by Meryl Sawyer
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Paul said. “Both cases in the Boston area were children of the same sperm donor.”
“They were? I just pulled the files when I got your message. There’s nothing about them being conceived by sperm donation.”
“It may not have come up, but check with the parents and you’ll see I’m correct.”
Paul could hear the other man light a cigarette and suck a puff deep into his lungs. “Now I’ve got another case down here, which, if we hadn’t gotten really lucky, would have appeared to be a death by natural causes.” He went on to explain about the succinylcholine murder. Paul figured the more he talked, the better chance he had at putting this detective at ease. Maybe then, he’d speak more freely.
“Well, I dunno. Heidi Thomas’s fiancé and roommate swore, and I mean swore, she never used drugs. Same thing with her parents. Still, there was no question that she ODed on heroin. There was drug paraphernalia in the room and a stash of heroin hidden in the box springs of her bed.”
“Could the stuff have been planted there?”
“It’s possible. Hell, anything’s possible,” the detective admitted. “The parents, the boyfriend were so insistent that I looked into it. But I couldn’t find a motive. Heidi was a student with her share of student loans. She had no money and no life insurance policy. There wasn’t any reason to kill her.”
“What if I told you her biological father is a fantastically wealthy man who is looking for his offspring because he needs an organ donation that must come from a blood relative?”
This time there were three long beats of silence, then, “Aw, shit! How many people knew he was looking? I suppose someone stands to gain—”
“I’m not sure. I’m working on it.”
“You think it’s someone down there or up here?”
“Good question. I’ll get back to you when I know more. What about the auto accident?”
O’Malley sucked in another deep puff and exhaled it into the phone. “A new Lexus. Anderson crashed it. The car was pretty mangled. Nothing obvious had been done to the car that would indicate tampering.”
“Did an expert check it?”
“Nah. We didn’t spend the money because it didn’t seem necessary. The kid had a history of speeding. Tickets up the ying yang. It seemed obvious he was driving too fast in the rain, lost control of the car and rolled it down an embankment.”
Great. They didn’t want to spend the money. What did he expect? Police budgets everywhere were tight.
O’Malley sighed. “If we’d known about this sperm donation connection, we might have handled these cases differently. Especially since…”
“Since what?” Paul heard something in the man’s voice.
“Since they died within days of each other.”
Paul lurched forward as if the air had been knocked out of him. Why hadn’t he caught that? It must have been in the report his father had given him. He’d read it too fast, too carelessly. He knew better. “Let me do a little checking and I’ll call you back. If anything comes up, you have my number.”
He snapped his phone shut and stared out at the horizon where two huge cruise ships—floating hotels—were streaming toward the Bahamas. It could be coincidence, he told himself. There was nothing to prove any of the deaths were murder, but still…What were the odds of two of Wyatt’s children dying in the same week?
Could be that someone in Miami went to Boston—or hired someone to go there—to get rid of children who could possibly save Wyatt. The most obvious suspects would be his children. Possibly Nathan Cassidy. Tobias Pennington was another suspect.
He recalled the conversation after dinner about developing new drugs. Could a rival want him dead for some reason? It seemed unlikely, but stranger things had happened.
He could ask Wyatt, but that would mean getting him alone. It might also upset him and make him suspicious needlessly. This was his father’s case, he reminded himself. All he was supposed to do was deliver Madison, which he’d done.
He opened his phone again and punched speed dial to reach his father. As usual, Mike was still in the office. No doubt he’d ordered a pastrami sandwich from the Bayside Bistro and had eaten it at his desk. Paul explained what he’d learned from O’Malley.
“Mmm-hmm,” his father grunted. “I’m not liking this. Not one damn bit.”
Paul had known he wouldn’t. Mike had a cop’s view of coincidences. “Do you know who will inherit Wyatt’s money?”
“I have no idea,” his father replied. “I assume his children, but a chunk of it is going into the foundation Holbrook is setting up. I can tell you one thing. Holbrook has a small firm as far as drug companies go. Most are megacompanies that are publicly held and traded, of course, on the stock exchange. Wyatt’s had offers, but he refuses to sell his company.”
His father said something else but laughter like a donkey braying came from behind him. He turned and saw Nathan howling at something someone had said. What a fun guy.
“Would you have any objections to me asking Wyatt about his will or trust or whatever?”
“Well, I hate to alarm him needlessly. I mean, we don’t really know anything for sure, do we? Why don’t you wait and see if you can find out more?”
It wasn’t like his father not to immediately jump in, but maybe this account was too important for him to make waves. “I might be able to get him aside and casually ask him. I’m out at his place right now. I was invited for a barbecue.”
“Really?” Was it Paul’s imagination or did his father sound a little testy?
“Yeah. Madison wanted me to come with her. She’s a little nervous around the Holbrooks.”
“She’s not thinking of backing out, is she?”
“No. She’s already taken the preliminary tests.”
“Okay. If you think you can ask Wyatt without making the poor guy wonder if his children want him dead, do it. You might also ask about his company or anything they’re working on that would make someone want to kill him.”
Paul thanked his father and walked back to the terrace where Nathan and Savannah had joined the group. “Sorry, I had to take that call,” he told everyone with what he hoped was a sincere smile.
“Official police business?” Nathan asked.
That’s a lawyer for you, Paul thought. “I’m still on leave.”
“We were just telling everyone how great the new restaurant The Bungalow is,” Savannah said, lowering her lashes and leaning toward him slightly so he couldn’t miss her impressive cleavage.
Through clenched teeth, Nathan asked him, “Have you tried it?”
Paul shook his head and his gaze strayed to Madison. Savannah in her low-cut black gown and vibrant red hair might be drop-dead gorgeous to most men. But Madison was prettier in her own way and classy. That’s what bothered him about Savannah, he decided. Coming from so much money, she should exude class, not flash. There was something in her manner, the way she kept looking at her father and trying to get attention by flirting, that told him the woman was insecure.
He listened to Nathan talk. What the jerk lacked in intelligence he compensated for with enough bullshit to bury Miami. What did Savannah see in him?
The French doors from the house just behind the terrace swung open. Tobias Pennington rushed out. The little weasel was puffing and red in the face. He was fanning himself with a manila file folder.
“I hate to interrupt,” Pennington told Wyatt, “but this is important.”
“That’s all right. We’re finished with dinner. I’m a bit tired. I was just about to excuse myself to go to bed,” Wyatt said. “I’ll talk to you in my study.”
“Are you feeling all right?” Garrison asked.
“I’m fine. I was up early. That’s all.”
“You’re sure?” Savannah asked with a concerned expression on her face. She touched her father’s arm and he smiled at her.
“Positive. Don’t you worry about me.”
“We’ve gotta
run, too,” Savannah said as she tugged Nathan’s arm and turned to leave. “We’re meeting friends at a club.”
Madison stood. “Thanks for dinner. It was great.”
Paul opened his mouth to add his thanks, but Garrison spoke up and said he was leaving, too. Paul shook Wyatt’s hand, thanked him and headed toward the guesthouse with Madison.
“Alone at last,” he whispered.
“Alone. You want to be alone with me. Why, you naughty man.”
Paul laughed and it felt great. Not only was Madison adorable and sexy, she had a quirky sense of humor. He walked her down the path toward the guesthouse. As soon as they rounded a bend and were out of sight, Paul pulled her into his arms. He planted a tantalizing kiss on the hollow of her neck. “I’ve been dying to do that all night.”
“I’ve been waiting all night for you to kiss me. Don’t stop now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
What part of the country has the most dogs?
PAUL OPENED the door to the guesthouse with Madison’s key. Aspen was waiting right at the door, tail wagging.
“Do you need to go out, boy?” she asked, then turned to Paul. “I think I should take him for a walk.”
“Not alone. I’m coming with you.”
Madison couldn’t believe how protective Paul was. She’d thought a lot about what he’d said last night. She really didn’t think she was in any danger, but he had made her promise to keep her doors locked and carry the can of pepper spray he’d given her in her purse.
“What part of the country has the most dogs?” Paul asked as they headed toward the path along the beach.
“What would be your guess?” She unhooked Aspen’s leash and let him wander off the path to do his business. From the fob attached to his lead, she pulled out a plastic bag to pick up after the dog.
“I’m thinking the West Coast. Almost everyone in California seems to have a dog or two. It’s a big state with a lot of people.”
“Well, you’d be wrong. New England has the most dogs. Surprisingly, there are a great many in New York City. Many more than you’d think, considering there are so many highrises, which makes having a dog difficult.”
The bracing scent of the sea filled the moist warm air, and with it came the heady scent of the gardenias along the path. A full-throated bullfrog that hung out around the koi pond near the main house croaked. Clouds sailed like schooners across the moonlit sky.
“How do you arrive at answers to questions like that? You must do research all day long and have to update, too.”
Madison couldn’t help smiling at him. Paul seemed genuinely interested in all aspects of her life. Aiden had asked very few questions. He’d mostly talked about himself. It should have been a clue, she thought, but she’d been so upset over the loss of her father that she had rushed into a marriage doomed to failure.
“We consult a lot of databases online. If we need to, we can independently verify the info. In this case, dog licenses tell us the answer.”
“But aren’t there a lot of dogs without licenses?”
“Not really. Most people take their dogs for a rabies shot. Vets forward the info to the city.” Madison noticed Aspen was sniffing the garland of seaweed being pushed ashore by the waves.
“I see,” Paul said. “Other facts must be more difficult to compile.”
“You bet. If it’s even a little iffy, we—”
“Paul, Madison!”
They turned and saw Wyatt striding toward them. “I need to talk to you. Could we go into the guesthouse?”
“Sure.” Madison snapped Aspen’s leash onto his collar. She would have to walk him again later. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m not certain,” he said.
Madison caught Paul’s eye and he shrugged as if to say, Weird.
They went inside the guesthouse. Paul and Madison sat on the sofa while Wyatt took the chair nearby. Aspen settled at her feet.
“What was the name of your friend who was murdered?” Wyatt asked.
Madison had the instant sensation that something was terribly wrong. “Erin Wycoff. Why?”
“Do you recall her parents’ names?”
“Of course—we were best friends since the cradle. Tony and Susie. I mean, Anthony and Susan Wycoff.”
Wyatt’s eyes were sharp and assessing. “Tobias found their names in the files my security people are going through. The actual file itself is missing. Tobias found part of her record misfiled in another patient’s folder, but it appears that she was one of the children conceived through my donation.”
Paul’s gaze shifted to Madison. She responded with an angry rush of words. “That’s impossible! Erin was my best friend. She would have told me.”
“What if she didn’t know?” Paul asked.
“I don’t believe it,” Madison replied, but the catch in her voice betrayed her doubts. “Susie was such an open mother. She had us call her by her first name. She’d answer any question we asked. I can’t imagine her not telling Erin something this important.”
“I don’t think it matters,” Paul said. “What’s—”
“Of course it matters,” Madison insisted. “Don’t you see?” She paused and turned to Wyatt. “New Horizons was a shady operation. No telling whose sperm they really used on women. I know I wasn’t conceived by insemination and I’m positive Erin wasn’t, either. You may be wasting your time trying to track children down here. You should concentrate on the Boston area, where the clinics were honest and kept better records.”
Wyatt’s brows knit together in an incredulous expression, as if he couldn’t believe she hadn’t accepted that she was one of his offspring.
In the long silence that followed her outburst, the only sound in the room was the lazy swish of the ceiling fan above them. She reached down to stroke Aspen’s silky head. Finally, Paul spoke in a low tone meant to calm Madison.
“All I’m saying is what should concern us is the children being on record as related to Wyatt are dead.” He waited a few beats before adding, “Possibly murdered.”
Wyatt vaulted to his feet. “What do you mean? Weren’t the other deaths accidental?”
Paul motioned for him to sit down and the older man slowly sank into his chair. “I spoke with a detective in Boston. Apparently there is some indication—although nothing has been proved—that those deaths may not have been accidents.”
Madison listened intently while Paul explained what he had learned during the telephone conversation after dinner. She assumed he’d meant to discuss it with her but found it strange that he hadn’t. Certainly there had been enough time while they were walking Aspen. She decided her fact-based theory on coincidence was so at odds with his cop take on them that he might not have told her until he had more evidence.
“My God,” Wyatt responded when Paul concluded. All the color had drained from the older man’s face. Madison could see Garrison was right. Wyatt was in poor health and did his best to hide it.
“There’s more,” Paul said.
His tone of voice sent a tidal wave of apprehension through her. Now what?
“Last night a man, Keith Brooks Smith, was killed with a lethal dose of succinylcholine.”
Madison didn’t pipe up with her usual trivia response. She was certain Wyatt knew what this drug was typically used for.
“You two probably know the drug disappears rapidly and leaves no trace for a coroner to find.”
Madison hadn’t known that. She made a mental note to see what Total Trivia had on the drug.
“If a nosy neighbor hadn’t phoned the police, we wouldn’t have discovered it was a homicide.”
Madison asked, “What does this have to do with—”
Paul directed his answer to Wyatt. “Smith was next on the list to be contacted if Madison can’t donate.”
Madison gasped. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. Now what do you say about the coincidence rate?”
Madison shrugged. This was beginning t
o spook her. Erin. Identity theft. Luis Estevez. The need to find a new place to live. Her mother. Now that she thought about it, this was the longest stretch she’d had without hearing from her mother. An image of a sailboat foundering on a coral reef filled the screen in her mind. Please, God. Let her be safe.
“This is extremely disturbing.” Wyatt’s voice was like an echo in an empty tomb.
“Is there a way to recheck any of those Boston-area cases?” Madison asked.
Paul shrugged. “It’s doubtful. I just don’t like the fact that people who could help Wyatt are dead. Two of them died in the same week.”
Madison refused to protest again that she wasn’t related to Wyatt. The man looked as if he’d stepped off the curb and had narrowly missed being mowed down by a bus. Time would support what she said. DNA tests would reveal the truth.
Paul leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he asked Wyatt, “Who knew or would have had access to the New Horizons files?”
Wyatt almost flinched as he realized the implications of Paul’s question. After a pause that lasted much longer than it should have for him to formulate a response, he said, “Tobias, the staff at Holbrook Pharmaceuticals, my attorney, your father and his staff. You.”
“What about the janitorial crew?” Paul asked. “Are the security offices locked? I know my father has an elaborate alarm system and sophisticated locks. It would have been difficult for anyone to remove the file on Erin Wycoff while those boxes were at my father’s office.”
Why had someone removed that file? wondered Madison. A sharp splinter of doubt pierced her like the prick of a sharp needle. Was it possible Erin knew and hadn’t told her? Her heart said no. But her more rational intellectual side thought, Maybe. After all, there had been a lot that she hadn’t known about her best friend.
“The executive offices are secure but not state-of-the-art,” replied Wyatt. “We don’t keep any top-secret information there, like drug formulas or other sensitive material. Your father updated our system. We have all our vital information stored elsewhere.”