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"Excuse me," Morgan said, forcing a smile as she leaned against the counter. "We need some information on a patient who was treated here recently – Gretchen Smith."
Anton's eyes flicked up, studying the two agents for a moment before he frowned. "I'm sorry, but I can't give out any information without a warrant."
Morgan's heart pounded in her chest, her instincts telling her something was off about this situation. She shared a quick glance with Derik before pressing on. "We don't have time for games, Anton. This is a matter of life and death." She leaned in closer, her voice low and threatening. "Now, are you going to help us or not?"
"Look, I want to help, but my hands are tied," Anton insisted, his gaze darting around the bustling clinic, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Without a warrant, there's nothing I can do."
Morgan clenched her jaw, frustration gnawing at her insides. But as much as she wanted to drag Anton across the counter and force the information from him, she knew she had to play it smart. She exhaled slowly, reining in her anger as she stared the secretary down.
"Alright, Anton, if that's how you want to play it," Derik said, his tone firm but not unkind. "We'll leave and get the warrant. But remember, obstruction of justice is a serious offense."
"Understood," Anton replied tersely, adjusting his glasses as he watched the agents turn to leave.
As they moved toward the exit, Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Anton's behavior seemed strange for someone who was just following protocol. She paused for a moment in the doorway, scanning the room with a critical eye. Something inside her told her not to walk away, to trust her gut.
That's when she saw him. Anton had slipped out from behind the reception desk and was now hastily hauling a stack of boxes down a narrow hallway. His movements were frantic, desperate even.
Morgan's instincts kicked into high gear as she motioned for Derik to follow her. Silently, they slipped down the hallway, their steps muffled by the plush carpeting. As they drew closer, they could hear Anton muttering to himself, his voice frantic and urgent.
"Come on, come on, they can't find this," he muttered, sweat beading on his forehead as he struggled with the boxes.
Morgan emerged from the shadows, her gun drawn as she leveled it at Anton's back. "Freeze," she barked, her voice ringing through the hallway. "Drop the boxes and put your hands where I can see them."
Anton froze, his eyes widening in shock as he slowly turned to face the agents. "I… I can explain," he stammered, his hands shaking as he raised them in surrender.
Then, before Morgan could even process it, Anton darted in the other direction. Morgan didn't think--she just chased after him. Her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline surging through her veins.
"Stop!" Morgan bellowed, her voice echoing through the hallway as Anton stumbled, tripping over his own feet. The boxes he was clutching tumbled from his grasp, spilling their contents across the linoleum floor.
A sickening crunch filled the air as Anton's ankle twisted at an unnatural angle beneath him.
"Argh!" he cried out in agony, sweat beading on his forehead as he clutched at his mangled limb. Morgan could see the raw fear in his eyes, but she couldn't afford to let her guard down – not when so much was at stake.
"Anton," she said, her voice low and controlled as she crouched beside him, handcuffs glinting in her hand. "Why are you trying to conceal patient records in a murder case?"
"Please," Anton whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cradled his broken ankle. "It hurts so bad."
"Derik!" Morgan called over her shoulder, never taking her eyes off Anton. "Get an ambulance here, now!"
As Derik hurried off to make the call, Morgan turned her attention back to the scattered files strewn across the floor. She noticed one of the boxes was labeled 'Patient Files,' and her gut clenched with a mixture of anticipation and dread. What secrets were hidden within these documents?
And what was Anton trying to hide?
***
Morgan, Derik, and Anton waited outside of the clinic, with the box Anton had tried to escape with in tow. The wail of the ambulance siren cut through the tense air, and Morgan's determination only strengthened as the emergency vehicle pulled up to the clinic. Derik stood close by, his brow furrowed with concern as he watched Anton, who was still writhing in pain on the ground.
"Come on, Anton," Morgan urged, her voice taut with frustration. "We don't have much time. You need to tell us why you're hiding these files."
"I—it hurts,” Anton spat between clenched teeth, his face contorted with a mixture of fear and pain.
Morgan gritted her teeth and knelt down beside the boxes, yanking one open to reveal its contents. Her heart pounded in her chest, the seconds feeling like hours as she sifted through the patient files. That's when she saw them - beneath the papers lay tightly bound stacks of cash, each bundle secured with a rubber band.
"What the hell is this?" she demanded, her eyes blazing with righteous anger. She seized Anton by the collar of his shirt, lifting him partially off the ground despite his pitiful groans of agony. "You'd better start talking, Anton. Now."
"Please," he gasped, his whole body trembling. "It's not what you think!"
"Then enlighten me," Morgan seethed, the rage bubbling inside her threatening to boil over. She knew there had to be a connection between the hidden files and the money. But what was it?
