“He’s pretty out of it,” Ezra says.
“We can move him as soon as I get these dressed,” says the doctor.
Ezra nods, then turns to me. “I’m guessing you don’t want to take him to a Society hospital.”
“Correct.”
“You can house him at your clinic?” he asks the doctor.
The doctor looks at me, and I know what he’s seeing. A big fat payday. “I’ll have to clear out my patients.”
“That’s fine. Do what you need to do,” I tell him. “The SUV?” I ask Ezra.
“I’ve got a partial plate, but it won’t be easy to track.”
“Did he do this himself?” I ask, gesturing to the band around his arm and the needle on the floor.
“I don’t think so. He was tied down when we got here,” Ezra says. “And he doesn’t have tracks. A regular user would have tracks. My guess is the coke was his, but whatever was in that needle wasn’t.”
I look at his arms, at the strips of bloody clothing. They used his shirt to tie him down. “Probably owed someone money.”
“That would be my guess, considering what I have learned recently. My car is in the lot. Let’s continue our conversation outside,” Ezra says, glancing at the doctor. We step out, closing the door partially behind us. “I was going to courier these files to you, but then this call came in, so I brought them with me.”
“What did you find?”
“I tracked down at least where some of the money went when he was in Europe. And finding him like this… The beating was inflicted to deliver pain but he’d have died of an overdose if the manager hadn’t called it in. The intent was murder. I’m not even sure whoever was responsible cared about it looking like it, considering.”
“Fuck.” I follow Ezra to his car. He unlocks it remotely, then opens the trunk, where I see a small safe. He’s nothing if not thorough.
“That bad?”
“It’s not good.” He unlocks the safe and hands me a sealed folder. “There’s not much else you can do here. Go home and read what I sent you. We’ll need to get ahead of it. If this was who I think it was, they tracked him from Europe to New Orleans and were pissed off enough to send soldiers. If they find out he survived, they’ll come back to finish the job.”
“How the fuck did I not know?”
“No one did. Not even your grandfather.”
“I want to know the instant he’s lucid.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Ezra says.
“No calls. No disappearing acts. He’s good at that.”
“I got this, Judge. I’ll call in private security.”
“Thank you.” I walk back into the motel room to look at my brother one last time. He seems to be asleep.
“Go,” Ezra pushes.
I do.
I don’t go home, though. I go to my office.
Mercedes is out on her lunch date with her friends, and when Raul calls to tell me she wants to go shopping, I agree. It’ll be a good distraction, and she may ask fewer questions later.
I expect to be home by dinner, but the information Ezra has gathered is worse than I would have imagined.
My brother has managed to get on the wrong side of the Italian mafia. He owes them money. A lot of it.
I spend most of the night reading through the thick file and reach out to my counterparts in that part of the world to learn as much about the family as possible. By the time I’m finished, I have a headache and am exhausted. It’s after midnight when I get to the house, which is quiet. Raul is having a beer with Paolo in the kitchen. I pour myself a scotch and join them.
“How was she?” I ask Raul.
“Pleased with the shopping. She put a dent on your card, though.”
“I’d expect no less.” I swallow the scotch, smiling. I am guessing she bought her friends a whole new wardrobe compliments of me.
“Where is she now?”
The men shrug their shoulders. “Had dinner with Lois a little while ago. I guess she went up to bed. Lois turned in early.”
“Alright. You two have a good night.”
I finish my drink and walk out of the kitchen. I’m passing my office to go up to bed when I hear something inside. I pause and listen at the door. It’s quiet for a moment, but then I am sure I hear the sound of a drawer closing.
Without hesitation, I open the door to catch Mercedes sitting in my chair. She must have her nose in the bottom drawer because in her haste to come up, she hits her head on the still-open top drawer. She mutters a curse, rubbing the spot before fixing her face in a cool, indifferent expression.
I close the door behind me and set my briefcase on the floor. “Can I help you with something?”
She cocks her head to the side, takes a beat too long to answer. “I was looking for my phone.”
“I gave you a phone.”
“My old one. I have a number I need to get out of it.”
“Whose number?”
“Just a number. Why do you have to know everything?”