Courting Death (15 page)

Beneath one crushed paper bag, I found the clipboard. Handwritten at the top of the sheet of paper was the name Danny Lopez. I flipped through the pages and whistled softly. Every Thursday Danny was logging over one hundred miles where for all the other days he put down ten to twenty.

It wasn’t that far of a trek to OraGen so where was he going? Printing on the paper bag caught my eye, and I smoothed out the paper.
St. John’s Health Clinic.
I lay both the clipboard and bag on the floor.

“Nicole. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I gave Sam a sheepish smile. “I think Joe Poellinger recruited one of the other drivers to transport the containers. Gladys let slip that a ‘Danny’ skipped after Joe was arrested.” I gestured. “One Danny Lopez drives this truck and it was the one still in the lot when we arrived.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Find anything of interest?”

I pointed to the clipboard and paper bag. “Once a week Danny’s been driving about one hundred miles—the distance of a round trip to this clinic in Belle Glade.”

Sam held out his hand and helped me out of the truck. He cupped my elbow and started in the direction where I’d parked the car. “I’m going to be here a while, so rather than you giving me even more white hairs, why don’t you go to my place? I’ll pick up something to eat and then fill you in on what I can discuss when I get there.”

I stopped at the edge of the lot. “First, I don’t have a key to your townhouse—”

“Got one right here for you.” He fished a key out of his jean pocket and extended his palm.

I looked from his face to the key and back again.

“What? It’s only a key, Nicole.”

“Isn’t this the part where most men run a finger under their collar and have palpitations over giving a woman entrance to their sacred cave?”

Sam rocked back on his heels. “It makes sense. With our crazy schedules, I thought it would be easier if you could let yourself in rather than waiting outside for me.”

My heart twisted. This wasn’t a snap decision. This was something he’d been considering for a while. Another step forward for both of us.

I curved my fingers around the offered key and took it. I stood on my toes and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Thanks. But since I really should get home, why don’t
you
come over when you’re finished, no matter how late, and I’ll fix dinner?”

He wrapped his hand around my neck and took the kiss deeper. When he finally raised his head, I answered the question I saw shining in his eyes. “And I’ll give you a key but we’ll have to have a few ground rules, such as calling ahead. With three women in the house…”

“Don’t want to walk in on the wrong one walking around naked.” He grinned.

On Saturday Sam and I were at a home improvement store selecting new door locks when Gabe Chavez called me on my cell.

“Hi, Gabe.” Sam continued to debate the clerk over the merits of locks so I moved a few steps away. “What’s up?”

“Rumor has it that tall, dark and ugly is with you.”

I flashed Sam a smile. “That’s right. He’s helping me beef up security at the house.”

“That’s easy. Buy a big dog.”

“Yeah right.”

“Or put Sam out front on a leash. Nothing like a cop with a gun to scare off a burglar.”

I chuckled. “Great visual.”

“Listen, I’ve been checking into that clinic for you. I found a woman I think you should speak with. Why don’t you and Sam meet me at his place in thirty? He’s going to want to be in on this.”

“We’ll be there.” I disconnected and looked at Sam. “All right, it’s decision time. Gabe wants us to be at your place in a half hour. I think he’s turned up something on that Belle Glade clinic.”

Sam gathered several packages and dumped them into the cart. “Thanks, we’ll take these,” he said to the visibly relieved clerk.

An hour and a half later Gabe parked his truck in front of a dilapidated house in Belle Glade. He’d chosen to play mysterious as to where he was taking us so for the better part of the drive he and Sam, who’d sat in front, had debated college football and the bowl games.

I didn’t blame them for passing the time debating sports. From my position in the back of the cab, there wasn’t much to see between West Palm Beach and Belle Glade. The agricultural community squatted on the edge of Florida’s heart blood, Lake Okeechobee. For years sugar had been king, but now land was set to be turned into the Everglades restoration effort. However, for the most part the region still consisted of endless miles of flat land covered with crops and crisscrossed by endless canals.

Many migrant workers, who followed the seasonal crops, lived in Belle Glade. Other than the lake, the community’s other claim to fame was killer high school football teams. Something to take pride in and ease the bite of poverty.

Along this poor excuse of a road the houses were little more than shacks. However, here and there several were already decorated for the holidays. Sam opened the door and held a hand out for me. “Okay, Gabe,” I said. “Why are we here? I thought you had a lead on the clinic.”

“Patience. You’re about to find out.”

Sam snorted. “You try to get her to wait for anything. Mission impossible.”

I bumped my hip against his. “Not true.”

Amusement glinted in Gabe’s eyes but his expression grew somber once he led us up a thin, worn path through the tall weeds in the front yard. He rapped on the door. “Señora Cabrera? I brought the people I told you about.”

A woman of indeterminate age answered, and he spoke rapidly in Spanish. She nodded and motioned us inside. At Gabe’s gesture, Sam and I moved past him to enter the house.

In the cramped living room three young children popped up over the edge of the battered sofa and regarded us with dark, serious eyes. Mrs. Cabrera led us to a wood table scoured clean and we sat down.

She said something to Gabe and he interpreted. “Would anyone like coffee?”

Sam and I glanced at each other and shook our heads. “
No, pero graciás,
” I said to her. She smiled shyly, folding her chapped and callused hands on top of the table. Up close I could see the woman was in her early thirties, but a life spent working in the sun hadn’t been kind to her. Despite being obviously poor, she wore a clean T-shirt and jeans. Her kids, two girls and a boy, who had ventured from the sofa, were also in mended but tidy clothes.

Gabe leaned toward her and braced his elbows on his knees. “I’m going to ask Lucia to repeat her story and I’ll interpret for you.” He spoke softly to her.

She took a deep breath and began to talk, haltingly at first. I kept my gaze on her, and with his smooth translation Gabe faded into the background.

“My husband Guadalupe and I worked the fields. We saved what we could, but there never seemed to be enough. Then I had Margarita, our third child.” She paused as the toddler, hearing her name, scrambled off the floor and came to her mother holding out her arms. Lucia scooped her up and settled the girl on her lap. As only a child can, Margarita immediately zeroed in on me as the source of her mother’s upset and frowned.

Lucia continued. “The bills were large. We had no insurance and public health care covered only a portion of them. The creditors began to call day and night. Guadalupe found a night job but it still wasn’t enough.”

She dropped a kiss on the toddler’s curls. “Then one day my husband came home all excited. Several men he met in the field told him how he could make a lot of money. I was afraid he would get into drugs like his older brother, and I told him that was not the answer.”

Lucia drew in a breath. “He said it wasn’t drugs. He said rich people who were sick would pay to get a healthy kidney. Someone at the clinic knew the right people and would pay Guadalupe a thousand dollars for a kidney. I didn’t want him to do it, and finally he promised he wouldn’t.

“But the bill collectors got worse, and one frightened my oldest. One Sunday Guadalupe went out without telling me where he was going. I waited all day. No one knew where he was. That night a truck pulled up, and some man dumped my Guadalupe’s body in front of the house like he was no better than a dog.”

Tears began to stream down her face. “He was bleeding, all cut up and the stitches…” She put her lips together and made a spitting sound. “I could sew better than that. A neighbor drove us to the hospital but it was too late. My husband died.”

Lucia looked straight at me, and I saw the anger in her eyes. “They took both of his kidneys and paid him nothing. There was no money in his pockets. Guadalupe lost his life for nothing.” She buried her head in her child’s hair.

After a while, when her shoulders had stopped shaking, I reached out and touched her arm. “Did you know either the man who left your husband that night or who he spoke with at the clinic?”

“
Sí,
” she said when Gabe translated. “One man. His name is Danny Lopez.”

With an intent expression Sam leaned forward. “Does Danny live here in Belle Glade?”

“He used to, but his mother told me he moved to the city because he was making so much money. He certainly loved to show off by driving around in that shiny truck on those big wheels.” She gestured to indicate the large size of the tires.

“Did you confront anyone at the clinic?” Sam continued to question her.

Lucia shook her head. “No, the clinic has been closed. The nurses are local and were told the doctor who ran it left the state. He ran out without paying their salary for the last month.”

“Have you ever heard of or met a man named Joe Poellinger?”

“No.”

“What about a company called OraGen?”

“No.”

In terms of the Whitman case or the threat to my family, the Belle Glade connection was not critical. It simply was another link that might lead back to OraGen, another opportunity for Sam to bring down the black market. I let him continue asking Lucia more questions.

Yet, when I met Gabe’s intense gaze as he continued to interpret, I knew why he’d thought my meeting Lucia had been important. She’d been robbed of her husband, but it wasn’t right she should also be robbed of the money he died for. The Cabrera family needed legal help.

I rose and moved away from the table to make a call. When I returned, Sam wrapped up his interview and raised a brow. I pointed to my phone. “Lucia, I’ve called an attorney.”

Alarm appeared in her eyes. “I don’t want any trouble with the law.”

“You’re not going to be in any trouble. This attorney is with the migrant workers’ assistance office. She’s going to guide you to resources to help you through the loss of your husband. You said others here have done this, sold a kidney?”

“Yes.”

“Then there could be others who haven’t been paid. When Sam catches whoever is responsible—” I touched his shoulder, “—claims for damages could be made against the company. This attorney could bring a lawsuit on behalf of everyone here who has been harmed. She might be able to get money for you.”

“Thank you, Ms. Sterling.”

Margarita sensing the change in her mother blew me a kiss.

After getting Lucia to agree to make a formal statement, we left. Not wanting to ride in the back alone, I sat squeezed between the solid, reassuring presence of both men.

Sam stared out the window as we made our way through the streets. “Thanks, Gabe, for finding Lucia and getting her to talk. We knew the operation included more than desecrating corpses but this community is tight-lipped. Many are illegal and don’t want to be within a country-mile of anyone wearing a badge.”

“You’re welcome. I knew this wouldn’t help Nicole’s legal case, but I couldn’t let it go.”

Gabe turned onto the two-lane highway and sped up. Sam reached over and laced his fingers with mine. We rode in silence for a while. As we came out of a sweeping turn, we saw blue lights flashing ahead and a long line of traffic backed up.

Since it was obvious we wouldn’t be going anywhere soon, Gabe switched off the engine. “I’ll walk up and find out what’s going on.”

Sam also got out and then held up his hands. I scrambled down. Sam leaned against the front fender, drew me against him and wrapped his arm across my chest. The sun rested low in the sky, casting a haze across the land. A canal that ran along the highway glimmered like a gold ribbon.

Sam lowered his head and lazily nibbled at my ear. All he had to do was touch me and I was primed and ready. “How about I grill us a couple of steaks when we get back to my place?”

“Sounds good.”

“Then maybe we could sit outside and watch the stars.”

I felt his arousal press against me. “Are you sure you want to watch the stars?”

“Well, ma’am. Where I come from, there’s nothing sexier than seeing the night sky frame a pretty lady while she’s naked and riding you.”

I reached around, grabbed some rib flesh and pinched hard.

“Ow.” His chest shook with laughter. “What was that for?”

I folded my arms and stared at the investigation scene. “How many ladies did you have such a memorable experience with?”

He blew a breath in my ear and drew me even tighter against him. “Up until now, none. But I can see that hair of yours, with the moonlight shooting flames through it.”

Mollified, I relaxed once more against him. “Better, Bowie. Much better.”

Where the lights flashed, a tow truck backed up to the water. “Oh God. Someone took a header into the canal.”

“Sure looks that way.”

Two dark forms emerged from the water—divers—who gestured at the truck. There was a whining sound and the cable turned. Soon the water bubbled and the tailgate of a black truck popped up. The chrome on monster tires glistened in the sun.

“Oh no, it couldn’t be…”

Sam cursed and set me apart from him. “Make yourself comfortable, Red. We may be here a while.”

“You don’t think that’s Danny Lopez’s truck?”

He stalked forward. “With my damn luck and the way this case has been going, I’m willing to bet you that steak it is…and that he’s inside it.”

On Monday following court I entered my office and saw the red folder on my desk, signaling an urgent matter requiring my immediate attention. I sat down and flipped it open. Inside was a pleading in the Whitman case, “Notice of State’s Intention to Use Evidence of Other Crimes, Wrongs or Acts.”

The folder also contained the state’s preliminary list of witnesses and documentary evidence. I scanned it, frowning over several names. One was a Dr. Truman McGill in Chicago, Illinois. I jotted down a note to ask the Whitmans if he had been their pediatrician.

Then I reviewed the notice of the state’s intent to use the following evidence:
Sarah Whitman, a seven-month-old infant daughter of the defendant, Claire Whitman, died while in the sole care of the defendant.

I flipped to the attached brief containing the argument. The prosecution proposed that Claire’s knowledge about the circumstances of the first death should be considered by the jury in determining whether her actions in regard to Rebecca were culpably negligent.

Negligent?
I skipped over the string of case law citations to read on.
The Defendant having the knowledge as a result of the death of Sarah Whitman should have been expected to act differently in her care of and action toward Rebecca Whitman, to wit: The Defendant should have been aware of the risk inherent in not utilizing the apnea monitor on the infant Rebecca and that her disregard of that risk constituted a gross deviation from ordinary care.

Damn.

I punched the intercom. “Maria, get the Whitmans in to see me at once.”

As I sat back, I spotted a thick folder with a sticky note in Melissa’s precise handwriting.
Whitman Financial Research.
I glanced at my calendar and saw that I had a new client interview appointment in five minutes. No time to look at it now. I tucked the folder into my bag to review later.

An hour later Brian helped his wife into one of the chairs and then took the other. Claire’s condition alarmed me. It was as if some psychic vampire had drained her very life force. She was only an inanimate shell of her former self.

God, I hated what I had to do, but the couple hadn’t been truthful from the start.

I tapped one of the documents spread in front of me. “Who is Dr. McGill?”

Claire gasped, but it was Brian who answered. “He was our first baby’s pediatrician in Chicago.”

“Did he recommend you use an apnea monitor if you had another child?”

“Yes—”

Brian reached out and squeezed his wife’s hand. She subsided. Brian finished for her. “He may have discussed using a monitor, but I don’t believe he went as far as recommending one.”

I opened a folder of photos and flipped one to face them. “Here is a picture the investigators took of Rebecca’s room. You didn’t use a monitor for her, correct?”

“No, Rebecca was a full term baby unlike Sarah. Becca was healthy and strong and perfect. She didn’t need any machine to be attached to her.”

Because they hadn’t listened to medical advice, they had lost another child.

A tendon ticked along Brian’s jaw. “Why is this important?”

I took a deep breath to keep my tone even. “I’ve received the state’s brief. Rather than focusing on the intentional homicide charges, the prosecutor is seeking to introduce evidence of the circumstances surrounding Sarah’s death in order to show that, given Claire’s knowledge of how Sarah died and her medical training, she’s criminally negligent.”

“That’s prejudicial.” Brian pounded the chair arm. Claire didn’t even flinch. “They can’t do it.”

“I’ve drafted a motion to exclude the evidence, but while waiting for you, I’ve researched the case law and it’s not favorable. Although I think the state’s brief frames the argument wrong, the issue the judge will be deciding is whether Claire’s knowledge about Dr. McGill’s medical recommendation is relevant circumstantial evidence.”

“So?”

“So, I think the judge will have sufficient basis to find that, based on her prior experience with Sarah, Claire was aware that an infant, if not properly attached to an apnea monitor, as previously recommended by your pediatrician, could die from asphyxiation. In other words, that she consciously disregarded the risk and negligently caused Becca’s death.”

Claire wasn’t even looking at me anymore. She stared dully through the window. In contrast, Brian’s face had turned so red that I was afraid he would have apoplexy.

Spreading my hands wide, I said gently, “I know this is a lot for you to take in right now, but I needed to warn you of the latest wrinkle in the case. Once more I want to discuss my approaching the prosecutor about a possible deal.”

Brian surged up and planted his hands on my desk. I gave him a look that could freeze hell over. “Sit down.”

“You’ve been afraid to try this case from the start. I heard about how you froze during your last case as a state attorney. Rather than working on my wife’s defense, you’ve been too busy getting your picture plastered all over the news. Dr. Chang tells me you haven’t returned his calls.”

It was never good to escalate an argument but I was tired of his aggressive stance. I stood as well and braced my hands on the desk.

“Speaking of Dr. Chang, the two of you forgot to mention one little detail. Your pal Damian didn’t need to recommend Chang, did he? Not only were you, Quint and Chang all in college together but also in the same fraternity.”

“So?”

I was really getting tired of that word today. “
So,
when each side discloses experts, we also furnish resumes. The prosecutor will pick up on the connection immediately and hammer away on the fact that Chang isn’t impartial.”

“Lee can handle himself. He’ll be able to brush off the apnea monitor argument by testifying the machines aren’t effective.”

A chill gripped me. “You knew this would be an issue. And you and your buddies have already mapped out a counter attack.”

Brian shrugged. “It seemed like the prudent thing to do.”

“I can’t defend like this. I can’t work in the dark only to be spoon-fed vital information on occasion.”

“Well, you won’t have to. You’re fired.” Brian turned and took Claire’s arm. “Come on, honey. Let’s go.” She rose in a stilted movement like a doll. As he escorted her to the door, he shot the closing salvo over his shoulder. “You’ll be receiving a formal termination letter in the mail.”

My legs suddenly too weak to support me, I sank into the chair. I didn’t even have to count to ten before my partners rushed into the room.

“We heard the yelling,” Kate confirmed. “I was getting ready to call the police. Are you all right?”

I nodded.

Carling narrowed her eyes. “The Whitmans fired you.”

“So?”

“I thought a perfectionist like you would be taking the news harder than you seem to be.”

“So?”

Carling and Kate gave each other worried looks. “Nicole, honey,” said Kate, “are you going to cry?”

“Nope.” I reached down, grabbed my bag and stood. “What I’m going to do is track down a hunk of a detective and see if he’s available for a little afternoon delight.”

“Huh?” Carling gaped. “Who are you and what have you done with Nicole Sterling?”

I hugged her. “I gave the Whitmans good legal advice and they threw it back in my face. You know what? I’m happy they fired me. I was going to terminate my representation if they didn’t come clean. They didn’t, and I don’t have to hear the word
so
again for the rest of the day.”

Kate stuck her tongue in her cheek. “Soooo, what do you plan to do to Detective Bowie exactly?”

“Handcuff him to the bed.”

I heard the door close and Sam called out, “Nicole, where are you? Are you all right? I got here as quick as I could.”

“In here.” I quickly braced my elbow on the pillow and draped my legs to the side.

He appeared in the bedroom door and the flash of heat in his eyes steadied my sudden nerves over the seduction scene I’d staged. Red lipstick slicked my lips and dark gray shadow turned my eyes to those of a smoldering enchantress. Every inch of my skin had been powdered, creamed and scented with ridiculously expensive perfume.

White candles flickered all over the room. Soft music drifted from his media player. After brushing my hair into a loose style, I had changed into a sheer black nightie and tugged the tiny ruffled sleeves over my shoulders. A black silk bow was strategically tied at the
V
of my breasts.

My whole body hummed with anticipation.

Sam crossed to the bed, removed his gun, slapped it on the nightstand and put one knee on the mattress. I would never, ever get used to his lightning moves.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of finding one gorgeous attorney in my bed?” His gaze raked my body, leaving a scorching path. He reached out a blunt fingertip and touched my taut left nipple. The exquisite sensation shot to my core and I arched back, thrusting my chest in a silent appeal.

“Now that’s a pretty offer that I can’t refuse.” Sam lowered his head and flicked his tongue over the nipple several times before drawing it into his mouth. I speared my fingers through his silky hair.

“I was fired today,” I managed to gasp out, almost lost in the raging sensations.

The cool air swept against my left breast as Sam raised his head. “And?”

“And I’m not upset. Nothing I could do to help.”

“No regrets?”

“None.” I shoved aside the niggling pangs of guilt I felt for Claire.

“Good.” Sam turned his head and suckled the right nipple. The rough texture of his tongue rasped and teased the sensitive flesh. He shifted, crushing me back into the mattress. The heat of his body enveloped me as his erection pressed into my thigh.

My body ablaze, I lifted my hips, desperately needing to be connected to him. Sam stilled me with his hands. “Easy, honey, easy. All in good time.”

His knuckles brushed then lingered on my stomach, causing the muscles to contract. Then his hand was gone. Sam’s dark gaze captured mine. “I want to make love to you, Nicole.”

I shivered at the raw desire in his voice. With the pads of his fingers, he stroked along my temples to my jaw. Everywhere he touched, he placed light almost reverential kisses. I felt cherished and wanted.

For a moment his lips nibbled at mine but before I could deepen the kiss, he shifted, trailing his fingers and open-mouth kisses along my neck. He followed along the collar bone and then down my front. With a slight tug he untied the bow and the material slid away, exposing my breasts. There he stopped with a wicked grin.

“No.” I tried to hook a leg around him but he stood. Propping myself on my elbows, I watched with heavy-hooded eyes as he pulled his black T-shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground. His skin, golden in the candlelight, stretched tight over his rib cage. Next he stripped off his jeans and briefs. His erection sprang free.

“Now we’re talking.”

Sam half choked on a laugh. “We aim to please, ma’am.” He reached into the table’s drawer and pulled out a foil packet. I lay back, anticipating his return.

“Oh,” I shrieked in surprise as he gripped my ankles and bent my legs. Then he knelt between them. His eyes gleamed in the candlelight. He cupped my knees and spread them wide. He lowered himself so he sprawled on his stomach. His beard roughened face abraded the sensitive skin of my inner thighs at the same time his hair tickled me. Then his hot mouth kissed me intimately. His tongue teased my clitoris even as he penetrated me with his fingers.

I twisted, my hips lifting as waves of pleasure ripped through me. His fingers thrust and withdrew in syncopation with his clever tongue until I thought I could bear no more.

Fire consumed me, freeing me of all bonds.

Even as I trembled in the aftershocks, Sam slid into me at the same time he hungrily found my mouth. As our bodies fell into rhythm, the pressure deep inside once more coiled and mounted. He stiffened and let out a hoarse exultant cry. The tension inside me shuddered and then released, and once more I fell.

Sometime later, I emerged from a delicious sensual lethargy to find Sam stretched out next to me, his arm draped over my middle. Drying sweat gleamed across his shoulders. When I shifted, he opened his eyes.

“Hey there, Red.” He lifted his head and brushed his lips against mine. The kiss was so soft, so tender that it almost undid me. He rubbed his thumb along my rib cage and I jerked at the sensation.

“Stop that.”

“What’s this? Are you ticklish?” He dug his fingers into my side until I squirmed and giggled. His penis stiffened and nudged my hip.

“No fair.” I reached between our bodies and slid my fingers around his shaft, caressing the velvety skin masking its rigid strength. With a moan, Sam pressed against my hand, once, twice. I pushed against his chest and he obligingly rolled on to his back.

I reached over the edge of the mattress and found the item I’d hidden earlier. Then I mounted him. He ran his hands along the front of my body until he cupped my breasts. I gripped his wrists and leaned over, extending his arms over his head. Even as his hot mouth tugged on one nipple, I held his wrists with one hand as I slid on the handcuffs.

Click.
Then a second
snick
as I fastened the other end to the metal spoke of the bed’s headboard.

Sam froze. “Honey, what did you do?” He tugged his hands but the cuffs held.

“We’re going to play a little game.” I slid down along his body, causing him to groan, until I reached my destination. I studied his erection. “It’s called
voir dire.
I ask questions and you answer them.”

“What kind of questions?” The strain in his voice was palpable.

“Do you like this?” I blew lightly on his penis.

“Oh yeah. That’s the whole truth and nothing but the truth so—”

I took him in my mouth.