Critical Exposure

by Ann Voss Peterson

“Yeah.”

  She reached for his hand and brushed her fingers gently over his wrist. Looking up into his face, she searched his eyes, her mouth pinching with concern. “Then why do you wish he’d left?”

  He shook his head. He was an idiot for saying anything. It had just seemed so natural to talk to Echo, to blurt out what he was feeling. Echo made him feel so much he couldn’t keep things wrapped inside. “I really shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “Was he killed?”

  He let out a breath. “He died when I was a kid.”

  “So you lost your dad, too.”

  “Not in the way you did. You didn’t deserve to have your father walk out like that. You didn’t deserve to have him make you feel that way.”

  She looked down at their hands. Fitting her fingers between his, she twined her hand with his. “I wasn’t referring to my dad. I was talking about you losing Richard Francis and Maxie Wallace. You lost your father, too. Another cop.”

  He’d never related Richard’s and Maxie’s and Officer Woodard’s deaths to that of his father.

  “Do you feel responsible for your father’s death, too?”

  Her question sliced into him like a well-honed blade. He wanted to say no. He wanted to push her away. He wanted to shove the whole mess out of his mind and never think of it again.

  Instead he just sat there like an idiot and said nothing.

  She leaned toward him, her skin soft on his. Warm. Accepting. “Why? You were a kid when your father died, right? How old were you?”

  “Thirteen.” His voice sounded rough, hoarse with emotion. Emotion he didn’t want to feel.

  “So how could you possibly be responsible?”

  She made him want to let his guard down, want to tell her things no one should know. Things he couldn’t even accept himself.

  “Was he killed on the job?”

  “He was on disability.”

  “Disability?” Her eyebrows dipped over those clear, gray eyes. “How did he die?”

  He hesitated. How in the world had he ever thought he could explain this? He didn’t want to think about his father. Didn’t want to get lost in the flood of emotions that came with the memories.

  The flood of guilt and regret that would sweep him away.

  “You can tell me, Rand. Sometimes it helps just saying things out loud.”

  It wouldn’t help. He knew it wouldn’t. It would only bring his guilt front and center. It would only show Echo the man he really was. It would only push her away. “He committed suicide, Echo. My father killed himself.”

  Her fingers tightened around his. “I’m so sorry, Rand.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t feel sorry. Not for me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t deserve it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t force the words out. He didn’t want to hear them.

  “Rand?” She dipped her head and looked upward, trying to read his eyes. “Your father was an adult. He was responsible for his own actions.”

  “I wish it were that simple.”

  “It is.”

  He shook his head. “My dad suffered from severe depression. He spent most of his time either in psychiatrists’ offices or in his bedroom. It got so bad he had to go on disability. He couldn’t even work.”

  “It must have been horrible.”

  “I’m sure it was horrible…for him. I made it horrible.”

  “What are you saying?”

  A bitter taste hung in his mouth. A flavor he’d been living with for the last twenty years. “I wanted a dad like other kids had. A dad who did things with me. A dad who took me to ball games and spoke at my school for career day. I wished he was the tough cop he used to be. Someone I could look up to.”

  “You were a kid. It’s natural you felt that way.”

  “If wishing was as far as it went.”

  She didn’t answer. All he could hear was her soft breathing, as if she was waiting for him to go on. Waiting for him to explain what he’d done.

  He didn’t want to go on. He didn’t want to feel these things, let alone talk about them. But somehow he knew he no longer had that choice. “I told him how I felt. All of it. I told him I was ashamed he was my father.”

  Her grip didn’t falter. She didn’t turn away.

  “That night he put his shotgun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.” He could still see the scene when he and his mother had rushed into the bedroom. He could still smell the gunpowder and the warm scent of blood. “So you see, it would have been better if he’d just walked away. Better for me and far, far better for him.”

  The clock in the corner ticked away the time. One minute. Two. Finally Echo leaned back in the couch, pulling at his hand. “Will you sit with me? Hold me?”

  He looked at her, trying to read her eyes, trying to figure out what was going on in that beautiful head. He’d expected her to react, but not like this. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes.”

  “I caused my father’s death. I caused him to take his own life.”

  The corners of her lips tilted up in a smile full of sadness. “I think it’s ironic how my father left me feeling helpless and yours left you feeling you had more power than any kid could ever have.”

  He opened his mouth to disagree, to make her understand, to…what? He wasn’t sure. He closed it without saying a word.

  She pulled his hand. “Just sit with me. Hold me. Maybe between the two of us, we’ll end up neither helpless nor responsible for everything. Maybe between the two of us, we’ll end up just right.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rand awoke the next morning on the couch next to Echo, still cradling her in his arms. And although he didn’t remember a time when he’d ever stayed all night with a woman without making love to her, he had to admit the night with Echo had felt just right.

  As if, for at least one moment in time, he’d tasted peace.

  Of course, in the light of day, reality rushed back. And as he’d done since he was thirteen, he dealt with it the only way he knew. He pushed it to the back of his mind. “I need to talk to Claire Fanshaw, find out what she called about last night.”

  Echo rubbed her eyes and padded to the kitchen on stocking feet. After dumping coffee beans into the grinder, she turned it on. “When are you going?”

  He picked up his navy jacket from the back of the chair where he’d draped it. “As soon as I have a cup of coffee.”

  She nodded and poured water into the coffeemaker.

  He should duck out without the coffee. Alone. But somehow it didn’t feel right. After last night, he couldn’t leave Echo helplessly waiting for him to bring her baby home. Not when he was sure she wanted to help. Needed to help.

  Besides, he couldn’t handle the thought of her here by herself. Unprotected. “Do you want to come? I could use your help.”

  A smile curved her lips and crinkled the corners of those sparkling eyes. “I’ll get ready.”

  It didn’t take long for Echo to change into a fresh pair of jeans and another one of those light, gauzy tops that made Rand want to touch her. Soon the two of them were climbing from his sedan and scanning the Breezy Cove Marina, a small docking facility nestled on an inlet on Chesapeake Bay. Moving his gaze over the white, red-roofed building that held a café, supply store, bath house and laundry, and past the playground and covered pavilion, Rand focused on the first of seven docks stretching into the water.

  Echo emerged from the car and slammed the passenger door. “Claire Fanshaw lives on a boat?”

  It was all Rand could do to keep from focusing on Echo. Instead, he trained his gaze on the docks. “This is the address I have for her. The boat is called Lainie’s Moor.” Rand spotted the thirty-four-foot Sea Ray Sundancer in a slip on the dock closest to the parking lot. He extended a finger, pointing out the small craft. “There it is.”

  The two of them started for the dock. Halfway the
re, Echo slowed her steps.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I was just thinking. She called me last night, not you. Maybe she knows something she doesn’t want to share with the police. Maybe I should talk to her alone.”

  “Alone? Not a chance.” The whole reason he’d brought her along was to protect her. Even thinking about those moments before Echo had returned home last night—how worried he was, how out of his mind with fear—made him cringe. He wasn’t about to let her out of his sight again. Not unless he knew she’d be safer without him. “We’ll convince her to talk. I’ve won her trust before. At least a sliver of it. Between the two of us, we’ll win it again.”

  “But what if she can’t tell you?”

  “You mean, what if she has information about something illegal?” She didn’t have to answer. He knew that was what she meant. “Then she’ll be doing herself a favor in the long run by talking to me now.”

  She shifted her gaze to the water.

  “Does this mean you’re willing to consider that Bray could be involved in something shady?” he asked.

  “No. I’ll never believe that.”

  Rand would give almost anything for Bray Sloane to be the great guy his sister thought he was. Just the thought of Echo’s heartbreak if her brother turned out to be guilty made Rand want to do anything in his power to shield her. But with the evidence stacking up against Bray Sloane, Rand realized he might not be able to protect Echo from that sorrow. “Echo, we’ll find your brother, and we’ll get Zoe back. Then we’ll figure out what to do from there. Deal?”

  She drew in a shaky breath. Pressing her lips into a tight smile, she nodded. “Bray will do whatever is in his power to help. I know he will. And I also know that whatever happened at Cranesbrook wasn’t his fault.” Her voice ached with love, with worry.

  Worry not unlike what Rand had felt last night for Echo. “Let’s find out what Claire Fanshaw has to say.” He turned into the cool breeze blowing off the Chesapeake and walked the rest of the way to the slip holding Lainie’s Moor. Echo matched him stride for stride, their footfalls reverberating on the wood planks. The redhead emerged on deck before they reached the boat.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Fanshaw.”

  “Can I—” She focused on Rand. Her eyes flew wide. “Detective McClellan.”

  “Echo and I stopped by to see what you called about last night.”

  She glanced at Echo and then back to Rand. She bit her lower lip for a moment, then smoothed her mouth into a practiced smile. “I just wanted to know how the investigation was going.”

  “Why not call my cell phone, then? You called Echo.”

  “I mislaid your card. But I knew with Echo’s baby missing, she’d probably be able to get in touch with you for me.” The smile dropped from her lips and she focused on Echo. “Besides, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am to hear what you’re going through.”

  “Thanks.”

  Claire’s sympathy for Echo’s plight seemed genuine, heightening his sense that everything that had come before was not. “It still seems strange to me that you would call Echo for an update on the case. Especially since the two of you haven’t met.”

  She looked over her shoulder, down the steps leading to the boat’s cabin. “That’s what telephone directories are for.”

  He still wasn’t buying it. And her apparent nervousness wasn’t helping convince him. “I think you found out something. Something you’re not eager to share with the police.”

  She glanced down at her watch. “Um, I’m going to be late for work.”

  “You’re going to be even later if you have to make a stop at the state police barracks.”

  “All I did was make a phone call.”

  “And hang up when I answered.”

  “I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t know who it was.”

  Because she hadn’t give him an opportunity to tell her. “If you were trying to reach me through Echo, why would hearing my voice surprise you?”

  “I thought I would just talk to her, tell her how sorry I was and everything. Besides, I’ve been tense.”

  “About what?”

  Claire looked around again. “If you don’t mind, I don’t really want all my neighbors to know my business.”

  Echo stepped up next to Rand. Reaching out, she laid a hand on Claire’s forearm. “If you know something, anything, please…”

  “I really have to get to work.” Claire glanced back at the boat. “Walk with me to my car.” Without waiting for his assent, she started in the direction of the parking lot. Rand and Echo fell in, one on either side.

  Claire didn’t speak until they had cleared the dock and were crossing the blacktop. Even then, her voice was hushed. “I don’t have any proof.”

  “Of what?” Rand prodded.

  “I saw a money transfer. It was put through the day of the accident in Lab 7.”

  “A money transfer? From Cranesbrook?”

  She nodded. “To Dr. Frederick Morton at the Beech Grove Clinic. Isn’t that the mental hospital where that murder happened?”

  It sure was. “What was the dollar amount on the transfer?”

  “Two mil.”

  “Two million dollars?” Echo responded.

  Claire shrugged a shoulder. “Cranesbrook deals in large transactions all the time, but most of them aren’t to medical facilities. I’m not sure why it went to a doctor rather than to the clinic itself.”

  Rand was pretty sure. “So why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

  “Just because a transfer that large isn’t common doesn’t mean it’s not on the up-and-up. Besides, I shouldn’t be sharing Cranesbrook financial records.”

  Echo asked the obvious question. “So why are you sharing this information now?”

  Claire paused, as if waiting to deliver the punch line. “Because it disappeared.”

  “The record of the transfer disappeared?” Rand’s pulse accelerated, thrumming in his ears. “When?”

  “Yesterday. Normally I wouldn’t have thought much of it since I work in computers, not accounting. But with that murder at the clinic, the whole thing struck me as strange.”

  Strange? He’d say. It was also the piece of evidence he needed to nail Dr. Morton. And if he was lucky, the answer to who else at Cranesbrook might want to cover up the truth behind Project Cypress.

  Echo peered at Rand, hope beaming from those soft gray eyes. “They say you can’t fully erase files off a hard drive.”

  Claire nodded. “You can’t.”

  “Can you get a warrant for those computers? Prove they paid big bucks to the clinic to hold those men against their will?” Echo was dreaming, and she looked like she knew it.

  Rand only wished he could tell her she was wrong, that warrants were possible. “I’m afraid Cranesbrook is off limits.”

  Echo let out a long breath.

  “Off-limits?” Claire parroted. “Who told you that?”

  “The feds. As a detective with the state police, I’m afraid my hands are tied.” But just because the evidence no longer existed, that didn’t mean the revelation was useless. Not when he combined it with skills he’d picked up at the poker table.

  Morton’s high-stakes games were about to end.

  RAND EXPLAINED his idea to Echo on the drive to Beech Grove.

  “Do you really think you can get him to admit to holding Gage Darnell against his will?”

  “If I make it seem a confession is in his best interest.” He shrugged a shoulder, trying to convince himself as much as Echo that this would be easy. Or at least doable. “He doesn’t have to know I can’t access records of the money transfer. If we’re lucky, the fact that I know about it will be damning enough.”

  “What about Beech Grove’s records? Is there a record of the transfer there?”

  “We’ve been through the Beech Grove records. Besides the money was transferred directly to Morton.”

  “Can you search his bank records?”

  “Not with
out probable cause.”

  “And Claire’s word isn’t?”

  “Not when it can’t be corroborated.”

  “Like with a confession?” Echo smiled, her face beaming with hope, despite all she’d faced in the past days.

  Rand’s chest tightened. He was getting in way over his head. He’d figured that out this morning when he woke with Echo in his arms. But he had to keep swimming. No matter what happened, he couldn’t let Echo down. “I like the way you think. Let’s get a confession.”

  When they reached the clinic, they found Morton in a patient’s room.

  “I need a word with you, doctor,” Rand said.

  The short man shot him an annoyed look, but followed him into the hall, out of his patient’s earshot. “Why are you here this time, detective? You can expect a harassment suit if this doesn’t end right now.”

  “I’m here to end it, Morton. Though probably not in the way you hope.”

  The doctor’s eyes shifted. He dug his hand into a pocket, pulling out his ever-present mints. Judging from the way his hand shook when he popped the candy in his mouth, the good doctor wasn’t as good at bluffing as he might like to think.

  Rand couldn’t help but smile. He loved playing poker. And he loved taking down bad guys. Especially ones that were smug and rich. “You might want to do this behind closed doors. Somewhere you can sit down.”

  Morton led them back to the entrance and strode into his office ahead of them. Once inside, he remained on his feet next to the desk, a man making his last stand.

  Fine with Rand. He peered out the open window at the police cruiser pulling up to the door. Just in time.

  Echo glanced up at him. She’d seen the backup, too.

  “What’s going on in here?” Nurse Dumont’s voice rang through the length of the hall. She bullied her way into the office before Rand got the chance to close the door.

  Rand nodded to the nurse. “I’m glad you’re here. Why don’t you join us?”

  On the other side of the office, Morton glared a silent message to his nurse.

  Rand looked from Morton to Dumont and back again. “I know Cranesbrook Associates wired you two million dollars after the lab accident.”

  “That was for patient care,” Doctor Morton said.