T. Lynn Ocean - Jersey Barnes 03 - Southern Peril by T. Lynn Ocean Page B
Authors: T. Lynn Ocean
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Surely they’d have found something to tie us to the scene. For that matter, what about 911? If everybody had cell phones back then, one of us would have called for help right off the bat.”
“That might have been a good thing, if the cops came.” Jonathan’s chin arched up as he waited for the last of the Scotch to roll into his mouth. He spotted Deanna and motioned her with an empty lowball glass. “Maybe then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Leo scraped up the last flakes of salmon with a chunk of bread and stuffed the wad in his mouth. “Yeah, well, we wouldn’t be where we are, either. I rather like where I am. I like my Mercedes and my mountain house and the fact that my wife doesn’t have to work and my boy is going to Princeton and my girl will be going to Europe next summer with her senior class. If you want to start playing the weepy what-if game, take a minute to stop and think about how much we’ve given to this community.”
The table quieted when the men saw Deanna approach. She served a fresh Scotch, refilled water glasses, scraped crumbs from the table, cleared plates, disappeared.
“Whoopee,” Jonathan said. Thick and slurred, the single word traveled slowly through the thin wire in the ceiling. Morgan adjusted his earbud. “I listen to pampered people bitch about their lives and dole out antidepressants. And then you two give them new noses and suck out their fat. How …
meaningful.”
“What we give our patients is
confidence,
and don’t you ever forget that.” Leo’s finger went up. “And anyway, as far as giving back, I was talking about all the donations we make for good causes. New playground equipment at three parks. State-of-the-art kennels at the animal rescue. Landscaping around the low-income housing. The orthodontics program for needy kids. Shall I keep going?”
On the monitor, it looked like the boozed-up doctor shook his head no.
“He’s right, John,” Michael said. “You’re a good doctor, and you help your patients deal with their lives. And Leo and I are good cosmetic surgeons. We make our patients happy. The three of us do more for this community than any medical group I’m aware of.” He downed some water. “Besides, it’ll all be over soon. Another year and we can get out.”
Leo burped, wiped his mouth, drank some wine, shook his head as though confused. “I still can’t figure out how he found us. It’s never made any sense. How did he know it was us, and how did he track us down after all these years?”
“You sound like a damn broken record,” the shrink said. “How many times are you going to bring that up? How did he know? How did he find us? How did it happen? How, how, how?”
Leo’s head rolled back and to one side in a “whatever” gesture. “It’s a valid question. It was pitch black that night. Nobody saw us. The only two witnesses were dead. It doesn’t make sense.”
Jonathan sucked some Scotch and slammed the glass onto the table. Morgan jumped in his office chair.
“My ID card. It was my ID card, okay? My freakin’ student ID card.”
Michael’s voice dropped a few octaves. “What are you talking about, John?”
“The next day, after it happened? I couldn’t find my student ID. It was in my shirt pocket the night before, at the party. I know I had it. And I searched everywhere. Your car. The frat house. Our apartment. Everywhere.”
“Son of a bitch,” Leo said. “You were staggering drunk that night. You were bent over puking your guts out, you drank so much.”
“It must have fallen out of my pocket,” Jonathan said, sounding far away.
“He had to have been following that car, then, when we ran it off the road,” Leo said. “He saw the wreck and stopped, but we’d already gone.”
“Yes,” Jonathan agreed, as though he’d already been through the scenario a thousand times in his head. “He caught up with the car all right. The money was gone, but he found my ID.”
Riveted, Morgan held his
“That might have been a good thing, if the cops came.” Jonathan’s chin arched up as he waited for the last of the Scotch to roll into his mouth. He spotted Deanna and motioned her with an empty lowball glass. “Maybe then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Leo scraped up the last flakes of salmon with a chunk of bread and stuffed the wad in his mouth. “Yeah, well, we wouldn’t be where we are, either. I rather like where I am. I like my Mercedes and my mountain house and the fact that my wife doesn’t have to work and my boy is going to Princeton and my girl will be going to Europe next summer with her senior class. If you want to start playing the weepy what-if game, take a minute to stop and think about how much we’ve given to this community.”
The table quieted when the men saw Deanna approach. She served a fresh Scotch, refilled water glasses, scraped crumbs from the table, cleared plates, disappeared.
“Whoopee,” Jonathan said. Thick and slurred, the single word traveled slowly through the thin wire in the ceiling. Morgan adjusted his earbud. “I listen to pampered people bitch about their lives and dole out antidepressants. And then you two give them new noses and suck out their fat. How …
meaningful.”
“What we give our patients is
confidence,
and don’t you ever forget that.” Leo’s finger went up. “And anyway, as far as giving back, I was talking about all the donations we make for good causes. New playground equipment at three parks. State-of-the-art kennels at the animal rescue. Landscaping around the low-income housing. The orthodontics program for needy kids. Shall I keep going?”
On the monitor, it looked like the boozed-up doctor shook his head no.
“He’s right, John,” Michael said. “You’re a good doctor, and you help your patients deal with their lives. And Leo and I are good cosmetic surgeons. We make our patients happy. The three of us do more for this community than any medical group I’m aware of.” He downed some water. “Besides, it’ll all be over soon. Another year and we can get out.”
Leo burped, wiped his mouth, drank some wine, shook his head as though confused. “I still can’t figure out how he found us. It’s never made any sense. How did he know it was us, and how did he track us down after all these years?”
“You sound like a damn broken record,” the shrink said. “How many times are you going to bring that up? How did he know? How did he find us? How did it happen? How, how, how?”
Leo’s head rolled back and to one side in a “whatever” gesture. “It’s a valid question. It was pitch black that night. Nobody saw us. The only two witnesses were dead. It doesn’t make sense.”
Jonathan sucked some Scotch and slammed the glass onto the table. Morgan jumped in his office chair.
“My ID card. It was my ID card, okay? My freakin’ student ID card.”
Michael’s voice dropped a few octaves. “What are you talking about, John?”
“The next day, after it happened? I couldn’t find my student ID. It was in my shirt pocket the night before, at the party. I know I had it. And I searched everywhere. Your car. The frat house. Our apartment. Everywhere.”
“Son of a bitch,” Leo said. “You were staggering drunk that night. You were bent over puking your guts out, you drank so much.”
“It must have fallen out of my pocket,” Jonathan said, sounding far away.
“He had to have been following that car, then, when we ran it off the road,” Leo said. “He saw the wreck and stopped, but we’d already gone.”
“Yes,” Jonathan agreed, as though he’d already been through the scenario a thousand times in his head. “He caught up with the car all right. The money was gone, but he found my ID.”
Riveted, Morgan held his
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