Page 46 of Drake Eternal

Sam Cuttington.

The bitch who tried to break us up. In league with Claire…

Was that her in the photo?

Did she take that photo and send it to me to torment me?

I checked the name of the sender, and it was from a Gmail account with the handle RiotGrrl21.

I googled RiotGrrl21 to see if anyone used it online and came up with a few hits on Instagram and a couple of Facebook profiles. None had an image of a blonde woman attached so I wasn’t sure who had sent it. I decided to google Sam Cuttington and check out her past but didn’t get very far. She didn’t have a big digital footprint that I could find easily.

I’d have to do some more sleuthing to satisfy my curiosity.

My morbid curiosity.

I did some more searching for RiotGrrl21, but to no avail. How could I know which RiotGrrl sent the messages?

I sat on the sofa, my laptop open, hoping that I’d find a message from Drake that would explain everything.

CHAPTER 16

Michael came in the limo with me. On the way, we had a good laugh about our times together and how many times we’d worked the same cases and commiserated afterward over a glass of beer or in my case, a shot of vodka.

“I’m so glad you could come and help out,” he said, shaking his head. “Of all the surgeons I’ve worked with over the years, and there have been many, you were the first one I considered. I knew I was asking a lot of you, given you have a young daughter and an older son with special needs, not to mention a beautiful wife. But I also knew I could count on you to help in a crisis. So, this is me thanking you one more time.”

I smiled and nodded. “I could never say no to you, Michael. Not in a crisis. Hell, I could never say no to you not in a crisis. You need me, I’m there. You’ve been there for me over the years. I’ll never forget that. Plus, it’s what my father would do. Anywhere, everywhere, right away if there was need.”

He exhaled. “Dear Liam. How I miss the heroic bastard.”

We said nothing for a moment, both of us thinking of my father and how he was a hero in every sense of the word, working at the drop of a hat for Doctors Without Borders when he could have kept a very lucrative and sane schedule at his practice in the United States.

Dying because he was so committed to answering the call in any emergency and his plane crashed on an emergency call.

I hoped I inherited some of his character. In comparison to him, I had a pretty easy life, so far. Yes, there had been a few difficult experiences, but I’d lived a better life than most humans who ever lived on the planet, and I tried not to forget it, even when I had to face adversity.

“I miss him, too. Pretty much think of him every day at some point.”

Michael smiled. “That’s the think about your loved ones, parents, children. Brothers. Sisters. They’re always with you, even if only in your memories.”

We arrived back at the hotel, and I thanked my driver, gave him an extra big tip and asked him to wait around for Michael’s return trip when our little party was over.

He tipped his hat and opened the door for us.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay up with you and the crew,” I said, yawning as we entered the front of the hotel. “I could fall asleep standing up.”

“Not tonight you won’t,” he said. “Just one drink to celebrate. I had a response from two of my top contenders, who have accepted my offer. Unfortunately, they won’t be able to start until the beginning of next month, so I hope you can agree to stay on until then. I know,” he said and stopped me, his hand on my shoulder. “I know I said a month or less, but that’s the easiest they could start, given existing contracts. You understand…”

I sighed. I’d been hoping that my stay at the hospital in Nairobi would be over in two weeks at most, but this meant a whole month.

“I said I’d do it, and I will,” I replied and put my hand on his shoulder. “Kate is leaving New York tomorrow, and so at least she and Sophie will be here to keep me company when I’m done at the hospital.”

“Good, good. I can’t wait to see them both again. Right now, I’m parched. Let’s get a drink, shall we?”

“Lead on, Macduff.”

He laughed at my reference to Shakespeare’s play Macbeth.

He stopped. “You realize that in the play, Macduff kills Macbeth, and that the actual quote is ‘Lay on, Macduff,’ right?”

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