"Are you a real doctor? " Martha said, cocking her head and looking up at her. Her cheeks were pink roses, her skin flawless.
'"Yes, I am."
"Do you give shots? " "Sometimes."
"I don't like shots." She held up a pair of fingers. "I had to get two shots before they let me into kinnergarden." What a darling. So relaxed, so comfortable with a stranger. Obviously she liked people, and that spoke volumes about her home life.
"Shots keep you from getting sick." She gave a Jackie Mason shrug.
"I still get sick! " Gin was saved by Gerry's return.
'"I brought you a Mountain Dew. Through extensive research and experimentation, Martha and I have determined that Taco Bell food goes best with a Dew."
"Mountain Deeeew! " Martha said and raised her cup. Gerry clicked his own against it, then Martha waited, eyeing Gin expectantly. She clicked her own cup against Martha's, then they all sipped.
"Sorry there's nothing higher octane available, " Gerry said.
"Since I have to play doctor in less than two hours, Mountain Dew has all the octane I need." Gin watched across the table as Gerry slid in next to his daughter.
She saw the resemblance between the two, same blond hair, same blue eyes, same nose and smile. And the way that little smile flashed for Gerry .
. . here was a little girl who loved her daddy.
Gin was intrigued, maybe even fascinated. She'd been looking forward to this time with Gerry as a way of tying up one of her life's loose ends. A date, if you could call it that, with the big man on campus, something she'd dreamed of all through high school. But Gerry was so much more than she'd expected. He was warm, he was open, and he was a doting father. She liked that. Liked it a lot. She wanted to know more about him. The closure she'd sought here was opening to something new.
Between bites and sips they caught up on the decade or so since high school. Gerry told her about joining the PBI after graduating U.V.A with a criminology degree but never mentioned marriage or where Martha came from. It took all her will to keep from asking. He nodded encouragingly as Gina took her turn and skimmed through her education, but his head snapped up when she mentioned Duncan Lathram.
"You work for Lathram? The celebrity surgeon? " "He's not the celebrity, just his patients."
"Yeah, " Gerry said sourly. "And you've got to be a celebrity to be treated by him." Gin wondered at the sudden note of hostility in his voice.
"Every day he treats people no one's ever heard of." Gerry leaned forward and pointed to the hairline scars on his face. "He wouldn't take me."
"How . . . ? " "M.V.A." He glanced quickly at Martha.
"Tell you about it sometime." Motor vehicle accident. So that explained the scars.
"Whoever worked on you did a nice job."
"Dr. Hernandez is tops. But I requested Lathram first and he wouldn't even give me a consultation.
" '"Duncan takes only certain kinds of cases."
"The insurance company was footing the bill, so it wasn't a question of money. Why wouldn't he help me? " She was tempted to say, Because he wonnt operate on anyone who needs him, just people who want him. just vanity surgery, the more famous and narcissistic, the better. No trauma repair. But how could Gin explain what she herself didn't understand? Better not to get into it.
"I don't know, Gerry. He's got some strange ideas about who he takes as patients."
"And some of his patients have had some bad luck lately."
"You mean like Congressman Allard? " Gerry stiffened in his seat. "That guy who fell this morning? On the Capitol steps? He was a Lathram patient too? ' "What do you mean, too? " Gerry didn't answer immediately. His eyes took on a faraway look. What was he thinking?
And how did the FBI know, and why should they care, who was and wasn't Duncan's patient?
His mind racing, Gerry stared past Gin at the chicken faiitas poster on the window behind her.
Allard was a Duncan Lathram patient too. That made three . . . three Lathram patients with fatal or near-fatal accidents in the past month or so. What could, ?
werryf He shook himself free of speculation and focused on Gin again.
God, he was drawn to her. All that glossy black hair and deep brown, almost-black eyes, and he loved the way her mouth curved up at the corners when she smiled. He'd never noticed any of that when she was an overweight kid. But then, he'd never looked at her much when she was Pasta.
That had to be part of it. They had a history. He'd known her when, back in the Bad Old Days when she was a homely . chubette, and again, now, when she was sleek and turning heads.
But he hadn't known her then, not really, and he certainly didn't know her now. But he sensed things about her, strength and confidence surging within her, and that was as sexy as anything external.
She'd remade herself, decided how she wanted to be, who she wanted to be, and become that person.
And now that person was waiting for an answer.
He said, "Two powerful legislators have died in the past month.
Congressman Lane and Senator Schulz. Both were, " "Patients of Duncan Lathram. I know. But they were accidents.
Weren't they? " "That's what they appear to be so far."
"How did you know they were both Duncan's patients? " He narrowed his eyes and said, "Vee haf ways . . . " while his mind ranged ahead, calculating how much he should and could tell her.
" I'm serious, Gerry." She seemed upset. Why? Lathram was just her boss. Or was there more to it?
"It just happened to come up in the investigations."
"I heard about the investigations. Why? " '"Two political bigwigs?
Violent deaths within a few weeks of each other? The Bureau investigates. If there is a connection, we want to be the firsr to know. ' '"Oh, " she said, leaning back. "I guess that makes sense."
"Allard's accident wasn't fatal, but he won't be doing much legislating for a while."
"What do you mean? " '"Apparently he's been babbling nonsense since he came to in the hospital."
"Really? ' she said, her brow furrowing. "Must be some sort of postconcussion syndrome. Poor guy."
"Must be." Three disabling mishaps, two permanently so, and all patients of Duncan I'm sorry - but - the - doctor - doesn't handle ^ posttrauma Lathram.
Gerry wondered what other links the three men might have to the good doctor.
""Scuse me, Dad." Gerry looked around as Martha nudged him with her hip.