“Oh, my God,” Roman said, suddenly hoarse. His mind spun. “If you didn’t send Robertson down to Thunder Key—”
“I swear to you, son, it wasn’t me or your mother.”
“Then who did?” The man had said he was hired by family. The only other family who knew about Leah was…Mark. But why would Mark take it upon himself to send a private investigator? Nothing was making sense.
“I don’t know,” Walter said.
“I have to call Leah.” Roman charged into the living room, stopped short at the sight that met his eyes. Gen sat huddled on the Italian cognac-colored leather couch, her face buried in her hands, hidden by a curtain of her caramel hair.
She lifted her head. Her eyes were red, her cheeks damp, splotchy. “Roman.” His name trembled from her mouth. “He only wanted to help people. That’s what he always said about why he became a doctor. He cared, maybe too much, that’s all. He helped people other doctors wouldn’t help.”
“What are you talking about?” All Roman wanted to do was grab the phone, call Leah, but Gen’s words hit him across the chest. Dammit, what the hell was wrong with everyone? “Where’s Mark? I need to talk to him.”
“I thought you knew,” Walter said, coming in behind Roman. “I thought that’s why you came back.”
“Knew what?” Roman was about to lose it. “Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on here?”
“They shut down Mark’s practice,” Gen said, panic lacing her voice. “They’re saying he illegally distributed pain medication.”
“What?” Roman’s head reeled. Gen’s husband ran one of the most prestigious physical medicine and rehabilitation practices in the city. His patients included celebrities and politicians. Gen had accomplished what Roman hadn’t—the perfect marriage by Bradshaw standards. “Who’s saying this?”
“The U.S. Attorney’s Office,” Walter said.
Roman turned, saw his mother crying silently. Now it all made sense—the underlying shock and horror in the apartment.
“It was all over the news this morning,” Barbara said shakily. “Didn’t you see it?”
He’d been watching the cable weather station, focused on the hurricane approaching the Keys. “No.” He sat by Gen, still trying to take it in. His sister buried her face in his chest.
“They charged him with conspiracy to commit health care fraud and taking kickbacks for patient referrals,” Gen sobbed against him. “They’re saying he overprescribed, created patient dependencies for kickbacks from drug companies and that some of his patients died because of it. They arrested almost everyone in his office, even his office manager and his nurse.”
“Where’s Mark?” Now he was as shocked as they were. Gen had been married to Mark for ten years. Mark had been the perfect brother-in-law. Roman had been able to count on Mark for anything. And now they were saying he’d killed people? How could this be true?
Gen raised her face to him. “The people on the news were saying he could get life in prison if he’s convicted. Millions in fines. They’re saying he’ll have to forfeit everything—the practice, our house, our bank accounts. They’ve been investigating him for over eighteen months and I didn’t even know it.”
The nipping dread in his gut increased. Roman gripped Gen’s shoulders. “Where’s Mark?” he repeated.
“I don’t know!” she cried. “He’s gone. He left the house yesterday and I haven’t seen him since. He called last night, told me he was working late, but when I woke up this morning, he hadn’t been home. I’ve been calling his cell phone all day, but he doesn’t pick up. When the federal authorities raided the office today, Mark wasn’t there.”
Roman felt his stomach slide. “Did Leah know about any of this?”
“What?” Gen looked blank.
“Why did they start investigating Mark?”
“Somebody went to the police about one of the patients who died,” Gen sobbed.
There was a newspaper on the coffee table. For the first time, Roman realized the headline was about Mark. He hunched forward, grabbed it.
Manhattan Pain Specialist Charged in Federal Court, the headline blazed in huge letters. Roman scanned the article, his blood pounding as he read the litany of charges against Dr. Mark Davison that included the deaths of ten patients. He tore open the paper, hunting down the details at the bottom of the article.
The probe had begun with an investigation into the death of a Chelsea woman, Nicole Bates.
Nikki. Leah’s roommate and maid of honor.
Fear clamped down on Roman’s heart.
“Where the hell is Mark?” he demanded, praying his instincts were wrong.
“Roman!” Barbara cried as he tossed down the paper and charged at the phone on the ornate desk against one wall. He punched in the Shark and Fin’s number. A recording came on telling him the connection was out of service. The storm. Dammit. Roman threw open the armoire that hid his parents’ large television. He clicked immediately to the cable weather station.
“The hurricane is still threatening the lower Eastern Seaboard. Evacuations have not yet been ordered, but are expected by this evening for communities from the Keys to as far north as Jacksonville if the storm remains on its present course—”
He switched the television off, grabbed the phone again. “I need information for Miami. Norman Robertson.” The operator clicked him through to a recording and the machine automatically dialed the number.
“What’s going on, son?”
Roman ignored his father’s question.
A voice picked up on the line. “Robertson.”
“Roman Bradshaw. If you’ve seen the national news, you know that my brother-in-law has just been indicted with a federal crime,” Roman bit out. “So if you’ve been working for him, you’re about to have more trouble than you know what to do with. I want to know if Mark Davison’s the one who hired you to follow me to Thunder Key. And I want to know if you have any idea where the hell he is right now.”
There was a taut second of cold silence. Then Robertson spoke and Roman’s world crashed.
“He was in Miami this morning, that’s all I know,” Robertson said. “I called him last night and he set up a meeting with me at the Royal Cypress Inn and Suites. I didn’t know about the federal charges, I swear,” he went on, but Roman was already hanging up.
Mark was in Miami? Oh, God…
He turned around to face his sister’s stricken face. “I know you don’t want to believe Mark could have done anything wrong. I don’t want to believe it either.” He went to Gen, took her into a brief, fierce hug, struggling with his own disappointment—and nagging fear that somehow this was connected to Leah’s disappearance over a year ago. “But if what they’re charging him with is true, he could be blaming Leah. She asked a lot of questions after Nikki Bates died. Maybe too many questions.”
“That girl was always trouble,” Barbara started, but Roman cut her off.
“If she went to the authorities about Nikki’s death, she did it to save other lives.” He looked around at all of them now. “Nikki Bates was her closest friend. Leah was devastated when she died. And if Leah suspected it wasn’t a suicide, that she’d been overprescribed or something—” Everything Leah had told him about her nightmares pummeled at his brain along with those final days and her distress over Nikki’s prescriptions.
Had Leah gone to the authorities with her questions? And had Mark somehow known about it? Had Mark forced her car over that bridge? The same Mark who had stood by him during the darkest hours following Leah’s disappearance? The crushing betrayal was more than he could process.
“He knew Leah was alive,” Roman went on. It was his own fault. He’d told Mark about Leah. Guilt nearly killed him. “He’s the one who hired Robertson. Mark’s in Florida right now and he could be there to hurt Leah. I don’t want to believe— Someone made some phone calls, too, and it had to have been Mark. He’s the only one who knew she was alive…. Did Mark know about Leah’s past?
”
Gen’s mouth dropped. “Leah’s alive?”
“Yes,” Walter said heavily. “Mark knew. I asked Mark to be the one to talk to her, tell her we knew what she’d done, that she was going to ruin your life. Son—” He broke off as if he didn’t know what to say next. He looked sick and old suddenly.
Roman couldn’t deal with the anger now, the feelings of betrayal. He was too scared. And he had no time.
He picked up the phone again. “I need the number for the Royal Cypress Inn and Suites in Miami.” The operator connected him to a recording and the call was automatically dialed. The hotel picked up. “I’m looking for a guest—Mark Davison. It’s a family emergency.”
The hotel clerk checked her computer records. “I’m sorry, sir, but he’s checked out already.”
“Was he headed back to the airport, do you know?”
“Let me get the concierge,” the clerk said. “He might have that information.”
The concierge picked up a moment later. “Mr. Davison? Yes, I remember him checking out this morning. He asked for a map and directions.”
“Directions where?”
“Thunder Key.”
Chapter 14
“Hello, Leah. I’m Mark. Roman’s brother-in-law. Is Roman here?”
Mark. This was the man she’d heard Roman speak to on the phone. The man who’d given Roman the psychiatrist referral. Gen’s husband.
“No, he’s not,” she said, suddenly realizing she was just standing there, not letting him in. Rain was sheeting down. “Come inside. I’m sorry. You’re getting wet.”
He was soaked to the skin, a hooded slicker pressed down around his head. Gray eyes glinted from a face dripping with rain. The blustering wind whipped against dark slacks. His shoes tracked in mud as she shut the heavy door behind him. He was a tall, angular man, but his mouth was kind.
For a long beat, they stood there in the darkened hall, then he said, “I know this is strange, but I feel as if I should give you a hug. We’re family, you know.”
He gave her a look that made her think he was hesitant, waiting for her permission. But the instinctive standoffishness she’d developed since her arrival in Thunder Key held her back. And something else harder to define. Cats, peas… She didn’t want to hug Mark.
“It’s good to see you, Leah,” he said when she didn’t move. “It really is you. I couldn’t believe it when Roman told me you were alive. I had to see for myself.”
She didn’t know what to say. It was strange, as he’d said. Thoughts raced in her mind of the various things Roman had told her about her strained relationship with his family. But Mark seemed genuinely glad to see her.
“Roman’s not here,” she repeated. “I’m sorry. He flew to New York this morning.” How much did Mark know about the reason Roman had gone to New York? She was uncertain what to reveal. “Would you like a drink?”
“Thanks.” He followed her back into the bar. She set the radio on the counter, then flicked the wall switch, turning on the lights over the bar. The rest of the bar and grill lay in shadows heavier than normal at this time of the evening with the windows boarded over, black. “We closed up because of the weather,” she explained.
“I saw a lot of cars headed the other direction on the Overseas Highway.” Mark threw his long legs over a bar stool. He jerked off his rain slicker. Underneath he wore a white dress shirt, no tie. The shirt was damp, and he shivered slightly in the chill of the bar. His dark brown hair looked wet, matted to his head.
“It’s getting cold in here.” Leah checked the thermostat, turned on the heater. “So,” she said, pivoting back, “what would you like to drink?” Why was he here? She didn’t know what to say, what to do. She supposed eventually she would have to get used to meeting people who had known her in the past. She might never get her memory back, but people knew her even if she didn’t know them. But she wished Roman was here. She didn’t like meeting his family without him by her side. She didn’t like not knowing what Roman had gone to New York to find out.
And she wondered if Mark knew what Roman had gone to find out. She couldn’t ask him. She didn’t want to hear it from Mark. However terrible it was, she needed to hear it from Roman.
She just prayed that he would still want her. The knot in her stomach that had been there all day wound tighter.
“A beer would be fine.” Mark told her which brand he preferred. She opened a longneck bottle and slid it across the smooth counter.
The sound of rain pounded against the Shark and Fin. She could hear the hastily nailed boards creak against the windows.
“I was just going to check the radio,” she said. “Last I heard, the storm was still veering south, so we might be evacuating soon. Sounds like some people decided to go on and leave ahead of time.”
“Looked that way to me.” His pale-gray eyes scraped her as he took a long pull on the beer. “But you’re still here, Leah.”
“I just finished closing up the bar. The cable went out a couple hours ago—and the phones are down—but I’ve been listening to my battery-powered radio, checking on the storm every little bit.”
“So it’s just you here at the Shark and Fin.”
“I sent everyone else home so they could take care of their own situations. Everyone needs to board up, get ready, in case we have to evacuate tonight.”
“Why did Roman go back to New York?”
“He needed to see his parents.”
Mark took another pull on his beer. “So he left you alone.”
“He’s coming back. Tomorrow, if he can’t get back tonight. He made reservations at the Grand Palm in Miami in case I have to evacuate. He’s supposed to meet me there.”
“Really. Well, Roman’s always on the ball, isn’t he?”
Something, maybe a branch from a nearby tree, crashed outside and Leah startled. She lifted a shaky hand to push back a stray lock of hair that fell forward across her cheek. Mark’s pale eyes seemed to follow her every movement.
She suddenly felt very alone in this huge, shadowy bar with this man who was her family but a stranger. Rain battered down on the building. She turned on the radio, adjusted the knob to find the station. “I was just about to go upstairs, pack a bag just in case—”
The announcer’s voice came in staticky. “The hurricane has been upgraded to a category-five storm, as sustained winds increased to 160 miles per hour. Despite earlier computer models predicting the storm could head north to threaten Georgia and the Carolinas, things are now looking ominous for Florida as the storm continues to track south. Large ocean swells and dangerous surf conditions already exist up and down the Florida seaboard, and evacuations are now being ordered from the Keys to Jacksonville.”
A tingle of alarm traced along Leah’s spine. She looked at Mark. He hunched over his beer, watching her as they listened to the radio report.
“As the storm continues to pick up speed, National Hurricane Center meteorologists expect it to make landfall by morning,” the announcer continued. “If you’ve been waiting to head out, now’s the time to stop waiting, folks.”
“That means we need to get out of here,” Leah said. “In fact, I’m surprised you were able to get here. You must have gotten through just before the authorities closed down the highway in this direction.”
He finished his beer in one long pull. “I’ve been here for a few hours, Leah. I flew in to Miami this morning for a meeting. I rented a car there and drove down to Thunder Key.”
“This isn’t a good time to see the Keys,” she pointed out. “A hurricane’s coming—”
“I didn’t come to see the Keys.”
His gaze seemed to pin her, and she felt as if he’d touched her, even though he hadn’t. She felt odd, tingly, weird. Scared, she realized. There was a hurricane on the way, of course, but there was plenty of time to evacuate. Yet her nerves tightened and she wanted to leave now. She shut off the radio.
“We need to head out.” Her innate sense of hospitality
made her feel as if rushing him out was impolite, but he wasn’t from the Keys. Maybe he didn’t understand. “The hurricane’s going to hit by morning, and it’s threatening the Keys.”
“How about another beer?” Mark said.
Leah blanked for a second. “We need to leave,” she repeated. “Maybe you don’t understand. In the Keys, when they say go, you go.”
“I saw everyone leave the Shark and Fin, you know. Everyone except you, Leah. I’ve been watching for hours. Waiting for you to be alone. Wondering why Roman wasn’t here. Wondering if you had your memory back. Do you have your memory back, Leah? Do you really have amnesia, or was that a convenient ploy to escape your unsavory past? Couldn’t face Roman once the truth was out, could you? So many questions. How about some answers? And that beer.”
Leah swallowed thickly, panic swelling up inside her. What was he talking about? He sounded nuts all of a sudden. He’d seemed so nice and normal at the door. Hello, I’m Mark, your brother-in-law… Let’s hug…
His angular face no longer looked kind. He’d been watching the bar today. Waiting for everyone to leave. Couldn’t face Roman once the truth was out, could you? What did Mark know about her past?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She had to think. The keys were in her pocket. All she had to do was get out the door and get into Morrie’s truck. And she had to get past the big, scary guy. No problem. “I really have amnesia. I can’t remember anything before the past eighteen months.”
And if he was part of her past before that, she really didn’t want to remember it now. Not while he was sitting there across the bar watching her with those pale-gray eyes that made her feel like a butterfly pinned to a posterboard.
“Look, I know Roman’s family didn’t much care for me—”
“I thought you didn’t remember the past, Leah.”
“Roman told me.” Her pulse tripped hard in her veins. “I know you probably don’t believe me. And that’s fine. I understand.” She tried to sound light. “I wouldn’t believe me, either! But I don’t want anything from Roman’s family. Honestly. If you think I want money or something, that’s not what I’m about. If Roman wants a divorce, he can have one. I’m not making any claims on him, and I would never do anything to hurt him. If there’s something terrible in my past, then Roman has to decide if he can live with it. Whatever happens next is up to Roman.”
Her Man To Remember Page 17