The Perfect Husband - Lisa Gardner [117]
The past crept in on people in the most insidious ways.
The doctor finished drying the special polymer blend that now wrapped from beneath J.T.’s elbow to his palm. J.T.’s fingers stuck out ludicrously from the white prison. The polymer substance was waterproof so he could swim. Other than that, his arm was pretty much out of commission. The doctor finally handed him a sling.
“Give it six to eight weeks to mend, then you’ll be good as new.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You don’t have to wear the sling, but I’d use it the first couple of days to keep your arm fully immobilized so the fracture can begin to heal.”
“Uh-huh.” J.T. tossed the crumpled sling onto the floor and let it lie.
The doctor frowned. “No running or undue activity until that cast is off. Fall or jar that arm again, and you’ll have a serious break.”
“Uh-huh.”
The doctor looked even more uncomfortable. “Any questions?”
J.T. stared at the man for the first time. Tess saw the doctor recoil instinctively. She didn’t blame him. J.T. looked demonic.
“Treat a gunshot wound in the last few days?”
“Pardon?”
“Treat a gunshot wound? Probably to the shoulder. Man’s bald, doesn’t even have eyebrows. He would be hard to forget.”
The doctor glanced over to Tess and Marion as if pleading for help. Marion flashed her FBI creds.
“Answer his question.”
“Ah . . . no. Honestly, no. I can ask around though, if you’d like.” The combination of Marion’s coolness and J.T.’s fierceness made him suddenly eager to please.
“You’re telling the truth?”
“Mr. Dillon, I’m a doctor, not a felon.” The doctor sat up a little straighter, reclaiming his dignity.
J.T. shrugged and hopped down. “If you say so. How much do I owe?”
While the doctor continued blinking his eyes, J.T. unclipped a thick wad of bills from his pocket and began counting out the hundreds.
IN THE PARKING lot of the doctor’s office Marion said good-bye. She’d agreed to talk to Special Agent Quincy about Tess’s idea, though Tess could tell the blonde had her doubts about the wisdom of Tess serving as bait.
Tess wanted her to run it by Quincy. Maybe he’d take it more seriously if he heard it from a fellow FBI agent.
Marion crossed to her car. Her gaze flicked to J.T. twice before she finally opened the door.
“Remember,” J.T. said tersely. “You can call—anytime.”
Marion hesitated, then nodded.
Tess heard J.T. release the breath he’d been holding. He watched his sister drive away, his eyes hooded.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
“Just fucking dandy.”
“I thought as much.”
He climbed into the passenger side of their rental car. Tess got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. She wondered if he would offer any information, or make her pry it out of him with a crowbar. She suspected the latter.
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Lay off, Tess.”
She couldn’t though. “I want to be there for you, J.T. The way you’re there for me.”
“When Marion becomes a serial killer, we’ll talk.”
“That’s not funny.”
“No, I suppose it’s not.” His gaze went out the window. “Just drive, please. I appreciate your offer, but for now, just drive.”
She gave in. Thirty minutes later she pulled into the motel parking lot, turned off the engine, and got out of the car. She’d made it two steps across the parking lot when he finally spoke.
“I’m going for a drive.”
“J.T., that’s a lousy idea.”
“Tough. I’m doing it anyway.”
She turned on him. “And what am I supposed to do? Sit around and knit? Wait for Jim’s next attack all alone? Some bodyguard you are!”
“You’re right. Get in the car.”
“What?”
“Get in the car. Or get left behind.”
He was already sliding behind the steering wheel. Clearly the matter was no longer open for discussion. She stalked over to the passenger side,