Maybe none of it’s true. Maybe Dr. Russo gave Adam the very best treatment possible. But if Adam saw this post, he may have started to think otherwise. He may have grown resentful.
As I look at the photos and the label in the caption,homicide suspect, I remember how the doctor sided against the brothers after Mariana’s accident.
Why would he have done that, going so far as to try and get them expelled? Was it really mob mentality—the town’s collective fears—that caused the doctor to turn against his own patient? Or did Adam say something in those early days, maybe under sedation? Something that would cause Dr. Russo to not only spread the word that Adam had committed the crime but maybe even sabotage his healing?
I call Henry, who picks up on the second ring.
“Hey,” he says, but it sounds like a question.
I grab a pen off the desk and search through the drawer for a scrap of paper, tearing a page from an old notebook. “Henry, did Adam ever mention his experience with Dr. Russo in the hospital? Or his treatment plans?”
There’s a pause, and I can’t blame him for being confused. “A little,” he finally says, sounding tired. “The guy has a terrible bedside manner. Adam even asked to move hospitals. Said the guy had it out for him.”
“And what did you think?” I ask, jotting down some notes.
“I thought Adam was going through a lot, and he was on a ton of meds. I’m sure you’ve noticed that he’s not exactly an easy guy to get along with under normal circumstances. Bram and I figured he was overreacting. Plus, Russo said transferring him was too big a risk.”
“What did your parents say?”
“I mean, they didn’t have much choice,” Henry says, voice taut now. “They had to make all the early decisions over the phone because they were in Paris. They basically put Bram and me in charge. And by the time they got here, Dr. Russo said further surgery was pointless. The burns on Adam’s hand were too severe. Something about tissue and muscle damage. He told Adam there was nothing else he could do for him and to try physical therapy. Didn’t even bother giving him a referral. Look, Hayden, I appreciate all you’re doing. But like I said earlier, I’ve got to—”
“I know,” I say quickly, staring down at the question I scribbled on my scrap paper and underlined three times. “I just keep thinkingabout the school board stuff and what made Dr. Russo turn on the three of you. You don’t…” I hesitate, knowing that once this is out, I can’t take it back. “You don’t think maybe Adam said something…incriminating? Like while he was on all those meds. Or maybe during the surgery, Russo found—”
“No,” Henry cuts in sharply. But a moment later, he sighs. “Sorry, I guess I’m angry at myself. Dr. Russo did turn out to be an arrogant jerk, didn’t he? We should’ve listened to Adam.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Henry,” I say. “You and Bram were put in an impossible situation.”
“Yeah,” he says grimly. “Look, I still haven’t gotten ahold of Mr. Swanson. Talk later?”
“Okay,” I start to say, but he’s already hung up.
Setting my phone and pen down, I take a deep, calming breath. My stomach starts to grumble. It’s past two p.m. and I never paused my research to eat lunch.
I grab my phone and descend the stairs. In the kitchen, I find my dad rooting around in the pantry.
“Hey,” I say, opting for something from the fridge.
“Hey, kiddo.” He emerges with a box of crackers. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing much.” I grab last night’s leftovers as Dad settles down at the table. Once the rotini is in the microwave, I pour myself a glass of water and take a seat across from him. I’m still thinking about that question Henry answered all too quickly about the doctor. “Hey, Dad, remember back when those parents were tryingto get signatures to keep the Abbott boys out of school?”
He nods, his mouth full.
“Dr. Russo supposedly spearheaded the whole thing. But what exactly did you hear? Did Dr. Russo ever make any actual accusations about Adam or his brothers?”
He swallows, shaking his head. “You know I didn’t want anything to do with that school board agenda. I stayed far away.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say, my heart swelling. “You trust the boys.”
“Well, that,” he says, “and I know Arnold Russo has been bitter toward their family since long before Mariana was killed.”
My heart jolts. “Bitter…how?”
He stops himself from stuffing another cracker into his mouth. “Probably shouldn’t be sharing this.” He shuts one eye and tilts his head. “Then again, neither should’ve Russo’s accountant. But a couple years back, Dr. Russo claimed Jonathan Abbott stole hundreds of thousands of dollars from him.” At the look of shock on my face, my dad waves a hand. “The doctor invested in the auto shop. Apparently, Jonathan told him business was booming and that soon, there would be Abbott Auto Repair shops all over the country. Well, Russo, seeing dollar signs, jumped at the opportunity. Only the investment flopped, as they sometimes do.”
The microwave beeps, but I ignore it. “I didn’t know those two even spoke. I’ve never seen them in the same room together.”
“Well, this may be the reason. If memory serves, the families were never close, but they weren’t enemies. They grew up side byside, the sons of the two wealthiest families in town.” Dad went to Silver Springs High around the same time as Dr. Russo and Mr. Abbott. “Your mother used to talk about the fancy parties Mrs. Russo would host up at her place. She was never invited, of course, but Mrs. Abbott always was.”
