Alone by Lisa Gardner Page B

someone could be tampering with his food, or someone could be mentally manipulating him not to eat. As a doctor, I've followed up with Catherine, Nathan, and the various nannies about his eating habits. I've gotten answers assuring me that the boy is receiving plenty of food and plenty of the right kind of food. But at the end of the day, I'm still just the doctor. I go home to my family, and Nathan goes home to his.”
    “So someone could be abusing him?”
    “It's possible .” Dr. Rocco said it impatiently. “But I don't think it's probable. And that's what I told Jimmy's investigator. Anyway, it didn't matter. I stopped seeing Catherine, she made nice with Jimmy, and all the questions went away. That's what it was about. It was Jimmy making a point. If Catherine left him, she could kiss her son goodbye and say hello to the criminal justice system. Catherine's a smart woman. She did what she had to do. And for the record, I don't know what the hell else Jimmy did to her, but the day Catherine came to my office to end things, she could barely walk. That's the kind of man Jimmy Gagnon was. So I said it once, and I'll say it again. From where I sit, Officer Dodge, you aimed just fine.”
    Bobby narrowed his eyes. “With Jimmy dead, do you think Nathan might magically start to get better?”
    “I don't know. And frankly, it's no longer my responsibility. As of this morning, I formally ended my relationship as Nathan's doctor. I referred him to Dr. Iorfino, as I was instructed to do by Dr. Gerritsen, the head of Pediatrics.”
    “You were fired as Nathan's doctor?” Bobby asked in surprise. “By your own boss?”
    “You'd be amazed by the kind of power Judge Gagnon wields,” Dr. Rocco said quietly. Then he got an odd smile on his face. “But don't worry, Officer. I'm not quite as helpless as you think. Dr. Iorfino is a geneticist. Call it a hunch, but I think I'm going to have the last laugh yet.”

Chapter
10
    B OBBY WAS JUST leaving the hospital when he became aware of the footsteps behind him. He picked up his pace, hands jammed in his jacket pockets, head down as if staring at the sidewalk, though in reality the angle gave him a peek at the traffic behind him. Dress shoes, high-gloss black, he determined. Pimp shoes, his father would call them.
    He rounded a left-hand corner sharply and gained a better view of his tail when the man belatedly tacked out wide. Long trench coat, beige, nicely tailored. Black dress pants, perfect cuff. Lawyer, Bobby thought. Then suddenly . . .
    He drew up short, ramming his back against a storefront and catching his follower off guard. The man, older, heavy-set, with a scrap of neatly combed silver-brown hair brushing the top of his ears, promptly stopped, threw up his hands, and offered a beaming smile.
    “Ah, you caught me.”
    “And now's the part when I throw you back.” Bobby took a menacing step forward, but the man merely smiled again.
    “What are you gonna do, Officer Dodge? Assault me in the middle of a street filled with people? We both know you're not the type to go head-to-head. Now, give you a rifle, fifty yards' distance, and a darkened room, on the other hand . . .”
    Bobby grabbed the lapels of the man's coat. Three pedestrians noticed the byplay; they promptly scattered. “Try me,” Bobby said.
    “Now, Bobby—”
    “Who the hell are you?”
    “A friend.”
    “Well, friend, start talking, or in thirty seconds, I'm going to rip off your nuts.”
    The man laughed nervously. He'd tried calling Bobby's bluff once. He didn't look so certain about trying it a second time. “Just want to talk,” the man said.
    “Why?”
    “Because I know things you should hear.”
    “Lawyer?”
    “Investigator.”
    “For whom?”
    “Come on, Bobby, you know for whom.”
    Bobby thought about it, and then he did. “James Gagnon.”
    “Technically, Maryanne Gagnon; the lawsuit's in her name. I'm Harris, by the way.” The man tried offering his hand. Bobby ignored it.