Chapters (148)

Someone could have injected Ruffio’s IV bag with an overdose of heparin before or after his surgery.

Garza could have done it before he left work for the evening.

But one piece of the puzzle troubled me.

How could Garza have put buttons on the dead man’s eyes?

Chapter 98

CINDY WAS AT HER DESK in the City room at the Chronicle, fine-tuning her story, tweaking it again. She was on deadline, but still, she was glad when the phone rang and she saw the name on her caller ID.

She picked up the line, thinking, Great. Maybe we’ll grab a quick lunch.

“Cindy, what the hell?” Lindsay barked, almost shouted, over the phone. “I asked you please not to do a story on Garza and you agreed!”

“Linds, I had to do it,” Cindy said, keeping her voice low so that everyone in the world didn’t tune in. “My source at Municipal has told me that Garza is being questioned by the board —”

“That’s not proof of anything, Cindy.”

“Did you read the story? I wrote, and I quote, ‘Suspicion has fallen on ER chief Dr. Dennis Garza.’ Suspicion means speculation with foundation. Jeez, Lindsay. Last week the guy completely melted down in court. He warrants some ink of his own!”

“What if he’s guilty of more than malpractice? What if the spotlight you just threw on him drives him underground? What if he packs up and leaves San Francisco?”

“What do you mean ‘more than malpractice’?”

“I don’t know what I mean,” Lindsay said, her voice stiff with pique. “I’m working on it.”

“So am I,” Cindy said. “Look, you haven’t given me anything on this story. It’s mine. It’s been mine from the beginning. And it’s not right for you to come down on me for doing my job.”

A static, gray silence followed, Cindy feeling the seconds mount up, thinking a lot of things she didn’t want to say. But it all came down to this: Lindsay was leaning on her because of their friendship—and she was out of line, way out of line.

“Dozens of reporters are on this story, Lindsay! Whether I break the story or someone else does, Garza’s going to get press.”

Lindsay sighed in her ear, said, “I hoped I’d have more time.”

“Well, you were dreaming.”

Cool good-byes followed.

Cindy hung up the phone and looked down at her notepad. She read the words she’d just scribbled: guilty of more than malpractice.

Chapter 99

MY ALL-NIGHTER at Municipal Hospital had left me bone weary and frustrated beyond belief. I tossed the morning paper into the trash can under my desk, pretty sure that Cindy’s next story would be about how people were being murdered at Municipal—and how the SFPD was doing nothing about it.