The Silence That Speaks (12 page)

Casey’s lips twitched. “I hear you. It can wait until morning.”

Marc nodded. “Anything else before I take off?”

“Hmm?” Casey’s wheels were still turning. “No, you go catch some sleep. I have some strategizing to do. Dr. Sharon Gilding is still bugging me.”

“Yeah, well, that neurosurgeon is a bitch. There’s also something going on beneath the surface. I sense it, too.”

“I have to decide which member of the FI team can get the most information out of her. I’m thinking Claire. She’s the softest and least threatening of us. Plus, she a woman. I don’t think Bitch Doctor likes men.”

“Particularly her chief competitor.”

“Conrad.”

Marc nodded. “My thoughts exactly. I don’t care what she says, Gilding resents the hell out of him for being Ronald’s and Casper’s first choice to be chief of surgery—a job she thinks rightfully belongs to her.”

“Maybe Claire can zero in on how deep that anger and resentment go if she’s with Gilding one-on-one, without the distractions she had to deal with at the dedication ceremony.”

“What ‘in’ would Claire use to set up a meeting with Gilding?”

Casey arched a brow. “She’d appeal to Bitch Doctor’s ego. She’d tell her that all she heard at the dedication ceremony was that Gilding was the best neurosurgeon ever. She’d ask for a half hour of her time to better understand the human brain. It would help her get a grip on her psychic abilities, to understand whether or not they’re real or even plausible.”

Marc chuckled. “I can hardly wait to hear Claire’s reaction to that.”

“She’ll hate it. But if it helps solve the case, she’ll do it. The plan needs fine-tuning to make it convincing. That’s what I’ll be doing while you’re sleeping and Ryan is enjoying his ‘plans.’” She paused. “And in the morning, I’ll be calling ‘Information Central.’”

“Janet Moss.”

“Uh-huh. It’s time that she and I set up a firm lunch date.”

* * *

Fonextricity or “Trix”—the nickname chosen by the MixMasters, an online group of hard-core audiophiles—refilled a goblet with zinfandel to ease the daily stress away. The first glass had taken the edge off. The next one would do the trick.

For the past month, Trix had been asking for advice about synthesizers from fellow MixMasters. A decision about which one to purchase had been made, and Trix was vibrating from excitement at the thought of using the Roland Jupiter-80 synthesizer that had just been delivered. The Sam Ash salesman had promised that this was a big step up from the Juno that Trix was currently using. The online advice and reviews were compelling. The eager salesman threw in a one-year warranty on the gently used Jupiter. So, it was bye-bye, Juno, hello, Jupiter.

The question was: What song to try on the new Roland?

The wine helped the answer surface. A perfect choice. The first track to be laid down would be the violins...the most important instrumental voices in the whole endeavor.

Beginning the process, Trix’s left hand glided over the keys to get a feel for the new synthesizer. Right hand unplugged the USB drive from the MacBook Pro. A frown. The drive looked funny—a white cable paired with a black drive. Looked like a mutant black rat with a white tail. Well, waste not, want not. Might as well reuse the drive even if the color scheme didn’t match. The damned thing hadn’t contained the desired information, anyway.

Pivoting around on the swivel chair, Trix reached for the masking tape and a black Sharpie in the desk drawer, and then swiveled back. Ripping off a two-inch piece of tape, Trix slapped it on the small drive, clicked the retractable Sharpie and wrote in bold block letters “November 5, 2014—Pachelbel.”

14

CASEY TOSSED AND
turned all night.

She felt as if she and her team were running down a dozen labyrinthine paths, but there was no central focus to their investigation.

Someone wanted Madeline and Conrad dead. It could be for information, but that wouldn’t apply if the killers were Nancy and/or her children. Their motive would be revenge, in which case, the hard drive would be superfluous. Or would it? Had they trashed Conrad’s and Madeline’s apartments and stolen the hard drive looking for evidence—evidence that documented Conrad’s guilt, whether accidental or premeditated, in Ronald’s death? Which begged the question: Why the hell would Conrad deliberately kill his best friend—over a potential merger that would offer him a prestigious position and lots of money?

It didn’t fit. Even if it did, how could Conrad intentionally screw up a surgery without one of his crackerjack surgical team members spotting it? Further, if they did notice it, how did Conrad keep them quiet? Pay them off to keep their mouths shut?

With a disgusted sound, Casey threw off the covers and got up. It was five in the morning and still dark outside. A November wind was blowing piles of leaves around, leaving shadows on the windowpane and a chill in the air. It was the perfect time to snuggle back under the covers and doze.

Not happening. Casey was already reaching for her robe.

Hero’s head popped up in surprise.

“It’s okay, boy,” Casey reassured him. “I’m just making a cup of coffee and getting some files. I’ll be back in a minute. You rest.”

Hero gave her one of his astute brown-eyed stares. Then he put his head down between his front paws. He didn’t shut his eyes, though, and Casey knew he wouldn’t—not until she was back in the room.

Five minutes later, she walked back in, smiling as Hero spotted her, after which he closed his eyes and settled into his doggy sofa for more sleep. Casey envied him.

Accepting that her own restless night’s sleep was over, she placed her coffee cup on the nightstand, and plopped the file folders near her pillow. She picked up her backrest and positioned it at the head of the bed. Then she switched on her lamp, and crawled into the bed, settling herself to do some work.

She reviewed everything she had, and the frustration she felt kept growing. Even the empty file folder labeled “Conrad, Personal” that Hero had sniffed out for Patrick had been a dead end. No prints other than Madeline’s. And to the best of Madeline’s recollection, there had been nothing inside the folder but the scorecard from Conrad’s best round of golf, World Series ticket stubs and a photo of him, Ronald and Doug Wilton looking like the Three Musketeers. Memorable but meaningless to FI’s investigation.

Claire had sensed lots of negative energy on the folder, but none that translated into a name or a person.

Tons of theories, no resolutions.

Opening the Ronald Lexington file, Casey reread the facts she already knew. Well-liked and well-respected hospital administrator. Family consists of blah, blah, blah. Charismatic and charming, with a reputation for liking the ladies—maybe a bit too much.

Rereading those facts again, two thoughts popped into Casey’s head. One, did Nancy know about her husband’s philandering? Two, why was there no information in this file about Ronald’s surgery?

The answer to the first question was obvious in Casey’s mind now that she’d spent time with Nancy Lexington. The woman was smart. Casey doubted there was anything about Ronald she didn’t know. If he was cheating on her, she knew it, and she’d know with whom and how many paramours there were.

How she reacted to that knowledge was another story entirely. It was definitely worth finding out once Ryan’s tools were in place. And definitely worth the FI team finding out who those ladies were and if any of them had a grudge against Conrad.

The first question led directly into the second. The reason the FI team hadn’t gathered more information on Ronald’s surgery or his personal life was because his death had never been a focus in this investigation. Now that Conrad had become a target and Madeline was not only his ex-wife, but a member of the code team who’d been present in the O.R. when Ronald died, everything had changed. Conrad’s credibility as a surgeon and his motives regarding Ronald’s survival were all of a sudden in question.

The first person to shed light on this new investigative angle was Conrad himself.

Casey knew he’d been released from Danbury Hospital. She had to get Conrad’s consent to interview him at Crest Haven without having his psychiatrist perched by his side.

That shouldn’t be a problem. When she and Marc had visited him at Crest Haven last time, he’d indicated that he was amenable to talking to them without Dr. Oberlin present. Casey doubted he’d changed his mind, especially now that his own life was also at stake.

But Dr. Oberlin wasn’t the only obstacle. The facility believed Conrad had tried to commit suicide, which meant that the Crest Haven staff would be watching his every move.

Conrad had given Casey his direct number. She’d call him first and get him on board. After that, she’d need Madeline to make the official phone call to initiate the process, and hopefully get past the suicide patrol.

Taking a sip of coffee, Casey drew up her knees, holding the mug with one hand and drumming her fingers on it with the other. She’d shower, get dressed and grab something quick to eat. Then she’d take Hero for a long walk.

By that time it would be late enough to make her phone calls.

* * *

Emma had only been candy-striping for a few days, but already she was bored and restless. That was
her
problem. Casey had been hard as nails when she’d reiterated her expectations. And the truth was, Emma was kind of loving her job at Forensic Instincts, sans Yoda, whom she wished she could smack. But in spite of his pain-in-the-ass lectures on the proper roles and responsibilities of candy-striping, she didn’t want to screw up this job. Soon a month of her probation period would be over. Two more months and she’d be official. She’d get a Forensic Instincts employee ID card, the pass code to the Hirsch pad and maybe even some cool business cards to show off.

So she’d put up with Yoda, stick around this antiseptic place that had all the excitement of a high school library and give Casey the information and the access she needed. To do that, she’d keep her eyes and ears open. Most important, she’d flirt with that IT loser, Roger, until she’d gotten what she needed from him.

That part would be like old times, only easier, since Roger spent most of his time gawking at her face and body, making his awareness of anything else zero. Casey had given her free rein to pick the right opportunity to go for it. Piece of cake. Once she’d finished her job, the team would act, deciding where to concentrate their efforts in the hospital’s internal data system before kicking their plan into motion. Emma couldn’t wait. How awesome was that going to be? Not to mention that she could get the hell out of here and rejoin the team.

With that motivation, she headed over to a chattering group of candy stripers to see if there was any new gossip she’d missed.

* * *

Ryan almost collided with Casey and Hero in the doorway of the brownstone.

His head came up, and his brows rose in surprise. “Hey. You guys are out walking early. Something up?”

Casey arched a brow. “An interesting choice of words. It’s the reason Marc talked me out of calling you last night. Have fun?”

A corner of Ryan’s mouth lifted, and he leaned over to scratch Hero’s ears. “Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Oh, please.” Casey rolled her eyes. “Your life is about as private as a celebrity’s.”

“Touché. Okay, I had a great night. Now, what were you going to call me about?”

Casey filled him in on what he needed to do regarding the Lexingtons.

“It’ll be in place this morning. What else?”

“Morning.” Marc strolled over, interrupting them and glancing at Ryan. “Did you do the gym today, or were you too wiped out?”

“I don’t get wiped out.” Ryan didn’t even blink. “Just recharged. I’ll go for a run later and the gym tonight. Okay by you?”

Marc chuckled.

“What happened with that sleazy kid you were eyeballing last night?” Ryan asked.

“What sleazy kid?” Casey turned to Marc.

“There was a young guy hanging out near Conrad’s place,” Marc replied briefly. “I got a bad feeling from him. Turns out he was about to mug a woman and snatch her purse. I took care of him.”

“What do you mean, you took care of him?” Casey knew there was something missing. She just didn’t know what. And she wasn’t happy with the expression on Marc’s face. It was too intense. He looked...emotionally involved.

“I roughed him up a little. Scared him a lot. Ended the problem.”

That definitely was an understatement. When Marc spoke in short, terse phrases like that, the situation was worse than he was saying.

“Did you do any permanent damage?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

Marc shrugged. “Maybe I choked him a little too hard. He’ll live.”

“What did this woman look like?”

“Is this an interrogation?” Marc asked. “She was a woman. Mid-thirties, dark hair—I couldn’t make out her taste in clothing in the dark.”

That description was enough. And it explained why Marc had gone overboard in his actions.

Now was not the time to get into this.

“Getting back to what we were discussing, I was just filling Ryan in,” Casey said instead. “I’m about to call Conrad and then Madeline. Time to make the necessary arrangements to set up a meeting with Conrad. We need to know more about what happened during Ronald’s surgery to understand whether that could be a motive for targeting Conrad.” She gave Marc a questioning look. “Wanna drive up to Crest Haven with me?”

“Absolutely.” He didn’t hesitate for an instant.

“Good. Also, I’ll be making that phone call to Janet Moss. Hopefully our lunch will happen in a day or two.”

“What about Bitch Doctor?”

Ryan blinked. “Bitch Doctor? Ah, you must mean the charming Sharon Gilding.”

“None other. Marc will explain my plan to you. It involves Claire. I need to talk to her.” Another pointed look at Ryan. “Any idea when she’ll be coming in?”

“I’m here.” Claire walked over and joined the group, looking puzzled. “Why are we meeting on the sidewalk?”

“Good point.” Casey punched in the alarm code and opened the front door. “Let’s go up to the conference room.” She walked past Emma’s empty desk and headed for the stairs. The other team members followed suit.

“This will be a quick update to get us all on the same page,” Casey said as they rounded the landing. “Followed by a one-on-one between Claire and me.”

“Good morning, Casey, Marc, Ryan, Claire and Hero,” Yoda greeted them politely as they opened the conference room door. “The room is set at seventy-two degrees. Is that sufficient?”

“Perfect, Yoda.”

“Will Patrick be joining you?”

“He’s finishing up a night shift at Madeline’s,” Casey replied. “My guess is that he’ll swing by here in a while, but I’ll conference him in on my iPad.”

“I’ll connect FaceTime for you while you get settled.”

“Great, Yoda, thanks.”

Once inside, everyone settled down, and Patrick’s face appeared on Casey’s screen. Despite having put in a long overnight shift, he looked totally awake and ready to go.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning.” Casey shook her head in admiration. “You’re unbelievable. If it weren’t for your five-o’clock shadow, I’d never know you worked all night.”

Patrick gave a half grin. “Maybe I’m getting older but better. Plus, Madeline made me a terrific dinner and an equally terrific breakfast. A meat loaf that rivals my wife’s and a Western omelet. Tons of protein, flavor and energy.”

Casey smiled back. “I’m beginning to wish
I’d
done security duty there last night.” She paused. “Patrick, after I bring you up to speed and we have our meeting, could you put Madeline on the screen?”

“Sure. Right now she’s calling her doctor to see when she can go back to work.”

“Isn’t it too soon?” Claire asked.

He shrugged. “That’s her doctor’s decision, not ours. She seems to be coming back to herself pretty quickly.” Patrick leaned forward. “Bring me up to date.”

Casey did just that, filling in details for Ryan and Claire, as well. Marc knew more than the others, since he’d been at the office when Casey was rolling out theories and strategies. The only part he wasn’t aware of was her early morning thinking and the conclusions that had arisen from that.

“I convinced Crest Haven to allow one of my security guys to stand outside Conrad’s room,” Patrick informed Casey. “He has to be invisible and agree not to interfere with any of the treatment center’s schedules or procedures. But they
do not
want a lawsuit. So, since it’s costing them nothing, they’ll accept the added protection—just in the event that Conrad didn’t try to kill himself, but someone else did.”

“How magnanimous of them,” Casey said drily. “They should be thanking you.”

“That’ll never happen. I’m just glad Conrad will be protected. Whatever the hell is going on here, he’s as much at risk as Madeline.”

Casey nodded, and then glanced around the room. “So, is everyone good?”

“One more thing,” Ryan said. “I’ve run a thorough background check on every single name on that personal list Madeline gave us. The combined stories read like a soap opera, but individually each of them is a Boy or Girl Scout. There isn’t a shred of evidence to suggest motivation for murder. It’s time we kissed this angle goodbye.”

“Then it’s time to set Emma into motion, and have her do what we put her in that hospital to do,” Casey replied, speaking directly to Ryan. “She’ll steal the access card so that you can dig into the hospital computer systems.”

“Yes.” Ryan pumped his fist in the air. “Finally. A real challenge.”

“I’m still in the dark,” Claire chimed in. “I have no idea what you want me to do.”

“We’ll take care of that now.” Casey looked back at Patrick’s face on her screen. “Now that you’re current on everything, you don’t have to stop by the office before heading home. Get some sleep. We’ll talk later today. Maybe we’ll have updates for you by then.”