by Hamel, B. B.
“We should go,” I hissed.
“Not yet.” He started pulling open drawers. “Haven’t found anything suspicious.”
“What are you looking for, anyway?”
“Financial documents. I don’t know.” He opened the bottom left drawer, reached in, and took something out. His eyes went wide as he held up what looked like a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills. “Or a ton of cash.”
I stared at the bundle and neither of us spoke for a beat. It was a thick stack, and I guessed it was at least a few thousand dollars, maybe as much as ten grand. He weighed it in his hands like the idol of an ancient god before shoving it back into place and yanking open another drawer.
I was tempted to go in and help. Maria’s office wasn’t exactly large, and was taken up by the massive desk, a couple chairs, some filing cabinets, and bookshelves. Every conceivable space was covered with tchotchkes, mugs, statues, books and folders and papers in all shapes and sizes. He finished opening the drawers then gave me a look.
“Check outside,” he said, nodding with his chin as he turned toward the bookshelf behind him.
I stepped back into the waiting area and craned my neck around the corner. I froze, blood going frozen, when I spotted Maria’s secretary talking with a young, dark-haired man casually over at the far end of the aisle.
I slipped back and shoved my head into the office. “The secretary. She’s back.”
His eyes went wide. “Right now?”
“Yes, right now. Get the hell out of there.”
He jumped out from behind the desk and hurried toward me. We moved back into the main waiting room area, and he peered around the corner and down the hall before pulling back.
“Shit,” he said.
“Come on, this way.” I hesitated at the corner, took a deep breath, then walked forward, angling for the opposite side of the cube farm.
Dean followed behind me, and we acted like we belonged, walking with purpose but not hurrying. A sudden move might catch her attention, and she might report to Maria that she saw the two of us lurking around. I glanced over in her direction before I disappeared behind the safety of the cube, and caught sight of her still engaged in conversation, smiling at something he’d said and laughing a little too loudly.
I smiled a bit as I strode away. Seemed like she had a crush on that guy, which was lucky for us.
Dean stayed with me, and we passed a few more people working in their cubes, but nobody bothered to look up. They might’ve wondered why a doctor and a nurse were wandering around the admin area, and I didn’t want anyone asking questions.
We reached the elevators, punched the call button, and waited. Neither of us spoke, and I shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable and anxious. I wanted to get the hell out of here before—
The doors slid open, and Maria stood in the back of the elevator car, staring down at her phone. She stepped forward then stopped, a look of surprise flashing across her face when she spotted me and Dean standing side by side.
“Dr. Coarse,” she said. “Ms. Royle. What are you two doing up here?”
I completely froze. I stared at her and my mind felt like an engine that refused to turn over. I couldn’t come up with a single reason why the hell we’d be in the admin section of the building, not during a shift. I’d never been up in here before, and as far as I knew, staff usually didn’t mingle with administrators.
Dean stepped forward and a dazzling, charming smile spread across his face. “Maria, perfect, we were just looking for you.”
She tilted her head and stepped off the elevator. “What can I do for you two?”
“We were discussing billing for a patient and I thought I’d bring it directly to you.”
She glanced at me and I plastered a stupid smile on my lips. “Dr. Coarse here disagrees with certain… decisions.” I was about as vague as it got, but whatever, I was panicking.
“Right,” Maria said slowly. “Okay, sure, but I’m not really the person you’d want to talk to. You need to go to the billing department.”
“Ah, right, well, I was hoping I could go over their heads.” Dean gave her another charming smirk and leaned closer. “You’re much more efficient.”
She smiled back and I honestly couldn’t believe she was buying his shit. “That’s definitely true.”
“So what do you say, got a second to help us out?”
“Sorry, I wish I could, but you really need to take it to billing. They’ll handle whatever problem you guys have, okay?”
Dean made a show of sighing dramatically. “Fine, okay. I appreciate it anyway, Maria.”
“Right. Good luck.” She gave me an odd smile then looked back at her phone and strode off.
Dean smashed the call button and the doors opened immediately. We stepped inside and rode it back down.
I let out a shaky breath and stared up at him. “That was good.”
“Thanks.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. “That was too damn close though.”
“I thought you said she’d be busy.”
“I thought she would be.” He grunted and looked down at me. “Now she knows we were up there.”
“She won’t know.”
“You’re probably right.” He tilted his head. “Thanks for coming along. You saved my ass.”
“I freaked out mostly. You did all the hard work.”
He shrugged and draped an arm across my shoulders. I was too surprised to pull away. “We make a good team,” he said. The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and he removed his arm. He stepped out into the hall, then turned and held the doors open. “You should give me your number.”
“My phone number?”
“We need to talk.” He glanced to the side. “Somewhere away from the hospital.”
“Business only. This isn’t an invitation to call me whenever you want.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I hesitated, then sighed and rattled my number off. He took out his phone, typed it in, and sent me a text. I watched him walk off without a word, hurrying toward—wherever the hell he was supposed to be, probably on rounds.
I lingered before hitting the button for the lower floor and watched the door slide shut.
That was, without a doubt, the dumbest thing I’d ever done in my whole life, but my heart was still racing and I felt like I was buzzing off the adrenaline of almost getting caught, and that touch at the end—so innocent, almost a friendly hug—drove me wild with something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Dean was going to be trouble, I knew it, and yet I wanted that trouble.
4
Dean
I spent the rest of that afternoon thinking about that office.
It was a typical office. Awards, papers, little statues, pictures of her family—a sister, maybe a nephew, her parents—all the crap you’d imagine would be there.
Except for the stack of hundred-dollar bills.
I hadn’t gotten to go through the rest of it as thoroughly as I wanted. The filing cabinet remained untouched, and I figured that if there were going to be any incriminating documents, they’d be stuck inside. We got interrupted way faster than I expected.
I thought I had that all planned out. Maria’s calendar was public, sitting there for anyone to find if they felt like looking for it, and I knew the secretary always took lunch around then because that was when I ate lunch down in the cafeteria. I’d see her sitting alone, reading a book, eating soup, almost every single day. And yet today had been different.
It was a close call, but that money kept bothering me. Why the hell did a hospital administrator have so much cash lying around in her desk? It made no sense, and I couldn’t think up a plausible reason for it, unless that guy had given it to her the other night, and she hadn’t had a chance to deposit it yet.
Or maybe she wouldn’t deposit it at all. Once it went into a bank, the feds could track it, but cash was almost invisible.
I resisted the temptation to
text Fiona that night, ignored her at the hospital the next day even though our shifts lined up again, and finally called her that evening as I stood out on my tiny cramped concrete balcony that overlooked Rittenhouse. She answered on the second ring, sounding harried and tired.
“I hope this is business,” she said.
“Nice to hear from you, too.”
She sighed. “I just got home. It was a long day.”
“I bet it was. Want to talk about it?”
“Not with you.”
I laughed. “Come on. How about over dinner?”
She didn’t speak for a long moment. “I don’t date doctors.”
“It’s not a date.” I paused, looking out over the street, at the people moving down below me. “We need to talk.”
“Fine,” she said, sounding put out, as if dinner with me would be so bad. “When and where?”
“An hour, there’s a place called Tria Cafe.”
“I know it. Fancy little place.”
“I’m buying.”
“Works for me. See you soon.”
I was tempted to tell her to wear something cute for me, but I figured that would only piss her off—although it wasn’t exactly hard to drive her wild. Fiona had a temper unlike anyone I’d ever met, but she was fiercely protective of her patients and she was a damn good nurse, so she pretty much got away with being a total spitfire. I liked that she stood up to me and all the other doctors, and I loved that she didn’t take shit from anyone, but it did make this a little more difficult.
She suspected my intentions, and that wasn’t easy to get past.
Then again, my intentions weren’t entirely pure.
I showered and got dressed. I decided to go casual, but put on my nice leather jacket, and a good shirt. I spent a little more time in the mirror than I normally did, and had to remind myself that this wasn’t a date, a fact that I was sure Fiona would immediately mention the first chance she got. I had a small drink then headed out into the cool evening air, breathing deep the car exhaust and Philly slime. Couples ambled past me, walking their yappy white dogs, men bundled in black overcoats, women in chic jackets and expensive handbags, and I was reminded that I lived in one of the more affluent areas of the city. It was hard to imagine that crime and grift and theft existed in a place like this—but the rich were as corrupt as anyone else, even more so.
The rich were good at keeping their money, and getting more than their fair share.
Tria was packed, but I knew the hostess. She was the daughter of one of my patients, a kind older man with a neurological issues, mostly relating to motor functions, and I suspected he might be heading toward Alzheimer’s, but I hadn’t told them that yet, not until I was sure.
“Just you tonight, doctor?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Meeting someone.”
Her eyebrows raised. She was a small girl, thick dark hair, big, beautiful eyebrows. “You’re on a date?”
“Not exactly.”
“Good. I hoped you were saving yourself for me.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Sorry, Melissa, you know I don’t date patients.”
“But I’m not the patient.”
“Fair point. Are you trying to get me to bribe you for a table?”
She leaned closer. “I’d never, ever do that.”
“Good.” I smiled again, feeling slightly uncomfortably and waiting for the moment to pass. She turned again then waved me on. There was a single high-top table left in the far corner. I took a seat, she put a menu down, then waved and headed back to her tiny station at the front.
I ordered a whiskey. Fiona showed up ten minutes later, and I sat up straighter as she waded into the crowd. She practically glowed, somehow standing apart from the affluent dinner crowd in a conservative white blouse and dark jacket, her auburn hair down in long curls over one shoulder. I felt my heart rush as she came toward me, our eyes locking for a moment before she sat down, her back straight, head tilted to the side.
“Wasn’t sure you’d show up,” I said. “You look good.”
“Thanks. Wasn’t sure I’d come.”
“I’m glad you did. Want something to drink?”
She nodded and I flagged down the waitress. She asked for a white wine, and when it came, she took a long sip, leaning back in her chair. The group behind her laughed loudly, and there were several intense conversations happening at the bar, but I couldn’t pay attention to anything but her.
I leaned forward, and she leaned toward me.
“Why would a hospital administrator have that much cash in her desk drawer?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t either. I keep thinking about it though.”
“Maybe she’s going on vacation.”
“Maybe.” I clucked my tongue and shook my head. “But she would’ve scheduled that months in advance. There’s nothing on her calendar.”
“You have her calendar?”
I gave her a look. “It’s public.”
She sighed and shook her head. “I should’ve thought of that.”
“Probably.”
She gave me a look. The waitress returned, asked if we wanted food, then headed off when Fiona said no, and I shook my head. I sipped my whiskey and placed it down, turning it in slow circles on its edge.
“Maybe she doesn’t trust banks,” Fiona said.
“Or maybe that guy left it for her.”
“That’s another strong possibility.” She shifted in her seat then leaned closer, her voice dropping softer. I had to tilt my head to catch what she was saying. “Are we doing the right thing here? I mean, this is bizarre, right?”
“It’s bizarre,” I agreed. “But something’s up. You’re not backing down, are you?”
“Of course not. I’m just…” She trailed off, biting her lip.
“What?”
“I worked hard to get where I am.”
“I can understand that.”
“No, you can’t.” She gave me a look then sighed, drank some wine, and put the glass back down. “I was in an accident, when I was a teenager. A really bad accident that nearly paralyzed me, and left me with some… lasting damage.”
I arched an eyebrow and resisted the urge to go into full-on doctor mode. I wanted to ask the extent of her injuries, what her lasting damage was, how she was coping with it now, maybe suggest some rehabilitation—but held my tongue. She was a smart person, and if there was something she could do for herself, she’d do it.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Wasn’t easy finishing high school, much less getting through college and nursing school. And landing this job was a goddamn fight.” She laughed a little, shaking her head. “Who would have thought that a spot at Mercy would be so competitive.”
“We know it’s a shitshow, but it doesn’t seem that way from the outside.”
“Exactly. So it’s just, I don’t want to risk losing what I’ve worked hard for.”
I finished my whiskey and nodded slowly. “I know what you mean. I don’t want you to get into trouble, believe me. If you want to walk away, I won’t hold it against you.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” Her eyes got hard as she sat up straight again. “I just want you to know the stakes. It’s not some game we’re playing, okay? We’re not pretending to be detectives.”
“Lives are at stake,” I said.
“Exactly.”
We sat like that for a moment. I ordered another whiskey from the waitress, and took a long drink when she came back with it. Fiona looked away and I thought I saw a sadness inside of her that I’d never noticed before—probably because she masked it so well with that temper of hers. I wondered about that accident, but pushed away the questions.
“I don’t want to push you into anything. I know what you mean about overcoming things, working hard for things.”
She flashed me a look. “Yeah? Do you? Mr. Handsome young doctor.”
I laughed. “Thank you for calling me handsome, but it’s true. I was an army kid, growing up.”
Her expression softened. “You moved around a lot?”
“I went to five different high schools. Split my senior year in half. That was pretty miserable.”
“Must’ve been hard.”
“I managed. Probably wasn’t as bad as what you went through. I had difficult parents, though, a father that wasn’t exactly supportive, and was pissed when I decided not to join the marines and went to college instead.”
“He was disappointed you wanted to be a doctor?” She arched an eyebrow, showing a hint of surprise.
“Believe it or not,” I said, shrugging. I could still see my father’s face when I told him I wasn’t enlisting, and wanted to become a doctor instead. It was pure anger and disappointment, like I’d told him that I wanted to murder a classroom full of toddlers. He looked at me like I was a monster, like I was less than human, like he’d treated me my whole life.
“I can’t really imagine that.”
“He thought a career in the military was the most honorable and noble thing a person could do. He brought me up thinking I’d follow in his footsteps, but that was never something I wanted, not after watching how it warped him into the miserable, rotten asshole he became.”
She grimaced slightly. “That sounds horrible.”
I let out a breath and held up a hand. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that and unloaded on you.”
“It’s fine, really. I’m sort of just realizing that I don’t really know anything about you, aside from your specialty.”
“And I don’t know much about you, either.”
“How about this.” She gave me a look, finished her wine, and pressed her lips together. “If we’re going to follow through with this thing, let’s do it together. No more coming up with a plan then yanking me along at the last second.”
“Fair enough, but no more acting like I’m the enemy.”
Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. “I’m not acting like—” She caught herself before she finished and took a breath. “All right, fine.”
“It’s a deal then.” I held out my hand.