CHAPTER 5 MARSH TIGHTENS THE NOOSE
The subpoena arrived in a crisp legal envelope, hand-delivered by a stone-faced process server who refused to meet Evelyn's eyes.
She tore it open right there in the clinic's waiting room, her fingers leaving faint smudges on the thick paper.
The words Commonwealth of Massachusetts v.
Evelyn Crane glared up at her, followed by a demand for all medical records pertaining to one Daniel Marsh.
"Fuck." The single syllable escaped before she could bite it back. The receptionist pretended not to hear.
Evelyn locked herself in her office and dialed Dario's private line. He answered on the second ring, voice smooth as poured bourbon. "Tell me you're calling to cancel our dinner."
"They subpoenaed my records. Marsh's name is all over it." She pressed a hand to her temple, the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind her eyes.
A pause. Then the sound of a chair scraping back. "Don't give them anything."
"That's not how subpoenas work."
"Sure it is." Papers shuffled on his end. "Delay. Obfuscate. Claim clerical errors. They'll get bored before you run out of excuses."
She stared at the document's embossed seal. "And when they haul me before a grand jury?"
"Lie." Simple. Absolute. "Unless you'd rather explain why your clinic treated a federal agent for injuries consistent with brass knuckles."
The headache sharpened. She'd stitched Marsh up herself after Dario's men finished with him—clean, professional, no questions asked. A mistake. "They'll have my license."
"They'll have your freedom if you cooperate." His tone didn't change, but the threat beneath it was crystalline. "Stonewall them. I'll handle the rest."
She hung up without agreeing. The clock on her desk ticked loudly in the silence.
By noon, she noticed the new hire lingering near the supply closet. Young, eager, with a clipboard clutched to her chest like armor. "Dr. Crane? I'm Rebecca—the temp agency sent me?"
Evelyn forced a smile. "We didn't request a temp."
Rebecca blinked. "Your office manager did. For the, um, backlog?" She gestured vaguely at the filing cabinets.
Ice slid down Evelyn's spine. She kept her voice light. "Of course. Start with the 2019 intake forms."
The girl nodded and scurried away. Too quick. Too interested. Evelyn retreated to the pharmacy nook and texted Dario: Marsh planted someone.
His reply came instantly: Let her stay. Feed her what we want Marsh to know.
She pocketed the phone and reached for the morphine logbook.
The pages were pristine, every entry in perfect order.
Too perfect. She flipped to the back and found what she'd expected—a single loose page tucked between the cover and the binding, covered in her own handwriting from the night Marsh bled all over her exam table.
Evelyn palmed the page and struck a match. The flame caught the edge just as Rebecca rounded the corner.
"Dr. Crane?" The girl's gaze flicked to the burning paper. "Is everything—"
"Just some old notes." Evelyn held the page until the fire licked her fingertips, then dropped the last fragment into the steel sink. The ashes curled into black dust. "We keep things tidy here."
Rebecca's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Of course."
Evelyn turned on the faucet and watched the evidence swirl down the drain. One problem solved. A dozen more waiting in the wings.
Dario watched Evelyn's fingers trace the edge of the sink where the last ashes had dissolved. The water still ran, a thin stream washing away what little remained. He'd misread her before—assumed the burning was about covering tracks, not the act itself.
"Daniel's waiting downstairs," Evelyn said without turning. "He's got the ledger you wanted."
Dario leaned against the counter, the marble cool through his shirt. "You don't approve."
She shut off the faucet. "I don't care about the numbers. I care that you're using him."
A flicker of movement in the hallway—Daniel shifting his weight, just out of sight. Dario had trained him well enough to know eavesdropping was tolerated if you didn't get caught.
"He's useful," Dario said.
Evelyn's laugh was sharp. "He's nineteen."
"And?"
She turned then, her eyes catching the overhead light in a way that made the gold flecks flare. "You didn't bring him here to balance books. You brought him because he sees things. Things even you don't."
Daniel's breath hitched audibly in the hall.
Dario kept his voice even. "That's not how this works."
"Isn't it?" Evelyn stepped closer, close enough that the scent of her perfume—something expensive and citrus-bitter—cut through the lingering smoke. "You think I haven't noticed the way you watch him? The tests?"
A muscle in Dario's jaw tightened. He'd underestimated how much she'd pieced together. Daniel wasn't just another recruit; the kid had a knack for spotting patterns in the chaos, connections where others saw noise. A dangerous skill, if left unmanaged.
Evelyn pressed her palm flat against the counter, right where the water had pooled. "You can't control what he is."
"I don't have to." Dario reached past her to turn the faucet back on, washing away the last of her fingerprints. "I just have to control who knows about it."
Daniel chose that moment to step into the doorway, the ledger clutched to his chest like a shield. His knuckles were white around the edges. "The transfers are done," he said, too quickly. "But there's—" He swallowed. "The third column doesn't add up. Not unless you read it sideways."
Evelyn went very still.
Dario didn't look away from Daniel. "Show me."
The kid hesitated, then opened the book to a page marked with a torn slip of paper. His finger traced a line of numbers that, taken vertically instead of horizontally, spelled out an address. A safehouse. One that wasn't on any of their official lists.
Evelyn exhaled through her nose. "Well," she said softly. "That's newly inconvenient."
Dario closed the ledger with a snap. The sound made Daniel flinch. "Change of plans," he said. "You're with me tonight."
He didn't miss the way Evelyn's gaze flicked to the kid's throat—where a thin scar, barely visible, curled under his collar. A reminder of the last time someone had misread the rules of their world.
Daniel nodded, mute.
The faucet dripped once, loud in the silence.
Dario reached for his coat, the leather creaking as he shrugged it on. Daniel’s fingers twitched toward his own collar, adjusting it self-consciously over the scar. A reflex.
Evelyn plucked a pen from the counter and twirled it between her fingers. "You really think he’s ready for this?"
"He found it," Dario said. "That makes it his problem."
Daniel’s mouth opened, then closed. He’d expected praise, or at least acknowledgment—not the weight of responsibility settling over him like a second skin. The rules had always been clear: uncover something useful, and you earned your place. But no one had told him the cost of being right.
The pen stilled in Evelyn’s hand. "You’re sending him in blind."
Dario’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "No. I’m sending him in first."
Daniel’s stomach dropped. First meant decoy. First meant expendable. The realization hit him like a missed step in the dark—he’d assumed his value lay in what he could do, not what he could take.
Evelyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. She knew better than to argue. Instead, she tossed the pen onto the counter, where it clattered against the marble. "Then you’d better hope he’s as good at hiding as he is at finding."
Dario checked his watch. "We leave in five."
Daniel’s hands were shaking. He curled them into fists, but not before Dario noticed.
"Relax," Dario said, clapping him on the shoulder. The grip was just shy of painful. "Consider it a lesson."
The faucet dripped again. Daniel wondered, with a sudden, hollow certainty, how many others had stood in this exact spot and heard those exact words.
Dario didn't flinch when the clinic's front door burst open, but Evelyn's fingers tightened around the pen she'd just tossed aside.
Daniel Marsh strode in like he owned the place, crisp suit and sharper smile, a stack of papers in one hand.
The receptionist gasped—some new hire who hadn't learned yet that gasping was a luxury in this business.
"Evelyn Crane," Daniel said, not bothering with pleasantries. "You've been served." He slapped the subpoenas onto the counter with a sound like a gunshot in the quiet room.
Evelyn didn't touch them. "Marsh," she said, voice cool as the marble under her palms. "I didn't realize the DA's office had such a personal interest in my paperwork."
Dario stepped forward, just enough to remind Daniel he was there. "Problem?"
Daniel's gaze flicked to him, unimpressed. "Not unless you're listed as medical director." He tapped the top subpoena. "Patient records. Billing. Staff contracts. The whole nine yards."
Evelyn exhaled through her nose. "You can't just—"
"Already did." Daniel flashed teeth. "Judge signed off this morning. You've got seventy-two hours to comply."
A muscle jumped in Evelyn's jaw. Dario recognized the tell—she was calculating, fast. He'd seen that look right before she'd turned three of his men into walking medical anomalies last month.
Daniel leaned in, just a fraction. "And just between us? Your little side project with Vitale here? That's next."
Evelyn went still. Too still.
Dario didn't wait for her to react. He plucked the subpoenas off the counter, scanning the first page. Standard legalese, but the names listed under "persons of interest" made his pulse kick. not merely Evelyn. Him.
Daniel adjusted his cuffs, smug. "Tell your boss he might want to lawyer up too."
Evelyn snatched the papers from Dario's grip. "Get out of my clinic."
"Seventy-two hours," Daniel repeated, backing toward the door. "Tick-tock."
The door swung shut behind him. The receptionist had vanished—smart girl.
Evelyn crumpled the edge of the subpoena in her fist. "He can't prove anything."
Dario watched her knuckles whiten. "He doesn't have to. This is a fishing expedition."
"And if he catches something?"