professional history is pristine; a complaint has never been made to the American Medical Association in regard to your practice. You pay your taxes on time. As far as I can tell, you’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket.”
Her eyes widened. “You did a background check? On me?”
“It seemed prudent, given the circumstances.”
Sophie shook her head and smiled sarcastically. “If you were interested in speaking with me, you’re not choosing a very wise way to get my cooperation, Mr. Fisk. If you’ll excuse me, I need to be going.”
She turned and started down the hallway.
“Thomas Nicasio is in grave danger,” Fisk called out behind her.
Sophie’s feet came to an abrupt halt. She slowly turned around and faced him.
“You care about him. Even if you two did just recently become . . . acquainted.” His eyes flickered once again over her waist where she’d just tucked in her blouse. It hadn’t been a question, but a statement, Sophie realized. When she didn’t respond, Fisk just nodded as though she had. Sophie had to admit she’d never been very good at hiding the truth.
“And you’re worried about him, aren’t you, Doctor?”
“Yes,” Sophie replied hoarsely. She swayed slightly in her heels, unable to decide if she should go or stay. “What . . . what made you think that Thomas isn’t well?” she asked warily.
“He’s either not well or he’s a hell of an actor,” Fisk mumbled. He grimaced slightly when he saw her concerned expression. “Look . . . I’m not at liberty to give you any details of the investigation.”
“I’m not interested in details of your investigation,” she bit out. “I’m interested in Thomas’s well-being.”
“I’m interested in that, too.”
“You certainly weren’t acting like a concerned friend when you came here with your partner to badger him today.”
She straightened when he didn’t respond. “If you’re so worried about Thomas Nicasio, what are you doing here ? Shouldn’t you be looking out for Thomas’s safety?”
“I have someone looking out for him,” Fisk replied levelly.
She raised her eyebrows in query, but once again, he didn’t respond.
“Is there anything specific you can tell me about why you’re hovering around in my hallway? Because I haven’t got time for your warnings about Thomas’s safety if that’s all you’ve got to say. Your dire predictions aren’t helpful to me.”
“Let’s just hope my predictions aren’t accurate as well, Dr. Gable.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Thomas turned his head, squinting when a car’s headlights shone directly in his face as he pulled into the Mannero, Inc., parking lot. Darkness shrouded him as he stepped out of his car. The factory was located on Laflin Street on the West Side, far enough away from the Loop that the city lights didn’t have much more effect than a string of Christmas tree lights would in illuminating a football stadium.
Whoever had just left had been working late. The parking lot was completely empty with the exception of his vehicle. He was glad he wasn’t going to run into any question-asking employees. He glanced at the illuminated dial on his watch as he walked toward the entrance, grimacing when he saw that it was a little after nine.
He’d kept telling himself to call his mother, to check in on her, but he’d never gotten around to it. He recalled something she’d said to him at Rick and Abel’s funeral as they both stared across the room at Joseph Carlisle.
“Make sure you try to talk to him, would you, Thomas? You always seem to cheer him up when no one else can,” his mother had said.
Her statement had made a familiar, paradoxical feeling of pride and guilt stab through Thomas. Any evidence of Joseph Carlisle’s affection had always filled him with a sense of self-worth. It bolstered his confidence to know that Joseph considered him a true son, that his father didn’t regret taking in a vulnerable, confused and angry ten-year-old
Her eyes widened. “You did a background check? On me?”
“It seemed prudent, given the circumstances.”
Sophie shook her head and smiled sarcastically. “If you were interested in speaking with me, you’re not choosing a very wise way to get my cooperation, Mr. Fisk. If you’ll excuse me, I need to be going.”
She turned and started down the hallway.
“Thomas Nicasio is in grave danger,” Fisk called out behind her.
Sophie’s feet came to an abrupt halt. She slowly turned around and faced him.
“You care about him. Even if you two did just recently become . . . acquainted.” His eyes flickered once again over her waist where she’d just tucked in her blouse. It hadn’t been a question, but a statement, Sophie realized. When she didn’t respond, Fisk just nodded as though she had. Sophie had to admit she’d never been very good at hiding the truth.
“And you’re worried about him, aren’t you, Doctor?”
“Yes,” Sophie replied hoarsely. She swayed slightly in her heels, unable to decide if she should go or stay. “What . . . what made you think that Thomas isn’t well?” she asked warily.
“He’s either not well or he’s a hell of an actor,” Fisk mumbled. He grimaced slightly when he saw her concerned expression. “Look . . . I’m not at liberty to give you any details of the investigation.”
“I’m not interested in details of your investigation,” she bit out. “I’m interested in Thomas’s well-being.”
“I’m interested in that, too.”
“You certainly weren’t acting like a concerned friend when you came here with your partner to badger him today.”
She straightened when he didn’t respond. “If you’re so worried about Thomas Nicasio, what are you doing here ? Shouldn’t you be looking out for Thomas’s safety?”
“I have someone looking out for him,” Fisk replied levelly.
She raised her eyebrows in query, but once again, he didn’t respond.
“Is there anything specific you can tell me about why you’re hovering around in my hallway? Because I haven’t got time for your warnings about Thomas’s safety if that’s all you’ve got to say. Your dire predictions aren’t helpful to me.”
“Let’s just hope my predictions aren’t accurate as well, Dr. Gable.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Thomas turned his head, squinting when a car’s headlights shone directly in his face as he pulled into the Mannero, Inc., parking lot. Darkness shrouded him as he stepped out of his car. The factory was located on Laflin Street on the West Side, far enough away from the Loop that the city lights didn’t have much more effect than a string of Christmas tree lights would in illuminating a football stadium.
Whoever had just left had been working late. The parking lot was completely empty with the exception of his vehicle. He was glad he wasn’t going to run into any question-asking employees. He glanced at the illuminated dial on his watch as he walked toward the entrance, grimacing when he saw that it was a little after nine.
He’d kept telling himself to call his mother, to check in on her, but he’d never gotten around to it. He recalled something she’d said to him at Rick and Abel’s funeral as they both stared across the room at Joseph Carlisle.
“Make sure you try to talk to him, would you, Thomas? You always seem to cheer him up when no one else can,” his mother had said.
Her statement had made a familiar, paradoxical feeling of pride and guilt stab through Thomas. Any evidence of Joseph Carlisle’s affection had always filled him with a sense of self-worth. It bolstered his confidence to know that Joseph considered him a true son, that his father didn’t regret taking in a vulnerable, confused and angry ten-year-old
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