J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [149]
Manny twisted around, punched out ten digits, and waited, tapping a Montblanc pen on his blotter.
When the ringing was answered, he didn’t wait for a hello. “Falcheck, you raiding dickhead.”
Ken Falcheck laughed. “Manello, you have such a way with words. And me being your elder, I’m especially shocked.”
“So how’s life in the slow lane, old man?”
“Good, good. Now tell me, baby boy, they letting you eat solid foods yet or are you still on the Gerber?”
“I’m up to oatmeal. Which means I’ll be well fortified to do your hip replacement anytime you get bored with that walker.”
This was all utter bullshit, of course. At sixty-two Ken Falcheck was in great shape, and a ballbuster right up Manny’s lane. The two had gotten along ever since Manny had gone through the guy’s training program fifteen years ago.
“So, with all deference to the elderly,” Manny drawled, “why are you macking on my trauma surgeon? And what did you think of her?”
There was a slight pause. “What are you talking about? I got a message Thursday from some guy saying she had to reschedule. I thought that was why you were calling. To gloat that she blew me off and you were keeping her.”
A nasty sensation wrapped around the back of Manello’s neck, like someone had slapped a palmful of cold mud on him.
He kept his voice level. “Come on, would I do that?”
“Yeah, you would. I trained you, remember? You get all your bad habits from me.”
“Just the professional ones. Hey, the guy who called—you get his name?”
“Nope. Figured it was her assistant or something. Obviously wasn’t you. I know your voice, plus the guy was polite.”
Manny swallowed hard. Okay, he needed to dump this call right away. Jesus Christ, where the hell was Jane?
“So, Manello, can I assume you’re keeping her?”
“Let’s face facts, I’ve got a lot of things I can offer her.” Himself being one of them.
“Just not the chairmanship of a department.”
God, at the moment, all this bullshit medical politicking didn’t matter. Jane was MIA, as far as Manny was concerned, and he needed to find her.
With perfect timing, his assistant poked her head through his door. “Oh, sorry—”
“No, wait. Hey, Falcheck, I’ve got to go.” He hung up as Ken was still saying good-bye and immediately started dialing Jane’s house. “Listen, I need to make a phone—”
“Dr. Whitcomb just called in sick.”
Manny looked up from the phone. “Did you speak to her? Was she the one who called?”
His assistant looked at him a little funny. “Of course. She’s been down all weekend with the flu. Goldberg’s going to cover her cases today and man the chute. Hey, are you okay?”
Manny put the receiver down and nodded even though he felt light-headed as hell. Shit, the idea that something had happened to Jane thinned his blood to water.
“You sure, Dr. Manello?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for the info on Whitcomb.” As he stood up, the floor only weaved a little. “I’m due in the OR in an hour, so I’m going to food up. You got anything else for me?”
His assistant ran through a couple of issues with him, then left.
As the door shut Manny sank back into his chair. Man, he needed to gather the reins in his head. Jane Whitcomb had always been a distraction, but this shaky relief that she was fine surprised him.
Right. He needed to go eat.
Kicking himself in the ass, he got to his feet again and picked up a stack of residency applicant files to read in the lounge. In the process of taking them in hand, something slipped off the desk. He bent over and picked it up, then frowned. It was the printout of a photograph of a heart…that had six chambers.
Something flickered in the back of Manny’s mind, some kind of shadow that moved around, a thought on the verge of actualization, a memory about to crystallize. Except then he got a sharp, shooting pain right at the temples. As he cursed, he wondered where the hell the photograph had come from, and checked the date and time at the bottom. It had been taken here,