Lethal Reconciliation

By Dobi Cross

A hidden threat. A choice to crush it and save lives. But it may destroy Dr. Zora Smyth before she gets a chance.

Chief surgical resident Zora Smyth never thought her undesired fame in the media would land her in charge of the medication reconciliation work no one else wanted.

Yet she figured it was a welcome change from facing false murder charges from serial killers and fighting off attacks on her life. And it gave her the precious time she needed in following-up new leads in finding her long-lost sister.

But Zora soon stumbles upon evidence of a hidden threat buried in the hospital’s underbelly that puts the lives of her loved ones and those around her in jeopardy.

Will she expose the truth and destroying the threat, or will she lose the lives of those dear to her at the hands of an enemy willing to do whatever it takes to stop her?

LETHAL RECONCILIATION is the fourth book in Dobi Cross' gripping suspense-filled series of medical thrillers. If you like page-turning non-gory medical thrillers filled with unexpected rollercoaster twists and intrigue, you’ll love LETHAL RECONCILIATION.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luxhaven Publishing
• Release date: Dec 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005764166

Book preview

1

The young man in scrubs slipped into the Intensive Care Unit cubicle filled with the faint smell of life amid the aura of death and glared down at the man lying unconscious on the hospital bed. A tube snaked from the patient’s mouth, and an IV line extended from his left forearm. His chest rose and fell in sync with the rhythmic beep of the cardiac monitor, though his breaths were slow.

You old bastard, the young man whispered to the patient. So you want to live after what you've done? Well, that won’t happen.

He extracted a syringe and needle from his medical coat, pricked the IV bag with the needle, and emptied the contents of the syringe into the bag before increasing the IV line’s flow rate.

Then he slipped out of the ICU the way he had come, hoping to be far gone before they discovered the patient was dead. The young man hastened down the hallway and into the stairwell, stripping off his disguise as he raced down the stairs. By the time he arrived on the ground floor, he looked like any other visitor to the hospital instead of the doctor he’d pretended to be. Even the glasses were gone.

The young man exited the hospital’s main entrance and hurried to the next street over, where he discarded the disguise items in a dumpster that was about to be emptied by the garbage crew coming down the street.

Then he walked away.

Sixteen down, four more to go.

Andy Pratt felt adrenaline rush through his veins as his gloved finger hovered over the computer key. It was a powerful feeling, knowing he could exact vengeance on these bastards with just a single stroke.

He exhaled and hit the computer key, the sound snapping in the air with a note of finality. Andy watched as a brief message flashed across the computer screen and then disappeared.

It was done. In a few days, the man would be dead—it was what he deserved for the atrocity he’d committed.

Andy looked around the small apartment. The place was a dump, the nausea-inducing stench a testament to that, but it was perfect for his work—no one cared whether he came or left, though he remained cautious by changing his disguise often. He could never be too careful.

He packed up the laptop and its accessories into the only suitcase in the space before dumping all other items into a large trash bag. Andy would ditch the trash in one of the public waste disposal drop-off locations in a neighboring town. The suitcase would go with him to his next place, which was already prepared.

Andy glanced once more around the apartment to make sure he’d missed nothing. It was empty, ready for the next tenant.

He picked up his belongings and stepped out of the place.

Number seventeen, primed for death.

2

Alisa Petrykin dropped the flowers on the headstone and straightened. The morning air felt chilly, forcing her to wrap her fall coat tighter around her frame.

She was here to say goodbye to her brother, Thomas Stewart. Thomas—maybe she should call him Stewart like everyone else did—had kept his mother’s maiden name and never taken the family’s last name. Surprisingly, her father had never pushed for it, even though Stewart was his biological son. But all that hadn’t mattered, more so now that he was lying six feet under the ground.

Everything about Stewart’s death had been so hush-hush. Alisa didn’t know how he’d died, and her father’s men must have been on some gag order, because all conversations about Stewart ceased anytime she passed by. Her father had even forbidden her from attending his funeral, insisting he was protecting her from their enemies. Alisa had obeyed him and stayed home, though she disagreed with the decision. Thankfully, he’d given his permission for her to visit her brother’s grave this morning.

Alisa felt a tightness in her chest. She still found it hard to believe her brother was gone—well, her foster brother, as Stewart had liked to remind her. It was only a week ago that he’d given her his usual icy stare when they ran into each other at home. Only her one-eyed chihuahua, Sparky, had brought the hint of a smile to his lips. Stewart wasn’t a poster boy for good behavior; he’d scared her sometimes and had made it clear he hated Alisa, yet he was still her brother.

Now he was dead.

Tears rushed to Alisa’s eyes, and she blinked them back. She missed him. Stewart had been her only sibling, and that mattered more than anything else. Even Sparky seemed to know he was gone—he’d refused his food from the day Stewart had died, and only a visit to the vet and lots of cuddles had gotten him eating again.

Stewart had also been a shield for her. As heir-apparent of their Russian crime family, he’d been the natural target, but now that he was gone, Alisa could sense the vultures gathering around her as the only other child of Anatoly Petrykin.

Some family members wondered if Anatoly was going to select her as the new heir, since she was heavily involved in the legitimate side of their business, even though her father had allowed no woman to hold a prominent role in the family. A few others even thought she was up for grabs. Even Vaslav, her father’s right-hand man, seemed emboldened by Stewart’s death to show interest in her, and she’d caught him staring at her a time or two.

But Alisa had no interest in taking over the family business and was not a prize to be plucked by some power-hungry subordinate who didn’t know his place. She detested the crime world, though she cared for her family. That feeling motivated her to work hard each day to turn the family’s legitimate businesses into profitable ventures. Hopefully, one day, those businesses would be enough for the family to sustain itself, without resorting to violence. Besides, her father was still a traditional man and would never allow a woman to lead the family, despite how much he loved her. He probably had a plan in place to select his successor.

But what occupied Alisa’s mind was finding out who had killed her brother. How could she claim he was family when she didn’t know how he’d died? I’m a lawyer, for goodness’ sake! Shouldn’t she, at a minimum, confirm if justice had been served for her brother?

She looked up to see the clouds had parted, and the sun had burst through in its glory, the very antithesis of how she felt.

Alisa let out a sigh—she’d stayed too long already, and it was time to leave. She adjusted her bag’s shoulder strap and headed back to the parking lot. Her father’s bodyguard must have seen her because the car started rolling in her direction.

Then Alisa noticed a striking young woman in a stylish luxurious black dress and a gorgeous fascinator leaving another headstone and walking away. So someone else had also come to pay their respects to a loved one, she thought. She watched as a middle-aged man joined the young woman and then escorted her into a black limousine that soon rolled through the parking lot’s exit and toward the cemetery gates.

Alisa’s car reached her at that moment, and she got in.

It was time for her to leave as well. Alisa was pretty sure her father was waiting.

3

Zora Smyth raced to where her mom stood.

Mom, what’s wrong? Zora asked. Her mom, Adrianna Smyth, owner of one of the biggest law firms in the city, was a master at keeping calm in most situations. It was rare to see her so out of it.

Zora’s mom stayed mute and continued shaking like a leaf.

Zora shook her mom’s arm. Mom, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?

Her mom grabbed onto Zora for strength.

What is it? Tell me, Zora insisted.

I think… her mom said.

Go on.

I think I just saw your sister.

Zora’s heart rate sped up, and her eyes searched the cemetery grounds. Her sister had been missing for many years, way before Zora went to college, completed medical school, and started her surgical residency, though they hoped she’d show up one day. Where? she asked.

Her mom pointed a shaky finger toward the parking lot.

Zora dropped her handbag and took off running in that direction. Could it really have been her sister, or was her mom mistaken? No, it couldn’t be false—her mom paid great attention to detail.

As she approached the parking lot, Zora noticed a black limousine leaving through its exit with what looked like a lady in a hat in the back seat. But the car was too far away for Zora to see the features obscured by the hat.

Stop! Zora shouted at the car as she rushed after it.

But the car sped up instead and raced toward the cemetery’s exit.

She squinted at the license plate, but the numbers looked blurry, and soon the car exited the cemetery and disappeared from view.

Zora came to a stop, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She was too late, and now she’d lost the first real clue since her sister disappeared many years ago. No, make that the second real clue—the letter in her handbag which she’d just received, written by Kelly, an ex-convict who’d saved Zora’s life in the detention center, was the first.

She hurried back to where she’d left her mom, who had slumped on the ground with her head buried in her hands.

Mom, are you okay? Zora asked as she reached her side.

Her mom looked up and grabbed Zora’s arm. Did you find her?

Zora’s shoulders slumped. She’d disappointed her mom. I’m sorry.

Her mom’s hands fell away. It’s not your fault, she said in a weary tone. I shouldn’t have frozen. But, Zora, I’m pretty sure it was your sister. She looked just like I did at your age.

Zora didn’t know what to believe. Could it be that her mom was so distraught by the death of Marcus, who had been like a son to her, that it had triggered the memory of her lost sister? Zora shook the thought away. No, it had to be her sister her mom had seen—it was better to cling to that hope than let it go. Besides, her mom would never have such a reaction to just anyone.

We’ll find her, Mom, Zora said. She’d noticed the CCTV camera at the cemetery gates. Maybe they could get the license plate number from it.

Zora pulled out her phone and speed-dialed Marcus’ number. Then she remembered Marcus, her friend and big brother, was gone, and her heart squeezed in pain. She wasn’t sure if she would ever get over his death.

What is it? her mom asked.

Nothing, Zora said, forcing a smile onto her face. She took a deep breath and then dialed Silas Park’s number. Silas was her mom’s right-hand man at her firm, and a high-profile criminal attorney with extensive connections. He would know what to do. Silas picked up on the first ring.

Hello, Zora, Silas said from the other end of the line.

Zora stepped away from her mom. Silas, we need your help. She explained what had happened and also told him about the letter.

I’ll get on it right away, he said. How is your mom doing?

Zora glanced at her mom, who had now gotten up from the ground and was dusting off the dirt from the back of her skirt. Not too great at the moment, but I’m sure she’ll be fine soon.

Could you take her home instead? I’m not sure it’s a good idea for her to show up at the office feeling the way she is. I’ll head there now and wait for you.

Sure, I’ll do that. Thanks, Silas. Zora had sensed there was now more to the relationship between Silas and her mom. About time if you ask me. Silas had been by her mom’s side since Zora’s father had passed away many years ago. Her mom would be in excellent hands.

My pleasure, Silas said. See you soon.

Zora ended the call and turned to her mom. Let’s go, she said.

She would tell her mom about Kelly’s letter later. For now, it was more important to get her home in one piece.

Hopefully, they would