Page 107 of Ballistic

“You were under the wrong impression.”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t …. I can’t do that, Mister Wolfe.” He stood up from his chair, tapping his fingers on the desk as he rounded it. “See, I already have Nicoleta. So, I’m afraid your information is useless to me at this point. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave before I call security.”

Bingo.

“Call them. I’m sure they’d love to hear what I’m about to show you.” I clicked on the recording of Dawn’s confession from the night before, watching his face sour—with surprise and a small bit of shock, at a guess.

“Doesn’t prove anything. Could be anyone.”

“Maybe not. But I had some friends of mine do some digging around, and they came back with a username: Voyeur-two-ICU. Linked back to your fucking email.” I laughed, stuffing the phone back into my coat pocket and clicking the record button to on. “Fucking amateur. Christ, every good criminal knows not to link an email.”

His face turned ghost white, and I watched his neck bob with a swallow. “What do you want?”

“You commissioned the video for Eden O’Malley. Didn’t you, Doctor Emberle?”

He shook his finger at me and crossed his arms. “I didn’t commission the attempted murder. That was not me.”

“Answer the question.”

“Yes. Okay? Is that what you want from me? Are we done here?”

“Nah, we’re just getting started. See, I sent that recording to some of the best hackers in the world. And, uh …” I tugged my phone out of my pocket once more and clicked ‘send’. “Now they have your confession to go along with it.”

He flinched and rolled his shoulders. “You’re quite slick, aren’t you?”

I shrugged, stuffing the phone back into my pocket. “It’s a gift, really. Although, for a doctor, you’re not that smart.”

“What. Do. You. Want?”

Straightening in my chair, I gripped the arms of it like a king taking his throne. “I want you to release Eden and wipe out her medical record. I want you to destroy the videos for Dawn Richardson, as well as Eden’s. And if you’re a good little bitch, I’ll tell my friends not to beat you up after school. Deal?”

“What guarantee do I have?”

“No guarantee, I’m afraid. But your odds are significantly improved if you do what the fuck I tell you. Your alternative isn’t as clean.”

The flinch of his eye seemed to be a nervous tick. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s whatever the fuck will get your happy ass on that phone and have her released from this shithole.”

A mirthless smile flashed across his face, but quickly disappeared as he leaned forward in his chair. “I have to say … well played. I had no idea you were so … manipulative.”

“Cunning. I prefer cunning. Has a better ring to it. And I didn’t know you were such a sick and pathetic piece of shit, either, but here we are.”

Chin high, as if he had any right to be proud, he lifted the phone and dialed a number. Could’ve been security. I was ready for that, too.

“This is Doctor Emberle. I need to call in a voice order for Eden O’Malley. Thank you.” He kept his eyes on me in the pause that followed. “Is this the nurse for Eden O’Malley? I need to have her ready for discharge within the next ten minutes. Have transport wheel her down to the front entrance for pick up. I’ll be there to sign all the necessary papers. Thank you.”

As soon as he set down the phone, I tipped my head until his eyes returned to mine. “Wasn’t that easy?”

“What now?”

“Her record. Trash it.”

He turned to a file cabinet, thumbing through them, and lifted one of the folders from inside, which he held up for me to see her name printed on the white label. Into the shredder beside the cabinet, he fed each of the papers from the file, then opened it, showing that it had been emptied.

“And the video of Dawn Richardson.”

“I don’t keep digital copies. They’re traceable.” He shuffled across the room to a safe, dialed the numbers, and opened it to reveal a stack of encased DVD’s inside. The sight of them coiled my stomach—about a half dozen videos of different girls, I guessed.