The Silence That Speaks (8 page)

Janet looked enthralled, like a teenager who’d just met a rock star. “I love crime investigation TV shows.”

Casey saw an “in” and grabbed it. “So do I, although they tend to stretch the truth or sometimes distort it. Real-life investigations are very different.”

“How so?” Janet leaned in to hear more.

With a rueful expression, Casey glanced over at Madeline. “I’d love to explain all this to you, but I think Madeline is tiring. She did us a huge favor by letting us share in this day. I don’t want to tax her any more than necessary.”

“Of course.” All Janet’s excitement was extinguished in the blink of an eye.

Casey chewed her lip in alleged contemplation. Then she pulled out her iPhone. “Give me your cell phone number. I’ll text you my contact information. Maybe we can get together for lunch.”

“Really?” That excitement was back.

Casey’s thumb was poised and ready on her keypad. “Of course. As I said, this hospital—and Madeline—have been very good to us. If I can return the favor in any way, I’d be delighted.”

Janet rattled off her cell number in about ten seconds.

Casey added it to her contacts, then forwarded her own information to Janet. A trill of tones told her the text had been received.

“It’s here,” Janet confirmed. She gave Casey a radiant smile. “May I text you later today?”

“No problem. Just give me a sense of your schedule. I’ll look at my calendar. We’ll have lunch either this week or next.”

“Wonderful.”

“Let’s get going, Madeline.” Casey’s concern was real as she saw how peaked Madeline had become. “We’ll drop you off at home so you can rest.”

Madeline nodded. “Thank you.”

“It was great meeting you, Janet.” Casey shook her hand.

“You, too. I can’t wait for our lunch.” The instant Janet released Casey’s grip, she began scanning her electronic calendar. Good. The sooner this lunch happened, the better.

In the meantime, Casey’s work here was done.

She made eye contact with each member of her team. They all got the message and gave quick nods, telling Casey that they were wrapping up whatever they were involved in and then making their way to the van.

Time to get the investigation moving.

9

THE FORENSIC INSTINCTS
team gathered around the oval conference table. Hero padded in to join them, stretching out in his usual spot beside Casey, looking comfortable but attentive. He seemed to know that this room meant serious business, so he never romped or slobbered on his beloved team members during meetings here.

Casey set down her cup of coffee, and took her regular seat at the head of the table, pausing only to lean over and scratch Hero’s floppy ears. She then crossed her legs, interlaced her fingers on the table and leaned forward.

“First, those of us who attended Ronald Lexington’s dedication ceremony will go around the table and share impressions,” she began. “Then we’ll move on to any information Ryan and Patrick have to share.” She paused. “Yoda, please record this meeting and project any necessary documents on the screen.”

“I’m fully prepared, Casey,” Yoda replied. “I’ve already activated the record function. And I’ll be on alert until you need me.”

“Thank you.” Casey glanced around the table, her gaze settling on Emma. “Good news for you, newbie. You charmed Jacob Casper with your earnest desire to help people and your bubbly personality. Madeline sealed the deal by pitching your abilities. You’re in. You’ll fill out the necessary paperwork, attend the requisite class and start next week as a candy striper.”

“Class?” Emma sat up in her seat. “No one said anything about school. I suck at school. If there’s a test, I’ll fail it. Also, what do you mean I’ll
start
as a candy striper? I thought this was a one-shot deal.”

Casey’s lips twitched. “You’ll do just fine. As for candy striping, it would look awfully suspicious if you checked in, worked for a day and then vanished. You’re supposed to be committed to this. Plus, you working at the hospital will give me a viable reason for visiting—which I need to do to chat up potential suspects. Do it for a few weeks. Then I’ll come up with a reason why you’re needed here full-time, and you’ll get a reprieve. Consider it a character-building experience.”

Sulky and irked, Emma propped her chin on her palm and muttered, “I consider it a pain in the ass.”

“You’ll live,” Ryan assured her with a broad grin.

“Unlikely.”

“Pardon me for interrupting,” Yoda said. “But I can tutor Emma in what she needs to know. There is extensive information available on how to be a candy striper.”

“Good idea, Yoda,” Casey replied. “Please start right after the meeting.”

“Are you kidding me?” Emma had had it. “That artificial intelligence know-it-all lectures me all day long. Now he’s going to be my teacher, too?”

Ryan threw back his head and burst out laughing. “Take it in stride, spitfire,” he advised her. “Yoda is brilliant. Just look at who created him.”

“I’m going to puke,” Claire said under her breath.

“So am I,” Emma echoed. “It’s bad enough I had to suck up to that loser, Roger the IT guy. Now I have to do all
this?
”

“You’re just spoiled.” Ryan continued to tease her. “You’re used to me—an IT genius
and
a hunk. You don’t get all that in one package. I’m one of a kind.”

Claire shoved back her chair and rose. “I need a cup of herbal tea—or something stronger.”

“What’s the matter, Clairevoyant? Is it something I said?”

“I’m just thirsty.” Claire shot Ryan a look. “A cup of chamomile tea and honey is just what I need. It’s the perfect way to quell a wave of nausea.”

Ryan had opened his mouth to taunt Claire further when Patrick interrupted.

“Enough, kiddies. Let’s save the playground behavior for later.” As always, Patrick was the stabilizing force of the group. “As for the candy-striping, we all have to suck it up sometimes. This time it’s you, Emma. Now let’s move on.”

“I couldn’t have said it better.” Casey nodded gratefully in Patrick’s direction. There was a steady, no-bullshit quality about him. It was innate, but definitely enhanced by the thirty-plus years he’d spent working Violent Crimes at the Bureau. He was like the father of the FI team, and they all respected him when he spoke up.

“Back to the subject at hand,” Casey continued. “I had the chance to meet Ronald Lexington’s widow and children, as well as to chat with a half dozen doctors and nurses—a few of which are standouts—not to mention Jacob Casper and his administrative assistant.

“Let’s start with Nancy Lexington.” Casey frowned. “Boy, does she detest Madeline. Her anger is off the charts. And I’m not sure it’s solely because Madeline was married to Conrad. I think there’s more to it, maybe even more to her. Just a gut feeling I have. Her kids dislike Madeline, too, but it’s not the same. Still, I wouldn’t write them off as suspects, or maybe accomplices.”

“Interesting.” Ryan pursed his lips. “I’ll have to dig into those three.”

“Do that.”

“On to Casper. He’s a piece of work,” Marc said. “Tries to come off like Ronald Lexington’s legacy and falls short.”

“Do you think he’s full of it?”

“I think he’s a politician soliciting votes. Becoming hospital administrator of a massive institution like the one the merger would create would open
huge
doors for him. Whether or not it goes deeper than that, I’d need time to figure out.” Marc glanced down at his notes. “Dr. Sharon Gilding stuck out, as well. She’s definitely got a bug up her ass. She looks at Madeline with extreme resentment, and glares at her whenever she thinks no one’s watching.”

“I caught that, too,” Casey said. “She’s also in competition with Conrad to become the chief of surgery of the combined hospital entity. She claims to be fine with that and to respect the hell out of him. I don’t believe her. And the cake topper is that she was tight with Ronald Lexington. She played down the relationship, but where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire. Frankly I just don’t trust her.”

“Nor do I.” Claire contributed her thoughts on the matter. “There was negative energy all around her. It increased when she looked at or addressed Madeline.”

“Then we’d better dig deeper and find out more about her,” Casey concluded. “We’ll start by talking to Madeline tomorrow.”

“I can tell you now that she’d be a close second to Conrad in securing that chief of surgery position.” Ryan glanced down at his printouts. He’d done a cursory job of researching every employee at the hospital. More in-depth analysis was in the works. “She a world-class neurosurgeon. Great educational pedigree and flawless professional history. She could definitely give Conrad a run for his money, especially if his mental state keeps him from performing the way he did before Lexington’s death.”

“Or if he doesn’t come back at all.” Casey gestured at Ryan’s notes. “Find out more.”

“Already working on it, boss.”

“I’ve got more names on my list,” Marc continued. “A few employees—or their spouses—who attended the dedication and whose behavior toward Madeline seemed off.”

“I wonder how many of those names match the ones I compiled,” Claire said, reseating herself with her cup of herbal tea.

“I’ve got a couple of names myself,” Emma surprised them by saying. “When I wasn’t pretending to hook up with Mr. IT Loser, I did some glancing around.” Her brows arched when she saw the team’s surprised reaction. “Don’t look so shocked. How do you think I used to pick my marks? I checked them out. Not the way you do, but my way. So I can tell you that there were at least three women at that ceremony who hate Madeline’s guts. I don’t know their names, but I can describe them. I can also tell you why they hate her. They’re dowdy, with knockoff clothes and purses, along with costume jewelry. Madeline is rich and pretty. She dresses expensively, but everything’s understated. She’s divorced, free to live her own life any way she wants to and is loaded to boot. That’s a lot of reasons for the average woman to detest someone.”

Casey’s lips twitched again. “Ah, Emma, you’re so young to be such a cynic.”

“Young but smart. You know that everything I just said is right.”

“Yes, I do.” Casey took out her file and opened it to review her own notes and take new ones. “Let’s go over each of our lists. I’m curious to see how many matches we have.” She glanced up. “Oh, and by the way, I’m scheduling a lunch with Janet Moss. She’s been the hospital administrator’s assistant for years. She’s the go-to person, in my opinion—the information hub of the hospital.”

“Yeah, she wields a fair amount of power.” Ryan was scanning his notes again. “She moved up the ranks quickly, and kept in close contact with everyone she worked with along the way. They’re all still chummy with her, if you read her personal emails. Which, of course, I did. I’ll know more after I gain access to the hospital computer system. As a side note, Ronald Lexington relied heavily upon her.”

“Any sign of a romantic link?”

“None that I’ve seen yet. Then again, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, especially if they were discreet. My male radar says that Lexington slept with a quarter of the female hospital staff and hit on the rest.” Ryan saw Casey’s expression and modified his statement. “Okay, I’m exaggerating. But when people call him a player, they’re not lying. I can’t wait to read his email exchanges.”

“Till then, let’s get started compiling our lists.” Casey looked up. “Yoda, I need a whiteboard, with half a dozen headings and lots of space underneath each of them.”

“Done, Casey.” The virtual whiteboard appeared on the long wall behind Casey.

It suddenly occurred to her that Patrick had been unusually quiet during this meeting.

“Patrick?” A questioning look. “Anything to share before we start our analysis?”

Patrick was tapping his pen on the table. “I’m working on a different lead. Hero and I took a walk around Madeline’s apartment building while you were at the ceremony. I brought the scent pads you made from Madeline’s scarf.”

He was referring to the special gauze pads Casey used, along with what Ryan called “her canine vacuum,” to make scent pads from the personal belongings of their clients. Sniffing out people or items those people had been in contact with was Hero’s specialty.

“Hero went straight to the obvious places,” Patrick continued. “The walkway to Madeline’s building. The front door. But he also came to a dead halt and started barking near a low window in back of the building. I let him do his thing. He unearthed a file folder, an empty one, unfortunately. But it was labeled Conrad, Personal.

“Really.” Claire leaned forward. “I’d like to hold that folder, if it’s okay with you. I might pick up on something.”

“After I dust it for prints,” Patrick replied. “I used gloves to retrieve it, and I put it in a Ziploc.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “Old habits die hard. I guess I’ll always be a dinosaur FBI agent.”

“You’re no dinosaur,” Marc assured him. “You’re just damned thorough. That’s an asset.” A pensive pause. “What did the intruder hope to find in that file folder?”

“And did he get what he was looking for?” Ryan asked. “The file folder was empty. So the perp obviously took the contents. Did those contents contain something that would make getting rid of Madeline necessary? Did he think she’d read something that made her a threat?”

“Or were the contents a waste of time, and he thinks there’s something more Madeline has or knows?” Marc frowned. “Why do I feel as if we’re going around in circles?”

“Maybe because we are.” Casey tapped her pen in irritation. “Let’s make our whiteboard lists—suspects’ names, jobs and possible motives. We’ll move on from there.”

* * *

Casey couldn’t sleep.

She tossed and turned until two in the morning and then finally gave up, reaching over to turn on her lamp.

Hero, who had been snoozing in his comfy bed just beside Casey’s, lifted his head and looked quizzically up at his mistress.

“No problems, boy,” she assured him. “Go back to sleep.”

The soothing tone of Casey’s voice was enough to make the bloodhound put his head down and doze off again.

Casey glanced at her iPad. She’d just downloaded a new book, but she didn’t feel like reading. She looked at the pile of pages fanned out across her bed. The case was bugging her; however, her brain was on overload and she wouldn’t be effective if she tried to review the dozens of minute details that she and her team had brought to the table for discussion.

She reached for her cell phone. Yeah, it was the middle of the night, but Hutch’s hours were crazy.

He answered on the second ring. “Hey, you. I can’t sleep, either. Good that you called. Even better if it’s for phone sex.”

Casey began to laugh. “I miss you, too. We’ve got to carve out a few days—even if we meet in a motel halfway between Manhattan and D.C.”

“I must be desperate. Even that sounds good to me. It’s been six weeks.”

“I know. I’ve been counting, too.”

Hutch—or Supervisory Special Agent Kyle Hutchinson—was with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico. He was also Casey’s one-and-only. The problem was that each of them had insane jobs and schedules, not to mention the fact that they were separated by two hundred and seventy miles and four and a half hours—all of which meant that it took major planning to see each other. Even so, they made it work. Love was a strong motivator.

“You’ve got something on your mind,” Hutch stated flatly. “I can hear it in your voice. So let’s talk first. Then we’ll get to the phone sex. It’ll give me the incentive I need to listen.”

That was a joke coming from Hutch. He was one of the best listeners Casey had ever met. His job required it.

“You read me too well,” she said with a sigh. “I’d really prefer the phone sex.”

“All in good time. What’s going on in the Big Apple?”

“First tell me about you. Anything you’re working on that you can discuss?”

“Nope. But I’m on a plane for Munich tomorrow. I’ll be gone for a few days. That takes care of me. On to you. What’s the case you’re working on that’s creating the tension in your voice?”

“A client dealing with attempted murder and a long list of suspects.” Casey stopped there. That was all she could say. As always, she was dying to ask Hutch’s opinion, but she valued the confidentiality she promised her clients.