Chapter 7 - The Man in the Clinic Photograph
Victor sat down.
Maria did not.
She paced.
Gabriel stood by the window.
No one knew what to say.
Then Arthur spoke.
“The prescription.”
Everyone looked at him.
He held Maria’s bottle.
“Why did Maria need this last week?”
Maria answered.
“Blood pressure.”
Arthur shook his head.
“No.”
Gabriel frowned.
“What?”
Arthur looked at the label.
“This dose changed.”
Maria stared.
“I did not notice.”
Arthur pulled out his glasses.
“This was written by Dr. Helen Cross.”
Victor looked up.
“I know her.”
“Where?”
“Saint Vincent.”
Silence.
The same behavioral clinic.
Arthur looked at Maria.
“Did you see Cross last week?”
“No.”
Gabriel’s face hardened.
“Then who filled this?”
Arthur answered:
“A younger pharmacist.”
“Who wrote the prescription?”
Arthur pointed to the number.
“Clinic system.”
Gabriel looked at Victor.
“The old clinic is still operating.”
“Yes.”
Victor stood.
“Under a new name.”
Maria whispered:
“What name?”
Victor answered:
“Northbridge Recovery Center.”
Gabriel called security.
They drove there.
The building looked renovated.
Modern glass.
Quiet lobby.
Gabriel gave the receptionist the prescription.
She checked.
Then frowned.
“This patient was not seen last week.”
Arthur said:
“Someone used her file.”
The receptionist looked nervous.
Gabriel’s voice stayed calm.
“Who?”
“I cannot disclose—”
Victor stepped forward.
“Then call your director.”
She did.
Five minutes later, Dr. Helen Cross arrived.
Seventy.
White coat.
Sharp eyes.
She saw Maria.
Stopped.
“Maria.”
Gabriel noticed.
“You know her.”
Cross looked at Victor.
Then Gabriel.
“Yes.”
Maria whispered:
“Were you here twenty-one years ago?”
“Yes.”
“Did you treat me?”
Cross looked down.
“Yes.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
“Against her will?”
Cross answered:
“At first.”
Victor looked ashamed.
Cross continued.
“Later she chose to stay because Dominic had men outside.”
Maria nodded slowly.
Gabriel looked at the doctor.
“Did you treat Marco Marino?”
Cross froze.
That was enough.
Maria stepped forward.
“You did.”
Cross closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Silence.
Gabriel’s voice became quiet.
“When?”
“After Switzerland.”
Victor stared.
“You knew he was alive.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Four months.”
“When?”
“Thirteen years ago.”
Maria began crying.
The same year.
Again.
Cross looked at her.
“He came here looking for you.”
Maria covered her mouth.
“What did you tell him?”
Cross’s eyes filled.
“That you were gone.”
“Gone where?”
“I did not know.”
Gabriel asked:
“Who told you to say that?”
Cross looked toward Victor.
He went pale.
“No.”
Cross shook her head.
“Not Victor.”
Then:
“Charles Reed.”
Gabriel frowned.
“The investigator.”
“Yes.”
Victor whispered:
“He controlled both sides.”
Cross nodded.
Gabriel looked at her.
“Why?”
“I did not know.”
Maria stepped closer.
“Where did Marco go after you lied to him?”
Cross looked toward a locked cabinet.
“I do not know.”
Gabriel stared.
“But?”
Cross opened the cabinet.
Removed a photograph.
Marco Marino.
Older.
Scarred.
Standing outside the clinic.
Gabriel stopped breathing.
Date.
Thirteen years ago.
Beside him stood another man.
Charles Reed.
Arthur whispered:
“That is Reed.”
Gabriel looked at the background.
A woman.
Partially hidden.
Dark hair.
Maria stared.
“That is me.”
Silence.
The photograph had captured both of them.
Same day.
Same building.
Different entrances.
Twenty feet apart.
Neither knew.
Maria sat down.
Gabriel looked at the photograph.
His parents had almost found each other.
Someone made sure they did not.
Cross whispered:
“There is more.”
She removed a second photograph.
Taken three weeks ago.
Marco Marino.
Older.
Gray beard.
Alive.
Standing outside Northbridge.
Gabriel stared.
Maria stopped breathing.
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