through.”

  “What about those over-paid pencil-pushers in Administration? “ Tina asked.

  “Hah! Their weekend starts at 4:55. Besides, I didn’t want to risk having to talk to Vasquez.”

  “Rumor has it the two of you don’t exactly get along,” Shelly said.

  “Damn straight. Our dear administrator would love to find a reason to fire me, won’t even look at me when we pass in the hallway.”

  “When all else fails,” Tina said, “there’s always la policia.”

  “Been there, done that. I spoke to a Detective Yee, but she didn’t seem terribly interested, brushed it off as a crank call.”

  “You should have pushed her harder,” Shelly said. “Cops are usually pretty helpful to nurses.”

  “It was late and I was in a rush to get home to Harry. I got rattled.”

  “Probably just some idiot jerking off,” Tina said.

  “Well, I told Harry about it. He thought it was a prank, too. Didn’t think it was worth worrying about.”

  “So that’s the reason you didn’t get married?” Shelly said.

  “Isn’t that reason enough?” Gina couldn’t look at either of them. Instead, she glanced at the call-waiting board. It was a sea of blinking red lights.

  Shelly leaned over and whispered, “I’m really fond of you, Gina Mazzio, but I gotta say, you confuse the hell out of me.”

  “Have you and Harry really broken up?” Tina said. “Like, forever?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Gina blew her nose again. She could barely get the words out: “I need him to believe in me. Or that I don’t need him at all.”

  * * *

  Gina clutched a damp tissue as she caught the elevator to the cafeteria, ripping mad that Tina and Shelly had treated her like an emotional lightweight. The fact that they found her mostly amusing was not amusing at all. It was damn insulting.

  And as for Tina? Gina wanted to treat her to a Bronx blue plate special – a whopping knuckle sandwich, with a dropkick on the side. Maybe that kind of indigestion might dull her appetite for flippant remarks.

  And what about Harry? Accusing her of making up an excuse, any excuse, just so they couldn’t get married? What was that all about?

  Asshole!

  She kicked hard at the wall of the empty elevator.

  Asshole!

  This wasn’t the first time Harry hadn’t seen eye-to-eye with her. He hadn’t exactly believed her when she thought her patient’s bone marrow was being held for ransom. And it still stung that he hadn’t backed her innovative ideas as the lead contract negotiator for the nurses’ union. He’d claimed she was being too aggressive, was making Vasquez and the hospital negotiators turn a deaf ear to the union’s requests. He suggested more than once that she should back off. Instead, she’d pushed even harder for the things the nurses wanted, particularly a comprehensive pre-school childcare package. And she’d won.

  Did she have to prove herself with every breath?

  Well, screw you, Harry Lucke.

  In the cafeteria, she grabbed a cup of coffee and whizzed through the line looking for a place to settle in.

  “Hey, over here, Gina. Grab a seat.” It was Arina Diaz.

  Gina wanted to be alone, to think about a life without Harry, to think about the nutcase who called Friday. But she smiled at Arina, who waved her to the table.

  Gina set her cup down and slipped into the chair opposite the Labor/Delivery Room nurse. It didn’t take long to realize Arina was also upset or why she wanted company.

  “Jorge just takes me for granted, Gina. Can you believe it? I moved away from my parents just so we could spend time alone. Only now I’m the one who’s alone.”

  Gina tried to look sympathetic, but her mind was on her own problems. She couldn’t come up with and appropriate response.

  “Hey, here I am running on and on about me when the word is that you married Harry Lucke over the weekend.”

  “It didn’t happen, Arina, no matter what you may have heard.” Gina’s voice caught in her throat.

  “You gotta be kidding! I’ve seen that hombre with you. He absolutely worships the ground you walk on. What happened?”

  Gina checked her watch, pretending to be on a short break. “Maybe when I have more time we can talk about it.”

  Arina looked disappointed, but smiled. “Let’s get together for lunch sometime. That would be cool.”

  “Ciao,” Gina said, barely making it out of the cafeteria before tears gushed down her cheeks.

  ₪ CHAPTER 6

  CHEMwest’s oval conference table spread out before Eddie St. George – a freshly polished, satin surface without a scratch or finger smudge on the solid teak. He jammed his sweaty palms underneath it and took a trio of deep breaths.

  The regional sales manager had yet to arrive and, in fact, he wasn’t due for another five minutes.

  The clock took on a stern face, shouted the current minute:

  7:55.

  Robert Merz would cross the threshold and take his place at the head of the table, primed and ready for his ritual Monday morning let’s-start-the-week-off-right meeting. The sales staff hated the mandatory get-togethers and the buzz was that most didn’t sleep well the night before.

  Everyone’s eyes watched the doorway as they topped off their coffee cups, stuffed last minute muffins or bagels into their mouths. Anything solid had to be finished before the boss arrived. No spitting mouths or loose food crumbs around his conference table.

  Eddie follo
wed the second hand’s smooth circuit, then watched everyone settle down as they got ready for the hammer of evaluation. Nothing new, just the usual monthly trash-your-performance-to-pieces.

  The room was getting hotter, the air foul with crackling fear, excitement, and ugly tentacles of sexual heat that smacked of raw competition. Scrutiny was the name of the game and Eddie hated the sense of doom that permeated the conference room.

  Why should I be nervous?

  He was one of those unique birds that flew in the upper stratosphere. No one was going to pull the rug from under him. The company’s monthly sales graphs, prominently displayed on two large easels, were there for everyone to see; they not only made him king of the mountain, but showed a reign of consistency that defied the competition. Rarely did anyone come close to the revenues he generated. He’d been awarded four free trips to anywhere in the world, and though he’d never taken advantage of these outstanding performance bonuses, he had taken a few free weekends to Vegas, New York, and Los Angeles. But it was no free ride for him –he paid a high price in verbal abuse from Father each time he dared to leave the Bay Area.

  Yes, his performance demanded a grudging respect from every sales rep in the room. And while they were all nice enough, he’d made it plain he didn’t want or need their friendship – and especially the questions that came with it.

  His stomach howled an audible growl; he searched the room to see if anyone heard or cared.

  No. Everyone was too caught up in his or her own thing to acknowledge anything that occurred beyond the space they occupied.

  St. George took more deep breaths and forced a casual glance at the four men and three women that made up the sales staff of CHEMwest-Northern California Region.

  All the reps were going into hyper drive – shifting in their seats, taking notes, repeatedly lining up pens and pencils, tapping fingers on their notepads, and laughing a little too loud, too often.

  7:57.

  Three more minutes and Regional Sales Manager Robert Merz would appear, take his seat and begin the two-hour session.

  St. George tried not to think about it, but his mind drifted to the last woman he’d snatched, taken to the shop. He couldn’t get her face out of his head.

 

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