Justice Lost (Darren Street #3)(4)

“C’mon, Bernie, I’ve done you plenty of favors in the past,” he said.

“Really?” was the response from Bernie Weinstein, a member of Fraturra’s medical group. “Name one.”

Fraturra cringed. “Give me a break, Bernie. This is important.”

“Where are you?” Weinstein asked. “Your speech is slurred. You’re drinking again, aren’t you, Nick?”

“No, I’m past all that. I just need you to cover for me.”

“You’re lying. You’re drunk. Which bar are you in, and I’ll call Bill Taylor, have him come and pick you up. Taylor won’t say anything to anyone.”

“I’m not in a fucking bar! My mother fell and broke her hip. I’m driving to Murfreesboro.”

“And this fall happened when?”

“I don’t know. A couple of hours ago, I think. I just found out.”

“Why didn’t you call Jenkins? He’s the boss.”

“Jenkins is a dick. You know he doesn’t like me.”

“He’s your ex-father-in-law, and you’re the father of his grandson. He’s also kept you employed far longer than anyone else in his position would have. He feels loyal to your father. That’s the only reason you weren’t out on the street a long time ago.”

“He also financed his daughter’s divorce from me.”

“Who can blame him? You were screwing everything you could get your hands on. Listen, Nick, I’d like to help you, but we’ve been down this road. I just don’t believe you. I think you’re in a bar somewhere, probably trying to get laid, and you’re trying to dump your call responsibility on somebody else. I’m not going to risk getting sued, I’m not going to risk my job at the medical group, I’m not going to risk my medical license, and I’m not going to cover for you. So either you call Jenkins right now or I will. Is there a patient who needs care in labor right now?”

“I don’t know. I’ve gotten a few pages and two calls from Southside Birthing Center.”

“And you’re on call there tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“What did they say?”

“I didn’t answer.”

“Did they leave you a voice mail?”

“I haven’t listened to it. Jesus, Bernie, babies practically deliver themselves. How do you think the human race got this far in the first place? The nurses can handle it.”

“Are you listening to yourself, Nick? What the hell’s the matter with you? Whatever you’re doing, stop it right now. Call Jenkins—no, I’m calling Jenkins—but you get your ass over there and see about your patient. I just hope everything is all right.”

“Fine, asshole,” Fraturra said. “I’ll find somebody else to cover.”

“I’m calling Jenkins,” he heard Weinstein say as he disconnected the call.

Fraturra started going through his contact list of the other doctors in his group as he walked out of the bathroom. He was thinking about cocaine, Viagra, and what he was going to do to that voluptuous blonde named Danielle Davis. When he walked back into the bar, he didn’t see her. He stepped to his stool and motioned the bartender over.

“Where’s the blonde who was here?” he said.

“She paid and bolted as soon as you went into the bathroom,” the bartender said.

“Shit,” Fraturra muttered under his breath. “Bring me my tab.”





CHAPTER 3

About half an hour after we arrived at the birthing center, I began to get the distinct impression that something was wrong. Fraturra still hadn’t shown up, and the nurse’s demeanor had changed. Her face was tight. She was moving quickly. She kept checking the monitors, and she kept feeling Grace’s baby bump and talking quietly to Grace. She left the room several times.

“Have you heard from the doctor?” I said to her when she walked back in after leaving for the third time.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

“Everything okay with Grace?”

“Of course.” She turned and gave me a strained smile. “Everything is fine.”

She ran her hands over Grace’s belly again, looked at all the monitors again, and turned to me.

“Excuse me, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said.

“You just got here,” I said as she hurried out the door.

When she came back about five minutes later, she had an older woman with her, also wearing a nurse’s uniform.

“Hi,” the woman said to me. “I’m Allison Broyles, a registered nurse. I’m just going to take a look at a couple of things.”

“What’s going on?” I said. “And don’t say nothing. Don’t tell me everything is fine, because I can tell from the look on your face that everything isn’t fine.”

“Your baby’s heart rate has dropped some,” Nurse Broyles said. “That concerns me a little.”

“Where’s the doctor?”

“We called the head of his group. He’s on his way.”

“But where is the doctor who was supposed to be here when we got here?”

Nurse Broyles turned, looked at me, straightened her back, and said, “I don’t know, sir. We’ve been trying to reach him, and he isn’t responding.”