In The Enemy's Arms. Pamela Toth

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      “You want me to what?” she asked, shocked by his statement. Thank God she was already sitting down or she would have fallen.

      “Listen, Mari—” he began.

      “Dr. Bingham,” she corrected coldly, cutting him off. “What do you expect me to do about my patients, Detective? I have appointments and responsibilities. I can’t just walk out of here because you snap your fingers.”

      His frown deepened and a muscle twitched along his jaw. “I’m sorry, but I’ve already been here for too damn long.” He stabbed his finger at her. “You’ve got two choices, Doctor. Have someone else cover for you or reschedule your patients, but I’ve been waiting long enough. Either way, you’re coming with me.”

      As though he had cinched a noose around her neck, his statement made the muscles in her throat tighten. She could barely speak.

      “Am I under arrest?” she croaked. She should have seen this day coming and consulted with an attorney to find out about her rights.

      How could Bryce shift so easily from acting like a human to being a robocop? Why had he bothered to comfort her if his intention was to drag her through the clinic in handcuffs?

      His eyebrows rose, as though her question had surprised him. “No, I’m not going to arrest you. There are just too many interruptions here for an interview.”

      As though to prove his point, the phone on Mari’s desk chose that moment to ring. It made her flinch. Out of habit she reached for the receiver, but then she snatched back her hand.

      “My voice mail will take a message,” she said, and then she bit her lip. What did he care? “Interrogating me would be a big waste of time,” she argued forcing the words past the lump in her throat. “As I told you before, I don’t know anything about the missing drugs. Why can’t you believe me?”

      “You may know more than you think.” His expression was impossible to read, but then he had always been good at hiding his feelings from her.

      What information could she possibly give him that he didn’t already have? And how could she convince him, once and for all, of her innocence?

      A chill went through her. What if he was lying about not arresting her?

      “Should I call my attorney?” she asked, shoving her trembling hands onto her lap so they were hidden by her desk.

      He leaned over her, his gray eyes chilling in their intensity. How could she have ever thought his gaze was warm? He was probably searching for some sign of her guilt. “Do you need a lawyer?”

      Feeling trapped, Mari opened her bottom drawer and took out her purse. She glanced down at the phone as she weighed her options. If she said yes, would that make her look guilty?

      “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

      “Of course not.” His face remained unreadable.

      “I need to call and make arrangements from here for someone to cover me.” Milla had been supportive, and Mari could count on her to be discreet.

      He nodded. “Just say that we need you to come down and give us some background information on Orcadol.”

      Once again he had managed to surprise her, suggesting a way to lessen her humiliation. She was about to thank him when she recalled that his suspicion was the very reason she needed a cover story.

      Wordlessly she had Milla paged, resisting the urge to drum her fingers on the desktop while she waited for the midwife to respond.

      “How are Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins doing?” Mari asked when Milla finally came on the line.

      “The hospital chaplain is with them now,” she replied. “He’ll help with the arrangements.”

      “I’m so glad to hear that.” Quickly, Mari outlined what she needed, her gaze on Bryce the whole time. If her scrutiny made him uncomfortable, he didn’t let it show.

      “Is this because of your friendship with Dr. Phillipe?” Milla asked when Mari was done. “Can’t they test him if they don’t believe that he’s drug-free?”

      Ricardo Phillipe was a friend of Mari’s who had been connected with early Orcadol development. He was also involved in planning the experimental research facility.

      After a car accident in which Ricardo had been critically injured, his wife and small daughter both killed, he had developed a drug problem that led to him losing his license to practice medicine.

      Mari swiveled her chair so she was facing the wall. “I’m sure that’s not an issue.” She lowered her voice even further. “I really can’t discuss it now.”

      “Oh, of course. I’m sorry,” Milla replied. “Is there anything else I can do? Can I call someone for you?”

      “No, but thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” Mari knew that Milla was fiercely loyal, but she wasn’t so sure about the rest of the staff, not anymore.

      And what would her patients think when the news got out that she’d actually been taken downtown for questioning? What about the investors who hadn’t already pulled out of the research facility project? Would this ruin any chance she had left of securing the financing to build it?

      Lillian Cunningham was the Public Relations director from New York who Mari had recently hired to improve the clinic’s reputation. Lily would have a fit when she heard about this! Just because she happened to be in love with Mari’s father didn’t mean she would cut Mari any slack, either. Lily was one of the best in the business, but she wasn’t a miracle worker.

      After Mari told Milla goodbye and replaced the receiver, she grabbed her purse and scooted back in her chair, praying her shaky legs would support her.

      “I’m ready,” she told Bryce. What on earth did he think he had on her? His flinty expression told her nothing.

      Bryce didn’t bother with chitchat on the way to the station that was housed in the Merlyn County Courthouse complex. The fairly new tan building in downtown Binghamton contained all the county’s administrative offices.

      As soon as he parked in an official space, Mari got out of his sedan without a glance in his direction and marched up the front steps. His legs were longer than hers, so he was able to catch up with her in time to pull open the heavy glass front door.

      “Come with me,” he said once they were inside. The departments were clearly marked, but he wanted her to lift her head and make eye contact with him.

      When she did, she looked as though someone had drained the fight out of her. It was no surprise, after what she’d already been through. She also seemed nervous, again, no big surprise, and—if he was any judge of character—shell-shocked.

      Because he knew her to be strong-willed and smart, the last observance startled him. Anyone who managed to successfully complete medical school, an internship and a residency had to be both.

      After the conversations he’d had with her over the last few weeks, including their confrontation at the hospital picnic, she must have been prepared for today, unless she wore blinders and went around with her fingers stuck in both СКАЧАТЬ