Plague Saint [NOW A PUBLISHED BOOK]

Chapter Five: Saint, Doctor, Executioner

"How much longer do you want me here?" Phoebe asked as Winter exited the lab.

Winter glanced at the clock. The day had been excruciatingly long. First River, then the trip to Jacobsen's...was it really only six? "Did you finish today's paperwork?"

"Almost. But I was planning on getting dinner soon."

"I'd like you to finish those tonight. Tomorrow's going to be just as busy, and the last thing we need is to fall behind. But I don't care if you do it before or after dinner." Winter moved to the door.

"Where are you going?" Phoebe asked.

Winter resisted the urge to touch the vial in her pocket. "I have a few red plague patients that need extra monitoring." It was only half a lie. She did plan on checking on River.

But she had something else to take care of first.

She moved slowly through the hospital, pausing to listen for footsteps, ensuring that no one saw her near Adams' office. When she knocked at the door, she was greeted with silence.

She was ready to give up quickly. Her hands still trembled, and if Adams didn't notice that, the panic in her voice was bound to give her away. It was probably for the best that he didn't—

The door swung open. "Plague Saint," Adams greeted her. "I don't believe I asked to see you."

"You didn't. There's something we need to discuss. May I come in?"

Adams' eyes narrowed. "What's this about?"

Say something. Anything. "One of our patients, despite my initial assessment, seems to be making a full recovery. And now he's talking about raising hell over the hospital's billing methods."

"He won't get very far."

"That's what I thought, at first. But he has a lot of interesting friends." Please let me in. Winter was in too deep now. If this wasn't enough to pique Adams' interest right now, he was going to want names and details later.

"Well, come in. But I have a meeting with the mayor in an hour, so we may have to deal with this later."

There wasn't going to be a later. Not for Adams. Winter closed the door and twisted the lock. As she crossed the room, her gaze darted to the mug on his desk, sitting in its usual spot. There was just one unfortunate detail: the mug was empty.

The mug always had coffee. Winter had never seen it empty.

You idiot. You've only been in here a few times. What, you thought you were just going to empty the vial into the drink while he wasn't looking? Pray the coffee would be strong enough to hide any change in taste?

"Long day?" Winter asked, nodding at the empty mug, hoping she sounded casual.

"You could say that." Adams gave the mug a disdainful look. "May need another cup or two."

Winter's gaze moved to the coffee maker on the counter behind his desk chair. How much worse could she possibly make things? "If you are going to make some, would you mind sparing me a cup?" If her request wasn't enough to push him to make coffee, maybe she could lure in him with the idea of seeing under the mask.

Sure enough, Adams chuckled. "You going to drink it with that mask on? Or have I earned a chance to see the man behind the Plague Saint?" Despite his light tone, there was something darker in his gaze. Winter wasn't sure if he was asking or demanding.

"I suppose it will have to come off."

Worst case scenario, she could run away and ditch the costume and pretend this mess had never happened.