The Silence That Speaks

by Andrea Kane

  “What happened with that sleazy kid you were eyeballing last night?” Ryan asked.

  “What sleazy kid?” Casey turned to Marc.

  “There was a young guy hanging out near Conrad’s place,” Marc replied briefly. “I got a bad feeling from him. Turns out he was about to mug a woman and snatch her purse. I took care of him.”

  “What do you mean, you took care of him?” Casey knew there was something missing. She just didn’t know what. And she wasn’t happy with the expression on Marc’s face. It was too intense. He looked...emotionally involved.

  “I roughed him up a little. Scared him a lot. Ended the problem.”

  That definitely was an understatement. When Marc spoke in short, terse phrases like that, the situation was worse than he was saying.

  “Did you do any permanent damage?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  Marc shrugged. “Maybe I choked him a little too hard. He’ll live.”

  “What did this woman look like?”

  “Is this an interrogation?” Marc asked. “She was a woman. Mid-thirties, dark hair—I couldn’t make out her taste in clothing in the dark.”

  That description was enough. And it explained why Marc had gone overboard in his actions.

  Now was not the time to get into this.

  “Getting back to what we were discussing, I was just filling Ryan in,” Casey said instead. “I’m about to call Conrad and then Madeline. Time to make the necessary arrangements to set up a meeting with Conrad. We need to know more about what happened during Ronald’s surgery to understand whether that could be a motive for targeting Conrad.” She gave Marc a questioning look. “Wanna drive up to Crest Haven with me?”

  “Absolutely.” He didn’t hesitate for an instant.

  “Good. Also, I’ll be making that phone call to Janet Moss. Hopefully our lunch will happen in a day or two.”

  “What about Bitch Doctor?”

  Ryan blinked. “Bitch Doctor? Ah, you must mean the charming Sharon Gilding.”

  “None other. Marc will explain my plan to you. It involves Claire. I need to talk to her.” Another pointed look at Ryan. “Any idea when she’ll be coming in?”

  “I’m here.” Claire walked over and joined the group, looking puzzled. “Why are we meeting on the sidewalk?”

  “Good point.” Casey punched in the alarm code and opened the front door. “Let’s go up to the conference room.” She walked past Emma’s empty desk and headed for the stairs. The other team members followed suit.

  “This will be a quick update to get us all on the same page,” Casey said as they rounded the landing. “Followed by a one-on-one between Claire and me.”

  “Good morning, Casey, Marc, Ryan, Claire and Hero,” Yoda greeted them politely as they opened the conference room door. “The room is set at seventy-two degrees. Is that sufficient?”

  “Perfect, Yoda.”

  “Will Patrick be joining you?”

  “He’s finishing up a night shift at Madeline’s,” Casey replied. “My guess is that he’ll swing by here in a while, but I’ll conference him in on my iPad.”

  “I’ll connect FaceTime for you while you get settled.”

  “Great, Yoda, thanks.”

  Once inside, everyone settled down, and Patrick’s face appeared on Casey’s screen. Despite having put in a long overnight shift, he looked totally awake and ready to go.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning.” Casey shook her head in admiration. “You’re unbelievable. If it weren’t for your five-o’clock shadow, I’d never know you worked all night.”

  Patrick gave a half grin. “Maybe I’m getting older but better. Plus, Madeline made me a terrific dinner and an equally terrific breakfast. A meat loaf that rivals my wife’s and a Western omelet. Tons of protein, flavor and energy.”

  Casey smiled back. “I’m beginning to wish I’d done security duty there last night.” She paused. “Patrick, after I bring you up to speed and we have our meeting, could you put Madeline on the screen?”

  “Sure. Right now she’s calling her doctor to see when she can go back to work.”

  “Isn’t it too soon?” Claire asked.

  He shrugged. “That’s her doctor’s decision, not ours. She seems to be coming back to herself pretty quickly.” Patrick leaned forward. “Bring me up to date.”

  Casey did just that, filling in details for Ryan and Claire, as well. Marc knew more than the others, since he’d been at the office when Casey was rolling out theories and strategies. The only part he wasn’t aware of was her early morning thinking and the conclusions that had arisen from that.

  “I convinced Crest Haven to allow one of my security guys to stand outside Conrad’s room,” Patrick informed Casey. “He has to be invisible and agree not to interfere with any of the treatment center’s schedules or procedures. But they do not want a lawsuit. So, since it’s costing them nothing, they’ll accept the added protection—just in the event that Conrad didn’t try to kill himself, but someone else did.”

  “How magnanimous of them,” Casey said drily. “They should be thanking you.”

  “That’ll never happen. I’m just glad Conrad will be protected. Whatever the hell is going on here, he’s as much at risk as Madeline.”

  Casey nodded, and then glanced around the room. “So, is everyone good?”

  “One more thing,” Ryan said. “I’ve run a thorough background check on every single name on that personal list Madeline gave us. The combined stories read like a soap opera, but individually each of them is a Boy or Girl Scout. There isn’t a shred of evidence to suggest motivation for murder. It’s time we kissed this angle goodbye.”

  “Then it’s time to set Emma into motion, and have her do what we put her in that hospital to do,” Casey replied, speaking directly to Ryan. “She’ll steal the access card so that you can dig into the hospital computer systems.”

  “Yes.” Ryan pumped his fist in the air. “Finally. A real challenge.”

  “I’m still in the dark,” Claire chimed in. “I have no idea what you want me to do.”

  “We’ll take care of that now.” Casey looked back at Patrick’s face on her screen. “Now that you’re current on everything, you don’t have to stop by the office before heading home. Get some sleep. We’ll talk later today. Maybe we’ll have updates for you by then.”

  “Thanks.” Patrick stifled a yawn. “Dave is due here in about forty minutes. Then I’ll head home to catch some sleep and to see if Adele remembers me.”

  “Your wife is a sweetheart, and you guys are great together,” Casey replied. “She won’t be forgetting you anytime soon.”

  “I’ll tell her that when she’s pissed at me.” Patrick glanced over his shoulder. “I think Madeline just hung up. You want me to get her?”

  “Please.” Casey nodded.

  A minute later, Madeline’s face appeared on the screen. She looked better but annoyed. “Hi.”

  “Let me guess,” Casey said. “The doctor didn’t give you the go-ahead to resume your E.R. duties.”

  “It’s ridiculous,” Madeline responded, running her fingers through her hair. “I feel fine. I’m a little sore. I won’t lift anything heavy, but I’m perfectly capable of doing my job.”

  “How much longer does he want you to wait?” Claire asked.

  “He wants to examine me next week. Then he’ll make a decision.” Madeline glanced around the group. Her gaze lingered on Marc for a second, and Casey remembered that—not counting the dedication ceremony, among throngs of people— they hadn’t seen each other since the day she’d walked into the brownstone.

  “I apologize,” Madeline said with a rueful smile. “Good morning to you all. Pay no attention to me. I’m just cranky from being idle.”

/>   “We’re workaholics ourselves,” Ryan replied. “No apologies necessary.”

  Madeline’s expression grew quizzical. “Patrick said you wanted to speak with me?”

  “Yes.” Casey leaned forward. “I have to meet with Conrad—alone—and I need your help.” She went on to explain her reasoning, during which time Madeline nodded.

  “I’m on the same page as you,” she replied. “And I agree that Conrad would never refuse you. Let me know once you’ve reached him, then I’ll call Crest Haven myself and set the wheels in motion. Between the two of us, we’ll get you in.”

  “Great. Give me an hour. I’ll be getting back to you.”

  Casey closed FaceTime, and turned to the group. “Questions?”

  “Nope. Actions.” Marc rose. “I’ll feed Hero and get things together for our trip up to Danbury.” It never occurred to him that Casey wouldn’t make the trip happen. He unhooked Hero’s leash and snapped his fingers. “C’mon, boy. Chow time.”

  “I’m off, too.” Ryan jumped up. “The Lexingtons can say goodbye to their private chitchats and visits. And Emma can say hello to Hacking 101.”

  The meeting room emptied out except for Casey and Claire.

  Claire’s soft blue eyes searched Casey’s face, and she waited, interlacing her fingers on the desk. “I’m ready.”

  Casey explained the idea she’d had last night.

  “None of us, including you, trust Dr. Gilding,” she concluded. “But we’re not sure why. You’re the team member with the necessary skills to get a solid handle on her. And I know you. One-on-one is the best method with the least distractions. Do you think you can pull it off?”

  “I’ll make it my business to,” Claire replied. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “I just need to prepare myself. You know what a miserable liar I am. Also how hard it is for me to minimize the importance of my gift. But I’ll find the ability to do both. I only hope it’s enough to convince Dr. Gilding to meet with me. She’s big on announcing how crushing her schedule is.”

  Casey smiled. “But you represent such a challenge. How can she resist? Pitch it that way. Believe me, it’ll work.”

  “I’ll head upstairs to my yoga room.” Claire slid back her chair and rose. “If anything can infuse me with the necessary energy, yoga can.”

  “Let me know once you’ve made the appointment.”

  “I will.”

  Claire shut the door behind her, and headed straight for the stairs and up to the small room on the third floor that Casey had helped her set up as her personal space/yoga quarters.

  It was pretty ironic actually, Casey thought as she stared at the closed door. She owned the brownstone outright, thanks to an inheritance from her grandfather, and it was an ideal building for the FI team’s needs. Every single room on three of the four floors was used for some designated purpose.

  Then there was the fourth floor—Casey’s apartment, laid out specifically for her. Those were the rooms that got the least use of all. She passed out on the conference room sofa as often as she slept in her bed, and she lived on takeout, almost never making a meal in her kitchen. On the plus side, Hero was a big fan of her bed, and Casey was a big fan of her shower. Otherwise, with the exception of when Hutch was visiting, the apartment was a convenience rather than a home. Yet the brownstone, in its entirety, still felt like home.

  It was an interesting reality, Casey thought as she picked up her iPhone. She, like all the other FI members, lived a very different life than the rest of the world. And she wouldn’t change it for anything.

  She took out the slip of paper Conrad had given her, and punched in his direct room number.

  15

  AN HOUR AND a half later, Marc and Casey were on the road, driving up to Danbury.

  “I’m having lunch with Janet Moss tomorrow,” Casey said, settling into the passenger seat of their van. She was exhausted, and relieved as hell that Marc had offered to drive.

  “I never doubted it.” Marc swung into the stream of traffic, and began snaking his way through Manhattan toward the West Side Highway. “Do you want to brainstorm while we drive? We can cover our strategy with Conrad and yours with Janet.”

  “Good idea. But let’s grab a sandwich and a cup of coffee first. I’m starving.”

  “Me, too. We’ll take them on the road. This way we can talk and think without starving to death.”

  Casey and Marc covered a lot of verbal territory by the time they pulled into Crest Haven’s gated entranceway. They were ready for their direct approach with Conrad, and Casey had jotted down a long list of leading questions to steer Janet in the direction she wanted when they had lunch.

  They went through the tedious security process, parked the van and headed inside.

  Their visit this time was completely different. They were welcomed as guests, given visitors’ tags and were cordially escorted upstairs to Conrad’s room.

  Casey glanced at Marc as they walked down the hallway, several steps ahead of the nurse. “They really are worried about the fallout from this,” she said quietly.

  “Um-hum.” He nodded. “Whether it’s a lawsuit or just bad press that hurts their reputation, they want this to go away.”

  There were two guys standing outside Conrad’s door. One, Casey recognized as Hank McCloud, one of Patrick’s men, and the other, who was dressed in a blue uniform, was obviously a Crest Haven aide or orderly or someone posted there to ensure that Conrad didn’t pull a repeat performance.

  “Hey, Hank,” Casey greeted the security guard as they reached the door.

  “Hey, Casey, Marc,” he replied. He shot a quick sideways glance at the orderly beside him and rolled his eyes.

  Casey stifled a grin, waiting as the nurse knocked on the door and poked her head in. “Dr. Westfield? Your guests are here. Shall I show them in?”

  “Yes.” Conrad’s voice sounded strong. Good. The better shape he was in, the more effective this meeting would go.

  The nurse opened the door wide, and gestured for Casey and Marc to go in. “Please don’t tire him,” was all she said before leaving, shutting the door behind her.

  “Ms. Woods, Mr. Devereaux, it’s good to see you.” Conrad was up and dressed in jeans and a navy polo fleece shirt. He was a little pale, but steady on his feet, and with no signs of upset at their visit.

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the security you’re providing,” he said, shaking their hands. “I’m still pretty thrown by what happened. First Madeline, now me...this is a nightmare.”

  “We’re as relieved as you are that Crest Haven agreed to our guards being outside your room,” Casey replied. “We want you and Madeline kept safe. And by the way, it’s Casey and Marc. We’re not big on formalities.”

  He acknowledged that with a nod. “Nor am I. Please call me Conrad.” A shadow crossed his face. “The term doctor sounds somehow disingenuous these past months.”

  “That’s something we need to talk about.” Marc gestured toward the sitting area. “Can we sit while we talk?”

  “Of course. Would you like anything—coffee? Tea? I can request either or both.”

  “Nothing, thanks.”

  Casey took a seat in the same chair she’d used last time. Marc followed suit, settling himself in the matching chair. Conrad sank down on the sofa, leaning forward so he could meet their gazes.

  “You said on the phone that there were several things you wanted to discuss in person. Shoot.”

  “Your apartment was trashed.” Casey didn’t mince any words.

  Conrad blinked. “What?”

  “It occurred to us that if someone was targeting you the way they’re targeting Madeline, they might have broken into your place, as well. So we took a look.”

  “But I have a service that—”

 
“It was canceled, supposedly on your authority,” Casey told him.

  “Someone wanted to get in. And they did.” Conrad ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t ask how Forensic Instincts had managed to “take a look,” nor did he seem to care. He just looked as though he was trying to process this.

  “What did they take? How bad is the apartment?”

  “It’s wrecked,” Marc responded, going on to elaborate everything he’d found. “As for what they took, it’s hard to tell. The one thing that was definitely missing was a USB drive that should have been attached to your Mac Pro. Do you have it?”

  Conrad shook his head. “The only computer I have here is my laptop—and no accessories.”

  “What was on that hard drive?”

  Conrad spread his arms wide in noncomprehension. “Just professional material. Certainly nothing of value or importance to anyone but me. And definitely nothing to kill for.”

  “Can you guess what they might have thought was on there?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Did you keep personal memos or documentation of any kind?”

  “Emails. Abstracts. Articles. Videos of cutting-edge surgeries.” He paused. “I can make a full list for you. I’m upset that the material is gone, just as any professional would be. But I don’t feel threatened in any way—not by this.”

  “Please make us as comprehensive a list as you can,” Casey said. “Think about it carefully, come up with anything that occurs to you and email us.”

  “No problem. I’ll do it as soon as you leave.”

  “Good.”

  Even more agitated than he’d been before, Conrad propped his elbows on his knees, interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them. Tension rippled through him like an electric current.

  “Also, when we talked on the phone earlier, you asked if I was strong enough to talk about Ronald’s surgery. I am. I discuss it frequently in therapy. I think I can handle talking about it with people who are trying to save my life.” His head inclined slightly. “I’m just not sure how it relates to your investigation. Then again, I’m not sure of anything anymore.”