Plague Saint

Chapter Four: Next of Kin

"Red-dyed solution," Winter told Director Adams. It was difficult to maintain her composure with River in such terrible shape, but she had to try. She couldn't let the director know she was giving him real medicine. "Kid's in decent health, though. He might pull through anyway."

"That could be a problem," Adams muttered. "See what you can do. And make sure his bill gets paid."

Winter tightened and untightened her left fist. "Of course." She'd been working on a plan to sneak into the payment office and destroy her mother's file, and now she'd be adding her brother to the list. But she'd need to wait until he was out of the hospital, and Adams's mind.

"Which reminds me—" Adams began.

"Andersen?" Winter asked. "I'm going to...speak with his next of kin after I finish this round."

Adams nodded approvingly. "Take your assistant with you. If she can prove herself to be competent, I might consider putting her in charge of bill collection. As much as I like sending the Plague Saint to collect, you only have so much time to treat patients."

No way Phoebe was capable of that. Not emotionally. Winter nodded. "Sure."

She finished updating her patients' treatment schedules. When she returned to her office, Phoebe was scribbling away in a notebook.

"You're coming on a bill collection trip with me," Winter told her. "Adams' orders."

Phoebe closed the notebook and jumped to her feet. "Oh. Uh, sure. Okay." She grabbed her coat off the rack.

Winter skimmed Andersen's file while they walked. Adams had ordered family records from the city guard, revealing that Andersen had a cousin living a few blocks from the hospital.

"It's not really fair, is it?" Phoebe asked. She kicked a stray stone. "Why should they have to pay their dead relative's bills?"

What would the real Plague Saint say? Something profoundly stupid, probably. Winter slid Andersen's file into her bag. "I don't make the rules."

"Why not? You have a lot of sway, don't you?"

Sway that came from being good at killing whoever Adams wanted killed and saving whoever he wanted saved. But that wouldn't last. Winter wouldn't let it last, and Adams wouldn't let her get away with breaking his agenda. She was running out of time. Something had to change, and if she didn't make the first move, Adams would.

"Adams was thinking about promoting you and putting you in charge of collecting payments," Winter said, changing the subject. "That's part of why I brought you."

Phoebe frowned. "I'm not sure I—"

"Want to? I thought that too. But it's your choice. And it might come with higher pay." And the guilt of harassing grieving people for money.

Phoebe wrapped her arms around herself. "Will he fire me if I say no?"

"I don't know if he'd try, but I need you as my assistant. I won't let him."

Phoebe looked up. "You like having me around?"

Winter awkwardly adjusted her grip on the staff. "You make paperwork easier." She wasn't the monster the real Plague Saint was, but she'd never been one to show much affection, either. "Training a new assistant would be a nightmare."

Still, Phoebe smiled. "Whatever you say."

The smile faded when Winter stopped in front of a dull apartment complex.

"This is the place," Winter told her. Seeing the alarm on Phoebe's face, she added, "Don't worry, I'll do all the talking."

Winter knocked on the door. Part of her wanted no one to answer, but another part knew if that happened, she'd have no choice but to hand the case over to the city guard.