Death's Door (12 page)

That was the trouble with people. They thought of themselves first. Seeing the bigger picture set you apart. The killer had the bigger picture in mind.

The police didn’t. Those worthless toads hadn’t connected Erin Wycoff’s death to the earlier murders. How stupid could they be?

Now another death was necessary.

Some people
deserved
to die.

It wouldn’t take much to conceal the link between the homicides. The police weren’t going to solve this crime, either.

Name the largest predator that ever roamed the Earth and is still around today.

M
ADISON HARDLY FELT
Paul’s arm encircle her waist. She determinedly stared at the blond man introducing the guests to Garrison and Savannah Holbrook. The man’s assessing gaze should have made her uncomfortable but it didn’t. A spike of anger hit her, and she realized it had been simmering just beneath the surface all evening.

She wasn’t certain where her hostility was coming from exactly. She could blame it on grief over Erin’s death and frustration at the police for failing to find her killer. But she had to admit she’d been irritable and edgy since Paul Tanner first suggested Zach Connelly wasn’t her biological father.

The more people tried to convince her that this was a definite possibility, the more stubbornly she resisted the idea. She’d always been pigheaded to a fault. Even when Aiden began flirting outrageously with Chloe in the office, Madison had refused to admit she had a problem.

“Paul, good to see you again,” said the blond man as he reached out to shake Paul’s hand. He’d told her this man was an attorney who’d been dating Savannah for several years. “This is…?” The lawyer kept his eyes on Madison.

“My date, Madison Connelly.” Paul smiled at her but she could see it was forced. “This is Nathan Cassidy.” He quickly
dropped Nathan’s hand and spoke to the Holbrooks. “Madison, this is Garrison and Savannah Holbrook.”

“Hello. Glad you could come,” Savannah responded in a low voice that Madison knew men must find incredibly sexy. For an instant, she wondered what Paul thought of Savannah, but the thought vanished as Garrison spoke.

“Madison Connelly. Your name sounds really familiar. Have we met?” Garrison asked with a smile that made her like him immediately. “Of course not. I’d remember your face.”

“No,” she replied with what she hoped was an answering smile.

“Enjoy your evening,” Savannah said with a quick glance at her brother.

Madison realized Wyatt Holbrook’s children had not been told about her. She murmured something and let Paul sweep her into the next room.

“Let’s get a drink.” Paul guided her, his arm still around her waist, to the bar set up in a living room the size of an airplane hangar. The heat from his hand on her bare skin caused a shiver.

The room reflected Addison Mizner’s fascination with Spanish-Moorish architecture, but with a modern twist. Comfortable yet elegant sofas and chairs in muted shades of beige and moss-green were strategically placed. Several coffee tables provided a center for each grouping. Those tables seemed to feature what must be rare shells or pieces of coral.

One table in particular caught her eye. A blue fan shell the size of a coral reef nearly blocked her view of the couple sitting on the sofa beyond the shell. It was such an unusual shade of deep blue with phosphorus highlights that Madison wondered if some decorator had painted it.

More shells and what must be coral were featured on the walls in clusters of prints or watercolors. Even from a distance she could tell they were extremely detailed and Madison suspected they were original Audubons. Had he done shells and coral? She wasn’t sure.

In sharp contrast to the casual furniture, black lacquer cabinets were centered at intervals along the walls. They appeared to be English eighteenth-century antiques and were exploding with collections of blue and white Chinese porcelain. She seemed to remember from her days as a docent that wealthy people who’d patronized Addison Mizner had been avid collectors of Chinese porcelain.

She wondered if these pieces had been in Wyatt Holbrook’s wife’s family. She’d studied his profile on the Internet and had learned he was a self-made man, but his wife had come from a wealthy family who had lived in the area before the First World War, when Mizner had been hired to design the first of the megamansions in South Florida.

“Just sparkling water for me,” she told the bartender when they reached the bar. She wanted to have all her wits about her when she met Wyatt Holbrook.

“Scotch rocks,” Paul said as the bartender handed Madison her drink.

She wondered why she’d agreed to meet the man who obviously had everything he desired—except a healthy liver. She’d told Paul that it was curiosity, but her inquisitive nature was only part of the reason she was here. Rob’s reaction had convinced her to at least meet Wyatt Holbrook.

Still—she knew in her heart of hearts—Zach Connelly was her biological father. Her gut instinct rarely failed her, especially when it was this intense. Something else was going on here besides the search for donor-conceived children.

Once she met Wyatt, she felt certain she would be able to figure out what was happening. It could be as simple as an honest mistake. Her mother could have visited the clinic and somehow the records had been mixed up. It wasn’t as if New Horizons was the most ethical clinic in the country. Anything was possible.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Paul said when he had his Scotch. “I’m starving.”

Madison was too keyed up to eat but she allowed him to take her through the open doors leading from the enormous room to the oceanfront terrace. Music drifted over the crowd that seemed to be standing around talking to one another like old friends. She didn’t know anyone in Palm Beach, but she’d heard about the exclusive enclave’s reputation for snobbery.

She didn’t care. Even if she made millions, Madison would never want a home here. There were better, more meaningful things to do with money than spend it on a lavish mansion built early in the last century when rich people had scads of servants to maintain homes the size of hotels.

She thought of how Erin had come into a windfall of money yet didn’t plan to use it selfishly. She was supporting a worthy cause in Save the Chimps. Madison had investigated them on the Internet and knew the nonprofit group helped chimpanzees that had been used in scientific experiments. Often they had been alone for years, confined to a cage and subjected to horrors she could only imagine. Save the Chimps brought them to a parklike setting where they could live together and roam the grounds in freedom after years of abuse.

It was a much better use of money, she decided. As soon as Erin’s murder was solved and Madison had control of the money, it was going to help the chimps. It was what Erin would have wanted.

“Looks like they’re carving roast beef over there,” Paul said. “Sound good?”

Paul escorted her through the crowd showing off their diamonds and designer clothes to one of several food stations where handsome young men in chef’s hats were serving food.

“I think I would rather have the shrimp,” Madison said, although she still didn’t feel like eating anything. “Let’s get your roast beef first.”

She waited at his side while the chef carved Paul a generous portion of rare roast beef. Interesting, she thought, she’d
expected him to order a well-done portion. Why, she couldn’t say. There was something straight-arrow yet wildly unconventional about Paul Tanner.

When he’d shown up tonight, it was all she could do not to drool. He was a striking man who oozed enough testosterone for a dozen guys—under normal circumstances. But when dressed in a tuxedo, there was something overwhelmingly attractive about him. It was a rough-hewn masculinity that stood out in sharp contrast to the other men present tonight. They all seemed slightly effeminate, as if they couldn’t hold their own in a fight.

Not Paul Tanner.

She’d watched out of the corner of her eye as they’d waited in the reception line, then made their way outside. Women tracked Paul as he passed and the men looked up and took notice. She wasn’t much at reading lips, but she’d caught several gorgeous women whispering:
Who is he?

“Let’s get you some shrimp and find a table,” Paul said after he’d been served.

They moved a few feet over to where an ice sculpture of a humongous clamshell showcased a mound of jumbo shrimp. The chef handed her three huge shrimp artfully arranged in a martini glass filled with cocktail sauce.

“Looks good,” Paul commented as they moved away.

It was an interesting way of serving shrimp, but her mind wasn’t on food. “When do we see Wyatt Holbrook?”

“Tobias Pennington, his personal assistant, will come for us.” Paul found a tall round table at the edge of the crowd and placed his plate and drink on it.

Madison set her two glasses beside his. The table came to just above her waist but it was much lower for Paul. Since the tabletop was so small, she had to stand closer to him than she would have liked. “I hope he doesn’t make us wait too long.”

“Why not? We could dance.”

A three-piece group was playing soft rock and a few people were dancing near the pool on a small dance floor that had been put down for the party. Normally, she liked to dance, but she didn’t want to find herself in Paul’s arms. Something about him kept her on edge. He was far too hot for his own good and kept looking at her in a way that made her uncomfortable. She needed to meet Wyatt Holbrook and leave. What she’d do then, she wasn’t sure.

Instead of answering Paul, she picked up a piece of shrimp and nibbled on it. It was delicious. Many people overcooked shrimp, her father often had told her, making it tough. Not this shrimp. It was tender and had just the right amount of cocktail sauce on it from being placed tail up in the martini glass. Her father would have approved and she reminded herself to try this at home, just as soon as she found a new place to live.

“How’s the beef?” she asked because Paul was watching her, his square jaw working as he chewed.

“Great.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Here comes Garrison.”

“He doesn’t know why I’m here, does he?”

“From his reaction at the door, I’d say no.”

“Don’t tell him. I’d like to get in and out of here with as little fuss as possible.”

“You don’t know Garrison. He’s every bit as smart as his father. Maybe smarter. He’ll put two and two together and figure out why you’re here.”

“Getting enough to eat?” Garrison asked as he came up to them, a crystal highball glass in one hand. It appeared to contain vodka on the rocks with a twist of lime.

“Yes, thanks,” Paul replied for them.

Garrison turned to Madison. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you if you were considering donating to my father’s foundation. It’s a very worthy cause, you know.”

Madison shook her head. “No, I’m here to interview him for a blog, HighKinkz.”

Garrison shot her with the old tried-and-true finger pistol as he chuckled. “Good one. Real good.” Smiling, he stared at her for a moment, then said, “You must be one of my father’s…ah…offspring.”

She noticed he hadn’t used the term “half sister” and realized this was his way of distancing himself. It hit her that this mansion, and the money involved, must make Wyatt Holbrook’s heirs feel protective. A half sibling might threaten them somehow.

“I’m certain I’m not one of—”

“Forgive me. Offspring sounds so…silly. The idea of having brothers and sisters I never knew existed takes some mental adjustment. It’s great. I mean it. My father isn’t just any man. He’s extraordinary. Saving his life is really important.”

There was no mistaking the sincerity in Garrison’s voice. His vibrant green eyes radiated heartfelt anxiety. Madison didn’t blame him. She would have given everything she had or ever hoped to have to save her own father.

“I understand.” All the anger she’d been harboring vanished.

“You must be from the Boston area,” Garrison told her.

Madison knew he believed this because his father had used clinics there while he’d been in medical school. She wasn’t sure how much she should say. For reasons she didn’t have time to evaluate, she didn’t want these people to know too much about her, but she couldn’t lie. “No. I live right here in Florida.”

“Really?” Garrison’s gaze shifted to Paul.

“I found a few files in another location. They led me to Madison.”

Garrison’s brow creased, but instead of asking Paul for details, he turned to Madison. “What do you do?”

“I work at an online game,” she replied, deliberately underplaying her role in the company.

“Interesting,” he replied, but, despite his smile, she doubted he gave one whit about online games.

“What do you do?” she asked.

“I have a laboratory.” He pronounced it “la-bore-atory,” as if he were British. Her initial impression had been favorable. He seemed like a nice man who was terribly worried about his father’s health. Now she wondered if he deserved the snobby reputation that was associated with Palm Beach. “I’m developing biologic drugs.”

“Ah,” she replied, to show him she wasn’t an airhead gamer, “drugs made from living organisms.”

“Yes,” he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Most people don’t know much about it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know a lot. But I do know that drugs made from living organisms—the new frontier apparently—aren’t subject to patent laws like drugs made in the lab by man. Those patents expire, then they become affordable generic drugs.”

“True, but biologics are harder to develop than drugs created in a lab. I specialize in using organisms from the sea. The largest predator that ever lived is still alive—”

“The sperm whale,” she interjected before she could stop herself. “It’s fifty tons or more and roamed the sea back in the days of dinosaurs.”

For an instant his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, then he quirked an eyebrow and winked at her. “Correct. Man came from the sea. The most powerful forces in nature, like tsunamis and volcanoes, are in the sea. Answers to health problems in the new millennium will come from—”

“Garrison, here you are,” Savannah said as she swanned up to them in the lime-green sheath that fit her like a tattoo, Nathan Cassidy in tow. “We need—”

“You met Madison Connelly. She’s here to see if she can
help
Father.”

“Oh?” The beautiful redhead stared at Madison as if she’d spotted a deadly snake coiled to strike. “I—I thought we were having trouble locating—”