Where the Truth Lives

by Mia Sheridan

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dr. Elizabeth Nolan—Liza. Her gaze hit him like a million tiny bombs detonating in his cells. Their eyes locked. Time slowed. Ancient plates far beneath the earth shifted, and Reed felt the echo of the aftershocks thrumming through his body.

  “Drs. Nolan and Headley, these are detectives with the Cincinnati Police,” the guard said.

  Liza stared back, her expression a mixture of shock and confusion. Blue eyes wide. Pretty mouth slack. Color blooming in her cheeks the way it had when she’d come beneath him two weeks before.

  The cop—Mallory—sitting in a chair near the door stood. “Detectives.”

  Ransom greeted him. “Thanks for staying. We got it from here.” He turned to the guard at the door. “Will you escort Officer Mallory back to his partner?”

  “Sure thing.”

  The other doctor, a bookish-looking man in his thirties, wearing glasses and a severe side part stood, offering them his hand. “We’re so glad you’re here, Detectives. This is such a shock. Terrible. I’ve just brewed a pot of coffee if either of you would like a cup,” Dr. . . . what was his name—he’d just heard it seconds ago and couldn’t for the life of him bring it to mind—asked.

  Liza suddenly came back to herself, her body twitching as her expression smoothed and she stood. She wore a straight gray skirt that hugged her slim hips, a silky white blouse, and a choker of pearls at her throat. Her hair was smoothed back and gathered in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She looked classy and professional, the sophisticated twin of the leather-clad free-spirit he’d met in a bar two weeks before. “Detectives,” she said, holding out her hand, her voice devoid of emotion, though her fingers trembled very slightly.

  Reed made himself move. He stepped forward and took her hand, his mind flashing back to that same hand reaching down the waistband of his pants, grasping. Her eyes shot to their linked hands, a fresh wash of pink appearing on her cheeks, and somehow he knew the very same thought was crossing her mind. “Detective Reed Davies,” he said, haltingly.

  “Elizabeth Nolan,” she murmured, breaking eye contact and pulling her hand back quickly.

  “Detective Ransom Carlyle,” his partner said, stepping forward and shaking her hand. Her lips tipped slightly as she greeted him, but it didn’t touch her eyes. “I’ll take a cup of coffee,” he said to the male doctor. Headley, his name was Headley.

  Reed’s mind was clearing, shock dissipating. Elizabeth Nolan was a doctor at Lakeside Hospital who’d just found the mutilated, dead body of her boss. For now, that was all. He needed to compartmentalize, not just for his own sake, but for hers, and for the man who’d suffered a terrible, violent crime and now lay in a corner nearby swarmed by a forensic team of techs. And yet he couldn’t stop staring at her. It felt like he’d just come face to face with a ghost. Or a dream.

  Reed felt Ransom’s gaze on him. Heavy. Questioning. His partner of three years knew Reed well, so it wasn’t surprising he’d noticed something was going on that had nothing to do with the crime they were there to investigate. Reed pulled his gaze from Liza, dragging a chair toward him. It scraped loudly across the floor and Liza let out a small sound of surprise. It ended in a short, nervous laugh as she took a seat at the table.

  Dr. Headley poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Ransom.

  “Will you tell us how you found the victim, Dr. Nolan?” He opened his black leather folder, removing a pen he kept inside. Ransom was a note taker. Reed preferred to keep all his attention focused on the person he was questioning so he didn’t miss a flicker or an expression that might mean something, or let him know when his line of questioning was headed in a direction that would deliver the most information. Between the two of them, they covered all the bases. But right now, he really wished he had something to do other than stare directly at Elizabeth Nolan.

  “I . . . I had just arrived at work.”

  “What time?” Ransom asked.

  “Seven a.m., ah, maybe a little before? There’s a camera on that back entrance that will pinpoint the exact time.” Her eyelids fluttered momentarily as though her own statement had caused her to recall something. Reed waited for her to go on, but she remained silent.

  “Is Ms. Thorne the one we need to speak with to access the hospital security footage?”

  Liza paused and then bobbed her head, swallowed. “The thing is, Re . . .” She blinked, looked down, fiddled with the napkin sitting next to the mug she’d been drinking from. “Detective Davies, there aren’t many security cameras on this floor as it’s mostly administrative." She glanced at Dr. Headley as though confirming what she’d said. He nodded, giving her an encouraging smile.

  “There’s a camera facing the door next to the corner where you found Mr. Sadowski.”

  “Yes, that’s the stairwell door I used to enter the hallway.” She glanced at Headley again and Reed felt irritation bubble in his chest. He did his best to tamp it down. “That back entrance is used solely by staff.” Liza fingered the edge of the napkin and Headley reached over, stilling her movement by placing his hand on top of hers and offering a squeeze. She glanced up and smiled at him. Reed’s muscles tensed. This felt all wrong. Weird.

  Like he was living in one of those liminal spaces, not just experiencing it momentarily. Relax, Davies. This sucks, but you have a job to do.

  “Did you see the victim right away?”

  “Yes, I did.” She grimaced and shook her head as if denying the image that must be front and center in her mind as she recalled that moment. He had the insane urge to comfort her—this woman who’d snuck out of his apartment like a thief in the night and then pretended she’d never laid eyes on him in her life five minutes before—and wanted to kick himself. “I . . . I dropped my briefcase and my phone. I screamed. I was just so . . . It was . . .” She shook her head again. “Chad came running a minute later.”

  Chad.

  “Where were you when you heard Dr. Nolan scream?” Ransom asked.

  “I was already in my office down the hall. I’d used the front entrance about half an hour before.”

  “Security footage will confirm that?” Reed asked.

  The doctor frowned, pausing as he looked at Reed. “Of course it will.” He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “We’re”—he glanced at Liza—“not being considered suspects, are we?”

  “No,” Ransom said easily. “We’ve just gotta cross all our t’s. Did you know the victim well?” he asked, looking between both Liza and Headley.

  “Mr. Sadowski had just taken over as director of the hospital three months ago,” Headley answered. “All staff have been working closely with him since then, but it’s only been a short time.” He glanced at Liza. “Nice guy. Competent at his job. No complaints.”

  “Any idea who might have wanted to target the man?”

  They both shook their heads. “This is more than targeting the man, though, isn’t it?” Headley asked. “What was done to his face . . .” He grimaced. “Horrifying.”

  “Any chance we’re looking for a patient?” Reed asked. “Someone highly familiar with this hospital?”

  Headley shook his head. “No way. Our most violent offenders are closely monitored. There isn’t a second in the day where staff don’t know their whereabouts. There’s no possible way one of those patients could disappear for the time it would take to commit a crime like the one perpetrated against Mr. Sadowski. The fifth floor is, in essence, a high-security prison.”

  “What about one of your less closely monitored patients?” Ransom asked.

  Liza shook her head now. “Those patients aren’t violent.”

  “People aren’t always logical or predictable, Doctor. They act out of character all the time. I’m sure you know that even better than I do.”

  She stared at him a beat, two, then lowered her eyes. “Y-yes.” She cleared her throat, making eye contact again. “You’re right, people aren’t always predictable, but we’re talking about people who have never committed an ac
t of aggression in their lives, much less a brutal murder. And while those patients have more freedom than our Ward Five patients, they’re still well monitored too. And in most cases, well medicated.”

  “But they do suffer from diagnosed mental disorders,” Ransom said.

  Liza’s eyes moved to him. “Yes, they do.”

  Reed sat back. “Are there cameras on patients at all times?”

  “No. You’d have to verify with Ms. Thorne, but I believe we only monitor the main entrance and exit doors and two back doors, via camera, and a few of the hallways near nurses’ stations. The hospital determined that constant video surveillance is unethical and intrusive to mental health patients.”

  “So isn’t it possible that one slipped out for a time?”

  “Not for the time it would take to do something like . . . that. And if one had, we’d have been notified by now. Chad—Dr. Headley checked in with security on each of the floors as we were waiting for you, and there are no patients currently unaccounted for, head counts from this morning don’t show anyone missing. The hospital is doing a comprehensive search nonetheless.”

  Yes, that’s what Ms. Thorne had said. They would follow up with her afterward. Liza glanced at Headley and Reed allowed his gaze to linger on her a moment. He remembered thinking of her as a conundrum and now he knew why. The Liza she’d shown him had been a completely different side of her than the buttoned-up doctor he was looking at across the table now. And it made him wonder why. Was that the side of her that went out drinking and looking for random men to pick up? Had he been one of many? A way to blow off steam from a stressful day job? He looked away, just as she turned her head back toward him.

  “We need to know who to notify on Mr. Sadowski’s behalf,” Reed said.

  Liza nodded, seeming hesitant. “He wasn’t married. But I can get his personal information for you.”

  Headley put his hand over Liza’s again. “Dr. Nolan can email that information.”

  “We’d prefer to have that now,” Ransom cut in. “Detective Davies will accompany her to wherever that’s filed. If you’ll take me to Ms. Thorne’s office so I can retrieve the necessary video surveillance, that would be much appreciated. The sooner we can begin reviewing those recordings the better.”

  Headley paused, appearing annoyed that someone else was giving directives, but nodded and began standing. “If you’ll follow me, Detective.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Reed and Liza walked down the corridor, the only sound the clicking of her heels on the peach-colored linoleum floor. She glanced at him nervously. A faint buzzing sound still filled the background of her mind, separate from the incessant electrical issues the hospital experienced. She massaged her temples, the echo of the shock that had slammed into her when he’d entered the staff lounge twenty minutes before causing the beginning of a headache.

  It didn’t feel real.

  Nothing about this day felt real. Maybe she was still in her bed, twisted up in some bizarre nightmare. Only . . . the man walking next to her was no nightmare. He was a dream, one she’d revisited often over the past few weeks, her body shivering with the memory of his touch, her mind conjuring images of his naked perfection. “I thought you were kidding when you said you were a detective.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  She let out a sound that might have been a short laugh if there was anything remotely humorous about this situation. “Obviously.”

  He looked over at her and her breath caught. God, he was so incredibly handsome. She was dazzled by him, the same way she’d been as she’d watched him sing that stupid song on the karaoke stage with a bunch of drunk, stumbling fools.

  She’d thought he was one too. Just a beautiful man with a fit body who’d be more than willing to enjoy a no-strings one-night stand. Actually, she hadn’t even planned on a night, just an hour, maybe two. Then things had taken an unexpected turn . . . He’d not only been gorgeous, he’d been sweet. She’d relaxed so completely that she’d fallen asleep and—

  Damn it.

  Her hand shook as she began to raise her key card to the card reader. “Liza,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. She turned to him, breath hitching. “Are you okay?”

  Are you okay? She wanted to crumble. No, she wasn’t okay. She’d just seen a dead man with black, empty holes where his eyes should have been. A nightmare. Something straight from hell. A vision that materialized from the darkness, and came toward you, arms reaching as you stood, paralyzed. Helpless. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  Reed’s eyes moved over her features for a second, and her heart squeezed at what she saw. Concern. He was concerned for her and she did not deserve his worry.

  “No one would blame you if you weren’t. Maybe you should take the rest of the day off.”

  She nodded, a jerky movement. “I know. But . . . I can’t. I have patients to see. They’ll have heard what happened. Word spreads quickly in places like this.” She glanced to the side. “I’ll need to reassure them. They’ll be upset. Anxious.” And home was not her solace anyway. It was her work that had always saved her. Her work that allowed her to lose herself when she needed to.

  She lowered her arm and he let it go. Thank God, because otherwise she might have fallen into his solid chest, buried her head there. And she wouldn’t let herself do that. Couldn’t. Not only that, but it wasn’t as if he’d want her to anyway. He was very aware that she’d used him, and even if he’d been interested in knowing her before, she was doubtful he still felt the same. He had every right to judge her harshly.

  God, she thought she might stop breathing when he’d walked into the staff lounge twenty minutes ago.

  She buzzed them through the door, and he followed her into the filing room where clerks worked. The room housed three desks and a line of filing cabinets against the back wall. Only one of the desks was occupied, and when they entered the room, Doris, a sweet grandmotherly type in her late sixties with a short, gray pixie cut stood, rushing around her desk to Liza. “I heard what happened. Police are swarming the building.” She put her hands on her cheeks. “I heard you’re the one who found him. Are you okay?”

  Liza patted the woman on her shoulder. “I’m fine, Doris. Thank you. The police are going to find out who did this. But in the meantime, Detective Davies here needs Steven Sadowski’s personal information so he can notify the people who need to be notified. Can I go back and get it for him?”

  “Oh.” She glanced at Reed, blinked rapidly, and then looked back at Liza. “Yes, of course. Help yourself. All employee records are filed alphabetically. If you need any help, just shout.”

  Liza nodded and heard Reed’s footsteps behind her as she led him to a door at the back of the room. It led into a smaller file room, overfilled with more file cabinets, and Reed closed the door behind them. Liza’s skin prickled and a flush of warmth made her feel slightly woozy at being alone with him in the small space. He was behind her and she felt his presence as a ten-ton weight. She opened one of the cabinets and started rifling through the files. After a minute or so she located what she was looking for and turned around, offering Reed the manila folder in her hand. Wordlessly, he took it from her.

  He opened it, glancing at the basic information about the man. “Unmarried. No children,” he murmured. “Emergency contact looks to be a mother who lives in Spokane. I’ll put in a call to her when I get back to the station.” He closed the file and looked up at her. “Thanks.”

  She nodded and there was an awkward pause between them, the air filled with all that wasn’t being said, but both knowing it was not the right time. Perhaps there was no right time, not for them. And damn it, regret and disappointment vibrated inside Liza, the same way it had as she’d gathered her clothes and headed for Reed’s door as he lay sleeping in bed. She’d almost turned back, almost scrawled a note for him with her number on it and she’d never even considered doing that before.

  He tilted his head. “You’re a psychiatrist?”

&n
bsp; “A psychologist.” She shifted on her feet, leaning her hip against the file cabinet right behind her, nervous, edgy. This was so unlike the first time they’d talked, laughing, enjoying each other. That had been easy, fun. But that could never be recaptured. And wasn’t that the point? It was easy because it was a one-time deal. Easy because he didn’t know who she really was. “I finished my doctorate two years ago. I haven’t been here that long, but, ah, it’s . . . I like it. It can be challenging. Difficult sometimes.” She glanced to the side, the cool, calm demeanor she’d managed—at least on the outside—in the staff lounge, splintering.

  “Liza.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. God, why had she told him her name? He’d know it now anyway whether she’d met him that night and gone home with him or not. But he’d call her Dr. Nolan, or Elizabeth maybe. Not Liza. And moreover, whatever he called her, she wouldn’t have to picture the way he’d first said it, directly in her ear, voice filled with such guttural pleasure, his heat all around her, in her.

  “We’re going to find out who did this. So many good people are working on it, right this minute.”

  She bobbed her head, glad that he’d misunderstood the cause of her distress. Not that she wasn’t distressed about the murder. But she felt sort of numb now . . . shock settling in. Disbelief. “I know.” She met his eyes. “I see a lot of bad stuff in here, Detective. I hear a lot of sad stories. I . . . the things people do to each other . . .” Her voice faded and she looked away for a moment and then back. “The way those things can bend a person’s mind.” Their soul maybe, though Liza wasn’t sure souls existed. Maybe they were all just tissue and bone and synapse. All things that would one day turn to dust, swept away by the wind and the water and the earth. And really, wasn’t it a relief to believe that might be so? Who wanted to exist on and on for eternity anyhow?