Drake belted through my speakers about his lover coming over early in the morning for romance.
Mechanic’s call interrupted the song.
“She just pulled into a big place,” he said. “I can’t see the house from the road, but I can tell it’s a monster. Intercom system attached to the driveway columns. A ton of cameras sitting on top. I stayed back as much as I could, but I’m not sure if they got me or not.”
“What road are you on?”
“Sheridan.”
“Can you see the address from where you are?”
“Give me a sec. I’m gonna use my ’nocs. Place is a damn fortress. Ten thirty-five.”
He confirmed only what I had already suspected. Dr. Gunjan Patel was making a house call to Randolph Gerrigan.
43
CAROLINA CALLED ALMOST TWO hours into my watch. One more girl had gone down the walkway to the building. She was alone. No one had left. Dr. Weems’s Mercedes was still shining out back.
“That building is owned by Good Family Health LLC,” Carolina said. “It’s a Delaware-registered company that has a single proprietor. Her name is Dr. Patricia Whiting, with an address in Lincoln Park.”
“But owns a building in Wicker Park. I wonder what kind of doctor she is.”
“I’m one step ahead,” Carolina said. “Dr. Whiting is an obstetrician who specializes in high-risk pregnancies.”
“Is she a lone wolf or is she part of a medical group?”
“No academic appointments from what I can tell. But I found her name on some pro-life website.”
“She’s a crusader.”
“She is, but for the other team. She performs legal abortions.”
“Thus all the cameras, no signage, and the hidden entrance.”
Why was a big-time Gold Coast doctor like Weems working in this part of the city at an abortion clinic? Was it a coincidence that he’d had so many conversations with Tinsley and that she was pregnant? I suddenly started seeing things differently.
It made perfect sense that their relationship was based on more than art. Weems could’ve counseled Tinsley on abortion and given her access to an out-of-the-way place where she could have one performed. She’d had the abortion and then went away to recover but didn’t tell anyone. Her father, the emergency contact, knew about the pregnancy and abortion, which is why he was so calm about it all. Violet was the anxious one, the one who had taken it upon herself to hire me—and to fire me.
Which meant both parents knew what had happened to their daughter, had probably even been in touch with her. The pregnancy, the abortion—they wanted all of it to be buried.
It all started coming together.
“Are you still sitting outside?” Carolina said.
“For the time being.”
“Now what will you do?”
“Other than kick the door down like they do on TV?”
“Yes, other than that.”
“I’m gonna quiver another radiation and see if the spider moves.”
“THE GATE IS STARTING to roll back,” Mechanic said, checking back in.
It had been an hour since Dr. Patel had entered the Gerrigan compound.
“Did it just start?”
“Yup. It’s a damn big gate.”
“Whoever’s coming out won’t be there for another thirty seconds or so,” I said. “The driveway loops more than a quarter of a mile off the road. Can you get a good shot of the entrance with your phone?”
“Not really. I’m too far away. It’s grainy at full mag.”
“You have your big camera?”
“Sitting right beside my piece.”
“Whoever or whatever comes through that gate, I want you to shoot. That is, with the camera.”
“Just when I thought I was gonna have a little fun,” Mechanic said. “Hold on while I switch you to Bluetooth.” I heard him moving in the car, then a small crackle and whoosh of air. “Okay, I’m locked in with my camera,” he said. “I can see the nose of the Audi starting to come out the driveway.”
I could hear several clicks in rapid fire.
“She’s turning in my direction.”
Several more clicks.
“Will she be able to see you?” I asked.
“I’m parked behind a delivery truck,” he said. “Wait, there’s someone else in the car with her.”
I heard the shutter going off in rapid fire again.
“You sure they won’t be able to see you?” I asked.
“They’ll see the car, but not me.” Several more clicks. “Wait a sec. I’m putting the camera down.”
“Could you see the passenger?”
“It was a lady. White. Middle aged. Rich looking.”
“What did her hair look like?”
“She needs a new hair stylist.”
“Why?”
“Because one side was a lot longer than the other.”
“Jesus Christ! That’s Violet Gerrigan.”
“The girl’s mother?”
“Bingo.”
“But I thought the old man was messin’ around with the Indian doctor.”
“That’s what Burke told me.”
“And now the wife and mistress are sitting in the same car?”
“So it seems.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve never pretended to understand rich people.”
“I think she’s heading back to the expressway.”
“Don’t lose them. Call me back when you know something.”
I LOCKED THE CAR and walked toward the clinic. The wireless store was buzzing. I hugged the corner of the building, then hustled down the walkway. The door was locked. I pushed the intercom button.
“How can I help you?” a woman’s voice came back.
“I’m here to see Dr. Weems,” I said.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“It’s a personal matter. I’m here to repossess his car.”
“Repossess his car?”
“Yes, we have a crew on the way to tow it in the next fifteen minutes. Talking to him might save him a lot of embarrassment and a long walk home.”
“Sir, I can’t let you in without an appointment.”
“Then you’ll be nice enough to give Dr. Weems a ride back to Oak Park.”
“One minute, sir.”
It took more like three.
Her voice was a little more anxious this time. “He said to meet him in the back.”
Just as I was turning the corner, Dr. Weems walked out the back door, wearing a different set of scrubs. He frowned when he recognized me. I
