Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
It was like fate one day when we realized a certain doctor was in debt to our family for almost fifty grand that he was never going to be able to pay back with his bleeding heart job at a clinic in a low-income area.
So, we’d… made him an offer.
Which was a nice way of saying that Renzo leaned on him until he agreed to allow any of us to come into the clinic whenever we needed treatment. Without anything ever ending up on paper or in their systems.
As far as I knew, this was the first time we’d needed to use his services. Hence his anxiety. Maybe he was worried that if he screwed up, it would be his kneecaps we came after.
I stood back, letting the doctor work on the woman, Elizabeth’s, arm as I wrapped my head around what little information she’d given me.
She worked for a senator.
That slimy bastard who had too much filler in his face, tanned himself to leather, and wore hilariously obvious lifts.
And, for some reason, she was the target for assassination, not the senator.
“Okay. You are all fixed up,” Dr. Conti said, snapping off his gloves. “I put in dissolving stitches, so you don’t need to come back to get them removed. You should try to keep them dry for the first day or two. And try to keep them covered in sterile gauze,” he went on, getting little nods from Elizabeth, but it was clear to me that everything was going over her head; she was too overwhelmed for instructions. “After that, you can gently wash them for another day or two. After that, just wash as normal.”
“Okay, thank you,” she said, nodding.
“Does she have to worry about infection?” I asked.
“If she keeps it clean and covered, probably not. But keep an eye for any puffiness or especially any sort of oozing. If you see that, come right back in to see me, and we will go from there.”
“And pain?” I asked when she continued to just sit there, a little zoned out.
“Over-the-counter meds will likely be enough,” Dr. Conti said. “But if you don’t feel that it is,” he rushed to add, eyes going wide, “let me know. Anytime.”
“Okay. Thanks, doctor,” I said, jerking my chin toward the door.
He took the hint and left.
“Don’t they need my insurance card?” Elizabeth asked, looking over at me with scrunched brows.
“No, it’s all covered,” I assured her.
“That makes no sense,” she decided as she started to slide off the table.
“Whoa,” I said, rushing forward to grab her arm when she teetered on her feet. “Let’s get you out of here, okay?” I asked, holding onto her as I led her back out of the clinic.
“Thanks,” she said numbly as I got in the car and pulled away from the curb.
“Elizabeth, we need to go somewhere to talk. Where do you want to go? A coffee shop? Your apartment?”
“Shouldn’t I be talking to the police?” she asked instead of answering, her gaze looking out the window, seeming a million miles away.
I reached into her purse, finding her wallet, and checking out her address on her license, then heading in that direction while she continued to zone out.
“Miss Riley,” her doorman greeted her, all affability as he went for the door, until he saw the blood on her clothes. “Are you alright?”
“Brian,” Elizabeth said, forcing a painfully fake smile. “Yes. Just an, ah, accident,” she said as we moved into the lobby of her building.
It was a luxe place with wide-plank slate floors, a wooden front desk with massive, pristine mirrors, a seated area with rounded couches, and a bunch of lush greenery that actually looked real.
This kind of place cost a pretty penny.
I didn’t know what, exactly, Elizabeth did for the senator, but she seemed to be paid well.
She led me to the elevators, pushing the button for the sixth floor, clearly still not fully herself, because I couldn’t imagine she would normally just bring a stranger right into her apartment.
It was a nice apartment, too. New hardwood floors, views of the city, a balcony, a nice-sized living room that melted into an all-white and marble kitchen.
Down the hall, it looked like there were two bedrooms.
Elizabeth liked to keep the place light and bright. The windows only had sheers, and they were pulled wide to allow the light to stream in on her off-white living room furniture, and giving lots of sunlight to her giant houseplants.
She had a framed TV across from her couch and chair set, the screen set to switch between different John William Waterhouse paintings. Below it was a line of white bookshelves with glass doors, all the spines turned inward, so all you saw were the cream pages.
The only things in the whole apartment that didn’t fit her very clean aesthetic were the cat scratch post, cat tree, and several beds.