“He hasn’t treated anyone since Vito Dacosta went inside,” I tell them. Every breath leaves me panting for more air. There’s a nucleus of pain pulsing in my back. I think the little shit hit me in the kidney.
“Really?” Morningside asks. “That’s funny because we got a call from Verducci, who says the doc treated someone important to the family. We just want to know how that all worked out since we can’t seem to find him.”
“Who can’t you find? Ronan or the someone important to the family?” I ask.
That earns me a punch to the face and Oliver grabbing me by the hand.
“Wait, I’m left-handed. That’s my surgical hand.” I tell him with hope he’ll let me go, but Oliver grins as he snaps my middle finger backward and out of the socket. I clench my teeth before biting down on the top of my arm to muffle my screams of pain.
I hate to give them this much of a reaction, but showing pain, restrained or not, gives the appearance I’m not a threat. I won’t retaliate until I know more about these men. The last thing I need is a third front to fight in this war; Verducci, Gemma’s past, and San Francisco P.D.?
No. I need to be smart about this.
Morningside persists. “Now that we have your attention, doc. We’re looking for FrankieandRonan, but Frankie will do. We want to know where he went last night, and we want to know now.”
He nudges his chin toward Oliver who is ready to dislocate more of my fingers. I can’t have this happen. I won’t be able to throw a punch at this rate.
I blow out a deep exhale while talking through the pain and trying to keep my thoughts straight. “Wait a minute, you said last night? As in Monday night, last night?”
“Yes. Verducci got a message from Frankie he was going to see the doc last night,” Oliver reiterates.
I know that can’t be, because Frankie is chum, floating in the ocean or in the gullet of some shark, but this is good. I find myself smiling. “Frankie must have gone to see someone else then because Ronan’s been out of town since Saturday. Has anyone spoken to Vito Dacosta?”
I’m fishing for information and only hope to stop these officers from doing any more damage to me or my hands.
“Vito’s been inside for months now,” Oliver scoffs. “No one listens to him. He’s not in charge. He was killing his own guys and thinks that Verducci is going to honor his position—”
Morningside shuts his partner up with a glare and shifts his steely gaze to me. “Why should we speak to Vito?”
I shrug. “Because you asked about Verducci. Ronan doesn’t do work for Don Verducci, which is probably why Frankie never made it in here. You can look around. Call a forensics team out here to check for Frankie’s blood. This is the only place Ronan would treat anyone like that because it’s his family’s facility. Vito might ask what’s happening that Frankie needs to see his doctor.”
The officers exchange glances as if that might cause a problem for them, or Verducci. I press my hunch further.
“I think Vito Dacosta might find it interesting how Verducci is using his,” I pause to look them up and down, while ignoring the pain shooting up my arm and to my shoulder, “well-paid private police officers to search for someone who stirred up so much trouble he needed his private doctor. If Frankie’s making waves, maybe you’re looking for Frankie to make him stop so things can go back to business as usual, to Verducci keeping Vito in the dark about what’s really happening out here?”
Morningside pulls Oliver to the side and I’m thankful to have that walking boulder step away from me. A part of me wants to slink into the exam room to grab one of the many guns Ronan keeps stashed around here. But a bent middle finger will make holding the gun and pulling the trigger cumbersome.
They step back over to me and Morningside shoves his hands in his pockets. “Okay, so if you were taking Ronan’s patients, then you could have treated Frankie.”
“I was at home last night and you can verify that with the security guards or at my condo’s management office. I didn’t leave, and I damn sure didn’t come here.”
It’s a lie, but the slight truth is that I wasn’t here, and I didn’t treat Frankie. That bit will save me from enduring more pain at their hands.
I continue, “But, if I were Frankie and needed to see Ronan, that would mean I’m pretty bad off. I’d go see another doc, or if I could stand it, I’d probably get out of town if someone’s trying to hurt me, or worse. No one calls Ronan after hours for something they can’t take care of themselves.”
“Alright, doc,” Morningside says. “Keep this conversation between us and um, Oliver, apologize for breaking the guy’s finger.”
“It’s alright, no apologies necessary. Accidents happen. I’ll take care of it,” I tell them.
Morningside nods and Oliver leaves as he says, “We’re going to look into a few things, but if we find out that Frankie was here—”
“I can assure you he’s never been a patient here, legitimate or otherwise.”
The men leave, but moments later the bells chime above the clinic door. It’s not Camilla, but Casper instead. Relief actually washes over me as I don’t want to deal with Camilla’s temper for the trouble we’ve been causing at the clinic these past few days.
“Don’t tell me I missed all the fun, doc,” Casper says with a smile and hand above the holstered gun on his hip.
“Sorry, brother, but all is well,” I tell him.