A Doctor-Nurse Encounter

“My dad was having an affair, and when my mom got sick he just up and left us for the other woman. Then he moved to Florida with the other woman and started a whole new family with her.” She paused as the waiter set down their dishes. “Mom was a nurse and Dad’s a doctor.”

“Oh. Do you want to share entrées?” When she nodded, he served her first and then himself. “When did your father leave? You said your mom died a year ago.”

“My dad left when my brother and I were teenagers. Guess he figured he’d owe less child support. Mom was diagnosed with cancer then, went into remission and had a relapse two years ago.”

“Ah, that explains the specialty in palliative care.”

“Am I that transparent? Why did you become a doctor?”

“The usual reasons.” He lifted a broad shoulder. “I know the nurse who runs your program, May Pritchard. How do you like it?”

And just like that, he had her describing the program and explaining how she was a medical assistant and decided to return to school. By the time she paid the fifteen-dollar bill plus tax and tip, she realized she didn’t know a damn thing about Dr. Nick Marino other than the paltry facts that he moved to California when he was eleven and became a doctor for “the usual reasons,” whatever that meant—probably money, judging by his specialty and lifestyle.

When they stepped off the elevator on their floor, Lacey extended her hand. “I’m going the other way to hit the ladies’ room. Thanks for all your help, Nick. I’ll probably be back in here a few more times, and then I’ll leave Dr. B’s office for his daughter to settle. Maybe I’ll see you around the hospital.”

“I hope so, Lacey.” He squeezed her hand and then disappeared around the corner.

She fished the key to the ladies’ room out of her purse and slid it into the lock. “I hope so” didn’t sound very promising, but then what did she expect? He probably listened to her go on about the nursing program because he felt sorry for her, or worse, he had an interest in May Pritchard, an attractive redhead.

As she washed her hands, the door swung open and Petra stepped into the restroom.

“How was your lunch?”

“It was fine. I wanted to repay Nick for coming to the rescue last night and helping me out today.”

“Just be careful.” Petra’s eyes met hers in the mirror.

“Be careful? I don’t have anything to worry about. I didn’t see the intruder’s face. I can’t identify him, and I doubt he could identify me.”

Petra rolled her eyes. “Not about that. I mean watch yourself with Nick. He’s a player. Total love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. He’ll date a woman two, maybe three times, and that’s it. Nobody gets close to Dr. Nick Marino.”

“I’m safe.” She swiped her lipstick across her lips with an unsteady hand. “I’m not interested in getting close.”

Lacey shoved out of the ladies’ room. The last thing she needed was another arrogant doctor in her life. She chose nursing because of Mom, but vowed not to make the same mistake as her mother by dating doctors. She worked with them—that’s it.

She turned the corner to find a cluster of people at the office doorway. Detective Chu and Nick looked up at the same time wearing matching frowns, only Nick looked more serious than the detective.

Lacey’s heart skittered in her chest, and she took a deep breath. Detective Chu probably just wanted the list of missing narcotics, but why had he shown up in person to get it?

“Did you come by for the inventory, Detective?” Lacey crossed her arms, hugging her purse to her chest.

“I’ll take it, but I think the killer may have been after more than drugs, Lacey.”

Her gaze darted to Nick, who stood stiffly beside her, his own arms crossed over his chest.

“H-how do you know?”

Detective Chu rubbed his jaw and expelled a breath. “Someone murdered Debbie Chase this morning.”

Chapter Three

“M-murdered?” Lacey took a step back and held up her hands, as if to ward off Detective Chu’s words…and their meaning.

Nick dug his fingers into his arms to keep from reaching out and holding her. Both she and the detective would find his response unwarranted and over the top, but Lacey didn’t know the menace that threatened her, and neither did Detective Chu. He had to keep her in the dark for her own safety.

Could he protect her and his brother, too?

“Oh, my God.” She covered her face with her hands. “How did Debbie die?”

“She was strangled.” Detective Chu lifted the police tape and ushered Lacey through, her fingers tracing the bruise on her throat. “Let’s go in here to discuss this.”

Nick followed them. He had to find out as much information as he could. Lacey’s life depended on it, and so did his brother’s.

“What does he want? It can’t be the drugs.” Lacey paced the carpet, twisting her hands in front of her.

“I’m not sure, but he’s definitely looking for something, and he’s desperate to find it. He tore apart Debbie’s house.”

“I guess he didn’t find it in the appointment book.”

Detective Chu looked up from his notes. “Appointment book?”

Nick sucked in a breath. How far would this investigation go? How far could he let it go? He didn’t want any more people to suffer, but he didn’t want the cops to get any more leads. He had to do this on his own. If only Dr. Buonfoglio’s secrets had died with him, but someone out there believed at least one of his surgical nurses shared those secrets. And what about Lacey?

He watched her as she told Chu everything she’d discovered today—the missing appointment book, Dr. B’s ransacked desk and the full inventory of drugs. She didn’t know anything, and Nick intended to keep it that way.

“So I thought it was odd. If the guy wanted drugs, why did he smash everything? What’s he looking for?” She spread her arms wide.

“Did the doctor have any enemies, any lawsuits going on? Any botched surgeries?” Chu tapped his notebook.

Snapping his fingers, Nick said, “Sometimes a patient believes something went wrong with the surgery, but doesn’t have a case for a lawsuit. Cosmetic surgery is subjective in many instances. It could be a patient, dissatisfied with his surgery, trying to get something on him.”

He wanted to steer Chu in as many wrong directions as possible. If he could just buy some time, he might be able to salvage the situation and protect everyone involved. Then he’d give the SFPD and the FBI just enough information to bring the killer—and those who hired him—to justice.

“It must be someone who’s familiar with the office. How would he know about Debbie and where she lived?” Lacey stopped wearing a hole in the carpet and clutched her stomach. “He’s watching me, too.”

“Someone’s watching you?” Chu asked.

“The eyes.” She waved her arms. “The eyes on my car last night.” She turned to Nick. “You did bring that piece of paper back up to Detective Chu after I left last night, didn’t you?”

Nick nodded. Even though he didn’t want to show those eyes to Chu, he’d given him the note.

“I’m going to be sick.” Lacey’s creamy complexion turned a waxy white as she clutched her midsection.

“Sit down.” Nick took one flailing arm and led Lacey to a chair. “I’ll get you some water.”

As Nick filled a disposable cup from the water dispenser, Detective Chu said, “We don’t know that, Lacey. That paper with the eyes could’ve come from anyone. We don’t even know if those were supposed to be eyes.”

She thanked Nick for the water and took a sip, the whiteness around her lips receding.

“They looked like eyes to me, Detective.” She shook her head, her silky dark hair falling over one shoulder. “He plans to watch me just as he watched Debbie, like he’s probably watching Jill. Am I next?”

“That depends on what you know, or what he thinks you know, and we’ve already contacted Jill Zombrotto to tell her to be careful.”

“This is all just speculation.” Nick jumped up between Detective Chu and Lacey. He had to stop this line of questioning. “It could just be some nut job, a disgruntled patient or the relative of one. Maybe Dr. Buonfoglio gave some woman a younger face and a breast augmentation and she left her husband for the cabana boy. Now her husband’s taking it out on the doctor and searched the office to make it look like a burglary.”

Detective Chu’s eyebrows shot up and Lacey’s jaw dropped as she stared at him. Okay, maybe he should back off, or he’d have Detective Chu investigating him. And he couldn’t have that. Ever.

“I think you’re stretching it, Nick.” Lacey’s brow creased. “What did Jill have to say? Did she seem to think Dr. B had something to hide?” Lacey’s knee bounced up and down, the water sloshing over the side of the paper cup and onto her jeans.

Chu’s lips twisted. “Actually, she had the same response as Dr. Marino—disgruntled patient.”

Nick massaged the back of his neck. Either that nurse had an active imagination or she had as much to hide as he did.

Detective Chu finished questioning Lacey, but she had nothing to add to the speculation.

Nick’s pulse quickened when Chu asked her about the special patients who slipped in and out of the office incognito.

“I don’t know much about them….” She stopped and smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I forgot. The guy broke into Dr. B’s locked filing cabinet, the one that contained the files for those special patients.”

The blood pounded in Nick’s ears as his heart hammered. He turned his back on Lacey and Chu and got some water, schooling the tension out of his tight face.

Chu asked, “Was anything missing?”

“Not that I could tell, but Deb…I mean Jill will have a better idea.”

Closing his eyes, Nick gulped the water and then took in a deep breath. Even though Dr. Buonfoglio lived life on the edge, there was no way he’d keep sensitive files in a locked filing cabinet in his office. Why had he kept those records at all?

“Can you do another search of Dr. Buonfoglio’s files to see if anything’s missing? We’ll have Ms. Zombrotto come into the office tomorrow and check out that filing cabinet. Maybe between the two of you, we can find out what this guy’s after.”

“C-can you offer any protection, Detective Chu?”

Lacey’s wide green eyes got wider, and her hands gripped the arms of the chair as if she was ready for takeoff. Nick’s gut twisted. Those bastards ruined lives, but he’d be damned if he’d let them touch anyone close to him again.

“I’m afraid we don’t have the manpower for that.” He stuffed his notebook back in his pocket. “Just be aware of your surroundings. Get the security guard to escort you down to your car. Officer Bennett will be stationed outside the office until you and Ms. Zombrotto finish your search of the files.”

Nick jumped to his feet. As if an unarmed security guard could protect her. He’d have to take his own measures. “If you’re ready to leave now, Lacey, I’ll walk you down.”

Her gaze darted around the room, and she pressed her fingers to her temples. “I think I will leave now. I’ll come back in tomorrow when Jill’s here, and we can look through Dr. B’s stuff together.”

After she locked her desk and gave Chu the inventory, they stepped into the hallway and Officer Bennett secured the door behind them.

“Wait here while I check in with my office.” Nick held up his hand, and then jogged to his office.

Zoe, his receptionist, looked up as he burst through the door. “Dr. Marino, are you coming back in? I canceled all your appointments.”

“No, I’m not in to see patients, but I’ll be back up to do some work and you can put calls through.” He strode to his office and slammed the door behind him. He plucked his jacket from the hook on the back of the door and shrugged into it. Then he crouched behind his desk, unlocking it, and pulled open the bottom drawer. He didn’t even check to see if the gun was loaded before slipping it into the pocket of his jacket. He always kept a loaded gun with him. Old habits died hard.

“I’ll be right back.” He waved to Zoe on his way out the door.

His shallow breathing returned to normal when he saw Lacey talking to the cop in front of Dr. Buonfoglio’s office. She obviously had no clue about the types of surgeries her boss occasionally performed, but the surgical nurses knew.

How long before the remaining nurse, Jill Zombrotto, spilled the beans to the cops, or worse, the FBI? She’d be in hot water herself, so maybe she’d decide to take her chances with the other side. Nick couldn’t allow her to take any chances.

He might just have to pay a visit to Jill Zombrotto himself.

LACEY STACKED THE LAST of the dinner dishes for one in the dishwasher and dried her hands. She left the pot of chili on the stove to cool off. Lifting her tea bag from her cup, she watched the droplets splash into the amber liquid as she inhaled the cinnamon scent. She eyed the open books on her kitchen table, and then skirted the table on her way to the worn, comfy sofa. She had to do some advance reading for her next class, which started in a week, but had zero concentration.

Just like that, half of the people she worked with were dead. Why? What secrets did Dr. B have that warranted murder?

Lacey curled her legs beneath her on the sofa as she wrapped her hands around her warm cup. Dr. Nick Marino had secrets, too. His dark eyes told a different story from the attractive, easygoing, playboy bachelor about town. They held wariness and pain.

She snorted into her cup. Like Dr. Perfect needs tea and sympathy from you. The wariness probably came from being on guard against lusty, gold-digging women. Now that she’d met Nick and broke bread with him, she totally got those women—not the gold-digging part but the lusty part.

When he walked her to the parking garage this afternoon, he dipped his head, his lips hovering so close to hers she almost expected a kiss, and despite her previous disdain for him, she wouldn’t have minded one bit.

At lunch he showed more humility than she expected. He spent the entire lunchtime questioning her, and didn’t once mention his burgeoning practice or his graduation from Stanford Medical School at the top of his class.

He took his guardian angel duties seriously, too, sort of like a knight in a white coat instead of on a white horse. Before she ducked into her car, he held her shoulders in a caress and told her to be careful.

She shook her head and slurped her tea. He probably loved this new role, which gave him the chance to play hero to all his adoring female fans.

The ringing phone halted any further thoughts about the mysterious Dr. Marino. She placed her cup on the coffee table, bounded up from the sofa and scooped the phone from the counter. “Hello?”

“Hi, Lacey, it’s Jill.”

“I’m so happy to hear your voice.” Lacey sank back onto the sofa and grabbed a pillow. “I tried to call you earlier when I heard about Debbie.”

“I—I was out all day. It just seemed safer.” Jill’s husky voice almost whispered across the phone line, sending a chill creeping along Lacey’s flesh.

“What do you mean, safer? Are you in danger?”

“We’re all in danger, Lacey, even you.”

“What’s this about, Jill?” She dug her fingernails into the pillow. “Who killed Dr. B and Debbie?”

Jill sobbed. “I shouldn’t tell you anything, but I can’t do this alone. You see, I have the key, not Debbie, not Dr. B. I have it.”

“What key?” Jill sounded an inch away from total hysteria. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I could give the key to Lacey. She doesn’t know anything. They won’t hurt her. She can give the key to the FBI. The FBI won’t punish her. She didn’t assist in the surgeries.”

“Jill.” Lacey’s voice was as sharp as the pain in the back of her head. She had to bring Jill back from the brink of panic. “Where’s the key, Jill? What does it unlock?”

“I keep it with me always, close to my heart. Can I give you the key, Lacey? They won’t hurt you. I promise. Or you can go on the run with me. I always wanted a daughter, but they wouldn’t let me. I could never have a family. You don’t have a family, either. We could be a family, Lacey.”

Through her tears, Jill babbled about keys and families and daughters, no longer forming coherent sentences.

“Jill? Hang up the phone and lie down.” Lacey spoke with a calmness her trembling hands belied. “I’m on my way over.”

With frightening clarity, Jill answered, “They’ll kill us. Pack your bag. We’re leaving tonight,” and then ended the call.

Lacey sat clutching the phone in her lap for a moment, her hands clammy and her mouth dry. The murders of Dr. B and Debbie had hit Jill hard…that’s all. The three of them had been together for years. Jill and Debbie didn’t have families. They put everything into their work, and naturally Jill felt the loss down to her bones.

That had to be it. Lacey didn’t want it to be anything more sinister. After the turbulence of her childhood, she’d plotted and planned her life carefully to follow an even course. Fate couldn’t play such a cruel joke on her.

Tossing the pillow to the side, she pushed off the sofa. She replaced the phone in the kitchen and dumped her tea in the sink. Time to act like a nurse.

She grabbed her jacket and dropped the sample pack of Xanax Nick gave her last night into her pocket. Jill needed it a lot more than she did.

The moist air caressed her face as she stepped off the porch of the little house in Sunset her mom bought after she and Dad sold the more luxurious digs in Nob Hill. Dad enjoyed all the flash and image. That’s why he left Mom for that young pharmaceutical saleswoman.

The heavy fog rolled off the bay, creating a damp curtain around her as she moved toward the Jetta parked on the street. She’d been to Jill’s apartment just once, but she’d looked up the address in her phone book, and its location just up from Fisherman’s Wharf would be easy to find.

Thirty-five minutes later, Lacey’s car rolled to a stop across the street from Jill’s apartment building. The fog, thicker down here, smelled of fish and brine, and she moved into its embrace as she approached the pink stucco building lit by floodlights. She found Jill’s name on one of the labels next to the dull gold buttons, which she jabbed with her finger.

Damn, no answer. Had Jill fallen into an exhausted sleep? Maybe she’d been drinking and passed out.

She stepped back and a sliver of light fell across her shoes. Her gaze tracked the light to a crack in the door where someone had wedged it open with a magazine. So much for security measures.

Lacey pushed open the door, slick with moisture, and wiped her hands on her jeans. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the lobby, musty like old shoes. The elevator doors creaked open. She stepped inside, punching the button to the third floor over and over, as if that could make the old car move faster.

The threadbare carpet in the corridor muffled her steps as she trailed a hand along the wall, peering at apartment numbers etched into brass plates on each door. She reached number 329 at the end of the hallway and tapped on the door. Silence.

If Jill didn’t answer, maybe she could get the manager to open the door. She could always claim to be Jill’s daughter. After that hysterical phone call, Lacey wanted to check on Jill even if she was sleeping.

She rapped one knuckle on the door while trying the doorknob. The handle turned and Lacey glanced down, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. If Jill was worried about her safety, why’d she leave her door unlocked?

A whisper of fear brushed the back of Lacey’s neck as she gripped the door handle. She put her ear to the door, hearing nothing but the resounding beat of her heart.

She nudged the door with her hip and poked her head inside. A Tiffany lamp burned brightly in the corner of the room, throwing triangles of color on the wall.

“Jill?” Lacey stepped into the room, leaving the front door open behind her. She tiptoed forward, sucking in a breath when she saw a desk drawer pulled open and papers scattered across the hardwood floor.

God, not again.

Somewhere in her head, a voice cried, “Run, run, run,” but her feet plodded one after the other, moving to another instinct that commanded her to help Jill.

An orange ball of fur rushed past her, skidding to a stop in the bathroom. The cat’s plaintive cries echoed throughout the apartment, bringing a rash of goose bumps to Lacey’s arms.

She hovered at the entrance to the short hallway, which branched into a bedroom, a bathroom and a closet, its door gaping open. She had a clear view of the bathroom and the orange tabby meowing on the tattered bath rug. The bedroom door stood ajar, an almost palpable menace oozing from its interior. Still her feet carried her forward. The door whined on its hinges as Lacey pushed it open.

Jill’s body lay sprawled across the bed, the chintz coverlet clutched in one fist, her eyes bulging from their sockets. Discoloration marked her neck, and her other hand lay across her breast, fingers inches from her throat and the silver chain she always wore.

Lacey brought one of her own fists to her mouth and pressed it against her lips as sour bile rose up her gut. She inched toward the bed and crouched beside it, careful not to disturb anything around Jill’s body. Just like she did in Dr. B’s office, Lacey felt for a pulse…and got the same result.

An intake of breath behind her stirred her hair, and a scream gathered in her lungs. Before the scream escaped her lips, a large hand clamped over her mouth, pressing the back of her head against a solid thigh.

She twisted her head and bit the hand that held her captive. The hand dropped, and she spun around on her knees, ready to launch out of the room when the intruder grabbed her arm.

“Lacey, it’s me.”

Her gaze flew to the stranger’s face, only he wasn’t a stranger at all. Dr. Perfect’s perfect features were gathered in a scowl as he sucked on his hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She jumped up to face him. “Jill’s dead, and you’re creeping around her apartment?”

“Shhh.” He gripped her shoulders, his fingers biting through her jacket into her flesh. “I’m not creeping around her apartment. I just got here.”

“So your first instinct is to sneak up behind me and clap your hand over my mouth?” She wrenched out of his grasp. “Why are you here?”

“That’s not important right now. What happened?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She spread her arms to encompass the disheveled bedroom. “The killer found Jill and murdered her, just like Dr. B, just like Debbie.”

Rocking back, she covered her face as the enormity of the situation hit her square in the jaw. Nick engulfed her in an embrace, and her head fell all too easily against his shoulder. His arms tightened around her as he rested his chin on top of her head. He smelled like soap and toothpaste and comfort.

She rubbed her nose against his denim shirt, leaving a wet smudge, and looked up into his face. “We have to call the police.”

“No!” His body stiffened. “Not yet.”

“What’s your problem?” She narrowed her eyes, pulling back from the reassurance of his arms. “At the very least, we have to get out of here. What if the killer comes back?”

“Let him try.” Nick lifted his shirt to reveal a gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

“Have you lost your mind?” She stumbled back, her legs wedging against Jill’s bed, all sense of comfort gobbled up by a wave of panic. “Why do you have a gun? Why are you even here?”

He closed his eyes and brushed a lock of dark hair back from his forehead. Blowing out a breath, he straightened his shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

“I’m here to save my brother’s life.”

Chapter Four

Confusion and mistrust mingled in Lacey’s face. Her words about her father at lunch hinted at her low opinion of doctors. Nick had to work twice as hard to win her trust, and he knew instinctively the charm he tried diligently to cultivate for the phony life he led wouldn’t do the job. Honesty and sincerity would win the day with Lacey Kirk, but he had very little of those qualities to share right now.