“Don’t ever think that. You aren’t responsible for what that amoral bastard did.”
Intellectually, Jeanette could accept that. Only Rutherford was responsible for his evil actions. But, emotionally, she had a hard time swallowing the fact. She wasn’t ready to pass through the rationalization phase and go on with the grieving process. It had taken her a long time to get over Paul’s death.
Also, Charles’s death had a whole other twist to it. On any given day she could’ve taken that capsule — and he wouldn’t have. No — rationalization and acceptance wasn’t in the cards for a long, long while. This was much more immediate and a whole lot closer to home.
“Scott’s right.” Andrew interrupted the strained silence. “I’ve always found when someone you care about has been taken from you, actions often help more than talk. What we need to do is nail this sucker.”
Jeanette was embarrassed. Here she was acting like a weeping widow over Charles while his twin brother, who had all the more right to be grief-stricken into immobility, had been thinking of a way to make Rutherford pay. He was one hundred percent correct. Some action definitely would make her feel better — or at least help her forget the image of a dying Charles contorted in pain, gasping for breath.
“I’m sorry, Andrew. You’re right. Action sounds good. So, when are y’all going to clue me in as to what we’re gonna do about Rutherford?”
Scott sent Andrew a questioning look.
Andrew nodded. “Tell her.”
“Andrew and I have met with investigators from both the DEA and U.S. Customs.” Scott moved to sit next to her on the couch. He picked up one of her hands and held it in his, his fingers gently massaging as he spoke. “As Charles had found out, the agencies have lots of suspicions, but no proof that Lopez is a drug smuggler. They knew about the body parts, but bringing transplant organs into the country is not on its face illegal.”
“But…”
“But what about the body mafia?” Andrew finished for her.
“DEA knew nothing about that until we connected the dots for them and pulled U.S. Customs into the meeting. It seems the United Nations Task Force on Illegal Body Part Trafficking had asked U.S. Customs to police itself. Customs had conducted a somewhat half-assed investigation, but had gotten nowhere.”
“Then it’s hopeless?” Jeanette grew cold at the thought of Rutherford getting away with all his crimes.
“No. It’s not.” Andrew paced as he spoke. “All we have to do is help the DEA and Customs people get the evidence to file federal charges against Lopez. We showed the agencies the proof that Lopez and Rutherford are working together. They agreed if we could find physical proof of the crimes committed — read drug smuggling here, because that is all they are interested in — then they could charge both men and freeze their assets and those of the companies they own.”
“How will that help prove they murdered Sally, Alex Randolph, Stu Thomas and Charles?”
“It won’t,” Scott said. “But federal charges on drug trafficking would put them away for a far longer period of time then anything else we can currently pin on them. And crooks have a way of selling each other out to avoid prison.”
“And there are the murders of foreign innocents for the body parts,” Andrew said. “Everyone involved in that would be tied up in courts both domestic and international for years. They’ll go away for a long time — and you and your daughter will be safe.”
“That’s the most important thing — you and Little Bits.” Scott kissed the back of the hand he held.
“So — how do we get the evidence?”
Jeanette sensed they were keeping something from her. It wasn’t going to be as easy as it sounded. There had to be a catch. There was always a catch.
“Remember when you, Charles and I were discussing all this and I mentioned that One World had one-month rotations for medical residents?”
“No!” Jeanette sat up and gripped Scott’s hand so tightly her hand cramped. “You aren’t going to go. I won’t let you. You can’t leave me… I can’t lose you, too.” She ended on a wailing note.
Jeanette flung Scott’s hand away from her and stood. She moved away, afraid she would hit him in her anger. She couldn’t recall ever being this mad. How dare he throw his life away? Why couldn’t he see that putting Rutherford away wasn’t worth losing his life? If he cared for her, he would stay — let some DEA man go.
Hell, she’d go herself before she allowed him to go.
“I have to go.” Scott’s voice was firm. “Paul would’ve gone, and I love you as much as he did — maybe more. What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t protect you any way I could? How could I practice medicine knowing that my peers are transplanting organs taken from murdered innocents? This may be the one chance to prove these guys are evil scum bags. Not just anybody can infiltrate One World — it has to be another doctor.”
Stupid, macho man.
Jeanette stiffened, then turned around. What had he just said?
“Who tried to infiltrate? What happened to the other doctor?”
“I didn’t say anything about…”
“Yes, you did.” Jeanette stalked over and poked him in the chest. “You said something about not just anyone could get into One World. It has to be another doctor. Did the DEA already try to get someone on the inside? What happened?”
“Scott, it isn’t going to wash.” Andrew looked grim. “Tell her the truth.”
“Yes, tell me the truth.” Jeanette stared Scott in the eyes. “What has already happened down there? Where are they located now? In Central America? South America? No, I remember. Brazil.”
Scott turned his head and contemplated the open doors to the balcony. For a while she thought he wasn’t going to answer, then he turned back. His eyes asked for understanding. She knew she wasn’t going to like what he’d say.
“A Brazilian doctor doing his residency at University of Miami Med Center volunteered to help the DEA track down the proof for the drug smuggling.”
Scott looked toward the dusky courtyard once again, seeking what? A way out of this mess? A way to make her accept him going to his death?
He sighed, shook his head. He turned, his eyes filled with resolution. “He sent several reports back. He’d found some evidence on the body-part trafficking and was just about to follow a lead to the drug operation when he stopped transmitting. Some native fisherman found his body in the Pantanal Region of Brazil. His throat had been cut, and his heart and other organs removed.”
“No. You can’t go.” Jeanette grew calm, frozen in an icy rage.
“I’ve already signed up.” Scott looked at her, eyes pleading for understanding. “I leave in a little over a week.”
Strange that it would take anger to make her feel really alive for the first time since Charles died. Even now in the midst of this all-encompassing fury, she felt in control. She realized what needed to be done — and, nobody could stop her from doing it. Especially the men in her life.
Jeanette swept both men with a frigid, angry glance. “Fine. Don’t take into consideration my feelings on this. You do what you have to do — and I’ll do what I must do.”
“Jeannie,” Scott rasped, as he reached out to grab her. “What the hell does that mean? What are you going to do?”
Shrinking from his touch, Jeanette replied, “Why should you care? You won’t be here to worry about it.”
Both men stood paralyzed with silent stupefaction as Jeanette left the room.
———
Monnier wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew that Eric Matthews’s presence in New Orleans didn’t bode well for someone. He just hoped it wasn’t him.
Matthews was a stone-cold killer. So amoral that Monnier felt uncomfortable around the man — and Monnier had associated with some fairly evil dudes in his time.
“Report,” said Rutherford.
Monnier’s head jerked round to look at his boss. What report? Then realized that Rutherford was asking
Matthews, not him, to speak.
“Mr. Roth met with an unfortunate accident in his cell.” Matthews’s face displayed no expression.
Chills swept down Monnier’s spine. Roth was dead. Mentally, he calculated all his liquid assets and wondered how long it would take to get them together so he could leave town.
“And our next project?” Rutherford lit the cigar he’d been chewing on. “How are you coming with that?”
Matthews pulled a small leather notebook out of his pocket and flipped the cover open. “Ms. LaFleur has been staying close to home. She is accompanied at all times by one and sometimes two men — professionals by the look of them. Good, too. They almost made me yesterday. Her daughter is gone. They must have taken her out of town before I got here. I have no clue where she is, and the only people who know are the woman and the men who are guarding her.”
“And the people who the kid is with.”
Matthews allowed a hint of irritation to materialize on his stone face. Monnier smirked. So the man was human.
“Yes, sir. As you say.” All hints of anger buried, Matthews once more imitated a rock.
“So, how do you intend to get Jeanette LaFleur out of my life?”
“She just started to work for the Medical Center Eye Clinic.” Matthews flipped to another page. “I…”
“What?” Rutherford threw his cigar at the ash tray on his desk — and missed. Anger turned the doctor’s smooth, handsome face into a grotesque mask. “The bitch has to be eliminated and soon.”
As if he realized he was losing it, Rutherford used the pretense of picking up the smoldering cigar and relighting it to give himself some time to calm down. “Do you realize the trouble she could cause if she puts her head together with Payton and Warren? Even her death wouldn’t stop the investigation into my research project or the potential medical malpractice suits.”
The soothing ritual of smoking the cigar unsuccessful in appeasing his loss of temper, Rutherford stood up and walked over to the bar. He poured himself a Scotch, straight up, and tossed it back in one swallow. Fortified with alcoholic courage, he turned to his imported gun and snarled, “Kill her, Matthews. Kill her tomorrow — at the Clinic.”
“Her bodyguards are with her when she goes to work.”
Monnier could have sworn he caught a hint of laughter in Matthews’ feral eyes. The man enjoyed Rutherford’s uneasiness.
Rutherford pinned both men with a comprehensive glance. “Monnier. You help him. Kill little Jeanette tomorrow — or be prepared to take the fall for the murders you both have already committed. You know I can do it.”
Both he and Matthews nodded. Monnier wondered if Matthews had heard about Rutherford’s past. Before he had become a doctor, his reputation had been that of a man who never let anything — or anyone — get in the way of what he wanted. Since becoming a doctor, Rutherford had paid others to do his dirty work, but he still held to the same philosophy. Some people might imagine he’d gone soft. But Monnier wasn’t stupid enough to think Rutherford couldn’t kill if he had to. Killing had to be like riding a bicycle; once you’ve learned, you never forget.
Survival instincts kicking into high gear, Monnier made plans to buy an airplane ticket to the most remote place he could find and still maintain access to his Swiss bank accounts. After tomorrow — New Orleans wouldn’t see him for his dust.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Next Day at Medical Center Eye Clinic
“Come in, Jeanette.”
Jeanette entered the small room used by the Clinic doctors for patient-family conferences. Dr. Payton sat at the head of the oblong table. In the room were two others, an attractive woman in her mid-thirties, wearing tinted glasses, and a stork-like figure of a man who dressed far older than he probably was.
If Maggie Payton had done as she’d promised, the woman was Lynn Barrios, the patient who’d been bilaterally blinded by Dr. Rutherford’s Epi Procedure. The glasses masked and protected her unseeing eyes from some holdover light sensitivity. And from public scrutiny.
According to her charts, she could only differentiate between varying intensities of light. Her world was one of misty shadows with just enough visual acuity for her to avoid walking into objects and people — and that only in bright light. But what should have been a partial blessing had turned out to be even more of a curse than total darkness. The glare of the light caused the poor woman to suffer debilitating migraines.
Lynn Barrios was in constant pain and distress from the results of the Epi Procedure — and she had mentioned, more than once, her intent to sue Rutherford.
After making her decision to do something about Rutherford, Jeanette had called Maggie, who’d mentioned the young and attractive Lynn as the ideal plaintiff to draw public attention to Rutherford’s perfidy. Lynn had been a highly successful model who’d graduated to anchoring a popular Louisiana cable morning show. Since the surgery, she couldn’t do her job, was embarrassed to be seen in public, and had lost her husband to another woman.
Sight unseen, Lynn Barrios had sounded like the answer to Jeanette’s prayers. The reality was even better. A jury would have to be made of stone not to relate to this beautiful woman’s plight — a plight created solely by Rutherford’s reckless disregard of his patient’s safety.
“Not a pretty picture, am I?” Lynn Barrios tilted her head toward Jeanette. “I understand you worked for a short time at the Epi Study Clinic. How many more people has he blinded since he butchered my eyes?”
A hint of rising hysteria tinged the husky contralto of Lynn’s voice.
“Lynn, please.” The thin man’s deep baritone startled Jeanette into really looking at him. He had to be Lynn’s lawyer, Evan Devereaux.
His voice belied his appearance.
Jeanette’s first impression had been of an Ichabod Crane-stick of a man. Next to the auburn-haired glory of Lynn Barrios, Evan appeared gaunt, colorless — a non-entity.
But his voice had a magnetism. Jeanette could imagine both men and women falling under the spell of that voice — a male Siren beckoning the jury to his way of thinking.
“What, Evan? Aren’t I allowed to ask questions? Ms. LaFleur is supposed to be our expert witness on the Epi procedure. Aren’t I allowed to find out what she knows — or doesn’t know? Am I to be kept in the dark about this, too?” Lynn’s voice caught on a small sob. “Isn’t it enough that I can’t see, can’t do my job, can’t…”
Lynn wiped a tear from under her tinted lenses with the back of one elegant finger. “I’m sorry, Ms. LaFleur. Evan keeps reminding me that we must speak only neutral, non-committal words until the facts come out, lest the evil doctor pre-empts us by suing for slander. And here I always thought truth was a defense.”
Jeanette had to give the lawyer credit. He hadn’t winced. Instead, he smiled gently and took his client’s limp hand within his two large ones.
Devereaux loved Lynn Barrios!
Only she was too blind — both physically and emotionally — to sense it.
Evan’s eyes, a startling platinum color, captured Jeanette’s gaze. “Ms. LaFleur, I would…”
“Please, call me Jeanette.”
“Jeanette, it is then. I’m Evan.”
She nodded.
He smiled and cast a glance at Lynn, whose vacant stare was just visible through the tinted lenses of her glasses, then he squeezed his client’s hand gently.
“I would like to thank you for being willing to testify on Lynn’s behalf against your former employer. I know this will be hard on you both personally and possibly professionally.”
“Jeanette has nothing to worry about professionally, Evan.” Maggie spoke up. “She trained here. My colleagues and I are behind her — and Lynn — one hundred percent. Dr. Rutherford has to be stopped. Lynn’s case is just one of dozens we’ve seen in the Clinic. Unfortunately hers is the worst case — but the best for legal purposes.”
Maggie turned. “Lynn, with Jeanette’s investigation results and our clinic’s
documentation of the Epi failures we’ve seen, I’m sure that your attorney can make not only a case of medical malpractice, but also of intentional infliction of bodily harm. In Louisiana, I understand you can get emotional distress damages.”
“Battery. We lawyers call it civil battery, doctor. And yes, with the physical damage Lynn has suffered, we can go after psychological damages and punitive damages because of the knowledge and intent on Dr. Rutherford’s part.”
Maggie waved her hand. “Well, whatever you call it, Byron Rutherford did it. We can show that he knew that his procedure was flawed, but manufactured data to show a higher success rate than was real. That was misrepresentation.”
“He told me the success rate was well over ninety percent. That the side effects were minimal — maybe some initial blurring or auras around lights at night, like contacts cause. That I would be able to read the teleprompter without contacts or glasses. He even said my reading vision would improve…” Lynn’s voice trailed off softly.
“And then he did this to me.” She shook off Evan’s grip and gestured to her eyes. “Now, I’m a freak — and in constant pain, taking medications that barely cut it.”
Empathetic tears filled Jeanette’s eyes. Now, she had even more reason to nail Rutherford’s ass to the wall. This woman’s life was dominated by Rutherford’s actions, just as hers was. Both of them were imprisoned: Lynn with her lack of sight and loss of independence and emotional stability, and Jeanette with her lack of freedom to live in safety.
Putting away Rutherford wouldn’t bring back Lynn’s eyesight, but it might heal her psyche. It definitely would make the world a safer place, not only for Jeanette but also Rutherford’s other potential victims.
Jeanette could help. But her help alone would not do the whole job. She had to concede that others would have to become involved. Some, like Scott, in dangerous ways.
His trip to Brazil had the highest probability of putting the lock on Rutherford’s prison door for life.
She’d known that fact last night when he announced his decision to spy for the DEA — but she’d been afraid to acknowledge it. Instead, she’d gotten angry at the unfairness of it all. Truth be told, she was still mad — but resigned.
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