Unexpected Father

by Delores Fossen

  She nodded. Or rather tried to, but it was obvious the drug was taking effect. "She could have faked her injuries."

  Jason was surprised she could come up with that theory while under sedation. But he'd already considered it. "You mean, maybe Corinne stockpiled some of her blood and used it to make us think there was foul play?"

  Another shaky nod.

  It was possible, but if Corinne had done that, it was because she was scared and wanted to make them believe she was no longer alive. Or else she wanted her fake death to allow her the lack of scrutiny from the police so she could finish what she had started. It sent a chill through him to consider what Corinne might have started.

  "I learned something else," Jason continued. "It's not good news, either. The lab got the results from the clothes that Sandling and Klein were wearing the night of the shooting, and neither showed any signs of gunshot residue."

  That proved nothing, of course. There'd been time before their interrogation so they could have changed clothes and given themselves a thorough scrub-down to remove any residue.

  The door swung open and Jason automatically reached for his weapon. He stopped, however, when he realized it was the shrink. Dr. Malcolm McCartle. Tall, imposing. A dark tan with a shiny bald head that was less indicative of age than the fashion trend. Thankfully, the doctor had dealt with enough cops and police situations that he didn't even question Jason's actions.

  "Lilly, how are you doing?" Dr. McCartle asked. He rolled over a chair, plopped down right next to her bed and took the notepad from the nightstand.

  "Fine," she mumbled without even opening her eyes.

  The doctor looked up at Jason. "Since she gave permission, you're welcome to stay, but I'd prefer if you didn't ask questions. And don't say anything, for that matter. I have your list of things here that you'd like to know, and I'll go from there."

  Jason nodded, took a seat and listened as the doctor murmured words of reassurance to Lilly. It took McCartle several minutes to finish, and then he glanced down at the notepad, where Jason had written the questions. Jason only hoped they were the right questions and that Lilly could answer them.

  "Lilly, I want you to think back to the night of your car crash," the doctor instructed, his voice soft and flat. "Nineteen months ago. You leave your office. It's night. The air is chilly because it's winter, and it's drizzling. Do you remember that?"

  "Yes. I have on my coat. The black wool one with the silver buttons."

  Well, that was a good start. Jason hoped it continued because there were some difficult questions on that list.

  "You're walking through the parking lot and you get in your car," Dr. McCartle prompted. "And then you start driving on San Pedro. You head north on Highway 281 to Anderson Loop. Think about that drive, Lilly. Take yourself back to that night. Can you see if anyone is following you?"

  Even though her eyes were closed, he could see the movement beneath her lids. "No. I don't think so."

  "Look around the inside of your car. Do you have the computer disk with you?"

  "Yes," she said quickly. "It's on the front passenger's seat, next to my purse. It's important. It has a lot of information about my father."

  "What kind of information?" the doctor asked.

  "Copies of forged and altered agreements and deals. There are some bids and paperwork that he stole so that competing companies wouldn't get city contracts that he wanted. He bribed people. He intimidated them. And I have proof of all of that."

  Jason didn't doubt that such proof existed. It was just too bad that the cops hadn't realized just how much danger Lilly was in because she possessed such evidence. If they'd known, they likely could have given her protection and saved her from the accident and the coma.

  "Lilly, are you nervous about the disk?" Dr. McCartle questioned.

  "Yes." Another fast answer, and her face became tense. "I'm going to take it to the police."

  "Does anyone know you're planning to do that?" the doctor asked.

  No fast answer that time. Lilly gave it some thought. "I told my secretary, Corinne."

  Oh, hell. Now that was a bit of info that Corinne hadn't volunteered. That lent some credence to the theory that Corinne might have faked her own death or injury. Of course, maybe the woman simply forgot to inform them of what she knew. But then, that seemed such an important thing to forget.

  "Does anyone else know that you have the disk?" Dr. McCartle read from the list.

  "Maybe." Another pause. Her forehead bunched up. "I kept the blinds in my office open all day, well into the evening. Corinne said something about having the feeling that we were being watched, and she was nervous."

  Yet another new piece of the puzzle. It didn't exonerate Corinne, but it sure as heck explained how someone else might have known what Lilly was about to do.

  "You're in your car now," the doctor continued. "You're driving on Anderson Loop. Traffic is light. You're going through an area where there aren't many businesses. Look around you again. Check the rearview and side mirrors. Is anyone following you?"

  Before the doctor spoke the last word of his question, Lilly gasped. Jason bolted to his feet, but without looking at him, the doctor motioned for him to sit down.

  "The car's coming right at me," Lilly said, her voice high-pitched and strained. So were the muscles in her face and neck. And she had a death grip on the side of the bed. "My God, it's going to hit me."

  Jason couldn't sit. Not listening to that. Not hearing the terror in Lilly's voice.

  "Describe the car," McCartle insisted.

  She frantically shook her head, and for a moment Jason didn't think she could answer. That this had all been for nothing. But then, the head shaking stopped and her grip relaxed a little. "It's maroon. Dark windows. Four doors. It's coming at me. Fast. So fast. And I'm swerving to get away from it. There's a bridge. God, a bridge!" Lilly's hand flew up to cover her face, and Jason could only imagine how terrified she was. "I slammed into the guardrail."

  "It's all right," the doctor assured her. "You won't feel any pain."

  "No pain," Lilly repeated several times, as if trying to convince herself. "But I touch my fingers to my forehead, and I see the blood. I'm hurt. I'm dizzy."

  Dr. McCartle gently rubbed her arm. "Look around you, Lilly. Do you still see that car that ran you off the road?"

  "No. I can't see anything. Everything's spinning around."

  The doctor leaned closer to her and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Listen, then. What do you hear?"

  She waited a moment, and the movement was almost feverish beneath her eyelids. "Someone's there. Someone's opening the door on my side of the car. But I can't see a face."

  "Look carefully," the doctor prompted. "Try to focus."

  Jason held his breath. Waiting. And praying this would soon be over so that Lilly wouldn't have to go through any more.

  "I can't see the face," Lilly whispered, her voice weak. "It's getting dark. And I can't feel. I don't think I can breathe." She hesitated. "And then everything stops…I stop."

  The coma had taken her—and at such a crucial time. A few more minutes, a little better light, and Lilly might have been able to make an ID. Still, Jason wasn't ready to give up.

  "Lilly, I want you to go back in time," the doctor instructed, looking at the notes. "Before the crash. What were you thinking about just before you saw the maroon car?"

  It took her a moment to answer. "I was thinking about the disk. About all the problems my father had caused. And I was thinking about Greg."

  That got Jason's attention. He motioned for the doctor to continue with that thread of questioning.

  "Why Greg?"

  "I found some information." Lilly paused, and judging from the way her mouth tightened, she was concentrating hard. "I think maybe Greg had some run-ins with one or more of my father's former business associates."

  Well, that confirmed what Corinne had said. And what Jason had suspected.

  "I was also thinking
about the night Greg and I slept together," Lilly continued. "It was a mistake."

  The doctor started to say something, but Lilly spoke before he could.

  "I didn't love Greg," she volunteered. "And I told him that. He was angry. Furious. Yelling. He said I didn't love him because I wanted his brother. It was true. I couldn't deny it. I've always been attracted to Jason." She made a dismissal sound deep in her throat. "But I'm not his type."

  If he hadn't heard the words come from her mouth, Jason wouldn't have believed them. Whoa. That was a powerful confession. Definitely not the earth-shattering revelation of the identity of a would-be killer, but it was earth-shattering still the same.

  So, now he knew. She hadn't been in love with Greg. Instead, she'd been attracted to him.

  Him.

  Now, the real question was, what was he going to do about it?

  * * *

  LILLY WASN'T HAVING much luck getting Megan to take a nap. Partly because she hated to lose even a couple of hours of time with her daughter—even if a nap was a necessity. On the other hand, judging from Jason's somber mood, he was waiting for Megan to fall asleep so that they could discuss some things. Things she'd no doubt disclosed while under hypnosis.

  On the drive back from the hospital, Jason had said something about Greg being connected to one or more of her father's business associates. Before he could explain, he'd gotten a call. Then another. By the time he'd finished his conversations, they were at the house.

  The interruptions hadn't stopped there.

  They'd barely made it inside when she heard Megan rather loudly demand a bottle and some attention. Lilly had given Detective Sarah Albright, the "on-duty" nanny, a reprieve and had taken the crying child from her arms. She'd then given Megan a bottle, changed her, had even sung her a lullaby, but her daughter was still whining and obviously exhausted, reacting to all the recent changes in her life and the stress.

  As was Jason.

  He wasn't rubbing his eyes, but he had that surly, bruised expression. Mercy, she hoped she hadn't talked about sleeping with Greg. Jason shouldn't have been subjected to that.

  Lilly pulled herself away from her mental browbeating and kissed her daughter's cheek. Megan smiled. Not a bright-eyed grin as she often did. It was a lazy kind of smile that was a precursor to her eyelids drifting down. Lilly hummed softly to her, rocked her gently, and Megan finally surrendered to the dreaded nap.

  Most would consider getting her daughter to sleep to be a small accomplishment, but for Lilly it was a huge milestone. There'd be many times like this. Milestones of all shapes and sizes, and she intended to be there for all of them.

  Lilly struggled when she tried to get out of the chair in the nursery, and she silently cursed her still-weak legs. She was tired of being in recovery when she had so many important and dangerous things happening around her. Heaven forbid if she actually had to outrun a bad guy.

  It wouldn't be a pretty sight.

  When Jason noticed that she was struggling, he came to the rescue. He gently scooped up the sleeping Megan and eased her into her crib. Lilly gave Megan one last kiss, one last look before she covered her with a blanket, and Jason and she stepped out of the room.

  "Okay," Lilly started, "what's wrong?"

  He didn't answer her question. "Any leftover effects from the drug the shrink gave you?"

  "I'm doing fine." Not exactly the truth. She was exhausted, but she had too many things to do to nap, including the physical therapy appointment that they'd have to leave for within the hour. There'd be time for naps once this rifle-wielding psycho was caught. "I don't think I can say the same for you, though. So, why the glum mood?" Rather than fishing for the answer, she went for the direct approach. "Did I say something about Greg that I shouldn't have?"

  He blinked and shook his head. A denial that didn't quite convince her. "You said you thought maybe Greg had had some run-ins with your father's former business associates."

  Not exactly news-at-five. Corinne had already said as much.

  Jason looked around the hall and made a glance at the living room. "Let's go to my office," he insisted, already leading her in that direction. They passed through the living room where Detective Albright was taking a much-needed break on the sofa.

  "I have the files we took from your office the other day," Jason continued. "And I think I might have found the connection."

  Okay. So, maybe there was news, after all, and maybe this was the real reason for his puzzling mood.

  Jason's home office was on the other side of the house, next to the kitchen. Lilly had glanced in there a time or two, but she hadn't gone in before now. It was a man's room. Wood floors, ceiling beams, a darkly colored Turkish rug and a desk that dominated the space. She looked around and spotted the baby monitor on the corner of the desk. A little green light indicated it was on, which meant they'd be able to hear Megan if she woke.

  "Here," Jason said, pulling up a chair for her. She sat next to him, and he handed her a single sheet of paper. "It's the police's theory that the person who stole the disk from you after the car crash also went through your office and took the files you'd copied. I think the person missed this one. It's a handwritten memo from your father to Wayne Sandling."

  She remembered the memo and remembered that she'd copied it onto the disk. It was one of literally hundreds she'd read when she'd been trying to determine the extent of her father's illegal activities. It was basically a vaguely worded "suggestion" for Wayne Sandling to make sure that their latest bid for a municipal contract was accepted. In other words, do whatever necessary to insure no one else outbid them.

  "Check the dates," Jason prompted. "And then look at the date of this correspondence from Greg."

  Greg's correspondence was a week after her father's memo. Greg had written a letter to the city council, expressing his concern, and fury, over the selection process for a specific contract. A contract he'd lost, even though he'd insisted he'd put in a lower bid than the winning company—a business represented by her father.

  Of course.

  "There's more," Jason continued. "While you were in recovery from the hypnosis drug, I made some calls. I had one of the detectives read back through Greg's accident report. An eyewitness reported that there was a maroon, four-door car with tinted windows in the vicinity."

  Lilly shook her head, not making the connection.

  "Under hypnosis, you said the car that hit you was maroon with heavily tinted windows."

  She was so glad she was sitting down. No, it wasn't clear-cut evidence, but she couldn't dismiss it as a coincidence, either. "You think Greg might have been murdered?" she asked, holding her breath.

  "I think it's a strong possibility."

  "Oh, God. Oh, God." She couldn't help it. She dropped her head onto his shoulder and the tears came. The grief was fresh again, as if his death had just happened. "And here all this time, I thought this was my fault. I've been blaming myself."

  "And I've been blaming you."

  She was aware that along with all the pain they were both no doubt feeling, there were several issues and revelations that had to be dealt with. Greg's death. Jason's and her past.

  Maybe even their future.

  "What are we going to do about this information?" she muttered, lifting her head from his shoulder.

  "You're going to do nothing but stay safe. I've already turned all of this over to the lead detective. He's planning a database search to try to identify the car. Of course, it has been nineteen months…"

  In other words, it might be too late. The car could be anywhere by now. Still, she had to hold out hope that they'd get lucky.

  Since Jason had broached the subject of his brother, Lilly decided to continue it. "While I was under hypnosis, did I say anything else about Greg?"

  Jason eased away from her, and he dodged her gaze. "What do you mean?"

  Uh-oh. That eluded gaze couldn't be a good sign. Yep, she'd no doubt mentioned sex. Great. Nothing like reminding
him of the huge sore spot that was between them. "I just got the feeling that I'd said something to make you uncomfortable."

  "No. Not uncomfortable," he insisted. But his hesitation said otherwise. "You just clarified a few things for me."

  Another uh-oh. "Like what?"

  He shrugged, moved away another inch. "Like how important it is for us to solve this case."

  Lilly sighed. She couldn't fault him for his evasive answer. If their positions had been reversed, she wouldn't have wanted to discuss his previous sexual activity. She didn't even want to think about it.

  "So, we're back to vague responses, chitchat, et cetera?" she mumbled.

  "What do you mean?" Jason asked. And he asked it with a straight face, too. Had she misinterpreted his ambiguous response? Or maybe she hadn't said what she thought she'd said while under hypnosis.

  "Why won't you tell me what I said that's made you so standoffish?" She heard herself and wanted to wince. Mercy, it was time to drop this. So what if she never learned his—

  "I care about you," Jason said, interrupting her thoughts. Thank goodness. Because she truly hadn't wanted to finish that. "But we don't have a clean slate, Lilly. We never will. And I don't know how we deal with that. If—"

  "Wait a minute." She slapped her palm on his chest. "Back up to that part about you caring about me."

  He looked at her as if her nose were on backward. "Of course I care about you."

  "Of course," she repeated. She held up her left index finger. "Give me a minute for that to sink in."

  He shook his head, obviously surprised by her reaction. "I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't care."

  She grunted. "Kissing and caring aren't always related. Sometimes kissing is just about lust and nothing else."

  "And sometimes, kissing is about kissing."

  Lilly stared at him, trying to figure out what he meant and where this was going. After several long moments, she decided she didn't have a clue.

  Did she?

  She kept staring at him and unfortunately got a little distracted by his face. His mouth, in particular. And she nearly lost her train of thought. That mouth certainly had her hormonal number.