“What?” They hadn’t called him. Did Amanda know?
“I take it you haven’t heard anything about it?”
His heart picked up speed. If Eileen wasn’t at the home, she could be anywhere. “I gotta go.”
“Hold up. The ME also discovered what appeared to be biomarker evidence of brain amyloid depositions, which is congruent with—”
Of course. “AD.”
“Most of the time these clinical trials include people over a certain age.”
“Wait.” He shook his head as if Jordan were next to him. “Back up. Clinical trials?”
“Erin McCormick has a family history of the disease and was an asymptomatic carrier of autosomal-dominant mutations in the Alzheimer’s genes. Nora Flemming just had early onset, much like…”
Eileen Nettles.
“I’d imagine pregnancy would put a halt to the trial?” An inky emotion settled in his gut. “Whose is it?”
Silence reigned a beat. “Sandra Porterville’s.”
“Okay.” He took a breath. Something wasn’t right. “I need more details. Anything you can get your hands on regarding any of her activities. Especially those of her clinical trial. I want dates, names. Anything. And call Juliana. Figure out where she is and what she’s been doing.”
“Here’s the kicker, Robinson. Sandra Porterville is a contributor to Knight’s Rescue Mission. And so is—was—Eileen Nettles.”
###
DR. SANDRA PORTERVILLE was performing surgery. A head trauma, caused from an accident.
While Robinson felt for whoever was on her table, it hadn’t stopped him from using his credentials and—after a lengthy discussion with the chief of surgery—forcing his way inside, mask held over his face.
And the chief—a tall, dark-haired man without an ounce of humor—was directly behind him. “Dr. Porterville, we’ve got the FBI here.”
Sandra didn’t even look up from the microscope positioned above the draped patient. She worked as if she didn’t sense anything amiss inside the room.
“Is this an eye for eye sort of thing, Mr. Robinson? I visit you, you visit me?” She presented her palm to the nurse beside her. An instrument was instantly placed there and she continued working.
“A visit usually implies something of a friendly nature.” And the boiling in his veins was anything but.
“Really?” Her cool blue gaze flicked toward him, almost a dare, before going back to her microscope. “And here I’d hoped you wanted to wish me luck.” Her words were careful, her lips barely moving. “I’m trying to preserve a life. This young man stepped out in front of a car and saved a woman’s life.”
“So, he’s worth saving?”
An almost imperceptible tightening occurred around the corners of her eyes. “Of course.”
“That why you have business cards for a local abortion clinic on standby? Sort of seems out of your scope of practice.”
A couple of the nurses sent each other discreet glances. Sandra didn’t flinch. “Sometimes those actions are necessary. If I’d followed through in that area, you wouldn’t even be here.”
Robinson ground his molars together. She hadn’t wished his wife dead. He hadn’t heard that. Refused to.
“Life would be much simpler, I suspect.”
He wasn’t here to fight for Amanda or Paige. Not right now. Didn’t need to engage in an argument where she’d never surrender. “You routinely donate to Knight’s Rescue Mission. Why?”
“Why does anyone throw money to a cause?”
Hopefully, because they deemed it right. Necessary. “Their core values are in conflict with yours. You value life only when it suits your needs. Or when you presume a person is worthy.”
Though he couldn’t see her mouth, he noted her eyes crinkling at the corners. A small sardonic laugh left her. “I’m a doctor, Mr. Robinson. I’ve taken my Hippocratic Oath.”
He rocked back on his heels. “I suspect it was surface deep at best.”
She stilled. Took a breath. “Goodbye, Mr. Robinson. Don’t call me when that situation you’ve got going on upstairs implodes on you.”
A hand found his arm, tugged him backward. He resisted against the chief’s hold. “What’s your interest in Knight’s Rescue Mission?”
“I made a bargain.” Each word was punctuated. “One Alzheimer’s riddled brain. Lots of money. Giving it to charity isn’t illegal, is it Mr. Robinson? That’s where Eileen wanted the funds to go.”
He remained silent.
“She’s my ticket to solving AD.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” The words came from somewhere behind him. Robinson turned to find a tall blond man pointing a SIG Sauer in his general direction and that of the surgery chief now in front of him.
“Sir.” The chief held up his hands.
Robinson reached for his gun. The chief took a swift step back at the same time. His elbow connected with Robinson’s sternum.
Pain exploded through his body. Had him doubling over like a teen taking a hit to the crotch. A piercing, white silence engulfed him, followed by a pap-pap-pap.
Something toppled into him. Forced him to the ground face first.
A guttural scream sliced into his brain. Metal clanged against the floor. He struggled upward from a fog of pain. The hard planes of his gun pressed against his right hand.
“You don’t have to do this, Seth.” Sandra’s voice came out in a squeak. The gunman had one of her arms twisted behind her back. He used it to propel her forward and toward the exit.
If Robinson could prop himself upward, he’d take the shot. He placed both hands under his body and pushed. Agony tore through his chest in a hot rush. The man on top of him slid to the floor.
Robinson raised his gun and fired as the automatic doors closed. The man—Seth—flinched and swung around.
Sandra’s eyes met his, full of fear. Her mask was halfway down her chin, a welt forming on one cheek. A small cut oozed blood.
The doors opened again. Seth leveled his gun on Robinson.
###
IT DIDN’T MAKE sense.
Upon arriving at the hospital, Amanda had scrubbed her arms until they were beet red. Even so, she could still feel the ooze of blood on her hands, the warmth as life slid out from a woman slowly bleeding out.
One whose words had been choppy and mixed up, pain evident in her pale face. She’d stumbled toward them. Had ample time to see both Davis and Eileen Nettles before falling into Amanda’s arms.
Amanda gripped the blood-stained card she’d taken from the woman’s hand. The clinic’s details were still visible beneath the red. The pleading tone of her voice was still fresh as she’d begged Amanda to save her unborn child. That kind of woman didn’t seek aid at an abortion clinic.
“Here.” Jordan Bening handed her a cup of coffee he’d gotten from the machine in the surgery waiting area. “You talk to Robinson?”
She nodded. It was a brief phone call that would’ve been better served in person without rushed bits of information coming from both of them. “When I brought my mom back to the center yesterday, they didn’t mention anything about her leaving the building the day prior.”
Did that mean something had happened that she wasn’t aware of? Maybe. They hadn’t called her today.
“You’re soaked to the bone, Amanda. You and Davis should go change. Take your mom with you.”
Eileen Nettles sat in the corner with a blanket over her shoulders, Davis next to her with a magazine. The younger detective hadn’t said much since they’d arrived. Her face was drawn and pale. And she hadn’t flipped a page in the reading material in several minutes.
Jordan’s pregnant wife sat on the other side, her foot tapping a hasty beat against the tiled floor. Eileen said something that had them both smiling.
When Amanda had tried to clean the blood from the older woman’s hands, her mother had lost the bit of lucidity she’d had at the scene of the accident.
Suddenly Amanda was an unknown evil the wo
man couldn’t trust. And Davis was the only one she could.
Amanda sipped her coffee, warmth spreading through her for the first time in a few hours. “Any word on our vic?”
“She’s still in surgery.” A grim look crossed Jordan’s face. “Doesn’t sound like they were able to save her baby.”
She shifted. Resisted the urge to pace the area. Amanda ran the back of one hand across her mouth and tried not to let the suffocating sadness grip her. The woman would survive, but not without internal and external scars.
“Did either Erin or Nora’s family know about the clinical trials?”
“Shocked. Same as you.”
They had to have been involved long before conceiving, which would have terminated the trial—if either woman planned to keep her baby. Sandra was self-centered, direct and often about whatever end goal suited her, but would she purposely end these woman’s lives?
For the trial to be a success, she needed a living specimen, didn’t she?
If there’d been more time, she might have asked her mother those questions. Might have inquired what the deal with Davis was. And how Juliana Knight might come into play.
“How’s Rupert?”
“No news is good news.” Circles lined Jordan’s eyes.
She touched his shoulder, gave a squeeze. “He’s going to be fine, Jordan.” He had to be.
His eyes wandered toward Davis.
Amanda knew the feeling a sudden, previously undisclosed sibling could cause, but this wasn’t Jordan’s first time around that particular block. He and Rupert hadn’t known about each other until adulthood. The two were still navigating the familial waters. And adding Davis to that mix? “Did you have any idea?”
He shook his head. Davis stood. Then headed in their direction. Her jeans were covered in dirt and grime, same as Amanda’s.
“I’m gonna go home and change,” she said once she reached them. “See if I can’t find something to give us a little traction here.”
Jordan didn’t utter a word before walking toward his wife. In the corner, Amanda’s mother watched them as if she knew far more than her brain would allow her to say. She rubbed bound hands across her face.
“You didn’t have to cuff her, Davis.”
“She was going to get hurt. Or hurt somebody.”
Anger prickled through her body. “She would never hurt anybody. Not on purpose.” And she’d spend the rest of her life proving it if she had to.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Mm-hmm.” Amanda pressed her lips together.
Davis’ jaw worked. “Let me make this simple for you, Nettles. Your parents have helped a lot of people. Sometimes, when you do that, you make enemies. People who don’t want to see you doing whatever it is that you’re doing, because it doesn’t jibe with what they want to accomplish. So, you find other ways to do what you need to do.” Her green eyes were alive with passion. “I’m the last person who’d want anything bad to happen to your mom. Without her, I wouldn’t be alive.”
What did that mean? “Is that supposed to make your suspicious activities okay?”
She took a deep breath. “My birth mother didn’t want children. Didn’t even really like men, oddly enough. But she was too scared to go through with the abortion, so she put it off until it was almost too late. I might have been born naturally, in a hospital, if Sandra hadn’t convinced my mother the process was easy and painless.”
Like she’d done this morning with Paige.
“Saline abortion is anything but painless. And if done wrong, the mother can end up dying as well.”
A sick feeling rolled through Amanda.
“Your mom tried everything to talk her out of it. Even followed her to Dr. Borian’s clinic. Forced her way into the room. If she hadn’t, I would have died in the clinic, because all the saline did was push me out faster and cause areas of my skin to burn.”
The image made Amanda’s heart beat a little faster.
“It also scarred small portions of my lungs, which makes me feel like I’m choking at times. It causes a bit of anxiety. At times it’s overwhelming and makes me—”
“Throw up.”
Davis’ sharp intake of air and quick departure of the Fifth Precinct two days ago popped into Amanda’s mind. “Is that why you left the precinct so suddenly? Did you think she’d spell out the scenario in one Alzheimer’s fog?”
The other woman swallowed. “The things your mom says… The drug works, Amanda. Your mom is proof. You put her in that care center six months ago—”
Everything stopped. “What do you mean, it works?”
“Charleen?” A female voice split through the high-pitched squeal in Amanda’s head.
A woman with blonde hair rushed up to them. A yellow cardigan and a baby bump was visible beneath her rain jacket.
Davis turned toward the exit. “Juliana?”
Dexter’s sister? She had the same blue-violet eyes. A flash of the girl in the clinic bounced around in her head. The way she’d disappeared without a trace.
“Did you tell her?” She said to Davis, whose gaze skittered away from Amanda.
Something heavy dropped into her stomach. “Somebody better start talking. Now.”
“I was going to meet Rupert for a lunch meeting. I found your mom behind Gamegon. I know she didn’t do it. She’s been a Knight Rescue Mission donor for years. Used to help me out when she could still—”
The sound of gunshots echoed through the building. Juliana jumped. Amanda froze. The fine hairs on her body stood at attention. Davis’ gaze bounced to hers. In the corner, Jordan stood, his wife doing likewise.
A scream split the air. Another round went off.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THIS WAS GOING to end badly.
Charleen released a burst of air. She’d bared herself more than ever before. Hadn’t gotten the horrified stare she’d anticipated and was thankful she hadn’t seen pity in the depths of Amanda’s eyes.
It was the hardest bit of truth she’d ever delivered. The only time she’d ever spoken of that particular part of her life. Never doing it again would suit her fine.
Focus. Get in. Get out.
After three and a half years, she was ready to do that. To close this file and move on. And once Amanda discovered the truth, it would be the only option available to Charleen.
She took the stairs to the maternity ward two at a time in darkness. They had maybe five minutes. She’d known that before the lights inside the hospital went out and the backup generator kicked on. While the ICU and OR’s still had power, she’d have to maneuver like a mouse in a maze.
She hit the landing, eased the door open and slipped inside. She waited for someone to notice her. Stop her. Shoot her. Because that’s what she’d heard on the second floor as she waited for Rupert’s surgery to end.
While she prayed for the survival of a brother that she didn’t know—hadn’t wanted to, because being behind the scenes often meant going it alone. That, she understood.
When Jordan and Amanda had run toward the commotion—always at the ready, even as the lights clipped off—she’d fought the swirling sensation in her gut. Found herself headed here.
Charleen worked to get her heart rate under control. The Glock .45 in her right hand wouldn’t stay steady. Her entire body vibrated with nerves.
But she’d checked the clip before leaving the house this morning. Had made sure she had a spare. It was routine, whether she expected trouble or not.
She liked being behind the scenes, where she could process information. Add pieces to the puzzle without having to make the hard call. Not out on the front line.
Not like Amanda. The city needed more of her, even if her methods were risky. Not always on par with protocol. Charleen would make sure the official report said the truth about everything else, too.
That was why she was here. The truth. She couldn’t forget that. Internal Affairs paid her salary. And they’d given her one job. Flush out the corrupt
.
She’d been successful once already.
Should have been pulled and reassigned last year, but IA had come through the precinct. Run her background and ruffled her feathers like everyone else.
Told her to sit tight. Call when she’d gotten the next guy. Right. She might be the eyes and ears of IA, but she couldn’t stand still while a good family went down.
A swirl of sickness clenched her stomach. Irritation slid down her spine.
She’d been so busy trying to figure out who might have it in for Eileen, she hadn’t concentrated on the more obvious reality. What would her guilt imply? What would it destroy?
Amanda was the most evident factor, with Paige ending up a war casualty, but the facts didn’t add up. The AD trial, however…
That had to be the connection. Both women were part of it and had become pregnant during it. Both had sought abortion counseling from Dr. Seth Borian.
The confirmation was in the file she’d swiped from the clinic this morning when Amanda had created the perfect diversion. Couldn’t have been more successful if they’d planned it. Only the senior detective wasn’t big on trust these days.
She understood it. Respected it even.
If she was wrong about Eileen, about the trial being a success…
Had Dr. Borian known they were a part of it? His only connection to Sandra surrounded Charleen’s birth and their mutual college education years before that. Long before Eileen had AD, she was their…teacher.
There was something she was missing.
Maybe if you weren’t such an idiot, you could have clued Amanda in.
Charleen shook her head. It never would have worked. She needed to focus. Get to Paige and protect her.
While the girl’s aunt protected all of Charlotte.
She skirted along the wall, right past the nurses’ station and to Paige’s door. She opened it and slipped inside.
Two sets of eyes turned her way, Paige from the bed. Her brown gaze was wide, her hands fisted around her blankets. A grim shadow surfaced on Dexter’s face. He moved from where he stood near the window.
“Charleen.” His voice held not one hint of surprise. He was probably the only person who didn’t call her Davis or Vi, not that he had any practice with the latter.
OBSESSION (The Bening Files (Novella) Book 4) Page 12