Page 84 of Tough Justice

No. She shook her head, refusing to go down the track her thoughts were taking.

From everything she’d seen on the news and read about, bigtime drug dealers were rich and flaunted it.

Wil drove a Nissan, a practical, inexpensive car. He didn’t live in a McMansion or wear expensive watches. The only thing he talked about spending money on were his vacations, and he often joked he had to save up for those, even with his salary. Still, a patient was dead, and Wil may have lied to her. Whether it was about his involvement or to cover for Ethan, she didn’t know. And then there was what she’d overheard outside Deck’s hospital room. Someone nicknamed “the doc” had informed the Loveland dealer that the DEA was coming. This was the same person who had put the hit out on Deck.

But that didn’t automatically mean that Wil was the leak. The doctor, if they even were one, was more likely someone who’d gotten their doctorate in chemistry or pharmacology or toxicology or any other field actually useful to creating and manufacturing designer drugs.

Neil and Max, however, certainly fit the flashy rich doctor role.

Neil in particular had been talking with Leslie Batista before the warrant, and Leslie had been Deck’s source for information about the dealer, Jack. Neil had said they were “just chatting,” but he could have been pumping Leslie for information about her drug source. He could have warned the dealer to close up shop until further notice.

But how would he have known Deck was planning on talking to Leslie in the first place? She’d never told Neil she’d been assisting the DEA. Then again, hospitals were like real-life soap operas. Within these white walls, gossip traveled at light speed. Would Wil have said anything to anyone? She didn’t believe he’d do anything directly or indirectly to hurt her. He’d been a great friend to her and Suzie.

Suzie, with her expensive new ring Tori knew her friend and her fiancé couldn’t afford.

Worry and uncertainty roiled in her belly to the point of nausea. These were medical professionals, all of them. They’d dedicated their lives to helping make people better, not harming them.

Paranoia crept through her, but at least she recognized it for what it was. She needed to be rational about all this. If she was totally wrong, everything would be fine. If she kept her mouth shut and didn’t vent her suspicions, the results could be catastrophic. She was in no position to handle this, nor could she stomach investigating her own friends and colleagues. She had to leave it to the professionals.

She had to tell Deck.

Tori charged for the door, opening it and slamming into someone. Neil Shibowsky.

He clutched her upper arms, steadying her. She tried twisting away, but he wouldn’t let her. Over his shoulder, she caught David Landry pushing a stretcher. On top of that stretcher was a sheet-covered body. Damon Sanchez. David smiled in greeting but kept going.

“Tori,” Neil said cheerfully. “What a coincidence. I was looking for you. I wanted to talk to you about one of the patients you helped Wil with. Leslie Batista.”

His fingers dug deeper into her arms. What interest could Neil have in Leslie Batista? Except finding out what she’d told Deck about her drug source.

“Not now,” she managed. “I-I’m not feeling well. I just need some air.”

“I’ll go with you,” he insisted. “We can talk outside.”

“No.” She shrugged from his grasp. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Really, I’m fine.” She speed-walked down the corridor, hitting the button for the door leading to the registration desk then kept right on going outside to the parking lot. What she needed was a place to be alone and think.

She headed for her car. Some thoughtless idiot had parked too close to the driver’s side for her to squeeze in. She went to the passenger side and pulled out her keys. Luckily, she kept her car key on the same ring as her hospital key chain. She hit the button to unlock the door and opened it.

Swallowing hard, she cued up Deck’s number. After their last conversation, he might not take her call. Four rings later, his voicemail kicked in.

“Deck, it’s Tori. I’m at work, but I need to tell you some things.” Starting with how sorry she was. Two nurses walked past, waving. She waved then turned her back to the hospital doors, moving more into the shadow next to her Subaru. “I can’t be sure, but I think you should look into some of the doctors on staff here at North Metro and one of the orderlies. One of them may be the drug source you’re looking for. The first is Dr. Neil Shibowsky. He was the doctor talking to Leslie Batista when we walked in on them, and there was no reason he should have been there. He could have gotten information about the Loveland warrant from her.”

A lump of grief formed in her throat, so big she could barely get the words out. “And something strange happened in the ER tonight. I overheard an injured patient accuse two other doctors of giving him something that nearly killed him in Sheridan. That patient died from a heart attack not half an hour later, and he shouldn’t have. His name is Damon Sanchez. I think you should check it out. I hope I’m wrong, I really do. I, um…inadvertently told one of these doctors about the Loveland warrant. His name is—”

Tori’s stomach clenched to the point of pain. Am I really doing this? She moved her hand to her abdomen when her charm bracelet caught on a corner of the open door and broke, falling to the pavement. She bent to retrieve it but stopped as something sharp pricked her neck.

“Ouch.” She pressed two fingers to the sting. The Subaru wavered before her eyes. She reached out to regain her balance. “Deck…”

The phone was no longer in her hand.

She blinked and started to fall. Then the world faded to black.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Deck’s muscles screamed as he pushed through another rep. Sweat poured off his face and down his chest, soaking his T-shirt. He’d been cleared for active duty but was supplementing his PT with late-night workouts to get his shoulder back to full strength.

T-Lo was still in the wind, and Deck was itching to put the habeas grabbus on the guy and lock him up for attempted murder of a federal agent. Then there was the Big D, the unidentified doctor they were really after.

Over ten thousand people in the state of Colorado could legitimately call themselves a medical doctor. Then there were the PhDs and other non-medical doctors. This person might not be a doctor of any kind. It could be nothing more than a nickname.