Chapter 192: THE FAMILIAR DOCTOR
Abigail
"How much is the NYPD willing to pay for this kind of service?" Annette flashed a cheeky grin, her fingers dancing across the keyboard like lightning.
"Because my freelance rates just tripled after almost getting shot at a fancy gala. Hazard pay, baby."
"You didn’t even attend the gala. You only arrived like ten minutes ago," one of the officers surrounding us chuckled. We were in one of the rooms attached to the hall.
Officer Robin in all his finite wisdom didn’t want the crime scene left unattended to and so he insisted that instead of taking this issue to the police station, we would try to sort it out here because we were Sherlock Holmes.
Annie glanced at me, her eyes softening. I sat next to her behind the table where her laptop rested as she tinkered with the device and one of the cameras from the hall.
I tried to give her a smile, but it came out all shaky. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling no matter how hard I rubbed them up and down my arms. The cool night air drifting in from the open doors did nothing to chase the chill from my bones.
What if it had been me?
For one horrifying second after that gunshot, I had been absolutely certain the bullet was meant for me. I had thought that the people trying to bury my parents’ case had finally decided to silence me permanently.
My heart had slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it would burst out and bolt for the doors. Then I saw Richard Saxon drop to the floor, clutching his chest.
Guilt washed through me at the memory. I had been so relieved. Was that a bad thing? I was relieved that I wasn’t the one who got shot, but that only sounded like I was happy Richard had been hit.
I wasn’t. If anything, I was even more confused. I sighed, tugging the sleeves of Finnegan’s jacket around me and buried my face in the fabric, inhaling his scent. I wished he was here.
My mind drifted back to the way he had roared my name and seized me, frantically running his hands all over my body when we heard the gunshot.
He had been checking for wounds with pure panic in his emerald green eyes. I had never seen him like that before.
I burrowed deeper into the sleeve, biting back a little smile. He had looked like he would be torn apart if it had been me that got shot instead, and that had a shiver running down my spine.
...You did this. You wanted to shut me up...
Richard’s accusations echoed in my head. They made zero sense, but why had Richard accused Finnegan so viciously?
He had looked so sure, so convinced as he fisted Finn’s suit and wheezed those words.
He thought Finn was the person trying to assassinate him? Finnegan hadn’t cared about escaping and had rushed to help him instead.
That was the kind of man he was. He would never assassinate anybody. Richard was just seeing things.
But Richard had called his name. Well, technically, Richard had mentioned the Wolfe surname. Finnegan wasn’t the only Wolfe capable of this.
My stomach twisted at the thought. I remembered spotting Gina deep in conversation with Richard earlier in the evening.
Could Gina be involved in something this dark? I shook my head quickly, shoving the thought away. No. That was too far, even for someone as cold as a frozen mammoth in the tundra.
She could be snobbish as hell, but going so far as to try to kill someone?
My mind flashed to the dirty criminal things she had framed Finnegan for on his computer. Was it really farfetched that she could try to assassinate someone? She had literally tried to send her own son to prison.
"Got it!" Annette announced triumphantly, spinning her laptop toward Officer Robin.
"Here’s the recovered footage. You’re welcome, boys."
I leaned forward, my heart pounding as the grainy video played. My eyes scanned the crowd frantically until I spotted him.
"There," I said, pointing at the screen. "That’s the man I saw. The same one who was at Wolfe Corporation weeks ago. He always slips away before I can get close."
Officer Robin leaned in, then grunted. "All units, we have a suspect description. Male, dark clothing, last seen heading toward the side exit..."
I barely caught the rest of the instructions. My mind was spinning too fast, jumping between Finnegan’s terrified face and Richard’s accusations.
Twenty minutes later, Annette and I were rushing through the hospital corridors that reeked of spirits and disinfectant.
My stomach churned with each step we took toward the reception desk. I had only come here because Finnegan was supposed to be here, and I was too fucking anxious to go home unless I knew he was fine.
"Richard Saxon," I told the nurse at the station, slightly out of breath. "He was brought in, gunshot to the side. Finnegan Wolfe should be with him."
The nurse pointed down the hall. "Room 412. But only authorized personnel are allowed—"
"My name is Authorized," Annette beamed next to me. "And she’s Personnel, so that checks out, honey."
Without waiting for a reply, we hurried down the corridor. Finnegan had said he was coming straight here. He should be in that room.
I needed to see him, to make sure he was okay after everything that had happened.
We reached Room 412. I shoved the door open without knocking, expecting to see Finnegan standing by the bed.
But Finnegan wasn’t there. Instead, a man in a white doctor’s coat loomed over Richard Saxon’s bed, injecting something into his IV line. The syringe was almost empty.
Richard’s eyes were blown wide with terror. His mouth opened and closed rapidly. His monitors started beeping faster.
"What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted, lunging forward.
The man in the doctor’s coat turned his head slowly toward us. His eyes were cold, empty, and terrifyingly familiar. My blood ran cold.
