Chapter Four Ghosts Don't Stay Dead.

“Tell me everything."

We sat in Frank's office, me on his leather couch, him across from me, posture deceptively relaxed. 

"His name is Dr. Magnus Vance. Chief of Surgery at Boston Memorial. "My hands twisted together hard enough to hurt. "I was a third year resident. And I watched him kill patients."

Frank went very still. "Explain."

"Medication errors that weren't errors. Post-op complications in healthy patients. Overdoses ruled accidental." I swallowed hard. "I started tracking it. Too many deaths in his cases, all with massive insurance payouts."

"You reported him."

"I reported him to the medical board. The hospital administration. The state licensing bureau." I pulled up my sleeve. The scar ran from wrist to elbow. 

Frank just stared at the scar like he was memorizing it. Something shifted in his jaw, a muscle tightening.

"He found out. Caught me in the stairwell after a double shift when no one else was around and asked me to reconsider but I refused."

I locked eyes with Frank. "He pushed me down two flights of concrete stairs. Told me the next fall would be from a roof.”

A chill passed over Frank’s face, shutting everything down.

"He pushed you."

"He shattered my left arm, got three broken ribs and a concussion, grade three." I dropped my sleeve. "When I woke up, he was standing beside my hospital bed. Smiling. Holding my chart."

"He told me how lucky I was. How tragic it would be if I had another 'accident' during recovery. How hospitals were dangerous places for clumsy residents.”

"The threat was clear. Recant or die."

"So you disappeared."

"I faked my death with a car accident, closed casket. Changed my name, got a fake license and came here. He has money, connections, and power. If he finds me he'll kill me."

"He won't."

"You don't know that."

"He's a dead man. No one threatens my people.”

"I've been here two days. I'm not your 'people.'"

"You saved my brother's life. You stood up to me twice." Something changed in his expression. "In my world, that makes you mine. Whether you like it or not.”

He started typing. "I'm making some calls."

"What kind of calls?"

"The kind that solves problems permanently."

"You mean murder."

"I mean justice." He looked up. "He kills patients for money, tried to kill you, is hunting you right now." He stood, loomed over me. "Give me one reason I shouldn't."

I couldn't. God help me, I couldn't think of a single reason.

"If you kill him, there'll be investigations. Questions."

"There'll be a suicide. Or a mugging in the wrong neighborhood. Or he'll vanish and no one will ask questions because men like him make enemies." Frank crouched in front of me, eye-level. "I've been doing this a long time, Jane.”

His phone rang. He answered without breaking eye contact.

"Talk." A pause. "You're certain?" Another pause. "Send me everything."

He hung up. His expression darkened.

"Magnus Vance checked into the Veritas Hotel three days ago. He's been asking questions about clinics in your neighborhood." Frank stood. "He's here, Jane. In my city. Looking for you."

My lungs forgot how to work.

"Stay here. Don't leave this room." He grabbed his jacket. "When I come back, he won't be a problem anymore."

Dr. Rosabella found me pacing.

"Frank told me. You should sit."

"I can't."

"Then at least stop wearing a hole in the carpet. It's Persian."

"Frank's going to kill him."

"Probably."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Should it?" She sat on the couch, maddeningly calm. "Magnus killed patients. Tried to kill you. Is actively hunting you." She shrugged. "The world's better off without him."

"That's not justice."

"No. That's not the legal system that lets men like Magnus buy their way out of consequences. Frank makes them pay."

Before I could respond, my phone rang again.

Unknown number.

"Don't answer." Rosabella started.

I answered anyway. Put it on speaker.

"Dr. Evan." Not Magnus. Frank. "Listen carefully."

"What happened?"

"Magnus Vance is dead."

Air left my lungs. "What?"

"Suicide. Single gunshot to the head. Hotel room at the Veritas. My people found him twenty minutes ago. He was already cold."

“At least he was thorough. And saved me the trouble of testifying.”

"He left a note."

"What kind of note?"

"A confession. Handwritten, notarized yesterday." He spoke in short bursts, each word precise and hard. "Insurance fraud, patient murders, conspiracy to commit murder."

"And a partner. Dr. Richard Chen.”

My hands went numb. "Who?"

"Dr. Richard Chen. Chief of Internal Medicine at Boston Memorial. Your old colleague."

Dr. Chen. My mentor. The man who'd recommended me for residency, who'd praised my work.

"That's impossible."

"It's in the note. Detailed records, patient names, dates, bank transfers. Chen's going to panic when he learns Magnus is dead. And when he panics he'll come for you."

The word sounded like a heavy blow.

"Stay exactly where you are. Trust me. Let me handle this."

The line went dead.

Rosabella watched me carefully. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I should go to the police."

"And tell them what? That a dead man's confession implicates your former mentor, but you can't testify because you're legally dead and living with a mafia? That'll go well."

"So what, I just hide here?"

"You hide until you're safe. Really safe." She stood. "The police take months, Jane. Investigations, evidence, trials. Chen has time to find you, silence you, disappear." She gripped my shoulders. "Frank can protect you. You should trust him."

"I barely know him."

"Then get to know him. Because like it or not, he's the only thing standing between you and a bullet."

Frank returned at dawn.

"We need to talk."

His office again. Whiskey poured without asking. This time, I drank.

"My people are digging into Chen. Everyone involved in the fraud." He sat across from me. "But we need proof that'll stand up. Magnus's confession alone won't be enough."

"We need to find someone who'll testify. Someone on the inside." He pulled up a list of names on his laptop. "You worked there. Who would talk?"

I scanned through the list. Colleagues, friends, people I'd trusted once and One name caught my attention.

"Dr. Elowen Meshack. She questioned Chen's protocols multiple times. If anyone would help it's her."

"Where is she now?"

"Still at Boston Memorial. Chief resident."

"Can you reach her?"

"I'm supposed to be dead, Frank."

"Then resurrect yourself. Temporarily." He handed me a burner phone. "Call her."

My hands shook as I dialed.

Four rings. Then: "Hello?"

I'd missed that voice.

"Elowen. It's me."

Silence. Then, with a low voice: "Jane?"

"Yes."

"You're dead. I went to your funeral."

"I faked it. I'm alive. And I need your help." I glanced at Frank. He nodded. "It's about Dr. Chen. About what he's been doing."

Then: "Where are you?"

"Somewhere safe. Can you meet me? New York, tomorrow.”