“You two better make it up to us with some grandkids someday, or we’re gonna have words,” Douglas winked and squeezed Gabe’s shoulder, letting him know without words he understood.
Gabe chuckled softly, clearly relieved by the warmth of the gesture.“We’ll try our best, sir.”
“Dad!”Nica’s squeal of embarrassment had the whole family laughing.
Ms.Patti pulled away, still shaking her head, but there was a flicker of a smile on her face now.“Well, I guess I’ll have to get used to this new version of things.And you two better let me throw you a big wedding reception.It may be a little late, but we can make it work.”
Nica smiled, the ache in her chest easing just a bit.“Deal.”
The tension in the air started to loosen, and for the first time in months, Nica felt like she could breathe again.The secret was out.Her family might have been disappointed, but they’d survived, and the explosion hadn’t been as bad as Nica feared.And maybe, just maybe, they’d find a way to celebrate what she and Gabe had—even if it hadn’t been the way they all expected.The only thing that worried her was the silence from her brothers.Nobody said a word the whole time she’d been talking to her father.It wasn’t a good sign.
As Douglas flipped the last of the ribs onto the platter, he grinned, his voice booming.“Alright, enough of this.Let’s eat!We’ve got food to devour, and no one’s going anywhere until these ribs are gone, because I don’t do leftovers.”
Laughter echoed across the patio, and for the first time that day, Nica finally felt like everything was going to be alright.
He sat inthe darkened hotel room, the glow of three computer screens casting harsh shadows across his face.The central monitor displayed a GPS tracker—a pulsing red dot moving along the main street of Shiloh Springs.Dr.Gabriel Summers, heading home from his dinner with the Boudreau family.How mundane.How predictable.How undeserving of such simple comforts.
Taking a sip of cold coffee, he pulled up the photos his hired man had sent earlier.Nica Boudreau-Summers at the grocery store, her face lined with worry as she checked her phone.Another showed the good doctor himself, glancing over his shoulder in the clinic parking lot.
Perfect.Let him look.Make him wonder.
“You should be afraid, Gabe,” he whispered to the empty room.“You should be terrified.”
He scrolled through the digital copies of everything he’d sent to Nica.The medical records had been particularly difficult to obtain, but worth every penny and the risks he’d taken to get them.Melissa’s file had contained detailed notes of her deteriorating condition, the multiple attacks of gallstones, until surgery had been the option of choice.Though the procedure had been scheduled to be performed by another physician, it was Summers who’d ultimately been the one in the operating room, the man holding the scalpel, who’d nicked an artery and caused the massive blood loss resulting in a heart attack.It was Summer’s signature at the bottom of the death certificate.
Dr.Gabriel Summers, attending physician at time of death.
Those clinical words made his hands shake with rage.He clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms.Gabe hadn’t beenattending.He’d beennegligent.He’d beenreckless.He’d been playing God with a young mother of two who’d trusted him with her life.
Melissa had been his world—his fiancée, his future, the woman who’d brought light into his life after years of darkness.They were supposed to be married the month after she died.Instead, he’d stood at her graveside, looking down at a stone marker, making silent promises as her children clung to him, not understanding why Mommy wasn’t coming home.
Melissa had believed them when she’d been told the surgery was routine, with minimal risks.Something that was performed every day.Even though a cholecystectomy wasn’t something the great Dr.Summers performed often, it was something he was fully qualified to do.When Dr.Richardson, the physician who’d been Melissa’s surgeon called in sick, she hadn’t complained about having Summers’ swap in.They’d practically celebrated when Dr.Summers took her case, believing she’d be up and around, taking care of her kids in no time.Instead, he’d stood in shocked disbelief in the waiting room only to be told the woman who was his whole world was gone.What a cruel joke.
He switched screens to his email, checking that his latest anonymous message to the World Health Organization had been delivered.A carefully crafted letter expressing “concerns from a medical colleague” about Dr.Summers’ history of patient care.Just enough truth mixed with implications to warrant an investigation.Geneva was already having second thoughts; his contact had confirmed as much.
A separate window on his screen displayed Nica’s work schedule at the town’s middle school.She was substitute teaching science to eight graders.His hired man was familiar enough with the school building he could move around unnoticed, and he’d make sure Mrs.Boudreau-Summers would feel like she was being watched.It would be so simple, since her class usually met in the school’s library for study time.He wouldn’t threaten the children—he wasn’t a monster—but he’d make his presence known to her alone.A tall man in a black jacket, always at the periphery of her vision, gone when she looked directly.
“The wife is the key,” he muttered, opening a folder labeled “NICA.”Inside were detailed notes on her background, her habits, her fears.The file revealed what he’d learned from weeks of research: Nica Boudreau had suffered a home invasion while living off campus.The lingering trauma manifested in hypervigilance about locked doors and windows.A weakness he could exploit.
He flipped through photos of Gabriel’s apartment, mentally noting which windows would be easiest to tamper with.Not to enter—not yet—but to unlock.To make her doubt her memory, her safety.To make her question her sanity.And he’d make sure to do it at the apartment where she spent most nights, Gabe’s apartment.It amused him that the newlyweds didn’t share a home.From what he’d garnered, they hadn’t even told her family they had eloped.What delicious irony.Gabriel Summers had ruined his chance at a happy marriage, now he’d return the favor.
His phone buzzed.A text from his hired man in Shiloh Springs:Subject home now.Lights on in kitchen.Both targets inside.
He smiled, reaching for the voice distorter he kept beside his laptop.The device was cold and metallic against his fingers as he dialed Gabe’s cell number from the burner phone.
One ring.Two rings.
“Hello?”Gabe’s voice, tense and wary.
He switched on the distorter.“Thinking about Geneva, Doctor?I wouldn’t bother packing your bags.”
He disconnected before Gabe could respond.The rush of power was immediate, intoxicating.
Turning back to his main computer, he opened a folder labeled “PHASE2.”Inside were files he’d been compiling ever since he’d decided to make Gabe’s life a living nightmare.The file contained information about Gabe’s parents in Boston, his residency supervisors at Stanford, former patients—some of whom could be convinced to speak out with fabricated accounts about their care with the right persuasion.Then there were the photos of Gabe and Nica, going about their daily lives, unaware they were being watched.
He clicked on a new document titled “Operation Achilles.”The plan was elegant in its simplicity: use Nica to destroy Gabe’s focus, his confidence, his ability to function.His latest tactic—having small personal items of Nica’s moved around their apartment—was already yielding results.His man reported that last night, Gabe and Nica had argued about a missing earring that later appeared on Gabe’s nightstand.Seeds of doubt carefully planted.
And tomorrow, his man would deliver a bouquet to Nica at the school library—pale pink roses, her favorite, with a card containing only a line from her private journal, something only someone who had been in their home would know.The violation would be psychological, intimate.The kind that would keep Gabe awake at night, watching over her, distracted from his work, making more mistakes.
