It was a fair question. “He’s helping me with something.”
“You could have asked me.”
“No. I couldn’t.”
Maggie could ask Chow because she didn’t care about him. She didn’t care about Ballantine. She still cared about her father.
“What did you promise him?”
“Enough to keep him happy, not enough to let him retire.” Maggie snapped her gum. “It wouldn’t be a problem if he lost it down the line.”
Paddy Quinn studied his daughter again. “Okay. But I won’t pull it away when you’re done with him. You give your word, you keep it.”
Maggie nodded. “Thank you.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
“You need to stop her. Now!” Marcus paced the floor of Morris Pavlak’s office.
“I told you, there is nothing I can do. There is no evidence that Maggie Quinn is responsible.”
“Of course, she’s responsible. Look at this.” Galen tossed down flyers with his photo on them. “She has a website for God’s sake.”
“Marcus, we haven’t been able to prove a connection. I told you that. And we’ve had the site disabled.”
“Not when I looked this morning.”
“I’ll have someone check it again.”
“That’s another day people will be seeing lies.” Galen was livid. The site had his picture, names of victims, a bulletin board to post messages. An interactive map where users could log sightings of the cardiac surgeon. “This is ridiculous.”
“It’s a joke, Marcus. The kid who set it up did it as a joke after he saw the flyer.”
“If you don’t start getting results, I’ll be getting a new attorney.”
“Marcus…”
“I’m serious. This is my reputation, Morris. This is my life and I will not have some lunatic playing games with it. If you don’t do something about it, I will.”
“Look, we’ve got bigger fish to fry. There are rumblings about a witness. Would you know anything about that?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Morris. No one could’ve seen me because I didn’t do anything.” Galen was silent. “Maybe this will clear everything up.”
“Maybe.”
“What’s this person’s name?”
“Bobby Ballantine. He’s in Joliet on unrelated charges.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Bobby Ballantine hated prison. He hated the food, hated the beds. But most of all, he hated the toilets. Every American should be able to take a good shit in solitude, but that wouldn’t be happening for the next three to five years. Three to five. Un-fucking-believable. And after what he saw. Fucking lawyers. None of them believed his story. No one cared. So, Bobby got three to five in Stateville. Hopefully, the time would go by fast.
Damn, if he’d just been more careful, he would still be free. Free to shit without anyone watching. But Bobby needed to scratch his itch. Business was brisk and he was smoking the meth profits a little too quickly. He barely had enough cooking supplies for a single crystal, let alone what was needed to fill his customers’ orders for the week. If he hadn’t been so desperate, Bobby never would’ve hit that last hospital. He never would’ve run or resisted arrest. But he did, so here he was. Back in Stateville and in the midst of a well-supervised withdrawal from his drug of choice. God, he hated prison. Well, at least there were worse things than working in the laundry. At least they had a toilet with a fucking door.
“How’s tricks, Bobby?” The voice was low and mean.
“Tricks are tricks,” he said, recognizing the big man who stood before him. “What can I do for you, Chow?”
“Oh, there’s so much you can do for me.” Chow’s lips parted as he ran his tongue over them. Two other men stepped from behind the huge dryers.
A chill ran through Bobby. He didn’t need this. This was his second time in prison. He managed to dodge every approach on his first stretch by making friends with the right people. It wasn’t easy, but he did it. Now Bobby Ballantine was faced with a situation he knew he’d never win. He made a dash as Chow reached out for him. Huge arms grabbed the little man from behind. Bobby tried to scream, but a pair of dirty shorts was shoved into his mouth as he was pushed to the floor. The men began to laugh.
God, Bobby thought, I hate prison.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Maggie drank a protein shake as she checked the computer. There was time to shower before lunch. Half an hour on the treadmill today and weights. She was exhausted after running, but made herself complete the weight rotation anyway. A force of will, she kept telling herself. Rayney was her will before. Now there was just Maggie.
It had been a productive couple of days. Nick was finally meeting with Ballantine. They would have their witness. The website was up and running and very effective. She sent her friend of a friend of a friend a few extra bucks for the kid who built it. The teenager did a first rate job. Too bad the site would probably be disabled again by the end of the day. It didn’t matter. The e-mails she ordered would be on their way by then and there would certainly be a response to them.
Maggie checked the website map to see where the doctor was last sighted. “Where’s Marcus?” flew up on the screen. Galen wore a stupid grin and a white and red striped stocking cap. Maggie smiled. Yeah, the kid deserved a few extra bucks for that one. It must be eating Galen alive.
Her push was simple. Marcus Galen valued his reputation, so Maggie would take it away. He valued his social position, so that had to go, too. His ability to control his destiny. Gone. Every emotion pivotal to his personality was a target. Every support holding up his pitiful being would be kicked out. Maggie knew her opponent, knew him for what he really was, and she would take him apart, bit by bit. There were enough “friends of friends” and enough money. And Maggie Quinn could easily do it all from 500 feet.
“Marcus,” the voice caught the surgeon by surprise.
“Yes, Ben.” Galen was in his scrubs, headed to surgery and not in the mood to talk to Ben Parish. Parish was chief of staff at St. Andrew. He was reasonable enough, but not an extremely skilled surgeon. Clearly his place was in administration.
“I’m wondering when we can find a slot of time,” Parish asked. “To talk.”
“What do you need? Lecture, mentoring?”
“Actually,” the man stumbled. “There’s been some repercussions from this whole police issue.”
“We’ve talked about this, Ben. It’s complete nonsense. This woman, she just targeted me and…”
“Yes, well, some of our patients have received e-mails…”
“What?”
“E-mails. Not exactly complimentary ones.”
Galen boiled. “I can imagine.”
“Now, I’m sure we can clear this up, but right now we have quite a few people requesting other cardiac surgeons. I’ve discussed it with the board and…”
“This is ridiculous. This woman, Maggie Quinn. She is simply trying to tarnish my reputation. Don’t you see? If you give my patients referrals, you’re letting her win. She’ll keep on doing this kind of thing because she knows it works.”
“I’m sorry, Marcus, but I have to think of the hospital. This is just temporary. I’m going to give out the referrals. We do that or we lose the patients. Give us a block of your time and we’ll sit down and figure out how to run damage control.”
“This is unacceptable,” Marcus bellowed. “You expect me to sit by while you hand my patients to inferior surgeons?”
“Dr. Galen, we have a staff of extremely qualified cardiac surgeons. You aren’t the only…”
“I’m the best you have and I will not let my patients be turned over to other surgeons. Is that clear?”
Parish glared at the man blustering in his face. “I run this department, Doctor, and I will do what is be
st for this hospital. Is that clear?”
Galen was silent as the chief of staff stormed out of the doctor’s lounge. He picked up his cell phone and dialed.
“Stop now!”
“Stop what?” Maggie smiled as she lay back in the sun.
“You’re ruining me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. The website. The flyers.”
“And where’s your proof, Marcus? Where’s your evidence? No evidence, no case. Isn’t that how it goes?”
“You bitch.” Galen struggled to keep his foot from slamming into the locker door.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to hang up if you keep using that kind of language.” Maggie turned over to watch the people passing the window.
“You fu…”
Click.
How dare she? How dare that woman hang up on him! Marcus Galen was about to redial when someone knocked on the locker room door.
“Dr. Galen, we’re waiting,” the nurse called.
“I’ll be there,” the surgeon yelled as he threw his cell phone into the locker and slammed the door.
Four hours later, Marcus Galen sat in a bar he’d never seen before. The name didn’t matter. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t matter what he was drinking or that he should be at the hospital. Nothing mattered. He almost lost a patient. A simple quadruple bypass and he made a bad cut. The fifty-three year-old man started bleeding out. The assisting surgeon made the save while Marcus Galen just watched. Watched the man’s blood fill his chest cavity. Galen never froze in surgery before. Never. He certainly never made a bad cut. Fortunately, the patient didn’t die. He was in stable condition now, but there would be questions and the chief of staff would certainly be handing out referrals. How could this have happened?
Quinn. Maggie Quinn. The woman wouldn’t stop and his lawyer wasn’t doing anything. Marcus was on his own. Fortunately, he was a man of many resources.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
“What do you mean he doesn’t know anything?” Maggie snapped into the phone. It was the third time she threw the words at Dublowski.
“Look, I go out to Joliet, talk to Ballantine. He says he doesn’t know shit. Nothing.” Nick sounded tired and frustrated. “Doesn’t have any idea who Angela Murphy is.”
“He’s lying.”
“Jesus, Maggie, the guy’s a meth addict. Who knows what he’s lying about. Maybe he lied when he said he did know something. Bottom line is I don’t have time for fucking around.”
“This is…” Maggie stopped herself. “You’re right. It’s okay. The guy was probably lying.”
“I gotta go. I’ll call later,” Nick said.
Maggie threw the phone on the desk. “Bullshit,” she said.
After a moment of thinking, she made a call. “Yeah, Joe. It’s Maggie. Sorry to bug you at home, but I need a favor.”
Maggie paced the hall outside the small visitation cell at Stateville. She patted her shirt pocket to make sure the pack was still there. Joe was giving her fifteen minutes. That’s all he could risk. She’d have to work fast. Maggie popped a fresh piece of gum and pushed the door open.
“Bobby,” she smiled, walking casually into the room.
Maggie grabbed the pack from her pocket, smacked out a cigarette, then threw the remaining Camels onto the table. They hit and slid, landing a few inches from Ballantine. Earlier, Joe tossed the man’s room and removed his smokes. Bobby licked his lips as she struck a match.
“So, how’s life been treating you?” Maggie asked taking a drag. She felt a little light-headed as she blew smoke at the man across the table. Her stomach suddenly rebelled. Maggie swallowed and put the cigarette in the ashtray near Ballantine.
The small man shifted in the chair. “I still don’t give a fuck.”
“Too bad. I still need information.”
“Who the fuck are you anyway?”
“I’m a friend of Chow’s.”
Ballantine’s face blanched. He fidgeted, hand reaching for the cigarettes. Maggie pulled them out of reach.
“What do you want?”
“Same thing I wanted before. Angela Murphy. What do you know?” She picked up the Camel and sent a ring of smoke swirling above Ballantine’s head. Her stomach balked again, but Maggie willed it to stay still.
“What?” Bobby laughed nervously as he inhaled, trying to catch a buzz from the smoke swirling lazily in the air. “Look, I don’t know nothing. Zip.”
Maggie took another dizzying drag and buried Ballantine in a wall of smoke. “So, Bobby, how’s your love life?”
The silence echoed. Maggie looked up in time to see the arrow hit its mark. Ballantine couldn’t pull the right emotion to surface. Anger, shame, torment, indignity. They all took a turn.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really. Word is you’re pretty popular with the fellas.” She added just enough of a smile to embarrass a man like Ballantine.
“Fuck you.”
“Yeah, well I don’t think that’ll be happening any time soon. You, on the other hand…” She snubbed the cigarette out on the floor.
“Shut up.”
“Sure, Bobby. Anything you say.” Maggie paused. “I hear Friday’s a big night on your block.”
Ballantine ground his teeth.
“What do you know, Bobby? What did you see?”
“I didn’t see anything. Nothing.” Ballantine’s voice cracked. His knuckles were white as he gripped the side of the table. The wheezing of his lungs was the only sound in the room.
“Okay, then. Say hello to Chow.” She puckered her lips and blew him a kiss.
“I’ll kill you, you bitch.” Bobby was on his feet. “I’ll fucking kill you.”
The prisoner flew across the table at Maggie. The next thing he felt was slapping on both sides of his neck. He went down, stunned, struggling for air as his cheek slid against the table. His right arm was pulled at a painful angle tightly against his back.
“You told the police you didn’t know anything about Angela Murphy?” she whispered in his ear. “I don’t believe you.”
“I’m gonna fucking kill you.”
Her breasts jiggled against his back as she laughed. “And when are you gonna find time for that, Bobby? Sounds like your dance card’s full.”
Ballantine struggled for a moment. He knew there was no escape, but he needed to try. “Look, I was lying. I don’t know anything. I was just...” Ballantine fumbled. God, he wished he’d never seen any of it. He wished he never went to that place that day. He wished a lot of things. “I just wanted to cut my time, you know. I was lying. I swear. I was lying.”
“Well, then consider Chow punishment for wasting everybody’s time.” She leaned closer, her warm breath in his ear. “Last chance, Bobby. Five minutes and back to the block, back to Chow.”
He tried to swallow. “I’m dead. I’m fucking dead.”
“You wanted to be a big man, make a name,” Maggie said. “Well, you got it.”
Ballantine squeezed his eyes shut as tears ran down his cheek. “You don’t know. You got no fucking idea about Chow and his boys. It’s not going to stop. It won’t stop. It’s serious commitment, man.”
“Commitment?” Maggie pushed Ballantine further into the woodwork. “Open your eyes. Look!”
The prisoner opened his eyes and saw the scar on Maggie’s forearm.
“You see this?”
Ballantine nodded.
“This is commitment. Whenever you think of that word, you remember this.” She pushed his nose against the red line running down her white arm. “Whenever you try to imagine what I will or will not do, remember this. This is fucking
commitment. Understand?” Maggie smelled a hint of urine as she applied more pressure. “Do you understand?”
Ballantine tried to gather enough spit to wet his lips. “I can’t. I can’t…”
“Don’t lie to me,” Maggie whispered as she pushed her body against his.
“He’ll fucking kill me. Chow’s going to kill me.” The man broke down. His whole body jerked with sobs. “He said he’d kill me if I gave you what you wanted.”
Shit. Maggie was hoping the slice she offered Chow would keep him from screwing her. She was wrong. “He won’t kill you. I’ll make sure of it,” Maggie whispered as she released the weeping man and patted him softly on the back. “What do you know?”
“I…” The veins on Ballantine’s neck stood at attention. “I can’t…”
“Sure you can, Bobby.” She sat down and pushed the pack of cigarettes close to him. Bobby struggled to get one out, but failed. Maggie slapped out a cigarette, lit it, and passed it to the man. “You know Paddy Quinn?”
Ballantine nodded.
“Those scars on Chow’s face... my dad had that done.” Quinn paused. “Angela Murphy’s killer. What did he look like?”
Bobby paused, his brain spinning. “He’s tall.”
“So’s Michael Jordan.”
Ballantine took a drag, holding the smoke for several seconds.
“Six-one, six-two?” Maggie offered.
Bobby nodded.
“White?”
Bobby nodded.
“Brown hair?”
Bobby nodded.
“What was he wearing? Blue scrubs?”
“Yeah, scrubs. Like at County.”
Bobby took a long drag off the cigarette. Maggie nodded, grabbed the pack of Camels and tossed them to him.
“Where were you?”
“At the hospital,” he said quickly.
“How’d you get in without anyone seeing you?”
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