The 5th Horseman - James Patterson [50]
“I want to hear everything. Don’t skip a word.”
Yuki had been drinking, for sure. She took me literally, impersonating both O’Mara and Garza, repeating their words verbatim.
Cindy jumped in, the two overtalking each other, until Claire and I simply cracked up.
Cindy plowed ahead. “Thing is—no, really, you guys! All he had to say was ‘Nooooo. I had nothing to do with those patients’ deaths.’”
“Instead, he takes the Fifth!” said Yuki, slapping the table. She was glowering but elated. “What a jerk, stepping on his dick like that.”
“If you ask me, his conscience made him do it,” Cindy added. “The more I dig into Garza’s past, the more I find out what kinda bum he is.”
“More on that,” I said, holding up my empty glass. Loretta winked, returned with a refill. She also dropped laminated menus in front of us.
“For instance,” said Cindy, “he left several of his jobs under a dark cloud. Not exactly ‘You’re fired,’ but definitely ‘Here’s your hat. There’s the exit.’ At least once, he ducked a sexual harassment suit.”
“Why am I not surprised that Garza’s a skirt hound?” Yuki said. “Arrogant bastard. Totally in love with himself.”
Cindy nodded vigorously. “And more to the point, too many ‘accidents’ happened to his patients. If I hadn’t heard about other cases like his, I’d say it was unbelievable.”
“See, this is what gives me the willies,” Claire said. “Only about one out of ten hospital mistakes ever get reported. Most of the time the mistakes aren’t fatal—so, no problem. The patient survives and goes home.
“But even when patients die under totally hinky circumstances, people think doctors are so Godlike, they just accept whatever they’re told. I’ve seen it happen.”
“Not me. I don’t feel that way anymore,” said Yuki, her smile clouding over. It was like watching an eclipse of the moon. “I don’t think Dennis Garza is a god. Quite the opposite. I know he’s e-vil!”
Chapter 74
YUKI LAY ON HER BACK IN BED, watching passing headlights splash patterns on her ceiling.
She’d woken up so many times during the night, she wasn’t even sure that she’d slept. Now, at a few minutes to 6:00 a.m., she was as awake as if a fire alarm had gone off under her pillow.
She threw back her blankets and went to her desk, where she booted up her computer. Three harplike notes rang out as she connected to the Internet.
She located his address on the first try. He lived less than a couple of miles away.
And he was e-vil.
Yuki threw her Burberry over her blue satin pajamas and took the elevator down to the parking garage, unlocked her Acura, and strapped herself in.
She felt exhilarated and reckless—as if she were about to step out onto the ledge of a tall building in a high wind in order to see the view. Gunning her engine, she dropped the car onto the steep downhill chute of Jones Street. Nothing ventured, right?
She braked at Washington, watched the cable car rattle along the rails, tapped her nails against the steering wheel. She anxiously waited another long minute behind a school bus making a pickup before turning left onto Pacific.
Then Yuki picked up speed, thinking she hadn’t felt this crazed when her dad had died. She’d loved him. She’d grieved and she’d never, ever forget her love for him.
But her mother’s death was different. It was a wound to her soul, a gross violation as well as a loss. She would never get over Keiko.
The fog parted as she turned onto Filbert. She frisked the house numbers on the pricey block with her eyes, finding 908 halfway down the street.
The house was very tall, three stories of pale yellow stucco frosted with a white trim.
Yuki sat parked in her car across the street watching the morning brighten in a conventional way. She stayed there a long time, hours; she was starting to feel like a madwoman.
The FedEx man picked up a package. A Mexican nanny pushed twins in a stroller, a terrier on a leash trailed behind, ordinary activities that were now tinged with her own sadness.
Then the garage door of the yellow house opened. A black Mercedes backed out.
There he was. Creepy bastard.
Yuki decided