The Missile Game (The Dr. Scott James Thriller Series Book 1) by Glenn Shepard

make the hospital more profitable. The board kept raising prices to improve the margins, and then they started adding charges to patients’ bills. Things like a toothbrush, a bar of soap, a dietary consultation, and bedside oxygen used to be free, but after Waters took over, everything in the hospital was given a significant charge. He even stopped free coffee for the on-duty doctors and nurses.”
    “And that made you mad,” Harris said rather than asked.
    “It didn’t make me happy. Listen, Waters is trying to sell the Jackson City Hospital, and I assure you, it’s not because he gives a shit about providing better hospital services to the public. It’s about lining the pockets of Waters and his partners in crime.”
    “Maybe. But how does that affect you? You’ve got a private practice, or rather had a practice and your own surgery center. Why stick your neck out?”
    “It’s just my nature. People are getting screwed. I had to say something. That’s the way my dad raised me.”
    The detective sucked the molten brew between his teeth. Then he said, “Well, I’m sure that letter ya wrote to the paper pissed off a lot of people at the hospital. Knowin’ the temperament of your old buddy Herbie, ya should’ve expected repercussions. He’s not someone ta fuck with.”
    “Sure, a little negative press makes for bad blood between old friends, but that’s no reason to kill someone.”
    “ Kill someone? You’re saying that Herb Waters murdered those two— “
    “Yes. I am. I think it’s certainly possible . Herb Waters wants to shut me up—”
    “ What? Enough to commit two murders ?”
    “Hell, yes! I can’t put my finger on it but Waters is up to something illegal. He’s using the hospital for something. There’s probably a smoking gun somewhere.”
    “But why would Waters kill Boyd Carey?”
    “I don’t believe anybody wanted to kill Dr. Carey. I think they were after me, but encountered Carey instead. He got the needle instead of me. Which is just as good as murdering me, apparently, because now I might be going to jail for life, or worse.”
    “Hmmm,” Harris responded. “I don’t know, Doc. That’s pretty thin.”
    “Yeah, well, do your job and investigate Herb Waters!”
    “Ha! I can’t. It’s way too thin. Frankly, it sounds a little crazy. To open an investigation, I’d need to show just cause. Right now, I’ve got squat.”
    After a long pause, as if throwing me a bone, he said, “But let me know if you find out anything.”
    “What I find? Isn’t that your job? Can’t you just subpoena documents and statements from Waters and whoever else could be involved in a scam?”
    “We have absolutely nothing at all to connect Herb Waters to any murder. Frankly, I’d be embarrassed to go in front of the judge to ask for a warrant.” He paused. “Of course, I’m not the one who needs information. You are.”
    That statement pissed me off. I laughed bitterly at the ridiculousness of the suggestion. “Look, Detective, I’m a plastic surgeon. I’m not a private investigator. You want me to fix your nose? No problem. I can give you a classic Roman—like frickin’ Tom Cruise. But investigating a murder? No way. Not my bag.”
    “Suit yerself, Doc,” Harris said. “But if I were facing murder one and attempted murder charges, I’d be makin’ like Jason Bourne tryin’ ta save my ass.”
    His words hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. Grunting, I stood to leave. As I turned to walk away, Harris said, “By the way, I told the guards you’re allowed access to your office now.”
    “Thanks,” I said with a wave of my hand, not turning back or breaking stride. At least I’ll have somewhere to crash tonight.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
    The Penthouse, Jackson City Hospital
    Jackson City, North Carolina
    3:11 pm
    HERB WATERS WAS PLAYING a video game and racking up points when the security buzzer went off. “Hold your fucking horses,” he yelled. “I’ll be there in a