Thomas laughed with such harshness that Cassi jumped.
“Such clairvoyance! I’m impressed. Did you really think the broken phones and your car not starting were coincidences?”
Cassi looked out at the blur of scenery. Desperately she tried to control her anger. She had to do something. The city was falling behind them.
“Of course I tried to kill you,” snapped Thomas. “Just like I got rid of Robert Seibert. Jesus Christ! What did you think I was going to do, sit and let you two destroy my life?”
Cassi’s head shot around.
“Look,” shouted Thomas, “all I want to do is surgery on people who deserve to live, not a bunch of mental defectives or people who are going to die of other illnesses. Medicine has to understand that our resources are limited. We can’t let worthy candidates wait while people with multiple sclerosis or gays with autoimmunal deficiencies take valuable beds and OR time.”
“Thomas,” said Cassi, trying to control her fury, “I want you to turn this car around immediately. Do you understand?”
Thomas stared at Cassi with unconcealed hatred. He smiled cruelly, “Did you really think I would go to some quack hospital?”
“It’s your only hope,” said Cassi, while she tried to tell herself that he was sick crazy. But all she felt was an overwhelming loathing.
“Shut up!” screamed Thomas, his eyes bulging, his skin flushed with anger.
“Psychiatrists are full of shit, and no one is going to sit in judgment of me. I’m the best goddamn cardiac surgeon in the country.”
Cassi could feel the irrational power of Thomas’s narcissistic rage. She had little doubt as to what was in store for her, especially since everyone thought she’d already given herself two overdoses of insulin.
Ahead, Cassi could see the Somerville exit rapidly approaching. She knew she had to do something. Despite the speed at which they were traveling, she reached across and grabbed the steering wheel, pulling the car sharply to the right, hoping to force them off the interstate.
Thomas struck out and slapped the side of Cassi’s head, throwing her forward with the force of his blow. She released her hold on the steering wheel to protect herself. Thomas, thinking she still had hold of the wheel, jerked it back with all his strength, and the car, which was already out of control, careened wildly to the left. Thomas desperately swung the wheel to the right and the Porsche skidded sideways, then rammed into the concrete abutment in a crescendo of broken glass, twisted metal, and blood.
CHAPTER 15
* * *
CASSANDRA COULD HEAR someone calling her name from a great distance. She tried to answer but couldn’t. With a great effort, she opened her eyes.
Joan Widiker’s concerned face emerged as if from a dense fog. Cassi blinked. Slowly glancing upward, she could see a tangle of IV bottles. To her left she heard the incessant beep of a cardiac monitor. She took a deep breath and felt a stab of pain.
“Don’t try to talk,” said Joan. “It may not feel like it, but you’re doing fine.”
“What happened?” whispered Cassi with great difficulty.
“You were in a car accident,” said Joan, smoothing back the hair from Cassi’s forehead. “Don’t try to talk.”
As if recalling a dream, Cassi remembered the nightmare ride with Thomas. She could remember her anger and grabbing the wheel. She had a vague memory of being slapped and then bracing herself against the dash.
But after that, it was as if a curtain had been dropped over the scene. It was blank.
“Where is Thomas?” said Cassi, struggling up in fear.
“He was hurt too,” said Joan, urging her to lie quietly.
Cassi suddenly knew that Thomas was dead.
“Thomas didn’t have his seat belt on,” said Joan.
Cassi hesitated, then said the word aloud. “Dead?” Joan nodded. Cassi let her head fall to the side. But as the tears poured down her cheeks, the memory of her last conversation with Thomas returned. She thought of Robert and all the others. Gripping Joan’s hand, she said, I thought I loved him, but thank God …”
EPILOGUE
* * *
(six months later)
BALLANTINE PUSHED THROUGH the swinging door into the surgical lounge.