Mercy

CHAPTER TWENTY

There were definite perks to carrying government credentials and knowing people in high places. By ten o'clock in the morning, Theo had all the information he needed on the Carson brothers. What he had learned about the con artists pissed the hell out of him. He also had the writs and the filings ready, thanks to his eager interns and a guaranteed-on-time courier service.

What Theo planned to do wasn't all that conventional and could possibly be thrown out in a court of law, but he wasn't concerned about that now. He hoped to have Daryl's problem with the sugar mill resolved before the brothers wised up, and from what he had learned about the two attorneys the brothers kept on a monthly retainer, they were little league players who wouldn't figure out they had been manipulated until after the fact.

Theo also had another advantage that he'd never used until today. As a member of the Justice Department, he could strike as much fear into the hearts of small-time criminals as the IRS.

He was whistling while he fixed breakfast. Michelle walked into the kitchen just as he was putting the utensils on the table.

She looked good enough to eat. Dressed in tight, faded blue jeans that emphasized her long legs and a snug white T-shirt that ended just above her navel, she looked sexier to him than she had the night before, and he hadn't thought that was possible. Heaven help him, the woman just kept getting better and better.

He handed her a glass of juice. "Want to have some fun?"

Those weren't the first words she expected to hear. "What kind of fun?" she asked cautiously.

"Sugar mill fun."

She couldn't believe she was actually a little disappointed. "Oh. Yes… yes, of course. May I help?"

"Sure you can, but eat your breakfast first. I've got it all ready for you. I like cooking," he added enthusiastically, as though he'd only just realized that fact. "It relaxes me."

She glanced at the table and laughed. "Opening a box of cereal and getting the milk out of the fridge isn't cooking."

"I made coffee too," he boasted.

"Which, translated, means you pushed the button. I got it ready last night."

He pulled out a chair for her, got a whiff of her perfume, and wanted to get closer. He moved back instead and leaned against the sink. "You look nice today."

She tugged on the hem of her T-shirt. "You don't think this top is a little tight?"

"Why do you think I said you look nice?"

"Every time I put it on, I take it off and find some-

thing else to wear. It's the latest fashion," she added defensively. "My friend Mary Ann gave it to me, and she told me my

belly button is supposed to show."

He pulled his faded navy blue T-shirt up until his navel was showing. "If it's in fashion, I'm in."

"I'll change," she said, prying her attention away from his hard, flat stomach. The man was disgustingly fit, which was a miracle considering the amount of junk food he ate.

"I like what you're wearing," he protested.

"I'm changing," she said again. Then she shook her head. "It's difficult… trying to get comfortable in my skin these days."

"What do you mean?"

"I spent so many years trying not to look like a girl."

He thought she was joking and laughed.

"It's true," she said. "When I was in medical school, I did everything I could to downplay the obvious fact that I was a woman."

Astonished, he asked, "Why would you do that?"

"The head of one department was extremely prejudiced against female doctors and did everything he could to make our lives miserable. He was such a creep," she added. "He and his buddies would go out drinking with the male students, but only after he had loaded the female students down with research assignments and extra work. I didn't care about that, but I didn't like having to jump through twice as many hoops as the male students. Complaining would have made the situation worse. The only alternative for a female student was to drop out, which was exactly what the head of the department wanted."

She suddenly smiled. "One night, while some of the other women and I were getting zonkered on mar-garitas, we figured it all out."

"What'd you figure out?"

"The department head was afraid of us. Keep in mind we were exhausted and tipsy."

"Did you come up with a reason for why he was afraid of you?"

"Our minds. He knew the truth."

"What truth?"

"Women have vastly superior minds." She laughed as she added, "Fear and insecurity were at the root of the prejudice. I remember, at the time the revelation was stunning to us. It wasn't true, but we were too drunk to know or care. I realize now

of course that it was all nonsense, we aren't any less or any more capable than male doctors, but being able to laugh and feel

smug helped us get through the really tough times."

"Was your residency as difficult?"

"No, it was completely different. We were all treated equally horrible twenty hours a day, seven days a week. It didn't matter

that I was a woman. All I needed to know was how to run. It was grueling," she admitted. "I learned how to catch fifteen

minutes of sleep standing up. I was fortunate to train under a gifted surgeon. He was obnoxious," she said, "but he and I got

along. I pretty much lived in scrubs, and fashion wasn't part of the curriculum."

"My doctor's a female."

"No kidding."

"Yes. She took my appendix out."

"I'm not your doctor. If that were the case, I'd put you on a low-sodium, low-fat diet."

"Did I mention I don't like my doctor and that I never follow her advice? As for clothes, it doesn't matter what you wear, Michelle. Men are still going to stare at you. I just hope the Carson brothers aren't gawking out the window at you while I'm trying my best to terrorize them."

"You're going to use terror tactics? Cool."

"I thought you'd approve."

"What do you mean, looking out the window at me? Can't I go inside with you?"

"Sorry. You don't get to watch the brothers sweat."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to hear what I'm going to say. You never know. You might have to testify against me in court one day."

"Exactly what are you planning to do?"

He grabbed the sugar bowl from the lazy Susan on the counter and sat down across from her. "Wait and see," he said. Then he reached for the box of cereal and poured a huge helping of cornflakes. "I like Frosted Flakes better," he remarked as he started dumping sugar on top.

She got nauseated watching him. "I've got a five-pound bag of sugar in the pantry. Why don't you get it down, grab a spoon, and dig in."

"Sweetheart, sarcasm first thing in the morning isn't appreciated. Want some coffee?"

"I made that for you," she said. "I usually drink a Diet Coke for breakfast."

He laughed. "And you're criticizing my eating habits?"

She got a cold can out of the refrigerator, popped the lid, and took a long swallow. "Did I hear the doorbell this morning?"

"I had some papers messengered to me from New Orleans. It's kind of amazing the driver found your house. My directions

were iffy."

"You have offices in New Orleans?"

"I've got friends there," he said. "After I talked to Daryl, I called some people in Boston. Since I'm not familiar with Louisiana

law or workman's comp, I had to use some of my connections."

"It seems to me that if an employee were injured while on the job, then he's entitled to workman's compensation."

"There are exceptions."

"Like what?"

"If the employee did anything to cause the accident, like come to work drunk, he could be denied workman's comp."

"Or if he used a machine he knew was broken?"

"That's the argument the Carsons will use."

"But you're prepared for that."

"Yes."

"Why are you moving so quickly?"

"Because I don't want to leave Daryl hanging. I'm not going to be here long, and I want to try to get his problem fixed before

I go back home. I promised him."

She lowered her head and watched her cornflakes get soggy. She had known all along that Theo was going to leave. Of course, she did. And that was the reason she was trying not to become attached. There was only one little wrinkle in her plan. As loath

as she was to admit it, she wanted to grab hold of him and never let go.

The big jerk. This was all his fault. If he hadn't kissed her, she wouldn't be feeling miserable now.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"You've got that look on your face… like you want to kick someone."

"I was just thinking."

"About what?"

She pushed the uneaten cereal out of her way, leaned back in her chair, and folded her arms. "Nonspecific viruses." There was

a thread of belligerence in her voice.

"That's the last thing in the world I would have guessed you were thinking about. Viruses. Go figure."

^Nonspecific viruses," she corrected.

"My mistake. So tell me. What exactly were you thinking about nonspecific viruses?"

"They're insidious… and destructive, the way they attack the body. One minute you're feeling just fine and dandy, and the next, your throat is scratchy and sore and your body begins to ache everywhere. Then your glands get so swollen you have trouble swallowing. When you think you couldn't possibly feel any worse, you start coughing, and before you know it, you've got all sorts of secondary complications."

He stared at her for several seconds and then asked, "And you were thinking about this because…?"

You're leaving, you big jerk. She lifted her shoulders. "I'm a physician. I think about such things."

"Are you feeling okay?'?

"Yes, but who knows how I'll feel in five minutes. It's cruel… these viruses. They strike just like that." She snapped her fingers and nodded.

"But if they aren't the deadly kind of virus, then eventually they run their course and go away. Right?"

"Oh, yes, they go away, all right," she snapped.

Theo said what he was thinking. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"I feel a virus coming on."

"You just said you were feeling fine," he pointed out.

"I don't want to talk about this any longer. Sick people depress me."

"Michelle?"

"Yes?"

"You're a doctor. I'm going out on a limb here, but don't you treat sick people all day long?"

She suddenly realized how childishly she was behaving and tried to come up with an excuse for her moment of madness.

"I'm not a morning person."

"Don't you do most of your surgeries early in the morning?"

"Yes, I do, but the patients are already under. They don't care what kind of a mood I'm in. Did you sleep well?" she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

"Yes. What about you?"

"Yes. It was nice not having the phone jar me awake. Have you heard from your friend Noah, yet?"

"No."

"He'll need to stop by here to get the key to the clinic so he can look around. We'll have to wait for him."

"Noah won't need a key."

"How will he get in?"

"He'll break and enter, but don't worry. He won't really break anything. He prides himself on being quick and quiet."

"Are you supposed to meet him at a set time and place?"

"No," he said. "But I'm not worried. Noah will find me. What's on your schedule today?"

"Since you don't want me to start cleaning up the clinic until Noah's gone through the place, I've got a free day. I do need to

get hold of Dr. Robinson and find out about his difficult patients," she said. "And the only other thing I have to do is drag you

to football practice at three. You did promise Mr. Freeland that you'd stop by, and since I'm the team physician-and I use the

term loosely-I have to be there."

"They need a doctor during practice?" he asked, grinning.

"Oh, yes," she said. "The boys do a lot of damage to one another banging heads and other body parts. It doesn't seem to matter that they wear helmets and pads. I had a dislocated shoulder last week and a badly sprained knee two days ago. The boys are really awful, but don't tell anyone I said so. Speaking of Mr. Freeland," she continued, "he wrote down a number on that paper he handed you. Did you look at it, and were you duly impressed?"

"Yes, I read the number. I can't really say I was impressed."

"Amused, then?"

He nodded. "I make more in a week than he offered for the year."

"It's not a rich district."

"I understand."

"And I'm sure he assumed you'd be making money working as a lawyer too."

"Uh-huh."

"Are you going to change into your suit before we go to the mill?"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Levi's? Is that proper attire when you want to intimidate someone?"

"It isn't what you wear that counts. It's all in the attitude. When can you be ready to leave?"

"Give me ten minutes."

She stacked the dishes in the sink and then hurried upstairs to change her shirt to a less revealing one while Theo collected his papers.

As he was backing the car out of the drive, he said, "First stop is Second and Victor. I know it's in St. Claire, but you'll have to give me exact directions."

"It's easy. It's right behind McDonald's."

"Good. I can get some fries to hold me over until lunch."

"Your blood must be as thick as Crisco."

"No, it isn't. I've got low cholesterol and lots of the good stuff."

Michelle directed him through the streets of St. Claire.

"Turn left here," she instructed. "Why are we going to Second and Victor?"

"Fencing. Ah, there it is." He pulled into the lot adjacent to the St. Claire Fencing Company, parked the car but left the motor running, and got out. "I already called the order in, so this won't take long. I just need to pay." He hit the power lock and then

shut the door.

She waited with the air conditioner running full speed. It was hot and muggy outside, and the weatherman had predicted an

eighty percent chance for an afternoon thundershower. She lifted her hair and fanned her neck. She still hadn't readjusted to

the humidity in Bowen. Or the pace of life. She was used to running, and now she was going to have to learn how to slow

down again.

It took ten minutes for Theo to complete the transaction. Michelle was dying to know why he wanted to buy a fence, but she wasn't going to ask any more questions. If he wanted her to know, he'd tell her in his own good time.

She lasted until Theo had parked the car in front of the St. Claire Bank and Trust, which was exactly three blocks away from

the fencing company.

"Did you buy a fence?"

"Uh-huh."

"What kind did you get?"

He was going through the stack of papers in the files he had tucked in the console between them. "Wrought iron," he said.

He pulled out two official-looking documents, then got out of the car and came around to open her door for her.

"That's awfully expensive."

"It was worth the price."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And why did you buy it?"

"Call it a consolation prize," he said, "because I'm not going to get a bigger gun."

He knew she didn't understand. She'd already gone to the car when little John Patrick had told him about his birthday.

"There are fencing companies back in Boston."

"Yes, there are."

It suddenly dawned on her. "Does this have anything to do with Lois?"

"Lois who?"

She gave up. "You're not going to tell me?"

"That's right. I'm the strong, silent type."

"I hate the strong, silent types. They're all type A personalities. Heart attacks waiting to happen."

He pulled the door open. "Sweetheart, don't you ever think about anything but medicine?"

If he only knew. Since she'd met him, the only thing she'd been able to think about was going to bed with him. But she wasn't going to admit it. "Sure I do," she said. "Want to know what I'm thinking right now?"

"Are you getting cranky again?"

She laughed. "When was I cranky?"

Theo motioned to the guard, then stepped back so Michelle could go inside first. He knew his weapon would set the alarm off.

He flashed his government ID at the elderly man and waited for him to hit the release button. The gun was concealed in an

ankle strap he'd had sent to him with the papers.

The guard waved Theo inside. "How can I help you, Officer?"

Theo didn't correct the misassumption. "I have an appointment with the president of the bank. Could you direct me to his office?"

The guard nodded enthusiastically. "Sure I can. Mr. Wallbash is in the back. You can see him sitting behind his desk on the other side of the glass wall." "Thank you."

Theo caught up with Michelle, pointed to a chair in the lobby outside of the president's office, and said, "Maybe you should wait here. I may have to use a dirty word in there."

"What would that word be?"

He leaned down close to her ear and whispered, "Audit."

"Excuse me, ma'am. Aren't you Big Daddy Jake's girl?" The guard was hurrying toward Michelle.

She whispered, "Good luck," to Theo and then turned to the old man. "Yes, I am," she said.

"Then you're the doctor, aren't you?"

He introduced himself and shook her hand. "I heard about what happened down at your clinic. My wife, Alice, and I were just saying how nice it was going to be to have Jake's girl looking out for us. We both need a good doctor. Alice has trouble with her bunions and her corns. She can't put on her Sunday shoes 'cause it hurts so much, and I've got to do something about my bursitis. Some days I can't raise my right arm at all. When do you think you'll be seeing patients?"

"Hopefully, in a couple of weeks."

"We can wait until then," he said. "We've put up with our aches and pains this long. This part-time job of mine helps me keep my mind off my ailments," he added. "I fill in for the regular guard two days a week. I guess you could say I keep banker's hours."

He laughed at his own joke and then said, "Will you look at that? Mr. Wallbash looks like he's gonna have himself a heart attack. His face is as red as a chili pepper, and he's sweating like a pig. He sure doesn't like what the officer is telling him."

Michelle agreed. Wallbash did look ill. He shuffled through the papers Theo had placed on his desk, then looked up long enough

to glare at Theo.

She couldn't see Theo's face because his back was to her, but whatever he was saying as he leaned over the desk was having quite an impact on Wallbash. The president put both hands up as though he were being robbed and nodded vigorously.

She thought she knew why. Theo must have used the magic word.

He wasn't inside the president's office all that long, and he didn't shake the man's hand when he was leaving. Wallbash was busy mopping the sweat from his brow. Theo paused in the doorway, and whatever he said in parting made the color drain from Wallbash's face.

Theo's expression was ferocious as he crossed the lobby to her. He noticed her watching him, winked, then grabbed hold of her hand, nodded to the guard, and kept right on going, dragging her along in his wake.

She waited until they were in the car to find out what had happened. "Well?"

"Wallbash isn't happy, but he'll cooperate. He damn well better," he added in a voice that made her take notice.

"Now what?"

"One more stop and then we can eat lunch. Tell me how to get to the sugar mill."

She gave him directions and then asked him to tell her what he'd done. "Wallbash looked like he was going to have a tantrum."

"The Carson brothers have done their banking at the St. Claire Bank and Trust since the company began. They're one of the bank's largest depositors, and that ought to tell you something about the sweet deal those sons of bitches have going. Wallbash

and Gary Carson are friends. According to Wallbash, he's a real nice guy."

"What about his brother?"

"Jim Carson's a hothead. I think Wallbash is a little afraid of him. Jim's the one who went to the hospital to fire Daryl. They play

it that way on purpose because it gets them what they want."

"like good cop, bad cop?"

"More like bad and worse. You know, I'll take a hothead over a sneaky little weasel manipulator any day of the week. If I'm

lucky today, both brothers will be at the mill and I'll get to watch them do their routine."

"But what was the purpose of visiting the bank?"

"I froze their accounts."

She burst into laughter. "That can't be legal."

"Sure it is," he countered. "Wallbash has the papers, all signed and legal. He has to cooperate, or I'll nail his…"

He stopped himself in time. She ended the sentence for him. "His backside to the wall?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you keep looking at your watch?"

"Timing is everything," he said. "My appointment with Gary Carson is at twelve-thirty."

"You made an appointment?"

"Sure."

"Did you tell him what you wanted to see him about?"

"And ruin the surprise? Of course I didn't tell him the truth. I told his secretary I wanted to do some business with the mill."

"Turn left at the next corner," she instructed. "And follow this road for a couple of miles. The mill's out in the country," she

added. "So Carson thinks he's getting a new account."

"That's right."

"Wallbash will probably call him and tell him about your visit."

"He'll call him at exactly one o'clock and not a minute before, or I'll have auditors tearing that bank apart before he can blink.

He'll wait."

"Would you really do that?"

He didn't answer her. She studied his profile for several minutes and then said, "When you want something, you don't let

anything get in your way, do you?"

"That's right, I don't. You might want to keep that in mind."

"You always win?"

He looked at her. "What do you think?"

It was subtle, the way he had changed the subject. They both knew they were talking about getting his way with her now. Then she remembered what he had said to her before he'd even unpacked the night before. He wouldn't have to go to her bed. She would come to him. When hell freezes over, she thought. She turned to look out her window. Then another thought occurred to her, and she said, "What about payroll? If you froze their accounts, how will the men get paid?"

"The court will appoint someone to write the checks."

"What if the brothers shut down the mill out of spite?"

"They're making too much money to shut down, and besides, I'm not going to let them."

"You can do that?"

"Sure I can. If they don't cooperate, when I'm finished with them, the employees will own the company."

Theo could see the mill in the distance. There were smokestacks jutting out of round silos nestled in between two huge concrete-block buildings. All were connected.

The closer he got, the bleaker the place looked. It had a dirty gray facade and dirty windows, but it didn't look as if it was in bad shape. He parked in the gravel lot, got out, and looked around.

"Mr. Buchanan?"

He turned at the sound of the voice. "Connelly?"

A tall, thin man wearing a business suit approached the car. "Yes, sir."

"Everything in order?"

Connelly lifted his briefcase. "Yes, sir, it is. I just got word. He's filed."

Theo leaned into the open car door and said to Michelle, "Do you mind waiting here?"

"Okay," she answered, "but if I hear gunshots, I'm going to come running."

He turned to Connelly, introduced him to Michelle, and then said, "When I come out, you go in. I want you to wait outside the door."

Theo left the motor running. Removing her seat belt, Michelle pushed the seat back and turned on the radio. Willie Nelson was singing. She took it as a good omen. Maybe Theo wouldn't run into any trouble after all.

Three songs and nine commercials later, Theo came outside. He was smiling as Connelly passed him on his way inside. Theo double-timed it to the car, slid into the seat, and put the car in drive before he shut his door. She barely had time to click her

seat belt closed before he was speeding down the drive.

"Are we making a fast getaway?"

"I'm hungry."

"But you're watching the rearview mirror," she remarked as she turned in her seat to look out the back window.

"Just being cautious. Never know who might have a shotgun under his desk."

"It went that well?"

"Actually, it did go well. Gary Carson's a real nice guy. Couldn't have been more understanding and pleasant. Wants to do the

right thing. I can't tell you how many times he said that. Of course, he qualified it with the veiled threat that he'd have to close

the mill because, and I quote, 'We're just scraping by.' "

"And how did you respond?"

He flashed her a grin. "I laughed."

"So you were tactful."

He laughed. "Sure."

"You're really getting a kick out of this, aren't you?"

He seemed surprised by the question and then said, "Yes, I am. It feels good helping Daryl. Feels real good."

"Because you can see the difference you're making."

"Yes. Of course, this case is easy. I should have it settled before the weekend."

"You really think you can get the problem fixed in a couple of days?"

"Yes, I do. Unless the brothers have some cash stashed away I don't know about and think they can hold out. But even then, it won't matter. They've broken so many laws, I could put both of them behind bars. OSHA would have a field day in that plant."

"Did the hothead go for your throat?"

"No," he said.

She grinned. "You sound disappointed."

"I am," he admitted. "I wanted to see their routine, Jim Carson's in New Orleans for the day, but he's supposed to be back in Bowen around six. Gary mentioned he was going to wait to tell his brother face-to-face instead of calling him on his cell phone, probably so he can get him foaming at the mouth before he sics him on me. My guess is that I'll be hearing from Jim about five minutes after Gary imparts the news."

"Did you happen to tell Gary where you were going to be tonight?"

He grinned. "I might have mentioned that I'd be at The Swan."

She sighed. "You may get to shoot someone after all."