will spend the rest of your life rotting in prison. The day you get this, the printouts are going out to someone who will do

the right thing.

You shouldn't have betrayed me, John.

Catherine

CHAPTER NINE

Michelle had just finished the paperwork to dismiss one of Dr. Landusky's patients and was sitting in his cubicle on the surgical floor of St. Claire Community Hospital, trying to summon up enough strength to finish dictating her charts. Nine were completed, and she only had two more to go. Most of the patients belonged to Landusky. She'd been taking calls for him for the past two weeks while he went on a whirlwind tour of Europe, but he would be back at work tomorrow, and Michelle would officially start her first vacation in so many years she couldn't remember the last one.

She couldn't go anywhere, though, until the charts were finished. And the mail. My God, there was a stack of unopened mail

she'd carried from her cubicle to Landusky's, and she vowed she wouldn't stop until she had sorted through it all. Exhausted,

she looked at her watch and groaned. She'd been on her feet since four-fifteen this morning. A ruptured spleen from a motorcycle accident had gotten her out of bed an hour earlier than usual-and it was now five o'clock in the evening. She propped her

elbows on the stack of charts she'd already dictated, rested her cheeks in the palms of her hands, and closed her eyes.

She was sound asleep thirty seconds later. Michelle had learned, while doing her residency, the benefits of catnaps. She had conditioned herself to sleep anywhere, anytime.

"Dr. Mike?"

She jerked awake. "Yes?"

"You need some caffeine," a nurse remarked as she walked past. "You want me to get you something to drink? You look

wiped out."

Michelle didn't hide her irritation. "Megan, you woke me up to tell me I looked tired?"

The nurse was a young, pretty woman, fresh out of school. She had been working at the hospital less than a week, but already

she knew everyone's name. She had just received notice that she'd passed her state boards. Nothing was going to bother her today, not even a surgeon glaring at her.

"I don't know how you can sleep like that. You were chatting on the phone just a minute ago, and then boom, you're drooling

on your charts and snoring."

Michelle shook her head. "I don't drool, and I don't snore."

"I'm going down to the cafeteria," Megan said. "Do you want me to get you something?"

"No, thanks. I'm on my way out the door. I've just got to finish going through the mail and I'm done."

An aide interrupted. "Dr. Mike?"

"Yes?"

"There's a delivery for you down in ER," she said. "I think you have to sign for it. It looks important," she added. "I hope you're

not getting sued."

"Dr. Mike hasn't been here long enough to get sued," Megan interjected.

"The messenger said the package is from a law firm in New Orleans, and he won't leave until he hands it over to you and gets your signature. What do you want me to tell him?"

"I'll be right there."

Michelle picked up the completed charts and put them in the out box. She left the two she still had to dictate on top of the stack

of mail, then took the stairs down to the emergency room. The messenger was nowhere in sight. The staff secretary spotted her and hurried over to hand her a large manila envelope. "Here's your package, Doctor. I knew you were busy, so I told the messenger I had the authority to sign your name for deliveries."

"Thanks, Elena."

She turned to go back up to the surgical floor, but Elena stopped her. "Don't thank me yet, Doctor. There was a bad wreck on Sunset, and the paramedics are bringing in a vanload of kids. They're two minutes out. We're going to need your help."

Michelle carried the large envelope with her into the doctors' lounge to get a Diet Coke. Then she returned to the nurses' station, sat down, and popped the lid on the beverage. She needed the caffeine to get her second wind, she decided. She put the can

down and reached for the envelope just as the door opened and a paramedic shouted for assistance.

"We've got a bleeder."

Michelle hit the ground running, the envelope all but forgotten.

CHAPTER TEN

No man is an island, and Leon Bruno Jones wasn't the exception. The Count, as he was called by his associates because his eyeteeth were noticeably longer than his other front teeth, resembled a vampire when he smiled. Leon looked as though he

could suck the blood out of his victim, and if the extortion numbers in his duplicate set of books were accurate, he had taken

more than blood.

Leon had a very large circle of friends, and all of them hated Theo Buchanan. Without Theo's investigation, Leon wouldn't

have turned state's evidence and he wouldn't have testified before a Boston grand jury, bringing down one of the most

powerful organized crime rings in the country.

Theo had returned to Boston a few days after his surgery. Even though Leon's case had ended and a half dozen high-level

mob bosses were now behind bars, Theo still had a ton of reports to file and a mountain of documents to record. His superiors

in the Justice

Department suggested that he maintain a low profile. Theo had received death threats before, and though he certainly didn't

take them lightly, he also didn't allow them to interfere with his work. For the next couple of weeks he spent long, exhausting

days at the office.

Finally, when the last paper had been filed and his staff had given their final reports, Theo closed the door to his office and

headed home. He was worn-out, mentally and physically. The pressure of the job had gotten to him, and he wondered if, after

all was said and done, his efforts actually made much difference. He was too tired to think about it. He needed a good night's sleep. No, he needed a month of good nights. Then maybe he could see things a little more clearly and decide where he should

go from here. Would he take the job of heading up a new crime study that the Justice Department had offered, or would he

return to his private law practice and spend his days in meetings and negotiations? Either way, he would be jumping right back

on the treadmill. Was his family right? Was he trying to escape life by working nonstop?

The department heads had urged him to stay out of sight for a little while, at least until Leon's family simmered down some.

Time away from it all actually sounded good to Theo right now. Visions of a fishing line rippling the serene waters of a

Louisiana bayou popped into his head. Before he'd left New Orleans, he'd promised to return to give the speech he'd missed,

and he guessed now was as good a time as any. After the speech, he could take a little trip and check out the fishing hole that Jake Renard had bragged about. Yes, a little time to chill out was just what he needed. There was another reason he was

anxious to return to Louisiana, however… and it had nothing to do with fishing.

Three and a half weeks post surgery, Theo was back in New Orleans standing at the podium in the Royal Orleans ballroom waiting for the applause to die down so he could give his long overdue speech to the law enforcement officers who had come once again from all over the state to hear what he had to say. Suddenly, there she was, inside his head, messing with his thoughts. She had the most wonderful smile, like bottled sunshine. She also had a killer body, no doubt about that. He remembered how, lying in that hospital bed, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off her. Any normal man would have reacted the way he had.