Stress Test (40 page)

“Rivera fell in love with Mendiola, who headed the Internet Technology section at Metropolitan. Eventually Rivera told her what he was doing. Rather than being shocked, she found ways to use her position in IT to steal even more personal information. Since there were now two of them working for Grande, Mendiola thought they deserved more money—at least twice as much, perhaps more. She pushed Rivera into presenting their demands. Grande decided he could get along without the two troublemakers, so he sent Hecht and Edgar Lopez to dispose of them. The men were to kidnap Rivera as he left the hospital after a late shift, take Mendiola from her home, and kill them both in such a way that would divert any suspicion away from the hospital.”

That was what Matt needed to connect the dots. He’d thought repeatedly that he was figuratively walking in Rivera’s shoes: taking the job he’d left, driving his car. Now it made sense. This was yet another instance in which Matt had substituted for Hector Rivera. “They got me by mistake,” Matt said.

“Right. Rivera was ill that night and didn’t go to work. The description Hecht had was sketchy. You were a dark-haired doctor, coming out of the ER after midnight, headed for a gray Chevrolet. So they took you. When you got away, Hecht decided to go ahead and get rid of Mendiola, leaving her body in your car to make it look as though you had killed her.”

“And the attempts after that?”

“At first Grande wanted to divert attention from Metropolitan Hospital, where you were kidnapped, so he tried to put you under suspicion so no one would believe your kidnapping story. When that didn’t work, he tried to frame you for murder, sacrificing Lopez to do it. And after that failed, Grande killed the other kidnapper and hired Hardaway to get rid of you. He wanted nothing that would lead back to him.”

Matt looked at Sandra, who had been scribbling notes. She asked Ames, “Have you picked up Grande?”

“I headed a team that went to his office with an arrest warrant earlier today. We confronted him, and he immediately reached into his middle desk drawer. One of the men with me saw a gun in the drawer, and when Grande’s hand started to come out with something in it, the detective shot him. Grande’s now at Parkland Hospital in critical condition.”

“Did he have the gun in his hand?” Sandra asked.

Ames shook her head. “No. He was holding a roll of bills.”

Tanner made a face. “So he thought he could buy his way out of trouble, but all he did was buy even more.”

“Jack, I appreciate your having Detective Ames give us the rest of the story,” Sandra said. “What about Grimes?”

Matt could barely see the nod Tanner gave Ames. Now maybe he could find out why Grimes had been after him, and who was behind it all.

Ames crossed her ankles and leaned forward in her chair. “As I told Dr. Newman, we discovered that Detective Grimes had accrued gambling debts he couldn’t pay. To pay the vigorish—the interest on the debts—he had to scramble, and eventually he was so far over his head that there seemed no way out. That was about the time Dr. Newman turned up in the Parkland ICU with a head injury and a
not-very-believable story, and Mendiola was discovered dead in the trunk of Newman’s car. That’s when Grimes was contacted and told in no uncertain terms that Newman was to be arrested and go to trial for murder.”

“Who would do that? And why?” Matt asked.

“You’ll see,” Ames replied. “Someone, we can call him Mr. X, discovered that Grimes was in the pocket of some shady people. Mr. X contacted them, paid off Grimes’s debt—probably for a fraction of what it was worth—and let Grimes know that from now on he was working for him. Mr. X wanted one thing from the detective. He wanted Matt Newman charged with the death of Cara Mendiola.”

“I repeat, why?”

“At first because he saw prosecuting your case as his ticket to advancement in the DA’s office, maybe even the stepping-stone to becoming the district attorney when Mr. Tanner here retires. To make things even more interesting, as things progressed, he became infatuated with your former girlfriend. Even though she tried to keep that prior relationship secret, somehow the man found out. At that point, he decided it would be good to get you, Dr. Newman, out of the picture so there’d be no chance of a reconciliation.”

Matt raised his hand slightly like a fifth-grader asking permission to speak. Tanner and Greaver exchanged looks. Apparently they knew the answer to the question Matt was about to ask, and weren’t happy about it. But he asked it anyway. “Who is this Mr. X?”

Ames said, “You can see for yourself. The arrest should have taken place just a few minutes ago.”

She opened the office door, and two policemen brought in a middle-aged man in handcuffs. He wore a wrinkled business suit. His pale blond hair was receding in front to meet an advancing bald spot. Rimless spectacles couldn’t hide eyes that darted right and left.

“I don’t know what this is about,” the man said. “What’s happening?”

Tanner stood and fixed the handcuffed man with a gaze that would pierce armor plate. “Dr. Newman, in case you don’t recognize him from your court appearance, this is Assistant DA Frank Everett. Or, I should say, former assistant DA.” To the police, he said, “Get him out of here.”

As the police marched Everett through the doorway, Matt caught a glimpse of the office beyond, where an attractive woman with blond hair sat wide-eyed, her mouth a perfect O, her cheeks redder than any cosmetic could produce.
Oh, Jen. Was he the one?
Matt felt a twinge of compassion. Then the door closed.

“So what’s the verdict?” Outside the exam room, phones rang, bits of conversation floated by, and the business of the neurosurgery clinic went on as usual. Matt blocked all that out and focused his attention on Ken Gordon.

At first Gordon’s expression betrayed nothing. He glanced at the chart in his hand but didn’t open it. Then he looked at Matt and smiled. “It’s all good.”

Matt took a deep breath for what seemed like the first time in a week. “My EEG is okay?”

Gordon took the rolling stool opposite where Matt sat on the edge of the exam table. “Your EEG is fine. My guess is that you don’t have any residuals of your traumatic brain injury. The couple of spells you describe might have been an aberration—the brain’s a funny thing—or they might have been a case of emotional overload causing you to drift off.” He shrugged. “We may never know. What we do know right now is that you have no evidence of an abnormal EEG focus. You don’t have petit mal seizures. You’re cleared for full activity.”

They talked a bit about getting Matt off his meds, and then Gordon hitched his stool closer. “Matt, I need to ask you something.”

Matt’s antenna tingled. He knew Gordon and Sandra had been an item at one time. Was the neurosurgeon going to make another try? Was he about to ask Matt to step aside?

“You may know that Sandra and I dated for a while.”

Here it comes
. Matt nodded, afraid to say more.

“We broke up mostly because she has a deep faith in God, and I’m too pragmatic to believe in something without scientific evidence to back it up.” Gordon’s frown seemed genuine. “You’ve been through an absolute nightmare, but from what Sandra tells me, not only has your faith held up, it actually got stronger through all this. I can’t understand that. You’re a man of science, the same as me. How do you explain your continued belief in God?”

Matt was confused. Did Gordon want to effect an outward change so he could make another try at Sandra? Or was he genuinely interested? On the one hand, Matt knew this was a great opportunity to witness—to share how his faith had been metaphorically tested by fire and forged into something stronger. But if he did, was he also giving Gordon ammunition he could use to get back together with Sandra?

No, this was important. If Matt could help Gordon get closer to God, he had to do it. If Matt and Sandra were supposed to be together, it would happen, and if not . . . well, God was in control.
I
couldn’t have said that a month ago, could I?

The past few days Matt had actually been reading his Bible, finding long-forgotten passages jumping out at him. One of them came to mind now, an encounter when Jesus ran up against the same kind of “I can only believe it if I see it” doubt.

“Ken, are you saying that you only believe in things that are rational? Maybe only things you can see?”

“Right. I guess I find it hard to believe in something I can’t see or understand.”

“Ken, there are lots of things you can’t see, but you still believe they exist,” Matt said. “I can’t see God, but I can see the results of His working all around me. He’s sort of like the wind. We can’t see it, but we know it’s there . . .”

Matt had two phone messages. The first was from the medical student, Randy Harrison. “Dr. Newman, I appreciate your letting me watch and help with that aortic aneurysm. Spending time in the emergency room with you has really opened my eyes. Sure, some of the stuff you do is routine, and some of it’s frustrating, but you actually get the chance to save lives. I’ve already told my girlfriend I’m not going to try for a plastic surgery residency. I think she’s about to break it off with me, but that’s okay. Better to find out now instead of later. I hope I’ll see you back in the ER soon.”

Matt put his feet up on the coffee table in his living room and thought about the time he’d spent as an ER doctor. He’d worried that he wouldn’t be equal to the task, that his training wouldn’t be sufficient. There were a few areas he had to brush up on, but by and large he found that his surgeon’s mentality—make the diagnosis, treat, move on—fit well in the ER setting.

The next message was from Brad Franklin. “Matt, we need to talk about your faculty position. Give me a call.” He’d left his office number, and Matt dialed it now.

“Dr. Franklin’s office, this is Peggy.”

“Peggy, this is Dr. Newman. I’m returning Dr. Franklin’s call.”

“Oh, it’s good to hear your voice. Are you doing all right?”

Matt spent a couple of minutes assuring Brad’s administrative
assistant that, although things had been tough for a while, they were looking up now. Finally she said, “He just got off another call. Let me put you through.”

Matt spent a bit of the silent time wondering what Brad was going to say. He hadn’t really come off all warm and fuzzy when Matt was lying in the ICU without a friend. Then again, Matt could see Brad’s point. Hiring a faculty member who was a primary suspect in a murder case might not sit too well with the Board of Regents.

“Matt, sorry to keep you waiting. How are you?”

“Doing better, thanks.” Matt started to give Brad a recap of the latest events, but the chairman didn’t really give him a chance.

“The reason I called is that we had to go ahead and fill that faculty vacancy. I mean, the fiscal year has started, and we needed someone to see those patients and staff the resident clinics. Of course, if you want to apply for next year—”

“That’s okay, Brad. I understand. Thanks anyway.”

Matt ended the conversation and wondered why he hadn’t told Brad up front that he was no longer interested in the position at the medical school. No matter. Rick had given assurances that Matt’s position in the ER was his as long as he wanted it, and it was looking like that would be quite awhile.