Death's Door

by Meryl Sawyer

  “Exactly. Computer geeks have gotten phenomenally sophisticated. One person on the computer could create lots of fake accounts, using a rerouter that’s almost impossible to trace.”

  “What’s a rerouter?”

  “It’s just one computer sending info to another computer that forwards the same info to yet another computer until it’s nearly impossible to find out where the message originated. We’d play hell trying to prove there weren’t real people out there losing money.”

  Paul rocked back in his chair. He didn’t know what to think, but he knew he didn’t want Madison involved with Estevez. “Drug money. It’s killing us, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely. We haven’t got the manpower to combat it. When there’s so much money involved, good people succumb to temptation. From what you’ve told me, I’d say that Estevez has your friend’s ex in his pocket already. That’s why he wants to buy her half to close the deal.”

  “What if she says no? Do you think Estevez would…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He could still see Madison the way she’d looked last night, blond hair fanned across the pillow, her body jerking upward as he thrust into her.

  “Get rough? It’s possible.” Valerie stood up. “Gotta go. Tell your friend to be careful.”

  “I will. Thanks for your help.” He sat there and watched Valerie walk away. He wondered if Estevez, who must have a computer whiz or two working for him, had engineered the ID theft. It certainly would put pressure on her to sell. Or was something else going on?

  It might be far-fetched, but he believed Madison’s problems were somehow linked to Erin’s murder. But how? There didn’t seem to be any connection, yet his gut instinct told him that he was missing something.

  He checked his watch. One o’clock. Why hadn’t Madison called? She was supposed to phone as soon as she’d taken the blood test. What was taking so long? Between Estevez and whoever had killed Keith Smith, Madison was in big trouble. Estevez wouldn’t bother her…yet, Paul assured himself, because she hadn’t turned down his offer. No telling what Smith’s killer might do.

  His mind replayed them making love last night. All night long. He’d had his share of women, sure, but this woman was different. There was something about her that had gotten to him just after they’d discovered Erin’s body and had walked outside.

  She was adorable, sexy as hell, but her attraction for him went beyond that. The way she spouted trivia, the way she stood her ground, the way she looked at the world appealed to him. He knew better than to get involved with her but he hadn’t been able to resist.

  Madison wasn’t a woman he was going to be able to casually leave as he had in the past. She represented something much more permanent. Hell, had he ever enjoyed a permanent relationship? No. He didn’t go in for psychological bullshit, but even he realized his mother deserting him and being sent to military school had fostered a certain emotional detachment that had undermined his ability to allow himself to be close to a woman. He used his privacy like a shield to maintain his distance from anyone who could hurt him.

  He chuckled, recalling how one girlfriend had characterized him. “You’re like a dog, Paul. If you can’t eat it or hump it, you piss on it and strut away.”

  She was probably right, he thought. Here he was, almost thirty-six years old, and he walked whenever relationships became too stressful, too involving. Aw hell, whenever a relationship required more than sex, he was outta there.

  Not this time, buddy. This time things had changed. Not much for introspection, he still asked himself, How? Why?

  Maybe he had changed. Getting shot had been the turning point, he realized. The only permanent thing in his life had been his job. Then one bullet put him out on disability. Hung him out to dry. He was nothing if he wasn’t working. Lucky for him, good ol’ dad came to the rescue with a job that was a little like what he’d been doing.

  How or why he had changed didn’t matter, he decided. He wanted Madison Connelly in his life—and not just for one night or a month. He wasn’t sure where this was going exactly, but he was determined to give it his best shot.

  Paul was on his way to the station when Madison finally called. “I was waylaid by the Holbrooks,” she told him. “I had lunch with them.”

  Paul listened while she explained about Savannah’s apology and the family’s belief that she was related to them. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the Holbrooks. He was too concerned about Madison. She irrationally clung to the belief that she wasn’t one of Wyatt’s donor-conceived children. What would happen when the DNA came back conclusively proving she was a Holbrook?

  “Did you find out anything more by going through the files?”

  “Not really. I came across a page of just numbers. Pennington says they went over it, but the list simply assigned numbers to the various women and the children they conceived through New Horizons.”

  “What about your friend in the field office? What did he say?”

  Paul almost corrected Madison and said his friend was a woman but decided against it. What difference did it make? “Estevez hasn’t been buying small Internet-related companies, but this could mark a turn in that direction.” He went on to explain just how the scam could work.

  “Interesting. I guess I’m not selling. I don’t want to hand Total Trivia over to crooks.”

  “Expect some pressure from Estevez…from your ex.”

  “Right. I’m pulling into the office parking lot now. I’ll check for that keystroke logger and call you if I find it.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you later.” He was impressed with the way she was holding up. Most women would be falling apart at this point, but not Madison. “Where would you like to go for dinner?”

  “I promised the Holbrooks we would eat with them.”

  “We? As in you and me?”

  “That’s right. Us. Casual clothes. It’s a barbecue.”

  He disconnected. Us. He liked the sound of it. Admit it, buddy, you love the sound of it. Most of the time defining moments in life were revealed in hindsight. Not this time. This was a defining moment for him, Paul realized. From now on, he’d be thinking in terms of “us.”

  MADISON DIDN’T FIND anything attached to the underside of her keyboard. So, that wasn’t how her personal information had been obtained. Unless. Unless the device had already been removed. That was possible, she decided. It had been days since someone had accessed her accounts. Once this was accomplished, they wouldn’t need to keep the keystroke logger in place. Or it could have been a Trojan horse in an e-mail.

  She gazed out across the cube farm, thinking. Jade was bent over a programmer’s desk, talking to one of the guys who had recently been hired. Clearly, Jade was flirting with him. The girl did not have enough to do. She was overqualified for a receptionist position. She could earn a lot more elsewhere. Why did she stay?

  Madison had seen Jade’s résumé but didn’t remember much about her background except that she had dropped out of Florida State in her junior year. Being a receptionist didn’t require much education so Madison hadn’t paid attention to all the details. From what Madison could remember, Jade had worked as a waitress and tended bar. At a club. One of Estevez’s clubs? she wondered.

  The files were in Aiden’s office in the far corner opposite Madison’s office. He was there now; he’d been in his office talking on the phone when she’d arrived fifteen minutes ago. She rose and walked across the cube farm to Aiden’s corner. She rapped once on the partition to get his attention.

  Aiden looked up, “Hey, Madison. What’s up?”

  There was a false note of cheer in his voice. “I just want to look at the personnel files for a moment.” She walked over to the cabinet where the employee files were kept.

  “Look, I’m sorry about the way Chloe acted yesterday. She’s been through a lot. She isn’t herself. It’s not like her to lash out like that for no good reason.”

  Madison had her back to him and she thumbed the files until she foun
d Jade’s. “It was for the best. Her outburst proved I need to sell my half of the business.” There! She’d said it. Thinking of selling was one thing, verbalizing it to Aiden made it real.

  “Estevez made you an offer.”

  Madison spun around. “How did you know?”

  Aiden shrugged, then said, “Jade told me.”

  Madison felt a flush creep up the back of her neck. She turned around and pulled Jade’s file from the cabinet. Her back to Aiden, she scanned the information. There it was. Just as she suspected. Jade had worked at Barely There—one of Luis Estevez’s clubs.

  The girl had acted as if she knew Estevez by reputation alone. Obviously, that wasn’t the case. Jade could have installed, then removed the keystroke logger. Having Madison in a financial pinch could have been done on purpose to force her to sell.

  “You’re going to accept his offer.” This wasn’t a question from Aiden. It was a statement of fact, a foregone conclusion. “It’s probably a good idea…considering Chloe and all. I just never thought it would come to this. We were so great together when we started.”

  Was Aiden being sentimental? It wasn’t like him, but then she had to admit he’d changed a lot since he’d married Chloe. They’d never been “good together,” but now was not the time to dwell on the past.

  “No, I’m not selling to Estevez. He’s a crook and you know it. If you’re smart, you won’t have anything to do with him.” She thought back to her conversation with Aiden on the morning she’d found Erin’s body. “You said we were going to wait and discuss gambling further, then come to a decision before contacting Estevez.”

  “Well…things happened fast.” Aiden was hedging; there was something he wasn’t telling her.

  “What things?” she demanded.

  “Chloe spoke with Estevez.”

  Madison shot her ex the coldest look she could muster. She might have known Chloe was responsible. Where it would have taken Madison weeks and a lot of sweet talk, Chloe was able to persuade Aiden with a few words.

  “Chloe’s more—” he searched for a word and after a moment settled on “—materialistic, ambitious than you are.”

  Madison believed she was more ambitious than Chloe. Madison had all sorts of plans for expanding the business. But there was no denying Chloe was materialistic. Designer clothes, fancy cars. Yes, it was easy to understand why Chloe would want to wring every last dime out of Total Trivia. She wasn’t really ambitious, just greedy. “Doesn’t Chloe know the man’s a criminal?”

  Aiden snorted a dismissive laugh. “He’s never been charged—”

  “That doesn’t mean he won’t be. Get mixed up with him—”

  “Who are you planning to sell to?”

  “Why don’t you buy me out?”

  “I—I don’t have the same kind of money Estevez does.” A shadow of annoyance darkened his handsome face. “You should accept his offer.”

  Madison stomped out of Aiden’s office. She passed Jade, still chatting up the programmer in the middle of the cube farm. “Jade, I’d like to speak to you.”

  The girl followed Madison back to her office.

  “Jade, why didn’t you tell me you knew Luis Estevez?”

  Jade fluttered what had to be false eyelashes that fringed her Cleopatra-style eyes. Color seemed to leach from her pale cheeks, which had been powdered several shades lighter than her natural color to enhance the Goth look. “I—I don’t know him. I—I mean, I never met him. I did work at one of the clubs he owns.”

  “You were never introduced?”

  “Never. I saw him once…maybe twice. That’s all. I swear.”

  Madison found that hard to believe. “How many employees were at the club?”

  Jade thought a moment. “Dozens, I guess. I was one of six bartenders on a shift. Then there were waitresses, busboys, a maître d’, three bouncers, parking valets and who knows how many in the kitchen. A lot.”

  “Has Mr. Estevez ever come here to Total Trivia before?”

  Jade hesitated. “The day your friend was killed, I worked late. When I left, I forgot my cell phone in my desk. I came back and Mr. Estevez was talking with Chloe in Aiden’s office.”

  Chloe again. Why wasn’t she surprised?

  “Was Aiden around?”

  “No. I grabbed my cell and slipped away. They didn’t see me.”

  Madison believed Jade. Not only did her words have the ring of truth, but there was something straightforward in the girl’s gaze that said she was being honest. Just because she worked at one of Estevez’s clubs didn’t necessarily mean she knew the man.

  Why was Chloe meeting with Luis Estevez without Aiden? she wondered. Then a faint bell dinged somewhere in the back of her brain. She decided to call Pamela Nolan, the friend from MIT who’d been at Stanford with Chloe. It was time to get the full story on what had caused Chloe to drop out of graduate school.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  PAUL TRIED to concentrate on what Garrison Holbrook was saying, but it was difficult to take his mind off—his eyes off—Madison. She was wearing a pale lavender halter dress. The lilac color made her eyes appear to be a deeper shade of blue than usual. And he couldn’t help noticing she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Every time his gaze met hers, something inside him seized up. He’d been attracted to other women, but not like this. Madison meant so much to him that he was willing to risk his career by not revealing what he knew about Aspen—for her.

  Garrison’s voice interrupted his thoughts and Paul tried to appear interested even though he’d rather be in bed with Madison. Garrison kept rattling on about nature’s treasure trove of medical cures just waiting to be discovered.

  “I say we invest a little money at least,” Garrison told his father. “That way we’ll have our foot in the door.”

  “Colombia has long been suspicious of bioprospecting, as we call it.” Wyatt directed his comment to Madison, the way he had all evening. “But the U.S. has put enough pressure on them to stop growing opium poppies or coca leaves for cocaine. Allowing farmers to grow crops like medicinal herbs will generate a lot of cash.”

  They were sitting on the terrace of the main house near the infinity pool, having finished a dinner only someone richer than Midas would call a barbecue. The steaks and grilled vegetables had been barbecued—somewhere—and served by a maid. A chocolate soufflé with espresso gelato the Holbrooks’ chef had made had been dessert.

  From his chair, it appeared to Paul that the pool was cascading into the ocean nearby. It was just an optical illusion, of course, but in the dim light of early evening, the Holbrook mansion seemed to be surrounded by an endless sweep of water.

  “Didn’t Merck cut a deal with Costa Rica that gave them the rights to all the naturally occurring substances in that country’s plants?” asked Madison.

  If the conversation bored her, it didn’t show. She kept asking questions and listening attentively. Wyatt hadn’t said much, but when he did, most of his remarks were for Madison. Paul had the feeling Garrison harped on his father a lot about investing in nature-based medicines.

  “You bet they did,” Garrison answered for his father. “Way back in the early nineties. Just cost them a cool million back then. In today’s market, the Costa Ricans could get a lot more.”

  “Why’s that?” Paul asked.

  “Other countries closed their borders to bioprospectors. Colombia’s just opened a crack. It’s a real opportunity,” Garrison told them.

  “Have any discoveries come out of Merck’s Costa Rican deal?” asked Madison.

  Good question, Paul thought. He was fairly sure she already knew the answer. She had an amazing arsenal of facts in her cute little head—which he imagined on a pillow. No, he didn’t think about sex all the time. But when he was around Madison, it was hard to keep his thoughts on anything else. Wasn’t it time they got out of here?

  “I’m not aware of anything Merck’s developed yet,” conceded Garrison, “but it takes years of research and t
esting to bring a new drug to the market. They’re probably onto a number of things. Remember, aspirin was originally isolated from the bark of a tree.”

  “And the Germans were the ones to bring it to the market, right?” Madison asked.

  “Right,” Wyatt said with a proud smile and Paul had the feeling the older man glimpsed something of himself in Madison. She didn’t look much like him but she had his keen intelligence. He reminded himself that like the other Holbrooks, Madison was left-handed and stubborn.

  “Why not sell some of the remedies as herbs? Wouldn’t that cost a lot less?” Paul asked.

  “It would, but it’s such an unregulated industry that you’d have knockoffs and phony herbs on the shelf alongside the real deal. People wouldn’t trust the herb because sometimes it wouldn’t work since they’d taken a counterfeit product. Nope,” Garrison concluded with an emphatic shake of his head. “The big money is in prescriptions.”

  “Some herbs can be really dangerous,” Wyatt added, again directing his comment to Madison. “Enebro, a seed from a tree, can be used to successfully treat weight loss, but if you take too much, it causes cardiac arrest.”

  “Yikes!” exclaimed Madison.

  Paul was about to make a sarcastic comment but his cell phone vibrated. He pulled it out and checked caller ID. It was a Boston area code. He rose and walked away so he could talk to the detective who’d worked on the deaths of the two other donor-conceived children.

  Detective O’Malley had a thick New England accent. That combined with a three-pack-a-day rasp made him a little difficult to understand at first. Paul walked out onto the footpath along the beach and listened to the man explain how the cases were assigned to him because he had a record for closing files fast and these two seemed simple.

  “So you looked into Heidi Thomas’s drug-overdose death and Jared Anderson’s car accident?” Paul asked.

  “Right you are.”

  “Did either of them seem a little off to you? You know, like perhaps something else was going on?”

  Two beats of silence became three. Paul knew cops didn’t like being questioned about closed cases. Having a case reopened because you’d screwed up the initial investigation was a humongous black mark.