Her eyes softened, turning pensive. “If there’s something I can do proactively to stop the rising body count, I want to do it.” Absently, she stroked Thor’s ears, allowing him to lean his head against her thigh. Deck suspected the change of heart had something to do with the dead teenager. “But let’s be clear on something.” Her pretty eyes glittered like shards of green ice. “You have your rules, and I have mine.”
He and Thor led the way to the elevator. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was behind him.
“Meaning?” Two seconds into their alliance, and he was already on the verge of regretting it.
“Meaning”—she stared up at him frostily—“you will not skulk around the ER, waiting or searching for overdose victims. You’ll wait until I notify you that a patient is willing to speak with you.”
“Skulk?” Deck held back a snort. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. “DEA agents don’t skulk.”
She pursed her lips. “I beg to differ. History has shown otherwise.”
He leaned his shoulder against the wall by the elevator bank, tensing. “What history?” He had no idea what she was talking about. Whatever it was, they really needed to clear the air fast or this partnership would sink faster than the Titanic.
“Never mind.” She shook her head and looked away, as if she’d said something unintentional. “There is one other thing, however.”
“What other thing?” Yeah, two minutes into it, and this arrangement was already fixing to be a cluster.
“If a patient changes their mind in the middle of your interrogation and no longer wishes to talk, you’ll leave, no more questions asked.”
“Fine.” Between them, Thor swung his head back and forth, as if watching a tennis match. “And for the record, it’s not an interrogation. It’s an interview. Anything else?”
“Yes. You have to promise never to use a patient’s name in any report.”
Deck pushed from the wall, towering over her, but she stood her ground, craning her neck to look up at him. The elevator door opened, but he ignored it. “No dice, Doc. That’s how I get my PC—probable cause. If an OD victim has information about the source of the opioids and can direct us to the location where they purchased it, I may need to put their name in an affidavit for search and arrest warrants.”
She crossed her arms and jutted her chin up at him. “Then that part of the deal is off.”
What had he gotten himself into? They’d made a deal over the phone, and she was already changing the rules. He should’ve known he couldn’t trust her. Maybe he should find someone else. But they were here, and he didn’t want to waste more time finding another doctor. “Let’s compromise. I’ll do everything in my power to leave names out, but you have to understand that sometimes that’s what it takes to get a dealer off the street. If a judge allows me to refer to victims as ‘confidential sources’ instead of using their real names, then I’ll do it. Deal?”
Before meeting his gaze, her lips compressed into a tight line, and he expected her to tell him to pound sand. “Deal.”
“Good, and I have a condition of my own. Everything we do together, everything we discuss, is confidential. You need to be discrete about DEA operations.”
“Understood,” she said curtly. “And for the record, that seems obvious.”
The door began to close, and he reached out his arm, stopping it. “Is there anything else I should know?” Her lips twitched. “If there is, I’ll tell you.”
“I’ll bet you will.” This woman was hardcore. Delicate and pretty on the outside. Inside, she was a drill sergeant, barking out orders like a seasoned federal agent. Like him. He’d bet she could hold her ground against some of the best defense attorneys he’d ever run into.
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