Chapter 52
“This is going to sound weird, so bear with me,” Dr. Parker said.
I knew exactly where this was going.
"Is there some new kind of drug on the streets? Something I'm missing?”
"There is a new drug on the street," I said, “but that's not what this is.”
"If you know what it is, please tell me, ‘cause I'm stumped. And this guy doesn't have long."
"Is the patient six feet, bald, with a face like a boxer?”
“How’d you know?”
“I'll be right there." It sounded like the guy Doug had described.
I ended the call and gave Jack a quick overview. We hustled out of the station and sped to the emergency room.
The waiting room was packed. The sickly green fluorescents cast an ominous glow over the would-be patients.
There were broken bones, runny noses, and nasty coughs.
The air had the antiseptic smell of bleach, alcohol swabs, and misery.
This was not a place where you wanted to spend an inordinate amount of time.
I flashed my badge at the front desk. "Dr. Parker's expecting me.”
The receptionist made an announcement over the loudspeaker. "Dr. Parker to the front desk. Dr. Parker to the front desk."
A few moments later, Dr. Parker burst through the double doors and stepped into the lobby to greet us. He wore teal scrubs, and his surgical mask hung around his neck. "Care to tell me what's going on?”
“I need to see the patient’s blood work and toxicology,” I said.
Parker balked. "No. That's protected health information. I can't share that with you. I've already shared too much with you about this patient, but I'm afraid he's gonna die if I don't get some answers.”
"I need to see him. Ask a few questions.”
Parker considered it for a moment. "Make it quick.”
He led us back through the double doors, navigating a maze of hallways, past patient rooms. Nurses scurried about. The blip of heart monitors filtered into the hallways. There were moans of agony, mixed with the tinny, metallic scent of blood. Everyone looked overworked and overstressed.
"His girlfriend brought him in,” Parker muttered. “Said he’s been going downhill for a few days. Is he in some kind of trouble with the law?”
"Could be," I said as Dr. Parker ushered us into the patient's room. “What’s his name?”
Parker told me.
The man’s weepy-eyed girlfriend clutched his hand as she sat beside the bed. She was a cute brunette with wavy, feathered hair and big brown eyes.
The guy in bed in the pale green hospital gown looked just like I had imagined from Doug’s description—even though he never saw the man himself.
This guy was knocking on death’s door. He wouldn’t have to knock much longer.
The harsh lighting didn’t help his pale skin, drawn cheeks, and sunken eyes. A mist of sweat coated his skin.
He looked at me with weak eyes as I flashed my badge and made introductions. “Rick, I need to ask you a few questions so I can help you.”
Rick said nothing and stared at me with suspicion.
“They’re cops, Rick,” his girlfriend said. “Don’t say anything.”
I gave her a sharp look. “If he wants to live, he’ll talk to me.”
She cringed.
Jack pulled out his phone and recorded the interaction.
“Rick, I’ve got a witness that can put you at the Seven Seas at the time of Yan Zheng’s death,” I said, bluffing.
His face tensed.
“I hate to break it to you, but your employer poisoned you to clean up loose ends. I need to know who hired you to kill Yan Zheng.”