Part 2 (2/2)
”By killing that man, you not only saved me and yourself, but all the other people in there he might have shot, or the police he might have fired on when they arrived.”
”I never thought of that. I was just afraid he'd hurt me.”
”You did good, Leah DeGarmo. And your secret is safe with me. I owe you my life. It's the least I can do.”
Leah felt tears come to her eyes. Something about the man made her feel like she could trust him. And it wasn't just that he was a police officer. There was a warmth to him, a sincerity that touched her heart. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but she settled for giving his hand a squeeze before reluctantly pulling away.
”Thank you. I'm still so paranoid about it. That's why I could never work in a clinic with other vets. I couldn't let anyone know.”
”You're a smart girl, Leah. Even if the government didn't try to turn you into some kind of science project, there are a lot of shady characters out there who'd love to get their hands on a weapon like you.”
Leah jerked back in her chair. ”Weapon? Me?”
He nodded, his soulful eyes-bedroom eyes, her grandmother would have called them-very serious. ”You've only been thinking about the healing part. But there's the other side of the coin. You could kill or injure people without anyone knowing. The perfect murder: touch someone today and next week they die of cancer.”
A chill ran through her body that had nothing to do with the air-conditioning. ”I never... I wouldn't do that.”
John shrugged. ”You can't say what you'd do if someone had a gun to your head or was holding your family hostage. If anything, I'd suggest you be even more careful about using your power in front of anyone.”
His warning barely registered on her brain; she was still reeling from the idea of being used as an unwilling a.s.sa.s.sin.
”You're right,” she whispered. ”I'll try not to use it.”
But in her heart she knew it was impossible. There was no way she could let animals die when they didn't need to.
From the way John was looking at her, she knew he didn't believe her any more than she believed herself.
Chapter Four.
Emilio Suarez ducked down below the window sill as the two people in the veterinary clinic stood up. He hadn't been able to hear more than a few words, but as far as he was concerned it didn't matter. He had his proof. Why else would the lady vet and the cop from the shooting be meeting if it not to talk about how she'd healed him?
From the s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation that he'd caught, it wasn't the first time she'd done something like this. Now he finally had something positive to tell Nova.
Maybe he'd even get a bonus.
And if not, well, there were other people who'd be interested in this as well. People who might have a different idea of what to do with Dr. DeGarmo.
Staying in a crouch, he moved around to the back of the building so he could use his cell phone without being heard.
”It's me.” He knew better than to use names. ”I heard her telling that cop what she did. It's for real, man. I think she's 'splaining to him how it works, but I can't hear nuthin' through the gla.s.s. What you want me to do?”
Secretly, he was hoping Nova would tell him to grab the girl and force the information out of her. Questioning her would have some serious side benefits. He'd never seen a vet that fine when he was growing up in Brooklyn; in his opinion she should have been dancing on a pole instead of sticking thermometers up dogs' a.s.ses.
So it was a disappointment when Nova instructed him to do nothing.
”Continue to watch her. If it looks like she's going to talk to someone from the press, make the person disappear, but under no circ.u.mstances reveal yourself to the doctor or harm her in any way.”
”You got it.” No matter what his feelings, he knew better than to disobey Tal Nova. No one did that.
Not if they wanted to live.
Still staying below eye level, he returned to his car to wait for the lady vet to leave.
As he watched her through his binoculars, he slowly rubbed his crotch with his free hand and wondered how she'd look nailed to a cross.
Leonard Marsh leaned back in his oversized leather chair and looked out the window. The wide, bullet- and soundproof gla.s.s panes of his twenty-fifth floor office offered a panoramic view of the Hudson River from Eightieth Street to Fifty-Sixth. In the last rays of the setting sun, the river resembled a fresh watercolor on a heavy canvas, the pastel reds, oranges, purples and golds melting together at the edges, each ripple frozen in mid-crest by the artist's brush.
”So, what do you want to do with her?” Tal Nova's deep voice broke the silence.
Marsh swiveled the chair around so he was facing the other occupant in his office. Tal Nova stood six feet four and weighed just over two hundred forty pounds. Looking at him, it wasn't hard to believe he'd been a star football player in college. What would be difficult to understand was why he'd turned down a career with the Arizona Cardinals after being drafted in the first round.
Leonard Marsh was one of only four people in the world who'd ever found out the answer to that question; he was one of only two still alive.
”You know me well, my friend,” Marsh said to his Vice President of Business Affairs.
”Well enough to know you don't sit back and watch things happen.” Tal took a seat on the other side of Marsh's wide mahogany desk and opened a fresh stick of cinnamon gum. Since quitting smoking three years earlier, he'd become as addicted to the sharp burn of the gum as he'd been to the bitter taste of the tobacco.
Marsh allowed himself a chuckle. ”Quite right. You don't get anywhere in life by watching the world go by. You've got to grab what you want and make it yours.” He punctuated his words by s.n.a.t.c.hing an imaginary prize from the air. ”My father taught me that.”
”And you had him killed.”
”He just happened to be in the way of what I wanted.” Marsh spread his arms, indicating the expansive office. ”What can I say? I learned my lessons well.”
”So what do you want this time?” Tal asked, the bemused expression on his dark-as-night face evidence that his question was a rhetorical one. His smooth-shaved head reflected the soft lights in the room as he leaned forward.
”I want the girl, obviously,” Marsh said. ”But I can't take the word of a low-level thief. I need hard evidence before I act.”
”I presume that's where I come in.”
Marsh pointed a finger at his a.s.sociate. ”Right again. It's your job to provide me with facts. I want to see this 'miracle worker' in action before I get my hopes up.”
Tal stood up, his wide, muscular frame impressive and threatening, even in the custom-tailored charcoal suit he wore like a second skin, as comfortable in the expensive clothes as he'd ever been in a football uniform.
”No problem, boss. I'll take care of it.” With a flick of his fingers he tossed his empty gum wrapper into the small garbage can next to the minibar and exited through the door that led to his adjoining office.
Leonard Marsh returned to his contemplation of the evening view. White and green lights moved up the river as a private yacht returned from its travels farther up the Hudson. On the far side of the water, the lights of New Jersey sparkled like captured stars.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the window and frowned. Even the semitransparent reflection couldn't hide the growing signs of his illness: the sallow complexion, the dark smudges and baggy flesh under his eyes. In the two months since being diagnosed, it looked like he'd aged ten years beyond his previously healthy sixty.
And what his reflection revealed was just the tip of the iceberg; deep inside him even more radical changes were occurring as his body succ.u.mbed to the onslaught of the invading cells.
Hepatocellular carcinoma. He could still hear the doctor's words, delivered so matter-of-factly. He'd gone to the specialist after his internist had diagnosed his sore back as an inflamed liver.
<script>