Page 28 of Wasted
He resisted the urge to punch the doorbell again, though it felt like an eternity. Wouldn’t help to irritate anyone inside.
The door finally swung open. A woman with short gray hair peered up at him through round glasses.
Cillian gave her his friendliest smile. “Hi, are you Mrs. Marsha Faint?”
Her eyes widened slightly as she craned her head to look at him from her petite height. “Yes.”
“I’m so sorry to interrupt your evening like this, ma’am. I hope you weren’t in the middle of dinner.” Though he’d actually chosen six o’clock as the time to arrive since it was likely she would be home.
She just stared at him.
“My name is Cillian Doherty, and I have sort of an unusual question for you. It’s a delicate matter about my grandmother.” A grandma seemed like a more relatable choice for this plaintiff. “She was a patient of Dr. Henry Weston, but things didn’t go well. I learned you had a similar experience, and I wondered if you could offer some advice to help my grandma. She’s thinking of suing Dr. Weston for malpractice, but we don’t know if we should or how to go about it. Can you offer any advice?”
Her pale lips disappeared further as she mashed them together. Her gaze darted past him into the darkness.
Interesting. Was she afraid someone was out there?
“No. I can’t. I don’t know how you got my name.” She was headed toward closing the door on him. That was obvious just from her tone.
He jumped in quickly to try again. “I’m so sorry to intrude on your personal life. Someone who wanted to be kind to my grandma let us know about what happened to you. And how you were brave enough to sue for malpractice. It’s so courageous, and I just wondered if you could share how it went. What the results were for you, and maybe what you would suggest my grandma should do? She would really appreciate your kindness.”
“I can’t help. I don’t know anything.” Marsha’s response was terse, almost robotic as she darted her gaze back and forth beyond him, like she was checking for something or someone.
But she hadn’t settled out of court. Cillian knew that from his research. So she wouldn’t have to keep quiet because of a non-disclosure agreement.
“Anything at all would help my grandma. Please, Mrs. Faint?”
The please drew her attention up to his face. She stared at him for a few beats, then dropped her gaze.
“I really can’t.” She backed away. “You’ll have to go.”
“Ma’am, are you okay? If someone has frightened you?—”
She started to swing the door shut as she shook her head. “No, no. I can’t talk. You need to leave.”
The door closed. Deadbolt clicked into place.
Cillian restrained the instinct to knock or ring the doorbell again, just as he’d held himself back from bracing the door open when she’d tried to close it. This wasn’t the right moment for force, even if all he wanted to do was talk to her longer.
She was the one, the key to the leverage he needed.
Because when she’d looked at him that last time, fear had filled her eyes. She must have been intimidated, threatened, or blackmailed into silence. Which meant Dr. Weston had been guilty of the malpractice she’d tried to sue him for.
And he was guilty of illegally dissuading her from going through with the suit.
Now all Cillian had to do was find the evidence to prove it. Then he could force Henry Weston to finally set his daughter free.
Chapter
Ten
“Where were you tonight?”
Victoria finished zipping her duffle bag before she turned to cast her youngest sister a confused glance. “Where was I?”
Treese folded her slim arms across the thoroughly immodest cropped and low-cut athletic top. Paired with her skin-tight leggings, the outfit left nothing of Patricia’s fit body to the imagination. No wonder two men had joined the Pilates class she taught. “I mean, you obviously weren’t here. You did a spine twist when I said to do a swan dive. You never make a mistake like that. I’ve never seen you anything but focused and pushing yourself in class.”
Victoria sighed as she picked up the bag by the long strap and hung it on her shoulder. “I’ve had a challenging couple of days.”
