The Cure. Part 9

"Go home, Doctor. And if you value your life, or your cop friend's, you won't say a word about tonight to anyone. I'll know if you do."

Leah believed him. It was already obvious he'd been watching her. What else had he done? Tapped her phones? Put more cameras around? "I won't say anything."

He nodded, his lips curled in a malicious smirk. "Good girl. Have a nice life."

She got out and waited until the car drove away before going inside. She managed to make it to the couch before she broke down in a bout of hysterical crying. Curled in a fetal position, her chest heaving, she howled into a pillow until she was gasping for air and the fabric was soaked from her tears.

Gradually her weeping slowed down to whimpering sobs.

She fell asleep with her arms wrapped around her knees and the wet pillow under her cheek, her head filled with visions of her and John lying b.l.o.o.d.y and dead in the clinic's freezer.

Chapter Thirteen.

Del McCormick hadn't been able to see what went on in the veterinary clinic, but, judging from the way Tal kept the doctor at gunpoint and manhandled her into the limousine, it wasn't a friendly chat.

Parked three houses away as the lady vet got dropped off at her own place, Del had to make a split-second decision: continue to follow Tal, or stay and see if DeGarmo went back out.

Ultimately it was the notion that of the two of them, Tal Nova was more likely to lead him to important information he could use.

He put the stolen car in Drive and trailed the limo as it headed for the Parkway entrance.

Christ, I'm getting sick of this drive.

I need to come up with a better plan.

Tal Nova unwrapped a stick of Big Red and popped it into his mouth. The fiery tang of the gum exploded against his taste buds, and a wave of saliva washed over his tongue. He hit a speed dial number on his cell phone.

"h.e.l.lo?" The new strength in Marsh's voice was evident, even through the tiny speaker.

"I just dropped her off. She wasn't lying about having to get rid of it. She was yellow and sweating by the time we got back, barely able to walk. Then she touched one finger to some old mutt, and bang! The thing was dead and she was good as new."

"I a.s.sumed she was telling the truth. She didn't seem to be a particularly good liar. What about the payment?"

"I've arranged to have it delivered by courier tomorrow. She was real freaked out tonight, so I didn't want to upset her further."

"That's fine. I wouldn't want her to think I reneged on my part of the deal. When you return, come to my office immediately. There's a lot to discuss before tomorrow's meeting."

"Yes, sir." Tal flipped the phone shut. The abrupt way Marsh switched topics was typical of him. Never one to waste words, as soon as one project was completed or one plan finalized, he moved on to the next. In his mind, the subject of Leah DeGarmo was old news, history. Now that he'd been cured, he wouldn't think of her again unless something happened and he needed her services once more.

That's where we differ. Tal could see plenty of opportunities for someone with DeGarmo's talent. She's the perfect tool. Untraceable. What she can do is something most people would consider impossible. Which means she can operate in plain sight.

And no one will suspect a thing.

Not even Marsh.

Chapter Fourteen.

John Carrera stared at the phone. He'd been doing it on and off since finishing dinner an hour before. Truth to tell, he'd been doing it pretty much since he'd gotten out of bed that morning.

He'd arrived home from work the previous day, only to find a message from Leah postponing dinner and saying that she'd call the following day.

Now here it was, the end of the day, and nothing.

Should I call her or wait? he wondered, while he watched the phone sit there in maddening silence. Maybe she didn't have as good a time as she said? Did she have second thoughts about dating a cop?

Stop acting crazy! he told himself. Something came up. It happens. You're thirty-six, for Chrissakes. Act like it. Either pick up the phone or wait.

But if I call, maybe I'll sound too needy.

f.u.c.k it.

He picked up the phone, dialed Leah's house. When he got the machine he froze, torn between hanging up and leaving a message. In the end, the idea of acting like a teenage, love-struck loser propelled him into action.

"Hi, Leah. It's John. I guess you're not home. When you get this message could you-"

Something clicked. Leah's voice came on the line. "h.e.l.lo, John? Are you still there?"

A wave of conflicting feelings washed through him. Relief, annoyance, worry.

"Yeah. I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

"No." She sounded out of breath. "I was just unlocking the door when I heard the phone ring. It was crazy at work today. Thursdays are always like that, because of Wednesdays being short days."

"I hear you. So, when did you get back?" Did that sound too pushy?

"Last night. I would have called you but I was tired and went right to bed."

"Hey, no big deal."

She laughed. "I can hear you pouting. Don't worry, I haven't changed my mind. Dinner, tomorrow night, my place. Seven o'clock. You bring the wine."

Something relaxed inside John's chest, a tightness he hadn't even known was there until it went away. "I'll be there. What are we having?"

"It's a surprise."

Now it was his turn to laugh. "Haven't even gone shopping yet, have you?"

"See you tomorrow, smart-a.s.s." She hung up.

John tossed the phone back onto the table. What kind of wine should I get? Knowing the type of person Leah was, she'd probably try to impress him and cook something too hard for her limited skills.

Whatever I get, I'll make sure to get two bottles.

Feeling better than he had in two days, he flipped on SportsChannel and relaxed back on the couch.

Leah took a deep breath after hanging up with John. Once again she'd forgotten to call him, would probably have forgotten tomorrow too, the way her head was spinning. Between work and her anxiety about Marsh knowing her secret, she'd barely been able to make conversation with her patients' owners. Work had always been a refuge for her, a place where she didn't think about anything except helping the sick and injured animals that came through the door each day. But now it was a different place, as if the presence of Tal Nova and the knowledge she'd been spied upon had sullied the building.

"Stop being such a baby," she chided herself as she went into the kitchen and poured some juice. "Why would Marsh need you again? You Cured him. Even if he tells someone, no one will believe it. The video could have been faked."

She caught a glimpse of herself in the kitchen window. Dark smudges made her eyes look sunken, and her pale cheeks and lips didn't help. Her hair had come undone from its clip and hung around her face in wild wisps.

She looked like an escapee from a mental inst.i.tution.

"And talking to myself doesn't help that comparison," she told the face in the gla.s.s.

Suddenly p.i.s.sed off at herself for being taken advantage of, she turned away from the window, grabbed a pad and pen, and sat down at the kitchen table.

"Time to stop moping. What's done is done." She wrote Grocery List at the top of the page. "And John thinks I can't cook? I'll show him. I'll make him the best meal he's ever had."

The knock on the door came just as Leah was adding more milk and b.u.t.ter to the mashed potatoes. The stove was announcing that her roast was ready, in strident, monotonous beeps, and, judging by the burnt-toast odor coming from the toaster oven, the garlic bread was getting ready to speed past well done.

"Come in, the door's open!" she shouted, hoping John would hear her. She dipped a greasy finger into the potatoes and scooped up a taste.

Still lumpy.

Jesus, how much milk do these things need?

She was about to pour in another cupful when a strong hand stopped her. "Don't drown them there 'taters, missy."

She turned around and found John standing there, a large paper bag in one hand and a very smug grin on his face.

"Fine. You know potatoes, you take care of them. I'll get the bread."

Embarra.s.sed that he'd walked into a disaster instead of the gourmet meal she'd planned, she rushed across the kitchen and pulled the garlic bread from the toaster oven. It was dark brown, but hadn't achieved charcoal status yet.

She slid it onto a waiting plate and hurried back across the room to the stove, which still filled the kitchen with its robotic beeping.

Carefully lifting a corner of the aluminum foil covering the top of the roasting pan, she eyed the brand-new meat thermometer she'd picked up along with the pan and the roast.

"Do you like your beef rare, medium or deliciously medium well?" she asked, praying he wouldn't say rare.

"I like it on a plate. I'm not picky."

"You've come to the right place, then." Using two oversized serving forks, she lifted the roast onto a carving board. "Make yourself useful and cut this," she said as he scooped potatoes into a bowl. "I'll open the wine."

He handed her the bowl of potatoes and started slicing. "Oh, by the way," he called out over his shoulder, "there's an envelope taped to your front door. Were you expecting something?"

"An envelope?" Leah pulled the cork from the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and then went to the door. Sure enough, stuck on the outside was an unmarked white envelope. Slipping one fingernail beneath the flap, she opened it as she came back into the house. Inside was a folded piece of paper and a check.

A one-hundred-thousand-dollar check.

"So, what is- Leah, are you all right?" John hurried across the living room and grabbed her arm.

She let him help her to the couch. She felt as if the world had suddenly tilted around her, leaving her off-balance and numb.

"What is it?" John's voice seemed a mile away.

She handed him the check and the note.

"Holy s.h.i.t. A hundred thousand?" He opened the note, read it out loud.

Dear Dr. DeGarmo: Thank you for your a.s.sistance with my problem. As I promised, here is a small token of my appreciation. I've made it out to your business so that you do not have to feel guilty about accepting personal payment. Consider it a donation to a worthy cause.

Regards, Leonard Marsh.

John set the letter and check on the c.o.c.ktail table. "His problem? You didn't...?"

Leah nodded without looking at him. "I...had to. He was dying."

She wanted to add that they'd threatened his life, but she already felt low enough, dirty enough. Admitting she'd been forced to do it because of her feelings for John would have made things even worse. She'd break down and cry; she could already feel the tears waiting to burst free. Besides, the cop in him might want to file charges of some kind, maybe even investigate.

And she couldn't afford that to happen.

"But how did he know?"

She watched her hands twist and twine together in her lap, physical manifestations of her guilt, fear and anger. But when she spoke, her voice was dull, lacking in inflection.

Distant.

"He didn't say how he found out. But they set me up. Remember that dog, the one I told you about, that was. .h.i.t by the car?"

"The emergency the other night?"

"Yes. They hid a camera somewhere, filmed the whole thing. That's why I couldn't meet you on Wednesday. They threatened to go public. One of Marsh's men drove me to Manhattan and that's when I found out Marsh was dying. He had liver cancer. So I...I Cured him, and then they took me to the clinic. I barely made it... I..."

The dam burst before she could finish her sentence, all her words washed away by the sobs that burst out from deep inside.

"Hey, it's okay." John put his arms around her. "What's done is done. I just wish you'd called me. You shouldn't have gone off with anyone all alone like that. It could have been dangerous."

His words brought back the memory of Tal Nova pointing his gun at her, and she cried even harder. Deceiving a man she cared about, putting his life in danger, being forced to do something against her will. It was like a kind of rape.

And if she took money for it, what would that make her?