Missings, The (18 page)

“Odds are most of them have been there at some point. It’s the only place people without insurance can get medical attention without having to pay up front.”

“Aren’t there free clinics?” Whit asked.

“They’re around. They tend to ask more questions than some people are comfortable answering. And they tend to be understaffed and closed more often than they’re open.”

Memorial jumped up the line of important elements in this investigation. But Chase knew that until they had some solid facts, he would not be taking on the hospital that meant so much to the community. After tourism and the college, Aspen Falls Memorial ranked third for economic importance. He’d pushed his luck with the local politicos more than once. This time he would walk into that arena fully armored and with weapons to spare.

“Do you know of anyone who’s been approached recently?”

“Nope. But I think they’re out there.”

“Can you put the word out for information?” Chase worked to keep a lid on his frustration. He felt like they were so close to breaking this thing. “I mean, if there’s someone out there right now with this kind of an offer, could you find out?”

“Maybe from someone who knows me. Speaking with you—and the word will get out that I’m speaking with you—isn’t going to help. I can only try.”

Mex was willing to risk his own reputation with his people in order to help them. Chase’s respect for Mex Anderson only continued to rise.

“Can I count on you?”

“I don’t recommend it.”

The Sloan Residence

Monday, September 24

That evening, Edward Sloan wept behind the closed doors of his study. Tears spilled from his eyes but he didn’t have the desire or the energy to wipe them away.

Things weren’t supposed to happen this way. All of his life Edward had made plans. Long, detailed, perfect plans. And for the most part the things he planned had become reality.

Diana dying was not any part of Edward Sloan’s great plans.

He stood and pushed his feet through the thick carpet to the sink. He washed his face, feeling every one of his sixty-seven years.

Martin Jackson had just left. The doctor’s compassion warmed Edward even as his practicality chilled him. The time had come to move Diana to a hospital room.

If a donor became available she would be that much more accessible for immediate surgery. If a donor didn’t become available…

Palliative care. He hated those godforsaken words. They meant failure. They meant loss.

He smoothed the wrinkles from his casual slacks and tugged his lightweight sweater into place. Even though the study’s en suite had a full set of brushes, he chose to run his fingers through his hair instead. If he looked too fresh Diana would know something had upset him.

Back at his desk he picked up the phone and asked Maggie to bring some tea to his wife’s room. He wasn’t sure he could swallow a thing but he needed a prop.

Edward walked over to his liquor cabinet, uncorked some Blanton’s, and poured a generous amount into a snifter. Yep. He could swallow. He just couldn’t taste anything.

His private line rang.

“Sloan.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sloan.”

Edward set the drink on his desk not bothering with a coaster. Not bothering with a response.

“We are very close to procuring the item you require.”

“When?”

“Soon. Quite soon.”

“And?”

“I understand the time has come to make different arrangements for your wife’s care.”

“How do you—”

“It doesn’t matter. But I hope you will consider the private clinic we are associated with just outside of Aspen Falls.”

Edward’s research had been top-notch. He knew about the clinic. “Why?”

“No hospital suite, or staff, can compare to our quality. We offer the highest level of care, luxury—and perhaps most importantly—privacy, available in the world.”

“We’re very happy with Dr. Jackson, and privacy is not among our concerns at this time.”

“I assure you that even though Dr. Jackson is not a part of our staff, he would be able to continue to be in charge of your wife’s treatment. My suggestion is made simply as an offer for your consideration. In the event we are able to find the appropriate item, it would be more convenient to have her at a facility where we can coordinate everything with efficiency.”

“And if I find it somewhere else?”

“Dr. Jackson will confirm our surgeons rank among the highest anywhere. But of course you would always have the option of moving her to another location.”

“I’ll talk to Dr. Jackson and let you know.”

“We can have a room ready for her in twenty minutes. You have my word the transfer will be seamless.”

Edward Sloan severed the connection.

The Waters Home

Monday, September 24

Chase walked through the door and called out. “Bond, I’m so sorry.” No response. “Bond?”

He walked through the dimly lit kitchen, all cleaned and cleared from dinner.
Damn.
He could hear the television in the family room and headed in that direction. He stopped in the doorway to watch his family.

Bond sat on the sofa, an afghan wrapped around her shoulders, feet tucked under her legs, a book held listlessly in her hands. Angela multi-tasked between watching TV, listening to her iPod and working her Sudoku game, while Stephanie lay in front of the fire, her head propped up on a pillow while she watched TV. McKenzie was curled up next to his youngest daughter, one open eye assuring the tiny guard dog that the intruder belonged.

Chase glanced at the television screen. Bond had popped in one of their daughters’ favorites. Something about a lost dog and fighting parents who come back together when their son and daughter take off to find the pup. Chase couldn’t remember the title. A half-eaten bowl of microwave popcorn from last night sat in the center of the coffee table within easy reach of the girls.

Stephanie looked up and called to him. “Daddy!” She jumped to her feet and ran into his arms. He loved coming home even if he had to turn around and leave again.

Bond glanced at him, smiled, then paused the movie. She didn’t turn the television off—just paused the movie. The wife of a cop. A cop who had a murder case. She knew he wouldn’t be staying. Chase smiled back at her.

“Dad, there’s a party I want to go to Friday night. Mom said I needed to ask you.” Angela got to the point.

“Don’t you want to soften me up first?”

Angela blushed and rolled her eyes at the same time.
Ah, the teenage years
. But she stood up and walked up to him, wrapped her arms around him and said, “I love you, Daddy.”

“Am I the world’s best daddy?”

“Nope.”

“No?”

“You’re the universe’s best daddy.”

He decided not to question the technical differences between ‘world’ and ‘universe’ and to take what he could get.

“Does your mom have the details about the party?”

A nod answered his question and the slightly pouty lips told him Bond had a problem with those details. “Your mom and I will talk about it, okay? We’ll make a decision together and let you know.”

An image of a black Mustang flashed in his mind. He pushed it away.

“Let me know when exactly?”

“Once we’ve decided, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Kids are gonna ask me tomorrow.”

“Well then, if you need to have an answer right now to give your friends tomorrow, the answer is no.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Good move.”

Chase noticed Bond’s pallor. “Girls, Mom and I need to talk about something before I go back to work. Would you mind—?”

“We figured.” Stephanie tilted her face up for a kiss as the two sisters left the room. “Mommy has been real quiet tonight.”

After his daughters were gone, Chase sat down at the end of the couch and pulled Bond’s feet toward him. He began a gentle massage of one foot and then the other. “Are you ready to talk?”

Bond closed her eyes, a single tear tracking down her cheek. Either the flames from the fireplace or the light from the television played off the liquid. Whichever, it seared his soul.

* * *

Bond felt numb. For all these years she’d kept a lid on this part of her life. The horror of the moment and all of the lies that followed had been sealed away. Covered. In some way, every day since that one day had held a lie. Including every day she spent with her husband.

She’d never told Chase. She’d never told anyone. Her promise to her mother had held her—bound her—and become so steeped in her psyche that nothing—no memory—had ever tugged at her. Nothing had ever bubbled up intent on release.

Until now.

“Damn you,” she breathed the words.

Chase quit massaging her feet. “Excuse me?”

She pulled her feet back toward her. “You heard me.”

“Barely.” Chase clasped his hands in front of him. “Are you saying that whatever is wrong with you is my fault? That I did something to hurt you?”

Oh God, how had she gotten in this mess? What would he say when she finally told him? Because she knew now she would tell him. Would he hate her? Not for what had happened but for what happened afterward? Would he see her as weak?

She
had
been weak. Stupid. A girl. But even a girl should have been bolder than she had been. She had listened to the half plea and half command of her mother.

Bond thought of Angela and Stephanie and prayed first of all that they’d never find themselves in that situation, and second of all that they’d raise holy hell if they did.

Not like her.

She found her voice. “Damn you, Chase Waters. I know you’re working on a murder investigation. Your focus is on the job. Don’t ask me to talk about this now when I know you need to leave soon. Don’t ask me to be so damned selfish that I would interfere with that. Damn you.” She threw off the afghan and reached for the remote to turn off the television.

“And don’t ask me,” she continued, “to be so insignificant that you can squeeze me in. I’m more than that. What I have to tell you is more than that.”

She felt the tears flowing freely and made no move to wipe them away but she would need a tissue if she wanted to breathe through her nose. Chase stood and walked to the powder room across the hall, coming back with a box of tissues.
Damn.
She loved this man even though he could aggravate her easier than anyone else.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not before you tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Fine. Make it my fault if someone else gets murdered because you were waiting for me to talk to you. Perfect. Just perfect.”

“If that’s how you really feel, you might want to start talking now because I’m not going anywhere until you tell me whatever it is you need to tell me.” He reached for her. “I’m not leaving you, Bond.”

They’d been through so much—dealt with the worst thing parents could ever deal with—and managed in the end to come out stronger as a couple. Their love, and their commitment to that love and one another, made them unique among their friends. When she looked into his eyes, Bond saw the depth of her husband’s love for her. She saw him work to hold on to that love, wondering what she had to tell him.

But if what Bond had to say could alter their future in a negative way, they really didn’t have much of a future anyway.

She found a place where she could turn on her voice and produce her words and hold her emotions in abeyance.

She told him everything.

* * *

After a superhuman effort to control his rage, Chase fully processed what Bond told him. She needed him to be there and not be crazed. She needed to know he loved her. She needed to say the words out loud for only the second time in her life.

Why the hell had she never told him? What kind of mother would make a child promise to keep her molestation a secret? Scratch that. He knew exactly what kind of a mother would do that to a child. His mother-in-law.

Chase wrapped his arms around the woman he loved. She cried until she couldn’t cry any more, her used tissues scattered all around the sofa. McKenzie, for once not interested in the tasty treats, sat pushed up against Bond. The little bichon waited, as Chase did, for Bond to cry herself out. For the person they both loved to come back to herself and to them.

The fire, embers now, lay quiet. The peaceful silence came with a little chill to the room. Chase kissed Bond’s forehead and put his hands up to cradle her face. “You are a remarkable woman. I am more in love with you this minute than I have ever been. I have some questions but they can wait for another time.”

She gasped in some air. “You need to leave.”

“I
need
to make sure you’re okay.” He ran his thumb along her jaw line and waited for her to look him in the eye. “As okay as you can be.”

“Go.” She pushed him away. “Please. I have enough guilt.”

“You’re joking, right?” Chase reached for one of her hands. “Nothing that happened to you, not even keeping the secret you promised to keep, is your fault. None of it is worthy of an ounce of guilt from you.”

“But you said you have some questions. You doubt me?”

“Not for a minute. Not ever.”

She sighed. Breathed a little easier. Fell deep into the sofa, pulling the afghan up to her neck. “Thank you.”

Chase’s cellphone rang. He looked at the caller ID and then to Bond. He had to take it. His wife smiled and quirked her head.

“What’s up, Daniel?”

“I think I may have found that black Mustang.”

He put his hand over the phone and told Bond the news.

“How?” Chase asked.

“The old-fashioned way. I went looking for it.”

His eyes searched Bond’s for understanding. She nodded.

“I’m on my way.”

“Will you be okay until we can talk some more?” Chase asked.

“You know I will be. That’s who I am. Go. Work. Make the world a better place.” She attempted a smile then reached out and touched his hand. “Just one thing.”

“What’s that?”
Anything, Bond. Anything that’s within my power is yours
.

“Find out who owns that black Mustang.”