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She followed Mikel across the threshold and into a two-story, sun-filled foyer.
Ricci closed the door with a noticeable slam. “Through here,” he said, walking into a glass-walled room with a view of the lake. A white sectional sofa curved around a huge coffee table sliced out of a forest giant’s trunk. Ricci turned and crossed his arms over his chest.
He wore a blue V-necked sweater over a peach-colored polo shirt. His trousers were navy, and he was indeed shod in elegant cognac loafers. “I’d like to see ID other than the badge,” he said.
“Of course.” Mikel slid a black leather case out of his breast pocket and flipped it open, offering it to Ricci. The surgeon stepped forward to scowl at whatever identification card was displayed in the plastic window. He said nothing but stepped back again.
“This is my associate, Quinn Pierson,” Mikel said. “May we sit down?”
Ricci’s gaze skimmed over Quinn without much interest. She deliberately shifted so that her jacket flapped open on the holster side. The surgeon’s jaw tightened.
“Will this take long?” Ricci asked.
“Long enough that I’d prefer to be seated,” Mikel said.
The doctor strode to the couch and dropped onto the cushion gracelessly. “Fine.” Something lit in his eyes. “Do you have a search warrant?”
“I can get one, but I wasn’t planning to ransack your home.” Mikel smiled in the way a shark might as he sat opposite Ricci. “Would I find anything of interest if I did?”
“No, of course not.” Ricci waved away the suggestion. “Ask your questions, whatever they might be. I have an appointment in half an hour.”
An appointment with a golf cart, Quinn guessed, as she chose a seat a few feet to Mikel’s right.
“Then I will get to the point,” Mikel said. “You have been identified as the surgeon who sliced off the Duke of Bencalor’s ear when he was kidnapped a year ago.”
Ricci adjusted the collar of his polo shirt. “That’s not even worth responding to.”
“It wasn’t a question,” Mikel pointed out.
“Then what the fuck are you here for?” Ricci burst out.
“To offer you a deal. We want the person who hired you. You lead us to them, and we’ll reduce your sentence.”
“My sentence?” Ricci scoffed, but Quinn caught him smoothing one palm down over his thigh as though rubbing off sweat. “I haven’t been convicted of anything.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” Mikel said, a note of menace underlying his reasonable tone. “The duke has identified you beyond a shadow of doubt.”
Ricci stood and paced to the window before he spun around. “That’s not possible.”
“What part of the body is most important to a surgeon?” Mikel asked.
“The hands,” Ricci answered almost automatically, lifting his to waist height before he glanced down at them.
“Yours are very distinctive. As you might imagine, a royal duke’s word carries a great deal of weight in Caleva, and we have an extradition treaty with Switzerland.”
The surgeon dropped his hands and looked around the room as though searching for a way to escape.
Mikel waited.
“I had no idea who I was operating on…until I saw the news afterward.” Ricci’s tone was pleading. “I was terrified. I didn’t want to know.”
Mikel sat, stone-faced.
Ricci gave up on gaining their sympathy. “The duke was lucky that I did the surgery. You ask the doctor who did the reconstruction. I left him a surgical site that made it a cakewalk to rebuild the ear. If I hadn’t done the procedure, they would have gotten some butcher without the level of expertise I brought to the surgery. You should thank me.”
Even as her blood boiled at his arrogance, Quinn had to admit the truth of what he’d said. The medical reports confirmed Ricci’s statements. The irony was that the high level of skill exhibited had made it much easier to narrow down the field of potential surgeons.
“You sliced off the ear of a helpless prisoner,” Quinn gritted out. “What happened to the oath you swore to do no harm to your patients? Doesn’t cutting off a healthy ear to aid and abet kidnappers break that promise in a big way?”
