‘I’d rather not say.’
Celeste let two beats pass. ‘I can’t see Allison doing anything unethical.’
‘Allison might have gotten involved with very bad people – they might have forced her to take the data.’
She lobbed a test at him. ‘Then call the police.’
He failed. ‘We’d prefer not to-’
‘Of course. Hospitals hate scandal. They hate dirty laundry.’
He gave her a frown that suggested he’d underestimated her. ‘Sangre de Cristo has nothing to hide, and we’ve already reported the theft,’ he backpedaled.
‘If she stole it, what reason would she have to leave it here? I don’t think you’ve thought this through, Doctor Hurley.’
He leaned back from her, pride clearly stung – he was not a good poker player.
‘May I call you Celeste? I feel as if I know you from your TV days.’ He dumped sugar in his tone now. ‘I must know if she left anything with you. For safekeeping. You’re not betraying her trust if you help me.’
‘No. She brought nothing but her briefcase.’ Celeste kept her voice steady. ‘She sat in the same chair you’re sitting in and we talked and she left.’ Celeste decided to play the trump card, see how he reacted; it would either prove or disprove Miles’s theory. ‘Wait. I was finishing up a late lunch when she stopped by, and she asked to borrow my computer. She was expecting an important e-mail and wanted to check her account on the Web.’
‘Were you with her?’
‘I don’t stand over people’s shoulders while they read their e-mail. She was alone for about five, ten minutes, while I finished eating.’
His face paled, his lips tightened, and he seemed to be steadying himself for an unwelcome task. ‘I appreciate your honesty, Celeste. But I suspect I have unwelcome news. Those pills she took back from you. Were they white?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m afraid you’ll need to come to the hospital with me.’
‘No. I’m agoraphobic. I don’t leave my house.’
‘You were given medications that could have interacted badly with your other meds,’ he said. ‘We need to get you tested.’
‘No.’
‘I can sedate you, if you prefer. But I must insist. For your own good.’
‘No.’
A shift in his eyes and she was afraid of him, now; he wore the simmering glare of a child unused to refusal. He stood, tented his hands. ‘Celeste. This is a medical emergency, and I can compel you to come with me…’
‘I said no.’
‘You can’t take care of yourself at home. You’re not better, you’re worse. Just imagine’ – and he took a step toward her – ‘you started cutting yourself again, really bad, and just imagine I found you, bleeding, suicidal…’
And then the soft click of a gun. Miles stood behind Hurley, Celeste’s gun at the doctor’s head. ‘And just imagine you sit down and start talking.’
Hurley froze.
Miles shoved Hurley back onto the couch. ‘Do no harm is supposed to be your motto. It’s sure as hell not mine.’
‘You’re making a mistake,’ Hurley said.
‘It doesn’t feel like a mistake,’ Miles said. ‘You okay?’
Celeste nodded.
‘If you’re interested in the white pills,’ Miles said, ‘I can help you.’
Hurley said, ‘I hope we can work out a deal.’
‘The deal is you answer my questions, I don’t blow your brains out,’ Miles said. Celeste got up from the chair, retreated toward the kitchen. ‘That’s the deal, Doctor Dolittle.’
‘You already have Frost, if you’re Allison Vance’s partner,’ Hurley said. ‘I’m not sure what else you can negotiate for.’
‘Tell me the truth about Frost.’ He put the gun close to Hurley’s head.
‘Medicine to tranquilize those suffering from PTSD. It makes the trauma bearable, so therapy can be more effective.’
Miles glanced at Celeste. ‘These white pills, they make you sleepy?’
She shook her head. ‘Not sleepy. Calm.’
‘Allison had you take one before therapy, right?’ Hurley said.
Celeste nodded.
‘That’s right. It dulls the traumatic memory so that the person can talk about the trauma more easily.’ Hurley said.
‘But Celeste and Nathan Ruiz didn’t know they were being tested.’
Hurley didn’t answer and Miles prodded him with the gun. ‘No one knows. I didn’t know she was giving it to Celeste.’
‘Where is Nathan Ruiz?’
‘He – he escaped from us. We’ve had no word from him. I suppose he’s hiding. Or dead.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘He’s dangerous, you know, to himself, to you if he gets a chance.’
‘The medicine’s not helping him?’
Hurley shrugged.
‘Who’s the guy who’s hunting me?’
‘I’ll tell you,’ Hurley said, ‘if you give me Frost. Listen, you want to take down that guy, I’ll give you a bonus. He’s crazy. No offense.’
‘None taken,’ Miles said. ‘You’re trying to tell me he’s not on your side.’
Hurley nodded. ‘I’ll help you so you can get rid of him. I’ll set it up. But you give me Frost.’ Hurley attempted a smile; an awful, frightened flex. ‘He’s not going to let you walk. He’ll kill you for it.’
‘I don’t have Frost.’
Hope lit Hurley’s eyes. ‘Were the files burned up with Allison?’
‘I don’t know. What’s on these files?’
‘All the research notes, the chemical formulae, videos of the patients during the testing, everything to prove Frost is effective.’ Hurley shook his head. ‘If you really don’t have Frost, then you played the wrong bluff with him. He’s sure you do.’
‘Who is he?’
‘I don’t have a reason to help you now.’
Miles frowned. ‘Celeste. Please go into the other room. Close the door. I’ll use the silencer. It shouldn’t be too bad.’ He winked at her.
Her eyes wide, Celeste shook her head. ‘Don’t kill him. Please. Don’t.’
‘Have to. He won’t tell me what we need to know.’
She shook her head, not understanding his bluff. Then he winked twice again. And she got quiet. ‘If you have to.’ She hurried into the kitchen.
‘You and I are not sitting across from a negotiating table, Doctor,’ Miles said. ‘I’m sitting with a gun at your head. Now. Answer my questions. Who’s hunting me?’
TWENTY-SEVEN
‘My name is DeShawn Pitts,’ the tall man said, shaking Groote’s hand. ‘I’m with the U.S. Marshals Service and I need to talk to you regarding a person of interest.’
Groote noticed Pitts wore finger braces on his left hand – two fingers broken – and his bruised face announced he’d been on the losing end of a recent fight.
