Savage Art (A Chilling Suspense Novel)

by Danielle Girard

  Amy nodded.

  Casey took her hands off the wheel and grabbed the stick shift, throwing the car into third and taking her foot off the clutch. "Perfect."

  The traffic on Highway Thirteen was sparse, and Casey stayed in the right lane with the pedal to the floor. At the exit, she caught a green light and headed down the hill past the Claremont Hotel and onto Ashby. She caught a yellow light and honked as she sped through the intersection. Someone honked from behind, but Casey ignored it.

  A block from the hospital, they hit a red light. Cars moved slowly across in both directions, leaving Casey with no option but to wait. She shoved the car into first gear and gripped the steering wheel, waiting.

  "He's still not moving, Mom."

  Casey couldn't bear to look back. "It's going to be okay."

  The light turned green, and Casey lurched through the intersection, hurrying toward the hospital. The car's engine screamed in first gear, but Casey didn't bother to slow down or try to shift. At the intersection by the hospital, she sped past the backed-up traffic and turned into the hospital, driving straight to the emergency entrance.

  Amy was out of the car before her, screaming. "Help us. Please, he's not moving."

  An older doctor with thick gray hair came running out, followed by two nurses. "What happened?" the doctor asked.

  Casey pulled herself from the car. "He just passed out."

  The doctor opened the back door. "He didn't fall or anything?"

  "No, nothing like that. He was here last week. He's been sick—an opportunistic infection, the doctor called it. He's HIV positive."

  His expression grim, the doctor nodded and directed the male nurse to lift Billy from the car and onto a gurney held by another nurse. While the nurse strapped Billy down, the doctor put a stethoscope to his chest. As they ran into the hospital, pushing Billy, the doctor began shouting directions that Casey didn't understand.

  Amy was by her side, and Casey wrapped an arm around her daughter, following them inside. "He's going to be okay, right, Mom?"

  Casey couldn't speak for the emotion caught in her throat. Inside, she and Amy slumped into the same chairs Casey and Jordan had sat in just a week ago when Billy was first admitted. She should have watched him more carefully. He wasn't well yet. She should have taken better care of him.

  Casey watched the second hand of the clock tick slowly around the numbers.

  "What's wrong with him, Mom?" Amy asked after several minutes.

  "I'm not sure, honey. The doctor will let us know as soon as they find out."

  Amy's eyes were wide with worry, her cheeks tear-stained. "Was he sick before? You said he was in the hospital before."

  Casey nodded. "He's going to be okay. Don't you worry."

  "Where's Billy? What's happened?"

  Casey looked up to see Kevin, his face flushed.

  "How did you know?"

  Kevin sank beside Casey and took her hand, breathless. "I was supposed to meet you guys at the park. When I got there, no one was there. I got worried. I called your house and then his, and then I got this terrible premonition, and I called here." He pressed his hand to his chest. "Where is he?"

  Casey blinked back her tears. "They took him into the E.R. He just collapsed. I don't know what happened."

  "What does the doctor say?"

  "He hasn't come out yet." She stood, pacing, wishing she could go back to see what was happening. "Maybe I should go back."

  "I can wait here with Amy," Kevin offered, as anxious to know what was happening as she was.

  Casey shook her head. She wasn't leaving Amy alone—not even with Kevin.

  "Do you want me to talk to the doctor?" he asked.

  Shaking her head, Casey caught sight of a uniformed officer standing near the front desk. "Follow me, Amy." Kevin and Amy followed behind as Casey rushed to the front desk. Facing the attendant, she pointed to the security guard. "You know him?"

  "Harold?"

  Casey pointed again. "The security guard."

  The woman stared at her like she was crazy. "Of course I know him."

  "How long has he worked here?"

  "He started two months after me."

  Casey rolled her hand in impatience. "How long ago was that?"

  "Sixteen years, four months," the woman responded, hands on hips.

  Casey exhaled. "Perfect." Holding on to Amy's arm, she approached the guard. "I'm Agent McKinley of the FBI. This is my daughter. I need you to guard her while I find out about a friend of ours who's been admitted. Can you do that?"

  The guard raised an eyebrow and stared at her like she was insane.

  "Mom," Amy pleaded. "You're embarrassing me."

  Kevin just stood back and watched.

  Casey yanked open her purse and told Amy to pull out Casey's ID. Amy retrieved it, and Casey handed it to the guard.

  After inspecting it, he nodded slowly. "Wow. You really work for the FBI?"

  "I need to know if you can handle guarding this girl. If not, I'm going to have to call the police in."

  The guard put his arm on Amy's back. "I'll guard her with my life."

  Casey nodded.

  "What's going on?" Kevin asked, watching the interaction.

  "Will you stay with Amy and the guard? I'm going to find out what's going on."

  "Is she okay?"

  Casey met Kevin's gaze. "She will be if you don't let her out of your sight."

  His expression was worried. "I promise."

  She started to turn away when he called after her.

  "What about your car?" Kevin said. "It's double-parked."

  Casey patted her pockets. "The keys are still in the ignition. Can you move it for me?"

  Kevin nodded. "Sure."

  "Thanks." Leaving them, Casey rushed down the hall to find out about Billy. She got halfway down when a nurse stopped her.

  "You can't be down here," she warned.

  Without stopping, Casey flashed her FBI badge and continued. The nurse muttered something but didn't stop her. At the end of the hall, Casey surveyed the rows of small curtained cubes. Where was Billy?

  She started to approach one, ready to start pulling back curtains when a voice called out, "Mrs. Glass?"

  Startled, Casey looked up to see the same gray-haired doctor staring down at her.

  "Oh, good. I'm glad I found you, Mrs. Glass."

  "No, I'm not—" But from the look on his face, it didn't matter who she was. She could tell it didn't matter. "No."

  Pulling her into the closest seat, the doctor sat beside her and stared at his hands. "I'm so sorry. He's gone."

  "No," she repeated, the stabbing ache in her chest overwhelming.

  The doctor met her gaze. "He'd had a massive heart attack. There was nothing we could do."

  "The pentamidine," she whispered. "The other doctor said it could cause arrhythmia."

  The doctor nodded. "It's a chance we take with the drug. I'm sorry."

  "Oh, God, not Billy." And Casey sobbed as she hadn't since the attack. She was sure this moment was more painful.

  Chapter 33

  Michael walked out of Stanford's business school library with enough reading on Electron Industries to last a year. In his shorts and shirt, Michael felt like a law student again. New Haven, unfortunately, wasn't graced with quite the same climate as Palo Alto. On the other hand, if it had been he probably would have failed the bar. He shifted the weight of the reading he had gathered, remembering what it had been like to burrow down in the Yale law library stacks and read all night.

  Thankfully, now he could FedEx the reading back to the office and let one of the paralegals wade through it for anything pertinent to the case. His next step was a meeting with a local investigator in a little over an hour. It was the investigator's job to sniff around for the inside scoop on the company, and Michael was glad to have someone else do it. The investigator could walk at the edge of the law, something Michael was not at all comfortable doing.

  Micha
el reached the rented Taurus and got inside, pulling out his cell phone to check messages. He thought about seeing Casey. She had looked good. No, great. He would never have imagined that she could improve so much in only six months. She had been right. He and Amy weren't good for her. They had babied her. Billy, on the other hand, had worked wonders. Michael reminded himself to thank Billy next time he saw him. It was obvious he and Casey had grown quite close.

  The phone in his hand rang, and Michael jumped slightly. "Michael McKinley," he answered.

  "Mr. McKinley, this is Jack Pearce from accounting. Have I caught you at a bad time?" He spoke with a British accent.

  "No, it's fine."

  "Carolyn gave me your mobile number. Bouton suggested I call, since you're out there already."

  The senior partner had wanted him to call? "What's up, Jack?"

  "The check from StarTechnology bounced," he said, sounding rigid and disapproving.

  Michael laughed. "Bounced? Ah, you had me scared for a second. I'll give Al Washington a call and get things squared away. I'm sure it's nothing."

  "Right," Jack agreed. "I just wanted to let you know since it was such a sizable check."

  The seventy-thousand-dollar retainer for Michael's services wasn't actually that much. But Michael was sure there was some simple misunderstanding. "I'll call in as soon as I know what happened. Check with Carolyn before you go home tonight."

  "Will do. Thank you, Mr. McKinley."

  Michael hung up the phone and opened his Franklin planner to the current week and looked at Sunday. Before his trip, he'd written out all the contacts' names, numbers, and his schedule for the week. It was a habit he'd gotten into early in his practice, and it had saved him on more than one occasion.

  Skimming down the page, he found Washington's private number and keyed it into his phone, then pressed send. With the window down, the cool, California coastal breeze floated through the car. The phone rang twice. Then an automated voice said, "The number you have reached has been disconnected. Please check the number and dial again."

  Michael sat up in the car and looked down at his phone, shaking his head. He pressed recall and watched the number flash up. He checked it against the one he had written in his book. It was identical. "Damn it."

  After clearing the phone, Michael punched the numbers in again more slowly and pushed send. He got the same message.

  He looked at his writing again. Had he inverted two of the numbers? He was normally so careful about it. Cursing, he dialed his secretary's number.

  "Michael McKinley's office."

  "Carolyn, it's Michael. How are you?" He was in no mood for small talk, but he didn't want to come off as rude or flustered. Carolyn had a tendency to read too much into things, and the last thing he wanted floating around the office was that something had gone wrong.

  Carolyn gave him a brief update on his cases.

  "I just need to check a phone number from my StarTech file."

  "Let me get it."

  Michael waited on hold, trying to loosen the tenseness in his neck and shoulders.

  "I've got it here."

  "Will you read me Al Washington's private line? Should be the first number in the file. I've written it down incorrectly."

  "Sure. It's right here. Area code 650-425..."

  Michael watched the numbers. His were identical to what she was reading. "Those are typed, aren't they, Carolyn?"

  "Yep. I've also got your handwritten original here." She paused, and Michael could hear her mind working. "Is everything okay, Michael?"

  "Fine. I'd just written it down wrong. I've got a meeting now, but I'll give you a call later." Michael hung up and stared at his phone. He had to be dialing wrong. But he'd been able to call Carolyn. He'd used his phone a million times on business trips. "Damn it all." He dialed again and got the message for the third time. He'd just have to call Washington at his main number.

  Michael called information and asked for StarTechnology. "Al Washington, please," he said when the operator put him through.

  "May I ask who's calling?" the receptionist asked.

  "Michael McKinley." He heard several rings then a click.

  "Alfred Washington's office," the next woman answered.

  "Yes, this is Michael McKinley calling for Al."

  "And what is this regarding, please?"

  Michael wanted to respect Al's request for confidentiality. "Please tell him I'm with Bouton, Leventhal, and Lewis."

  The secretary didn't seem to appreciate his encrypted message. "One moment, please."

  The line went quiet, and Michael closed his eyes, feeling the California sun beat down on his legs.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. McKinley, Mr. Washington is not available. If you'll leave your name, I'll give him the message as soon as I can."

  Michael sat up. "It's very important that I speak with Mr. Washington." Michael didn't want to embarrass the guy, but this was ridiculous. "I'm afraid my firm had a problem with the check he sent us."

  "Your firm?"

  "Bouton, Leventhal, and Lewis," he repeated, growing frustrated with Washington.

  "One moment."

  Back on hold, Michael stood from the car and paced slowly. He wasn't prepared for this glitch in his day, and the whole thing was making him uncomfortable.

  "Mr. McKinley," the secretary came back on the line.

  Michael straightened, feeling his pulse speed just slightly. What was wrong with him? Why was he so nervous?

  "Mr. Washington has never heard of your firm, I'm afraid."

  Michael could feel his mouth drop open, but no words came out.

  "So, I'm very sorry, but you must have reached the wrong person," she continued.

  "That's impossible," Michael spat. "He and I spoke several times on the phone. He signed a contract with my firm. Tell him it's about Electron Industries."

  The secretary exhaled into the phone, and Michael felt himself losing his patience, too.

  "I need to speak with Al. Please tell him I'm waiting," he said with finality. He'd flown all the way out here, billed sixty hours already on the case, plus the hotel, the car. It was fifty thousand at least. Washington could pick up the goddamned phone.

  "This is Alfred Washington," came a booming male voice less than a minute later.

  Michael slumped. The voice wasn't the least bit familiar. "Al Washington?"

  "It's Alfred. Who is this?"

  Michael forced himself to regain his composure. "Mr. Washington, I apologize. There must be some sort of miscommunication. I'm an intellectual property attorney from Virginia. Two weeks ago, I received a call from a man who said he was Al Washington, head of StarTechnology. I gather that person wasn't you."

  "Damn right, it wasn't."

  Michael looked around in the distance. What was going on? "And you aren't bringing a case against Electron Industries for infringement?"

  "Hell, no. They're one of our biggest clients. What the hell's going on here?"

  "I don't have any idea, Mr. Washington."

  "I think we should call the police," Washington continued. "This is libel, slander..."

  Michael tuned him out. His thoughts moved to who would do this. Who would drag him all the way out here? He had taken Amy out of school. He thought about Amy and Casey, and suddenly he couldn't get off the phone fast enough.

  "I'll take care of this, Mr. Washington. Thank you for your time." Michael ended the call and found Casey's number in his book. He'd had it memorized once, but no longer. Flustered, he dialed. "Please be home," he whispered as the phone rang.

  Five rings, then six, seven. "Damn it, Casey. Where the hell are you?"

  Throwing the phone on the seat, Michael got in the car and revved the engine. He pulled out in a long screech of burning rubber and headed north, praying he could stop whatever the hell was happening before it was too late.

  Chapter 34

  Jordan sped off the freeway toward Alta Bates Hospital. The red light on the top of his Explorer warned
people from his path, but they were slow to move. Jordan blasted his horn at an insolent Mercedes and then sped around him. He had an inkling to pull that guy over and give him a ticket, but there wasn't time.

  Casey's call had been frantic and almost completely nonsensical. Someone was in the hospital, and it wasn't her. That was all he knew. On the ride over, he'd tried to call twice, but no one named McKinley was there and the nurse hadn't been able to locate Casey. The only thing Jordan could figure was Billy was sick again.

  He turned up Ashby and into the hospital entrance, stopping to the side of the emergency area parking. He dropped his police parking pass in the window and rushed from the car.

  Inside, all the same sensations about hospitals came rushing back. He hated these places. Scouring the area, Jordan spotted Casey shuffling back toward the waiting room with her head in her hands. She was alone, and Jordan wondered where Billy and Amy were. Casey had said that they were all spending the day together.

  He jogged to her. "Casey."

  She looked up, her cheeks tearstained, the tough, hard-edge, FBI profiler gone. She looked like a little kid.

  Jordan pulled her to him and held her. "What happened?"

  "It's—Billy," she choked. "He's—"

  She didn't need to finish the sentence. Jordan knew. He closed his eyes and rubbed her back. When Casey told him that Billy had full-blown AIDS, he had wondered how she would deal with his death. She seemed more than a little dependent on him. And, of course, he on her. But at the time, Jordan had reminded himself that Billy could outlive Jordan himself.

  Casey looked up and wiped her eyes. "We were at the park. He just slumped over." She sniffled and stared at her hands. "The doctor said he must have had a massive heart attack."

  "I'm so sorry, Casey." Jordan looked around the waiting room. It was nearly empty. "Where's Amy?"

  Casey looked around. "She's with the security guard and Kevin."

  "What happened to the cop who was with you? I didn't see a patrol car outside."

  Casey shrugged as she surveyed the room. "That asshole disappeared at the park." She paused and looked around again. "Where did they go? They promised they'd wait right here."