“Marilyn, would you leave us, please?” he asked. “And close the door behind you.”
Julie hovered near the door, her hands clenched into fists, electric currents racing through her body.
“What on earth are you doing here, Julie?” Romey’s tone revealed both puzzlement and annoyance.
“Surprised to see me, Roman?”
“How did you get into the building?”
“I used Lucy’s badge, same as I used Allyson’s badge to get into West.”
“Clever girl. We’ll have to address that security lapse, won’t we? What is it you want, Julie?”
“I want to cut a deal.”
“A deal about what?”
“A deal that will keep me and my son alive and you out of prison. I think we have a lot to discuss.”
Romey reclined in his high-back leather desk chair, folded his arms across his chest. Julie found his expression obnoxiously sanguine.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Romey said. “But I do know I’m busy and you’ve been fired from White, which means I’m going to have you forcibly removed.” Romey reached for his desk phone.
Julie approached with caution, ignoring the fear bubbling in her gut, the tremor in her heart. “I have proof,” she said. “Cetuximab and alpha-gal. I know how it works.”
Romey set the phone back on its cradle and returned his hands to his lap. He rolled his chair forward and leaned his elbows against his uncluttered desk.
Julie was intentionally vague, wondering how Romey would respond and what she would do if he attacked, if he pulled a gun on her. She inched forward and got to within a few feet of his desk, close enough so she could read the time on his brass clock. By now Spence and Capshaw would have a big surprise on their hands and the police would be grilling Lucy and Becca for information. With luck, it would all be sorted out soon enough.
Romey glared at Julie. “What do you want?”
“I told you, a deal.”
Romey’s face turned thoughtful. “How do I know you haven’t already cut one?” he asked. With his finger, Romey pointed up and down Julie’s body and then touched his ear.
This is it, Julie thought. This is the moment. Her excitement began to build, but her fear remained. “Always be three to four moves ahead of your opponent,” Lucy had said.
“I see your point,” Julie said. She directed her gaze to a white lab coat hanging on a metal coat tree tucked in a corner-something she had noticed on her last visit to Janowski’s office.
“What if I put on that lab coat,” she said, “and wear nothing underneath?”
A slip of a smile came to Romey’s face, with a leer Julie found disgusting.
“I’d say it would work for me if it works for you.”
Romey rose from his chair, adjusted his suit, and then retrieved the lab coat.
“I’ll watch,” Romey said.
“What? You don’t trust me, Roman?”
“No. I don’t.”
Julie locked eyes with Romey and did not avert her gaze while she removed her car keys and phone from the pocket of her trench coat. She set those items on the corner of Romey’s desk and dropped the jacket to the floor by Romey’s feet. Underneath, she wore a blue blouse and black slacks. She had given Becca the wig and glasses in a bathroom exchange made in the lobby of the Barstow Building, but not the lab coat with the wire in the button. Julie had walked out of the building not wearing any disguise, while Becca stayed behind. On her way to Romey’s office, Julie kept up the ruse by conversing with Lucy in the surveillance van. When it was time, Julie ditched the bugged lab coat in a trash can after crushing the device under the heel of her shoe. Now she was here, about to get undressed, and everything was going according to plan.
Romey took in Julie’s figure, clearly imagining what was to be revealed to him, reveling in it. The anticipation excited him, Julie could tell. She undid the buttons of her blouse and lowered the zipper of her black slacks. Romey kept his eyes on her the entire time, and it was obvious he found the experience arousing. He dangled the lab coat in front of Julie like some reward she had yet to earn. Julie struck a stolid expression as she stepped out of her pants and took off her blouse.
“Everything,” Romey said, eyeing Julie’s body with a wolfish grin.
Julie took off her bra and underwear, anger eclipsing any embarrassment. Once she stood naked before him, Romey handed Julie the lab coat, but pulled it away the second she reached for it.
“I may never have this view again,” Romey said.
Julie snatched the coat from Romey’s hands and did up the buttons as quickly as she could with her own hands shaking. Romey stashed Julie’s clothes in a gym bag and walked the bag out of his office.
“Leave that where it is,” Romey said to Ms. Bates. “And hold all my calls, cancel all my meetings for the day. I’ll be leaving after this.”
Julie crossed the room toward Romey and stopped halfway between the door and his desk. She circled so that her back was to the door and Romey’s to his desk. It gave her a quick exit, but there was another reason she took up the position. Roman would learn what it was soon enough.
Julie felt naked even though the lab coat covered most of her body. The chill on her legs was an unpleasant reminder of her vulnerability.
“So, then,” Romey said, motioning to the conference table. “Do we want to sit so you can tell me about this deal of yours?”
“I’m fine to stand,” Julie said. “The deal is I want my life and I don’t want anyone to come after me or Trevor. That’s the nonnegotiable.”
“Who said anyone would?”
“I could put you away for life with what I have on you.”
“Then do it, Julie. Put me away.”
“I don’t know how many Lincoln Cole types you may have employed.”
Romey set his hands on his hips. “I see.”
“Why did you do it, Roman?”
“Who said I did anything?”
“It was the money, right? You and your bottom line.”
“You’re making grand accusations now. I’m owning up to nothing.”
“Cetuximab doesn’t come cheap, but it must have been worth it, or you wouldn’t have done it. So tell me, Roman, how much was Sam going to cost you? How much did you save by killing him?”
“Killing him? You must be crazy.”
“How much? Tell me, or I’ll turn in the evidence and take my chances you can’t get to us from prison.”
“Money is not the point. Is it? You of all people should agree. The point, my dear, is that health care should be just that. Health. Care. At some point in time, we’ve turned it into sick care. We’ve gotten to a place where all we do is spend money to keep people alive. Our job as healers is to heal. Our job is not to simply perform more tests and provide more services on people who will very likely die anyway.
“You ask what does the death of a patient like Sam save me,” he said. “I ask you, what did it save him? Years of being treated like an experiment, of enduring the next grand hope, the next big promise for the possibility that one day he might get a taste of what a normal life is like again. What would those years have been to him? Isn’t it better to die quickly than to live in misery enduring test after test, treatment after treatment? Isn’t that the right you fought so hard for?”
“I fought for the patient’s right to choose,” Julie said. “Not for you to make the decision for him.”
“Maybe some patients need a push.”
“Just like some politicians.”
“We all have our motivators.”
“How much did it take to motivate William Colchester?”
“Excuse me?”
“My guess is the devoted dad was more devoted to his bank account than to justice. So I want to know how much it cost you to keep Donald Colchester in the ground.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do. When the recording surfaced, you probably felt a little anxious wondering what it might reveal. Lucky for you it picked up a fall guy. When the recording evidence got tossed, you scrambled to make the case against him stick. You knew the mother wouldn’t stop until she got some answers. She’d been fighting for her son from day one. The last thing you wanted was an investigation into Donald Colchester’s death, so you got Sherri Platt to turn on Brandon, and you or your goon planted the drugs in his apartment. But you couldn’t get to the judge who might have agreed to exhume the body. William Colchester had to do that for you. So tell me, what does it take to buy that kind of cooperation?”