Page 12 of Tough Justice

“Nor would I. Ever.” Breaking any law or medical protocol wasn’t now, nor would it ever be, part of her professional repertoire. “What I can tell you is that the blood samples contained various levels of heroin, fentanyl, carfentanil, or U-47700.”

Decker leaned back in the chair. His brows lowered as he stared at a spot over her shoulder. He began tapping his fingers on the desk, as if he were deep in thought. Abruptly, his fingers stilled, and he refocused his sharp gaze on her. “I need fresh intel on where people are buying this drug. I’d like to speak with every overdose victim that comes into this hospital. I need you to make that happen.”

Tori snorted, suppressing a full-blown laugh. “You expect me to betray patient confidentiality by calling you every time some poor soul overdoses? That’s if they even live to talk about it.”

“No.” Decker’s perfectly chiseled jaw hardened. “I’m asking you to inquire if they would be willing to speak with me. If they will, I want you to notify me right away. I’ll come to the hospital and conduct a quick interview, and that’s it.”

Beneath the table, Tori curled one hand into a fist. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not, and there’s more.” He held up his big hand. “What happened to Dan Prince could happen again. We’re putting together a seminar to train our people on the use of naloxone auto-injectors and the specific dosages they might be looking at if they come across gray death. We need someone from the medical profession to give this training, preferably someone familiar with this drug and with current, hands-on experience treating overdoses from this particular drug. We need you, Dr. Sampson.”

Shock spread through her system. When she’d agreed to speak with him, she’d had no idea what he wanted. Hooking him up with patients and training DEA agents were most definitely not possibilities she’d considered. “First of all, your request for me to hook you up with my patients is inappropriate.”

“Is it?” he countered. “If they agree to speak with me voluntarily, it’s not illegal.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s highly irregular.” To say the least. “Secondly, you must have trained personnel in your agency who are perfectly capable of giving that kind of training. I have very little spare time as it is.” More accurately, there was no way on earth she would ever help the DEA. Twenty years ago, they’d done nothing to help her father, just the opposite, so there was absolutely no chance she would help them now.

“First of all,” Decker said, using the same words she had and annoying her further, “this is a one-time training, a few hours at most. Secondly,” he added, again mocking her word choice, “there’s a precedent for this. A few years back, a doctor from St. Anne’s gave us first aid and CPR refresher training. The DEA worked something out with the hospital’s administrators, and we can do the same for you.”

Tori leaned forward slamming her palms on the table. “You must be out of your fu—freaking mind.” She stood, appalled at her outburst. “I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time. Perhaps you can try another hospital and another doctor. Maybe the same doctor at St. Anne’s wants another thrill.”

“They wouldn’t have your experience, and I want the best for our people.” Decker remained seated, his handsome face a blank mask. “Dr. Sampson,” he said in a low voice. “If we don’t stop this, more people will die.”

They locked gazes, his so intense and mesmerizing that she couldn’t look away. “Clearly, you’re passionate about your work, and I can appreciate that. But it doesn’t change anything. I can’t help you.” Getting into bed with the DEA wasn’t something she was prepared to do. Not after the callous, unconscionable way they’d treated her family. They’d ruined her father’s life, altered the course of her and her sister’s futures, and broken her mother’s heart to the point it had actually given out. Some things could never be forgiven.

He straightened and inhaled deeply, exhaling through his nose. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

She headed to the door, placing her hand on the knob. Decker’s hand appeared on the door over her head, preventing her from opening it. Warm breath washed over the top of her head. “I hope you’ll reconsider my requests. I saw you in the chapel today after that boy died. I’m thinking you don’t want the body count to rise any more than I do. If there was something you could do to prevent that from happening, wouldn’t you want to do it?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, resisting the urge to slap Decker’s face. This guy was good. He knew what strings to pull and just when to do it, but she refused to be manipulated into this crazy-ass agreement. The DEA was aces at that song and dance. When they’d come for her father, they’d manipulated him, too, made it seem like what he’d done was okay. Once he’d cooperated and they’d gotten what they’d wanted, they threw him in jail like a bag of trash.

A few more seconds of silence followed before he removed his hand. A business card appeared in front of her eyes. In the interest of getting out of there, she snatched it and stuffed it into her coat pocket. Without looking behind her, she opened the door and went back to the ER.

The man’s concern about more people dying was legitimate. His mistake was in not doing his homework. If he knew about her family, he never would have approached her in the first place. Even if she didn’t despise the DEA with every fiber of her being, Tori didn’t take risks anymore. The very idea of stepping outside her safe little box to assist with his investigation was too frightening. Her father had stepped outside the box, risked everything for what he believed was right, and look where it had gotten him. Nope, that wasn’t for her. Not anymore.

Walking briskly and refusing to check behind her to see if Decker was watching, she headed for the elevators, pulling out her cell phone to text Wil and Suzie to see if they were free for lunch. A text greeted her, saying they were already waiting for her in the cafeteria.

Two minutes later, she spied Suzie and Wil at a table with Max Maynard, North Metro’s star neurosurgeon, and Neil Shibowsky, the hospital’s equally famed cardiac surgeon. As she approached, she caught some of the conversation while the surgeons proudly showed Wil their Rolex watches.

She sat in the only empty chair and set her tray of mac ’n’ cheese and a salad on the table.

“Hey, Tori,” Max said then went back to flashing the gold watch closer for Wil to inspect. “As head of emergency medicine,” he said to Wil, “you should get one of these.”

“No, get a silver one.” Neil tugged up his sleeve. “The gold one’s gaudy. This one’s classier.”

Wil shook his head. “Too rich for my blood. Besides, I always carry my cell phone around, so who needs watches anymore, right?”

Some of Max’s enthusiasm dimmed.

“How’s it going, Tori?” Neil asked, shoving his watch hand into his pocket.

“Well,” she said, picking up her fork, “you’re not going to believe what I was just propositioned with.”

“Do tell.” Suzie bobbed her brows suggestively. “Does this have anything to do with the DEA agent?”

“That federal agent all the nurses were talking about?” Max asked.

Wil groaned. “So he has muscles instead of brains. Big deal.”