False Witness Read Online Free Page B
his jeans and ostrich-skin cowboy boots, grease stains still lining his fingernails, Clark Shealy walked into a nondescript, three-story, brick medical building dedicated to outpatient surgery. He checked in with the receptionist, inhaling the sterile odors of hospital antiseptics and freshly scrubbed tile floors. Clark hated the smells and the memories they conjured. Needles made him squeamish, and just thinking about the precise slicing and peeling back of skin that accompanied plastic surgery turned his knees to rubber.
Though he had visited Dr. Silvosoâs practice three times in the past two years, Clark Shealy was definitely not the plastic surgery type. It wasnât that Clark couldnât use a few minor improvementsâwho couldnât? Though Clark never had trouble attracting womenâJessica blamed it on his sky blue âbedroom eyesââhe did have a slight crook in his nose resulting from a junior high fistfight. Not to mention a scar above his right eye that extended the eyebrow line toward his ear, like errant eyeliner applied by a drunken rock star. Based on the nose and scar, his high school buddies had accused Clark of chasing parked cars.
But in Clarkâs opinion, real men didnât go to plastic surgeons. Real men played out the hand fate dealt them, scars and all. Besides, who wanted a nose like Michael Jacksonâs?
He found a seat and leafed through a well-worn magazine. Glancing around the waiting room, Clark could easily spot the regular patrons of Silvosoâs practiceâyoung, attractive females with Barbie-doll figures, puffed-up collagen lips, or skin stretched so tight between the eyes and jaw, it looked like it might tear at any moment. They were a sharp contrast to the stooped and older patients waiting for some kind of orthopedic operation or the athletic kids who hobbled in on crutches.
Within minutes an assistant fetched Clark and escorted him into a sterile presurgery waiting room, empty except for a vinyl armchair, a portable tray table, and a few machines to monitor vitals. Clark had done this drill with Silvoso before. One of the nurses would roll the fugitive patient, sedated and prepped for surgery, into the room across the hall. As soon as the nurse left, while the unsuspecting patient waited for Silvoso, Clark would burst into the room, flash his credentials, and arrest the dazed man. Clark would make a scene, with Silvoso protesting loudly even as Clark hauled away his skip in handcuffs.
Later, Clark would quietly send Silvoso 25 percent of the bounty. Other plastic surgeons settled for 20 percent, but Silvoso was a tough negotiator. Even so, it was a good deal for Clark, helping him nail a skip who might otherwise never be caught. Plastic surgeons were a bounty hunterâs best friends.
As Clark waited, he pondered the money, dollar signs clouding his thoughts. Johnny Chin, arrested for wire fraud and RICO violations, had posted bond of 1.5 mil and then promptly skipped. Rumors had him serving as a hit man for the mob, though Clark knew better than to believe everything he heard on the street. One thing that wasnât rumorâthe bounty for Chin was a hundred and fifty Gs. In his mind, Clark had already spent his share of the money.
Precisely five minutes after Clark entered his room, he heard someone wheel a bed into the room across the hall. Clark waited until the footsteps retreated, then poked his head out the door, watched a nurse duck into a room a few doors down, and dashed quickly from his own room to the one designated for Chin. He closed the door behind him and immediately sensed that something was wrong.
The man in the bed, resting peacefully, eyes closed, bore little resemblance to the photographs of Chin. He was Asianâyes. But the recent mug shot of Chin showed a shaved head, and this guy had a full head of jet-black hair. The man in the bed had a scar on the right side of his jaw and was stockier than Clark expected,
Though he had visited Dr. Silvosoâs practice three times in the past two years, Clark Shealy was definitely not the plastic surgery type. It wasnât that Clark couldnât use a few minor improvementsâwho couldnât? Though Clark never had trouble attracting womenâJessica blamed it on his sky blue âbedroom eyesââhe did have a slight crook in his nose resulting from a junior high fistfight. Not to mention a scar above his right eye that extended the eyebrow line toward his ear, like errant eyeliner applied by a drunken rock star. Based on the nose and scar, his high school buddies had accused Clark of chasing parked cars.
But in Clarkâs opinion, real men didnât go to plastic surgeons. Real men played out the hand fate dealt them, scars and all. Besides, who wanted a nose like Michael Jacksonâs?
He found a seat and leafed through a well-worn magazine. Glancing around the waiting room, Clark could easily spot the regular patrons of Silvosoâs practiceâyoung, attractive females with Barbie-doll figures, puffed-up collagen lips, or skin stretched so tight between the eyes and jaw, it looked like it might tear at any moment. They were a sharp contrast to the stooped and older patients waiting for some kind of orthopedic operation or the athletic kids who hobbled in on crutches.
Within minutes an assistant fetched Clark and escorted him into a sterile presurgery waiting room, empty except for a vinyl armchair, a portable tray table, and a few machines to monitor vitals. Clark had done this drill with Silvoso before. One of the nurses would roll the fugitive patient, sedated and prepped for surgery, into the room across the hall. As soon as the nurse left, while the unsuspecting patient waited for Silvoso, Clark would burst into the room, flash his credentials, and arrest the dazed man. Clark would make a scene, with Silvoso protesting loudly even as Clark hauled away his skip in handcuffs.
Later, Clark would quietly send Silvoso 25 percent of the bounty. Other plastic surgeons settled for 20 percent, but Silvoso was a tough negotiator. Even so, it was a good deal for Clark, helping him nail a skip who might otherwise never be caught. Plastic surgeons were a bounty hunterâs best friends.
As Clark waited, he pondered the money, dollar signs clouding his thoughts. Johnny Chin, arrested for wire fraud and RICO violations, had posted bond of 1.5 mil and then promptly skipped. Rumors had him serving as a hit man for the mob, though Clark knew better than to believe everything he heard on the street. One thing that wasnât rumorâthe bounty for Chin was a hundred and fifty Gs. In his mind, Clark had already spent his share of the money.
Precisely five minutes after Clark entered his room, he heard someone wheel a bed into the room across the hall. Clark waited until the footsteps retreated, then poked his head out the door, watched a nurse duck into a room a few doors down, and dashed quickly from his own room to the one designated for Chin. He closed the door behind him and immediately sensed that something was wrong.
The man in the bed, resting peacefully, eyes closed, bore little resemblance to the photographs of Chin. He was Asianâyes. But the recent mug shot of Chin showed a shaved head, and this guy had a full head of jet-black hair. The man in the bed had a scar on the right side of his jaw and was stockier than Clark expected,
Readers choose
Rachel Brookes
Deb Caletti
Jaleta Clegg
Ann Bruce
Anne McCaffrey
Patricia Briggs
Christobel Kent
Agatha Christie
Robert Feagan