Filling them, she carried them to the table…and caught him eyeing the two matching cups in the dish drainer. Shit. She set the coffee on the table, then opened the fridge, grabbed the milk and the orange juice. Then she fetched a third cup from the cupboard, set it beside her own and filled it with juice.
Ethan frowned at her.
“It’s a habit. Two-fisted drinker,” she said with what she hoped was a casual smile. “I never have something as bad for me as caffeine without adding something good for me to cancel it out. O.J.’s the drink of choice this week.”
“I see.”
“So what brings you by, Dr. Melrose?”
He sipped his coffee. “I thought we were on a first-name basis now.”
“Oops. Sorry, I forgot. Have you got more information for me?”
“Maybe,” he said. “The hospital administrator was phoned at home last night. Seems an urgent fax had been sent to the records department.”
She lifted her brows. “And?”
“It was from Corbett’s lawyer, demanding that copies of all his medical records be sent to his office by the end of business hours today.”
Jax frowned as hard as she could. “Are you telling me that your escaped lunatic—”
He grimaced and held up a hand. “Patient. Not lunatic.”
She lowered her head. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very sensitive of me. He’s your friend, after all.” Peering up, she watched his face. There was only genuine worry in his eyes. “So let me try that again. Are you telling me that a mental patient as disturbed as this one managed to escape from the hospital, contact an attorney and…and what? Launch some kind of…malpractice investigation?”
“I don’t know. I thought you might have some idea.”
“Hell, I didn’t even know he had a lawyer.” She held up a hand. “Wait, yes I did. It was in the case file—what was the guy’s name, Berger?”
“Brown.” Ethan was watching her face. Probably thought he was some kind of expert at reading people, being a shrink. Too bad he was dealing with a seasoned cop who knew more about reading faces than he ever would. With him it was a matter of treating patients. With her, it was a matter of life and death.
“His lawyer will have to report it if he has any knowledge of Corbett’s whereabouts,” she said.
“He says he doesn’t.”
She sighed. “So why did you think I’d know anything about this, Ethan?”
He shrugged, adding milk to his coffee and stirring slowly. “I don’t know. You’re living in his house, feeding his dog—”
“His dog?” She blinked and feigned surprise. “You mean that German shepherd outside?”
“Yeah. I never knew what happened to him. Guess he’s been fending for himself all this time.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” She sipped her own coffee, black, and made a point to take a sip of the orange juice afterward. “Hey! Do you know the dog’s name?”
He nodded. “Rex.”
“Rex. That fits him.”
“Yeah, as in T-Rex.” He shook his head. “That animal ought to be put down.”
“Oh, he’s not so bad. I mean, he doesn’t seem to like you very much, but he’s been a doll to me.” She smiled. “So was there anything else, Ethan? I’m not rushing you or anything, but I need to get ready for work.”
“No. No, that was all.” He slugged half the coffee down in a single gulp and got to his feet. “I’m looking forward to tonight.”
“Me, too.”
He nodded, set the cup on the sink and then walked with Jax to the door. She said, “Better let me get the dog.” Then she opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. Rex was there, waiting. She gripped his collar and held on, tugging him out of Ethan’s path.
As soon as he stepped out the door, Rex pulled against her, growling deep and low. She had to drop to her knees and wrap her arms around his neck to keep him still. “Stop it, Rex. Behave.”
Ethan came out, and Jax managed to drag and wrestle the dog inside the house, then pulled the door closed while remaining on the outside. “Sorry about that. Have a good day, Ethan.”
“You, too, Jax.” He started down the steps, then stopped and turned. “By the way, where is your car?”
She blinked, and sought an answer, found one, and only missed a single beat in the process. “It was making a noise. My father wanted to take a look at it for me.”
“So…you need a ride to work?”
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you. Thanks, but Frankie’s picking me up.” She made a face. “Anytime now, to be honest. I’d better hustle.”
“Yeah, you’d better. See you at seven, okay?”
“I can hardly wait.” She waited until he was safely in his car—a silver Mercedes, no less—to open the door just enough to wedge herself back inside.
Rex sat on the other side, trying to get out, but she spoke a sharp command—one she’d heard the canine handlers use on the job. “Rex. Stand down!”
The dog sat instantly. But the fur on his haunches bristled and his ears were laid back. He did not like his master’s best friend.
Jax patted his head. “I’m not overly fond of him myself, boy.” Then she hurried to call Frankie for a ride, before Ethan had a chance to call her himself and catch her in a lie.
* * *
River had managed to grab a few hours sleep the night before. He’d come wide-awake before dawn, and knew there was no chance of going to sleep again. His dreams had alternated between sheer delight—images of Cassandra wrapped up in his arms, her limbs twisted around his body, not a scrap of clothing in sight—and sheer agony when the faces in his mind changed and became not his and Cassandra’s, but the faces of his wife and his best friend. Stephanie and Ethan.
All night he’d told himself it couldn’t be true. It wasn’t possible. But as much as he searched his mind, he couldn’t think of another man who’d been close to Steph. Not that close. Not close enough to…
He shut his thoughts down and got out of bed. He had to know. And he thought he’d come up with a way to find out. Cassandra had given him the idea when she’d mentioned the value of knowing exact dates when Stephanie might have been meeting with her lover.
River needed to go to Burlington. He needed to get to Ethan’s office. And if he left now, he could make it there before anyone else was around. He wrote a note to Cassandra and left it on the windowsill. Then he made his bed quickly, tossed his few belongings into a pillowcase and slung it over his shoulder. As an afterthought, he snatched up the two cups and rinsed them in the bathroom sink. He left them in the dish drainer, then went back into the still-dark living room.
For a moment, he was brought up short, caught by the sight of Cassandra asleep on the sofa, drenched in firelight. She had angel’s hair, he thought as he stood there, looking at the way it spread around her on the pillow. But there was a lot more to her than the way she looked. She was solid. Strong, assertive, smart and entirely self-sufficient.
Stephanie hadn’t been. She’d been dependent and needy. She’d needed him, whole and strong, and when he’d let her down, she fell apart. Hell, could he blame her for turning to another man? He’d stopped being the man she could rely on. And even then, she’d been sorry. He was certain she’d been sorry, certain she’d meant it when she’d vowed they would work things out.
He sighed, dragged his gaze away from Cassandra and went to the door, quietly lifting her keys from the little rack on which they hung. He took the car key off the ring and put the others back. Then he took one last look at her.
He wondered if she’d been mortally offended when he’d turned down her offer last night. And then he almost smiled, because he knew better. She knew he wanted her. She wouldn’t take his rejection personally and she wouldn’t become moody and petulant about it. Hell, she probably figured it was his loss, and that it was only a matter of time anyway.
Maybe she was right about that.
Sighing in real regret, he slipped out of the house, a
ll without alerting Rex or waking Cassandra. He put the car in neutral and let it roll backward out of the driveway, before starting the engine and driving away. It was still dark outside. He worried a little about how she would get to work, but knew she’d just catch a ride with someone. She was resourceful enough to find a way to work and come up with a believable lie about why she needed one. She didn’t need him worrying about her.
Now, an hour later, he stood outside the small brick building that housed Ethan Melrose’s office. He’d been in private practice before landing the job as chief of psychiatry at the state hospital, thanks to his wife’s connections. He’d kept his office open, though his private patients were few and far between. His practice was extremely exclusive. He treated the very wealthy who were lucky enough to travel in his social circle and who needed psychiatric help guaranteed to be discreet, not to mention expensive. And he’d treated his two best friends—Stephanie and River.
If he kept an appointment book or a diary, it would be there, in his private office, River thought. He’d parked the car a block away, and around a corner. He’d fed the meter a quarter he found in the cup holder. Then he walked. No point risking anyone seeing it. He didn’t want Cassandra’s car spotted near the scene of a crime.
He didn’t have time to be subtle. And he didn’t imagine he had the skills to break in without setting off any alarms even if he did. So he pulled out the gloves he’d found in Ben Jackson’s box of castoffs, smashed the glass out of the window in the back door, reached in and unlocked it.
From there on he had to move fast. He headed through the reception area and into Ethan’s office, straight to the desk. Its drawers were locked, but the locks were flimsy, and yanking hard was all it took to drag them open. He made quick work of thumbing through them—was momentarily elated when he found a date book. Then he realized it was for this year. He needed the one from two years ago.
The telephone was ringing by then. Probably the police or Ethan’s security company, calling to check whether whoever had opened the door had the right password or something.
He turned to the file cabinets, wrenching them open, flipping through the files. He thought if there were any with his name on them—or Stephanie’s—he’d take them. But there were none.
Dammit, he wasn’t leaving here without something!
He scanned the bookshelves, but saw nothing of any use to him. Then he returned to the desk, his eyes straining to see something useful on its surface.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Dammit, he had to move.
He snatched the Rolodex—he wasn’t even sure why—and ran out of the place, out the back door, kitty-corner through the lot in back, and dived into Cassandra’s car. He took off and was already around a corner onto a side street a block away by the time the police vehicles went screaming by.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he kept on driving. He was going to have to try Ethan’s home. That was the only answer. But it was getting light outside now. He was going to have to wait until tonight, when darkness covered him again.
In the meantime, there were other things he could do.
He drove into the city, to the office of his attorney, pulled the car around to the back of the building next door. Which gave him a good view of the attorney’s parking lot. Then he crouched down and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long. He watched the car, a sleek black Lexus, pull into the lawyer’s parking spot, and he stayed low, and dialed the man’s mobile number on Jax’s cell phone.
He watched Brown get out of the car and then stand still to answer his phone.
“Derrick Brown,” he said.
“Walk to the coffee shop across the street. Go to the takeout window and order yourself some coffee.”
He hung up before Brown could reply, then watched as the man gave a nervous glance around him and finally started across the lot, and then across the street.
River went across as well, stepping up behind him in line. He looked around. There was no one else there, but there was an unmarked police car parked in the office lot. It had been out of sight from his vantage point earlier. Good thing he’d been careful.
“Derrick,” he said. “Don’t turn around, okay?”
The lawyer stopped in his tracks. He looked left and right from behind his round, wire-rimmed glasses, as if for assistance in case he should need it, but he didn’t turn around. He was scared. If he’d had enough hair in that dark horseshoe pattern remaining on his head, River thought it would have stood on end. And no wonder, he told himself. He thinks I’m insane and a killer.
“I’m not here to hurt you. Hell, why would I want to hurt you? You’re about the only guy who can help me.”
“And I intend to. I—I faxed the hospital last night. I’ll have your records by day’s end.”
River nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate it. That probably explains why the police are watching your office.”
“The police—”
“Don’t turn around,” River reminded him.
The man calmed, faced front. A girl appeared at the window and he ordered coffee. When she went to get it, he said, “Michael, you should turn yourself in. It’s dangerous, you being on the run like this. The police are hunting for you—you could get hurt.”
“If I go in right now, I’ll be worse than hurt. I don’t have a choice, Derrick. Besides, do I seem crazy to you?”
The attorney blinked, looking now at River through his reflection in the window glass. “Frankly, no. But the last time I saw you in the hospital—”
“The last time you saw me in the hospital I was pumped so full of psychotropic drugs I barely knew my own name. I’m off them. They’ve had time to clear out of my bloodstream. That’s the only difference. I’ve still got the same head injury I had before.”
Brown was frowning, searching his face.
“Don’t you get it? It was the drugs. They were making me lose my mind.”
The lawyer blinked, then nodded slowly. “I didn’t expect to be convinced, Corbett, but…you’ve got me wondering. What you told me on the phone about that orderly was true. He had a record, was using a false name—” He started to reach into his coat.
River grabbed his arm fast, and the man went still.
“Sorry,” River said. “I’ve been a cop a long time. What are you reaching for?”
Brown licked his lips. “Money. Cash. I took some out of your account on the way in this morning. I kind of expected you’d show up, or send someone.” He lowered his hands.
“Take it out and set it there on the counter. Be casual.”
Slowly, Brown removed an envelope full of cash from his pocket and set it on the counter where the cream and sugar were located.
River closed his eyes in relief. “Thank you.”
Brown nodded. “I’m going to have to tell the police I saw you this morning, if they ask,” he said.
“I know. It’s okay, they’re gonna know I was in town today anyway. And hell, it’s only a matter of time before they look for me here. I should go.”
“Wait. There’s one more thing.” The attorney started to reach into another pocket, then stopped, his hand hovering above it as his eyes sought permission in the window glass.
This was an outer pocket. There was no telltale bulge in the fabric of his coat. River nodded to tell him to go ahead, and he did, pulling out a key, setting it on the counter, as well.
“This is to a storage unit, out on the East Ridge Road. Hide-Away Storage. Your belongings, everything that was left in the house, it’s all out there. Unit seven. I figured you might need some things.”
He nodded. “Do the police have to know you told me about this?”
He licked his lips. “No, I don’t have to tell them…not unless you tell me you’re going to be there. You’re not, are you?”
“Of course not,” River said. Then he nodded. “Thank you, Brown. You’re not going to regret this. I mean—even if it turns out I really did…what they say I did…that doesn’t c
hange the fact that someone tried to kill me in that hospital. Twice.”
“You still don’t remember…what happened the night of the fire?” Brown asked.
“No. I’m beginning to wonder if I ever will.”
“I’ll do everything I can for you, Corbett. You have my word on it.”
River nodded. He’d wondered whether Brown would be the kind of man he could trust. He’d barely known him before—Ethan had been the one who’d hooked him up with the lawyer. River hadn’t been in any state then to take care of such things. Now that he’d talked with him, River thought Derrick Brown was all right—maybe even one of the good guys. “Go on, your coffee’s ready.”
“Are you…going to be all right?” the lawyer asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” River told him. “All that matters is finding out the truth. That’s all I care about right now.”
Brown studied him in the window glass for a long moment, as he paid for his coffee and took his cup. Then he said, “I actually believe you. Take care, Corbett.” He turned and went back across the street.
River took the envelope and the key, then went back to Cassandra’s car, got in and pulled away.
He passed a police cruiser coming from the other direction on the way out of town. Part of him wanted to go straight to the storage unit to go through his possessions. But another part of him wanted to get back to Blackberry—back to Cassandra. He hadn’t known her long, but he thought he knew her well enough to guess she would keep that date with Ethan tonight unless he could come up with some solid reason why she shouldn’t.
And as much as he feared he might be some kind of a threat to Cassandra, he was starting to wonder if Ethan might be, as well.
CHAPTER 12
Jax couldn’t focus on work all morning. She couldn’t believe she was worrying about a grown man—a cop, for heaven’s sake—the way a nervous parent might worry about a child. But she was doing exactly that and it was out of character. She wasn’t a caregiver. Wasn’t a nurturer. She didn’t want anyone depending on her and she didn’t intend to ever depend on anyone else.
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