Death's Door (27 page)

“Thanks.” Her voice sounded like a cowering animal’s.

Garrison rose and shook each leg for a millisecond to release the crease in his trousers. “I have a trial to run tomorrow. I’d better go.”

His father, Madison suddenly thought. What would this do to Wyatt? Tonight she’d seen a side of him that few people saw. He was discouraged and slowly failing. “What about your father? I won’t be able to—”

“You won’t be able to help him. Not even if you’re a perfect match. Chagas, like HIV, automatically eliminates you from consideration.” He patted her shoulder. “But having the test was a godsend. Now you know you have an illness and can deal with it.”

“I should go to a hotel. I can’t—”

“Don’t move.” He dropped down on his haunches to look directly into her eyes. “You may be his child. Even if we aren’t related, my father’s not the kind of person to throw someone out who needs help and neither am I.” He rose, again twitching to straighten his pants. “You have to call first thing tomorrow and make an appointment. Get the facts, know what your options are. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

“He’s right,” Paul said. “We’re calling tomorrow at noon. That’s nine in L.A. The offices should be open.”

Madison heard herself thank Garrison and tell him good-night, but all she could think about was money. Where would she get the money to fight this? Even if her mother resurfaced, Madison knew she didn’t have much money. She’d put what little she had into the blasted sailboat her new husband had wanted.

“I don’t have any insurance,” she heard a small voice say.

On the floor at her feet, Aspen had his head on his paws, a mournful expression in his eyes. The animal obviously sensed
the distress in her voice. She was on emotional overload, she decided.
Stay calm. There’s nothing to be gained by panicking
.

Paul put his hand on her shoulder with a gentle, almost tentative touch. The heartrending tenderness in his expression surprised her. “I’ve got money saved. It’s yours.”

His unexpected offer affected her deeply. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she blinked them back, a treacherous lump in her throat. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t know me well enough to waste your hard-earned money on me.” She took a deep breath to still the quaver in her voice.

“I know you well enough to know you’d do anything to save an abused animal. I know you well enough to not be able to stop thinking about you. I know you well enough to know I love you. I’m not going to let you die.”

She walked into his arms, trembling with happiness. It was a highly charged embrace, but it wasn’t sexual. It was like a bear hug you shared after escaping a car crash. He pulled back and gazed down at her. He had the best eyes, eyes that saw right through to her soul. But she couldn’t quite make herself say she loved him, too.

P
AUL LOOKED OUT
the kitchen window. The misty half-light of early dawn was giving way to sunrise. He hadn’t been able to sleep after Garrison had dropped the bombshell about a disease Paul never knew existed.

Somehow he’d managed to get Madison to sleep by holding her in his arms. When he realized she was asleep, Paul slipped out of bed, went out to his car and brought in his laptop. He didn’t know what in hell he’d hoped to find. The Internet search verified everything Garrison had told them. Not that Paul thought the guy was lying. Why would he?

Garrison was self-absorbed. It showed in everything from the way he dressed—never standing for a wrinkle in his trousers—to the way he droned on and on about “discoveries in the sea.” Boring, if you asked Paul. But Garrison wasn’t a bad guy, not really. He’d cared enough to come all the way out here to deliver the news to Madison and have a referral ready for her to use.

It just seemed strange—downright weird—that so much could happen to one woman. All at once.

Something wet touched his hand. Paul jerked it away and stared down at Aspen’s nose. The retriever had been sleeping next to Madison’s bed. The dog was incredibly loyal, considering Madison hadn’t had him very long. Maybe dogs sensed things in people.

“Do you need to go out, boy?” he asked, his voice low. It was barely dawn, and it would be hours before the clinic in L.A.
opened and they could speak with someone. No need to wake Madison and let her worry.

Paul found the leash on a table near the sofa and attached it to Aspen’s collar. He tiptoed out of the bungalow. The salty scent of the sea filled the balmy air. With it came a light breeze that rustled the palm trees.

When he arrived at the path where he’d stood last night with Madison before Wyatt found them, Paul let the dog off the leash. Aspen scampered away but didn’t go too far before lifting his leg on a bush. Paul watched, prepared to pick up after the dog with one of the blue bags in a small canister attached to the leash, but his mind was on Madison.

Had he actually told her he loved her? He wasn’t usually so impulsive. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. It wasn’t that he didn’t mean them…exactly, but the smart move would have been to tell her how much he cared about her without using the “L” word.

Madison sure as hell hadn’t told him she loved him. Maybe she was still in love with that jerk-off of an ex-husband. Or maybe the divorce made her gun-shy. It had been his experience that divorced women had baggage. They were often bitter and felt betrayed. This made new relationships difficult. Paul usually avoided divorced women for this reason.

But Madison had gotten to him—big-time.

He noticed Aspen had deposited a turd the size of Texas on the grass. Paul used a bag from the fob attached to the leash to pick it up. He stood, watching the water while Aspen sniffed around. Garlands of seaweed were being pushed onto the white beach by waves that rolled across the sand.

“Paul, what are you doing here?”

He flinched. How had he gotten the drop on him? Paul usually sensed people before he saw them. It was one of the things that made him a good detective. More than just a little surprised, he turned toward the familiar voice.

“Same question, right back at you,” he said to his father.

Mike studied him with that intense cold gaze that seemed to bore right through you. “Wyatt insisted on immediate protection for Madison Connelly. I didn’t have anyone so I came out myself. If I’d known you were still here, I could have assigned you the shift.”

Paul wasn’t about to discuss his relationship with Madison with his father. Hell, what relationship? He wasn’t sure where he stood with Madison. “Garrison Holbrook got by you in the middle of the night.”

“No, he didn’t. I gave him permission to put a note on the guesthouse door.”

“Did he tell you what was in the note?”

“No. I assumed it was important. Why else would he drive out here so late at night?”

Paul intended to explain the whole situation to his father and get his take on things. “I assume Wyatt told you Erin Wycoff was one of his children.”

Mike nodded. “I don’t like it. Too many of these donor-offspring are turning up dead.” He paused a second as if he expected Paul to say something, then continued. “He said the file was missing from the box, but Pennington’s people found part of her records misfiled. That’s why her name wasn’t on my master list. We just recorded the names on the file tabs. We didn’t have a chance to go through—”

“Just a minute,” Paul said. “Let me get rid of this.” Aspen at his heels, he walked over to the wicker trash can beside the trail and dropped in the dog’s poop bag. He returned to his father’s side, saying, “Could anyone have gotten into those files while they were in your office?”

“It’s possible. Not likely, but possible. I didn’t take any special security measures because I never thought anyone would take them.”

It was lighter now and Paul could see another high-rise
condo that was being built across the water. For every one of them, two nightclubs and three trailer parks sprang up. “I’m convinced someone does not want Wyatt to have that transplant. I doubt it’s either of his kids. I asked last night and he says they don’t stand to benefit from his death. They already have hefty trust funds. We ruled out business competitors. Drug companies are conglomerates and aren’t likely to hire hit men.”

“When you get right down to it, the killer could just murder Wyatt. It would be a lot less trouble than eliminating so many other people.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. We’re missing something.”

“Could be a revenge thing,” his father said, seeming to ponder the idea for a moment. “You don’t make the kind of money the Holbrooks have without pissing off a few people.”

“Is Wyatt known as an asshole?”

Mike shook his head. “His employees seem to love him. Many have been with him for years. But there could be one nutcase out there who wants to see Holbrook suffer a slow, painful death.”

“That’s why he hasn’t killed him.”

“Sure. It would take a lunatic to kill this many people so elaborately. It would take time and money—”

“And brains.”

“True,” Mike said, “which would fit with the stats on serial killers. Most are above average in intelligence. Keep working on it. I’ve got to head to the gate. An agent’s coming to relieve me.”

“There’s one more thing. We spoke with Garrison last night when he came to put the note on the door.” Paul went on to explain that Madison had Chagas. His father hadn’t heard of the disease, either.

Mike raked his fingers through his hair. “Son of a bitch! How did she get it?”

“It’s a single-cell parasite that’s transmitted by a winged insect called a conenose, or a kissing bug because it usually feeds at night. That’s how the parasite gets into the bloodstream.” He gave his father the other information Garrison had told them. Paul had gone online and learned a few more facts.

“This is way too much to happen to one person all at once.”

“Exactly what I think. It made me wonder if this isn’t computer-linked somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

Paul shrugged. “Check with Kirk, your computer guy. The ID theft could have been done with a computer, right? Couldn’t her test results have been altered with a computer?”

“I guess so. That would mean someone close to the family did it. How else would they know Madison had the test?”

“I think it was fairly well-known around the company. Pennington knew. Nathan Cassidy, Savannah’s boyfriend, must have known. Quite a few people actually.”

“Why? What would be the motive?”

Paul shook his head. He’d been up all night asking himself that. “I wonder if it isn’t a way to get her out of town and kill her. You see, the only treatment center is in L.A.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Using a computer, any idiot could check on the Internet and find a rare disease and that there’s only one place to go for treatment.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I have an idea,” Paul said as he reached down to pet Aspen. “You run a lot of drug tests for companies, don’t you?”

“Sure. Just about every business screens its employees for drugs. Why?”

“I’m thinking your lab will do you a favor and conduct another test on Madison. It must be a simple test if the Red Cross runs it on every blood donation they get. We’ll have the results before noon and with luck, she won’t have to go to L.A.”

For a moment his father looked at him as if he couldn’t believe Paul had come up with such a good idea. “I’ll phone the lab as soon as I get to my office. I’ll call you with the information.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

His father turned to go. He stopped a few steps away, then came back and stood beside Paul. “You’re not getting involved with this woman, are you?”

Aw, shit. His father never—absolutely never—asked him personal questions. So why now? He saw no point in lying. It had to be totally obvious. “You could say we’re involved.”

“Happened fast.”

“True.” He wasn’t about to justify his actions or make excuses.

A full minute passed. “That’s how it was with your mother.”

Paul didn’t know what to say. His father never discussed his mother. Paul had learned—just minutes after he discovered his mother had left them—not to mention her name.

“What I’m saying,” his father continued after an uncomfortably long pause, “is to take it slowly. Don’t commit until you know her much better. Some women emotionally castrate you. Learn from my mistake.”

Paul detected the faint echo of loneliness in his father’s voice. He didn’t know how to respond, but he knew his father was right. He had jumped in too quickly. He’d told Madison he loved her before he’d thought it through. He realized he did love her. It had happened very quickly. Still, he should have kept his mouth shut until he had a better sense of how she felt. Did she care about him at all? Or was he merely convenient?

He couldn’t help but wonder if he allowed himself to really love her, would Madison leave him the way his mother had left his father?

M
ADISON LOOKED
across the desk at Paul’s father. The man was staring at her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable.
Mike Tanner was an older version of his son. He was still good-looking in that old Hollywood leading man way. Hair burnished with a touch of silver. Paul’s father didn’t have that middle-aged bulge around his waist that many men had. Inwardly, she smiled. Paul was a hunk now but he would age well.

And he loved her.

She still couldn’t grasp why or how it had happened so suddenly. She didn’t quite trust it. She hadn’t been able to say she loved him because this was a leap she wasn’t ready to take.

Honest to God, she did care about him. Every chance she had she made love to him. It was the best, most satisfying sex she’d ever experienced. But her response wasn’t just physical. Her reaction went beyond sex into a part of her psyche she had never explored.

Until Paul said he loved her, Madison hadn’t quite realized she’d lost herself. Her very being had been unraveling since Erin’s murder. Sometimes there was so little left of the old Madison that she seemed to be living with a total stranger. What could she possibly offer Paul until she got her act together?

“I just received the lab report,” Mike Tanner told them.

For a moment Madison’s mind had drifted to Paul, but she had bigger problems than her love life. So much had hit her—one knockout punch after another—and now this life-threatening disease. She was suddenly glad she was sitting down. A strange weakness had invaded her limbs.

Paul had insisted she take another blood test at the lab his father used. It was eleven o’clock. In another hour she would call the clinic in L.A. and ask for an appointment.

“What does it say?” Paul asked.

“Madison doesn’t have Chagas.”

“Thank God,” she muttered. Unexpectedly the weakness she’d experienced seconds earlier vanished. Anger coursed
through her, hot and deep and astonishingly raw. “Who’s doing this to me? Why?”

“Could it be Garrison? He brought the news,” Paul said. Earlier he’d seemed to have ruled out Garrison, but apparently now he was having second thoughts.

“I don’t think so,” his father replied. “I had the lab call Dr. Miller’s office. The report they had did indicate Chagas.”

“Do you think the report Garrison saw was faulty or did someone tamper with it?” Paul asked.

“It’s impossible to say. Drug tests are computerized. It eliminates human errors. There is no paper trail the way there once was. No one can say this was a rare mistake. They do happen. It would take a forensic computer expert months to see if and when the results were altered. The good news is Madison doesn’t have to fly across the country for treatment.”

“I think there’s a real maniac out there who wants to get rid of Wyatt’s donor-conceived children,” said Paul. “There are too many coincidences in this case.”

“I agree,” Mike responded.

“Let’s shake up the pot,” Paul said. “Call Wyatt and let him know there was a mistake. Don’t say we think the killer was involved. Just say the chances of Madison having Chagas made us retest her. Their lab made a mistake. I’m betting the killer will go ballistic.”

“Wait a minute,” Mike Tanner said. “What about Madison? Won’t that put her in danger?”

Bitterness like nothing she’d ever experienced filled her. “I’ll take my chances. I want to find out who’s behind this.”

“Don’t worry,” Paul said. “We’ll arrange for your protection. Whenever I can’t be with you, I’ll make sure someone is or that you’re somewhere safe, like your office.”

Madison waited while Mike called Wyatt. Her mind was on Wyatt. He’d seemed depressed last night. What was this doing to him? For the first time that Madison could remember she
wanted her mother. How long had it been since they’d spoken? She honestly didn’t remember. But Madison was overdue for a call.

“Any word on the ID theft?” Paul asked his father. “Could that be a mistake?”

Mike’s expression was anything but reassuring. “No, it’s for real. Kirk’s on it. Looks like they sold the ID info to a ring operating out of Atlanta. They’ve tried to open several credit card accounts in Madison’s name, but the major financial reporting bureaus have a freeze on it.”