And yet, she fell into step beside me. “You haven't given us anything new in a while.”
Swallowing thickly, I responded, “Because there’s been nothing to tell.”
When I glanced at her, I saw that her eyes were narrowed. “You went to bed with him, didn’t you?”
Stopping so short my sneakers squeaked on the polished floor, I snapped, “My personal life is none of your business.”
“We know you’ve been out with him a few times,” she continued as I started walking again.
“What part of fuck off don’t you understand?” I demanded, mashing the button for the elevator. “I don’t have time for you.”
“But you have time to let Noah spend the night.”
As the elevator car arrived, Lauder got on with me. Bristling at the idea of being alone with her, I waited for the doors to close before I went off.
“I don't care what you think of me, agent, but I can’t have you hounding me at work when Noah could show up at any moment, not to mention the way my coworkers gossip about every little thing. I told you I’d let you know as soon as I heard anything useful, but they’ve been very quiet around me.”
“Fucking your target sure is a strategic way of getting information.” When I glared at her, she put up her hands. “Hey, we’ve all been there at one point.”
My mouth dropped open. “What?”
“I need you to find me something new.”
“Why should I work so hard on this when you still give me nothing in return?”
“You know, you’re getting awfully cozy with murderers, doctor. Makes me wonder if you have more of your father in you than we originally thought.”
The ding sounded louder than usual, and I stood frozen as she walked off. The doors were about to close on me when I pushed them back, striding out to find Lauder and demand she explain herself.
She was gone.
Fuming, I stormed into my office and threw myself in my chair, typing up my notes as fast as possible. An itch began between my shoulder blades, making me want to scream in anger.
Mom’s face popped into my mind’s eye, but as usual, I struggled to picture my father. It bothered me that when I dreamed of them, it was always the back of his head I saw as he drove. But with her, it was her profile until she turned to smile at me as I chattered about the dance recital and the ice cream. I could recall her eye color, the shape of her mouth, the size of her nose, and see them all reflected back at me through genetics.
But Dad was a different story. I knew his hair wasn’t very dark, but even the exact color eluded me. What had he done for a living? Why couldn't I bring up his face in my memories?
Was he a killer as Lauder had hinted?
And why did that terrify me when he was long dead and couldn't hurt anyone now?
The alarm on my watch went off, reminding me to go back to the surgical suites. My stomach churned as I walked, trying to parse together the information I had with my hazy recollections. Sofia was a stay-at-home mom; even as I started school, she was always there offering me a snack when I got home. I knew Dad did something serious, that his business was important, and he often missed my school events and recitals due to that. Someone had cancelled that night, and he was there with me when he shouldn't have been.
What the fuck had Carmine Franco done for a living?
With minutes to spare before I had to scrub in, I jerked my phone from my pocket and did a quick internet search. I’d done it before, and always gotten zero results.
Almost as if he’d been scrubbed from reality.
Adding the dates of his birth and death didn't help me, and neither did adding my mother’s name.
It frustrated me to tears.
With no choice left, I put it aside so I could focus on my job. Compartmentalizing was usually easy for me, but Agent Lauder’s words dogged me until the routine surgery suddenly became difficult. I fumbled the most basic steps, having to stop and reset myself before I did real damage.
“Are you feeling alright, Dr. Wentworth?” the anesthesia tech asked.
“Just a little off this morning.”
