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Ambulances rushed Skipper and Becca to the advanced Burn Center at Temple University Hospital. There, Matt met the head of the burn unit, Amanda Law, MD, FACS, FCCM.
The bodily injuries had been bad enough. But the next day one Jesús Jiménez, sent to permanently settle an ongoing disagreement over drug money, snuck into the Intensive Care Unit and pumped thirteen rounds of 9mm into Skipper.
Amanda had confided to Matt that it was her brutally cold professional assessment that Jiménez had done Skipper a favor. There was no question that if he was not going to die from his burns, he would’ve suffered a long and painful recovery from them and never been the same again.
Meantime, Becca, recovering from her injuries, battled with Survivor Guilt, and Amanda had arranged for her to be treated by Dr. Amelia Payne, who had been her suitemate at the University of Pennsylvania. The surname was no coincidence—Amy was Matt’s sister, and had long held the same opinion as Amanda vis-à-vis the Wyatt Earp of the Main Line hanging up his gun belt.
—
Chad looked out the dining room windows at the Atlantic, then turned back to Matt and said, “I thought I was doing the right thing investing in Skipper’s project. And when it all blew up, so to speak, especially after learning about the damn meth, I admitted I’d made a mistake—a huge mistake, okay?—one that I’ve been lucky has not caused any fallout with Nesfoods. As you just said, ‘No good deed goes unpunished.’” He paused, then added, “So, that said, I am not making any damn mistake with Antonov and whatever he and his South Beach Cuban are up to.”
Matt met Chad’s eyes for a long moment, nodded, then exhaled audibly.
“Okay. Sorry,” Matt said, not sounding completely apologetic. “It’s just that something about that SoBe Cuban rubbed the cop in me really wrong. It triggered my Don’t Believe Anyone mode. That, and I’m suddenly ten kinds of really pissed off. I brought Amanda down here to have a pleasant time away from Philly—and we’re not here forty-eight hours and the shit has followed us. Now she’s upset . . .”
Chad nodded. “I understand, man. No apology.”
“Thanks,” Matt said, and looked over his shoulder. “If Amanda returns, tell her I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To hit the head. Mother nature calls.”
And to make a call so maybe we can get this shit behind us and get back to having a good time.
Right. Dream on, Matty.
Unless we find out that Maggie has suddenly popped up safe somewhere, her missing is going to keep weighing on Amanda. . . .
—
Matt crossed the dining room and entered the gentlemen’s facility that was between the dining room and the bar. When he exited, he turned in the direction of the bar. He expected to see the men with the young women as he entered, was surprised they weren’t there, then went through the bar and outside. He followed the path lined with flickering tiki torches down toward the immaculately groomed beach, pulling out his cell phone as he went.
When he looked at the screen, he saw that Mickey O’Hara had texted three times and, in the last hour, called twice and left voice-mail messages.
What the hell is up with him?
Well, first things first . . .
He speed-dialed Jason Washington.
“Good evening, Matthew,” Jason answered on the first ring.
“Sorry to have taken so long. It’s been a very interesting day since you called.”
“What do you have for me?”
“I’ll tell you about the other later. To answer your question about Maggie McCain, Amanda said she has not spoken with her in about a week. She doesn’t recall exactly which day. But it’s been since Maggie came back from a trip to the Caribbean.”
“We’re aware of the trip. Did she say if she understood it to be business or pleasure?”
“We”? Matt thought. That certainly sounds official.
“‘Vacation’ was the word she used. Amanda has spent the last half hour trying to call and text her, since learning about her house catching fire—”
“How did she hear that?” Washington interrupted.
“Not from me, obviously,” Matt said. “Chad Nesbitt told us just now at dinner. Said it started as a home invasion. Any truth to that?”
