Death's Door (23 page)

“There’s only one way to tell. Let’s do it again. This time I’ll critique you as we go.”

M
ADISON WALKED
through the lobby of St. John’s Hospital. The blood tests and physical exam to screen her for organ donation
had taken most of the morning. It was almost noon, she noticed, checking her watch. She’d promised Paul that she would examine the underside of her computer to see if a keystroke logger had been attached to the keyboard, then call him. He was probably wondering what had happened to her.

Paul. Lord have mercy. What was she doing? She had no business getting involved with a man right now. Too late! She was involved, if that’s what you called making love to a man all night long.

When she woke up alone in bed, she figured it was par for the course. Men were into sex but had no idea what to say to you in the morning. Wrong. Paul had been in the kitchen, scrambling eggs and brewing coffee.

The aroma of the coffee had drawn her like a powerful narcotic, but she made a quick dash into the bathroom to brush her teeth and rake a brush through hair like a tumbleweed blown across Texas. The mirror told her that she could haunt a house and charge by the room, but it didn’t keep her out of the kitchen.

Paul had kissed her, then insisted she eat breakfast. He was a little upset to hear she was going to the hospital for testing instead of heading straight to the office to check for the keystroke logger, but she’d promised and didn’t feel she could let down Wyatt and Garrison.

“How’d it go?” a male voice asked, breaking into her thoughts.

She looked up, startled to see Garrison walking toward her. What was he doing here? “Fine. It took longer than I expected. I didn’t know it would be a complete physical, including a stress test on the treadmill.”

“I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t miss something at work.” His expression was sympathetic and she realized she must have sounded snippy.

“It’s okay, really.”

“Donating part of your liver involves major surgery. You have to be in excellent physical health.”

“I know. Dr. Miller explained the procedure in detail.”

“Have you got time to grab a quick lunch?” He gestured toward the cafeteria off the main lobby. “My father’s in there, saving a table. He had to have a series of tests this morning, too.”

She wanted to say no but couldn’t bring herself to do it. True, Garrison and Wyatt had their own agenda, but they’d both treated her with such kindness. The way things were shaping up, she would need to stay at the guesthouse for at least a week. “Thanks. I’ll have to make it quick. I need to get back to my office.”

Hand on the back of her arm, Garrison guided her into the large cafeteria. It wasn’t an ordinary cafeteria, with steam trays filled with dried-out or greasy food. There was a salad bar and turkey being carved by a chef at a make-your-own-sandwich station. Fresh fruit was arranged in bowls on shaved ice.

“They’re really into health here,” Garrison explained when he noticed her looking around the room. “Nothing fried, no red meat.”

In the far corner at a round table for four, Madison saw Wyatt. He waved at her, but she barely managed a smile. At his side was the ever-charming Savannah. If she’d known the woman was going to be here, Madison would have made an excuse, but it was too late now.

Wyatt stood as she approached the table. Savannah smiled, but resentment etched her beautiful face like a death mask. Garrison pulled out a chair for Madison.

“Thanks for beginning the testing process,” Wyatt said.

“No problem,” Madison replied. He appeared tired even though it wasn’t much past noon. She remembered what Garrison said about his father being more ill than he appeared.

“What would you like?” Garrison asked. “A salad or a sandwich?”

“A salad with chicken and iced tea,” she said. “Let me help you.”

Garrison was already walking away. “I’ll get it.”

Madison reluctantly lowered herself into the chair. Savannah and Wyatt had partially eaten salads and drinks in front of them. There was a half-eaten sandwich at Garrison’s place beside her.

Wyatt nudged his daughter with his elbow. “Savannah has something to say to you.”

I’ll bet.
“Really?”

“I’d like to apologize for the way I behaved yesterday morning,” Savannah told her with all the enthusiasm of a woman receiving the last rites. “I was out of line. I know you’re just trying to help my father.”

Madison couldn’t bring herself to say it was all right, because it wasn’t. And Savannah wasn’t one bit sorry. Somehow her father had found out about the incident and forced her to apologize.

“I was very rude. I don’t know what got into me. I guess I’m just overly protective of my father.” The gorgeous redhead’s tone softened a bit. “I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

Most people would have assumed Savannah was referring to Wyatt’s health, but yesterday morning, Savannah had been upset about her father’s money.

“We’ve been talking about the Holbrook Foundation,” Savannah added in a voice that was just a little too perky.
All is forgiven. Get over it,
her tone seemed to imply. She smiled at her father, then asked Madison, “Do you know what the largest living organism on the earth is?”

“Coral reefs,” came Madison’s automatic reply. Did this woman think a quick “sorry” meant she wanted to have anything to do with her?

For a second Savannah looked stunned. “Oh, I forgot.” She rolled her vibrant green eyes. “You’re a trivia expert.”

“While we were waiting for you, Garrison was trying to explain that coral reefs hold endless possibilities for medical discoveries,” Wyatt said.

“Aren’t the reefs being killed by global warming and here in Florida from pesticide runoff from golf courses?”

Wyatt smiled at her while Savannah kept talking. “Garrison is nutso over those corn sprouts that have been successfully used to treat hepatitis B.”

“That’s not from the ocean,” Madison replied, not knowing where this confusing conversation was going.

“True, but my son is…well, how can I put it?”

“Bonkers. Simply bonkers,” Savannah supplied with an unflinching stare like a vulture. “My brother believes the future of medicine lies not in chemistry but in nature, especially the sea. This hepatitis B discovery only validates his theory. Garrison is determined that Father award the lion’s share of the foundation’s research money to scientists involved in plant-or sea-based discoveries like the one he’s working on.”

“It’s an ongoing discussion we’ve been having—”

“Father,” Savannah chided. “I wouldn’t call it a discussion. It’s more like an ongoing fight that my brother won’t give up. Garrison thinks he’s won this round—”

“Savannah, that’s enough.” Wyatt smiled at Madison and she had the impression he was embarrassed by his grown children’s bickering. “Scientists often disagree on the best method to achieve the same goal.”

Madison tried for a smile, but she couldn’t help wondering what Savannah’s role was. As if reading her mind, Savannah spoke.

“I’m working on skin rejuvenation products from what’s left at the bottom of a wine cask. You know, grape skins and seeds. Their antioxidant properties are fifty times more effective than—”

“Vitamin E.”

“Exactly,” Wyatt said with a warm smile for Madison.

Savannah’s eyes narrowed slightly; she didn’t even attempt a smile.

Garrison arrived with a large chicken salad and a glass of iced tea. He placed them in front of her. “Thanks. Looks great.” She immediately stabbed a chunk of chicken with her fork.

“We’ve asked the lab to process your blood work as quickly as possible and have Dr. Miller look over the results of your physical. It usually takes three days, but we should know tomorrow. The next day at the latest.” Garrison gave her an encouraging smile, then took a bite of his sandwich.

“Did you straighten out the ID theft problem?” Wyatt asked.

“Not yet. Apparently it takes longer and is more complicated than most people imagine.”

Garrison touched her shoulder. “Do you need—”

“I’m fine. Just having a place to stay while I straighten out the mess is a huge help.” She looked directly at Wyatt. “Thanks.”

“You know, every day twenty people die in the United States waiting for a transplant,” Savannah said, using her tongue like a whip.

“Savannah!” Garrison scowled at his sister.

She shrugged defiantly and her red hair flowed over her shoulders like molten lava. “It’s true. I just—”

“I’m sure Madison understands the gravity of the situation,” Wyatt told his daughter in a tone that said Savannah should shut her mouth. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

“The waiting list for organs is months—even years—long, depending on the type of transplant an individual needs,” Garrison added.

Madison thought about this for a moment. She’d meant to go online and learn more, but with everything that had been happening—and Paul—she hadn’t had time. “A person can’t just jump to the top of the waiting list, can they? What if I match someone who’s been waiting longer?” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she had time to think.

Savannah’s quick glance at her brother telegraphed…what? Was Madison missing something?

“The person at the top of the list would receive the donation,” Wyatt assured her in a level voice. “But if you’re related to someone, you can choose to give him the organ instead of the person on the top of the list.”

Shock must have registered on her face because Garrison quickly said, “Most living-donor liver transplants are from family members. Few people volunteer to have part of their liver surgically removed for a total stranger.”

Thoughts tumbled through her brain like loose change. She recalled Rob telling her that this was a risky surgery and wondered how long the recovery would take. Along with that thought was the realization that this family honestly believed she was related to them. No doubt she would have to sign some sort of document saying she was related in order to bypass the donor recipient list.

Madison would have to admit she was part of this family, and they would have to formally accept her. Legal documents must be involved.

That’s what had Savannah in such a snit. She was insecure and didn’t trust her father to love her the way he did now if another sibling arrived on the scene with a lifesaving transplant. Or was it more about the money? Madison couldn’t be sure. Savannah was hard to read, but Garrison was an open book. He wanted to save the world—the oceans first—and his father. Who knew what Savannah really wanted?

Madison was tempted to assure them of what she knew to be the truth. She was Zach Connelly’s daughter. But she could see no amount of arguing was going to persuade this family. Only the facts would.

“They swabbed the inside of my mouth for a DNA test,” Madison told them. “How soon will it be run?”

“That takes weeks,” Garrison told her. “Best-case scenario. Could take up to two months. By then you’ll have gone through the battery of tests necessary before you can donate.”

She had the sinking feeling there was much more to this than anyone had told her. Savannah looked away while Garrison took another bite of his sandwich.

Finally, Wyatt said, “I have a very sensitive immune system. I’ve always been allergic to cats, strawberries, mold of any kind, shellfish…you name it. The doctors will need to see if our immune systems are compatible.”

“That means a bone marrow test.” The way Savannah said it with such relish told Madison it wasn’t going to be pleasant. She’d heard of the test, of course, and Garrison had mentioned it, but she didn’t know what was involved.

What had she gotten herself into?

P
AUL GAZED
across the table at Valerie Branson. The FBI agent was thoughtfully studying the latte on the table in front of her. He’d told Valerie about Luis Estevez’s offer to buy Madison’s half of Total Trivia.

“You know I can’t comment on any of our investigations,” she finally said.

“Of course not. That’s why I suggested we meet here to discuss this in general terms, not focusing on a specific case.”

They were sitting at a table under a banyan tree at the Daily Grind. Paul had called Valerie while he was driving to Holbrook Pharmaceutical’s security offices, where Tobias Pennington and his staff were going over New Horizon’s files.

“What I can tell you,” Valerie said, “is that Estevez hasn’t been indicted…yet, but it’s just a matter of time.”

Paul nudged aside his mug of
café cubano
. “Can you tell me if Estevez has been acquiring small companies like Total Trivia?”

She hesitated a moment before saying, “He hasn’t, but I’m not surprised. Look at it this way. If you have a lot of money to launder, how are you going to do it without getting caught?”

“Nightclubs and restaurants are good bets. Who’s to say how many customers paid in cash? It’s difficult to track.”

“Nearly impossible,” she agreed. “But there’s a limit to how much money you can funnel through a club or restaurant on any given night. Anything more than a quarter of a million looks suspicious.”

“Whoa! That much?”

Valerie smiled, an easygoing grin that went with her outdoorsy looks—a lanky tomboyish build, brown hair several shades lighter than her dark eyes and a spray of tiny freckles. Paul had met her several years ago at the shooting range when he noticed the woman next to him was a crack shot. They’d started talking and gradually become friends. She’d helped him several times by putting him in contact with agents in the Miami field office to advise him on various cases. This was the first time he’d asked for her direct help.

Valerie leaned across the small café table and spoke in a low voice. “Obviously, you don’t do much clubbing. These days, it’s not unusual to have what they call private service. You order whole bottles of very expensive premium liquor or wine and have your own waiter who just stands at your table to attend your guests. The tab skyrockets.”

“I see what you mean, but at a certain point generating too much money would raise a red flag.”

“Right. I’m not aware of Estevez investing in anything but clubs and restaurants, but now that you’ve brought this to my attention, I wonder if he has decided to expand. It would be a clever move.”

“How so? I didn’t see any way he could funnel cash through Total Trivia the way he could a club.”

“There’s a way. Add gambling to the site. You then have to collect and pay out money. That means a bank—Estevez’s own bank, no doubt—will have to handle the finances. Since the game is online, someone could set up a lot of fake accounts who lose money. That way dirty money is funneled into the bank.”

Paul sat up straighter, the idea clicking into place and making sense. “Money streams in and it appears legit.”

“Exactly. Computer geeks have gotten phenomenally sophisticated. One person on the computer could create lots of
fake accounts, using a rerouter that’s almost impossible to trace.”

“What’s a rerouter?”

“It’s just one computer sending info to another computer that forwards the same info to yet another computer until it’s nearly impossible to find out where the message originated. We’d play hell trying to prove there weren’t real people out there losing money.”

Paul rocked back in his chair. He didn’t know what to think, but he knew he didn’t want Madison involved with Estevez. “Drug money. It’s killing us, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely. We haven’t got the manpower to combat it. When there’s so much money involved, good people succumb to temptation. From what you’ve told me, I’d say that Estevez has your friend’s ex in his pocket already. That’s why he wants to buy her half to close the deal.”

“What if she says no? Do you think Estevez would…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He could still see Madison the way she’d looked last night, blond hair fanned across the pillow, her body jerking upward as he thrust into her.

“Get rough? It’s possible.” Valerie stood up. “Gotta go. Tell your friend to be careful.”

“I will. Thanks for your help.” He sat there and watched Valerie walk away. He wondered if Estevez, who must have a computer whiz or two working for him, had engineered the ID theft. It certainly would put pressure on her to sell. Or was something else going on?

It might be far-fetched, but he believed Madison’s problems were somehow linked to Erin’s murder. But how? There didn’t seem to be any connection, yet his gut instinct told him that he was missing something.

He checked his watch. One o’clock. Why hadn’t Madison called? She was supposed to phone as soon as she’d taken the blood test. What was taking so long? Between Estevez and
whoever had killed Keith Smith, Madison was in big trouble. Estevez wouldn’t bother her…yet, Paul assured himself, because she hadn’t turned down his offer. No telling what Smith’s killer might do.

His mind replayed them making love last night. All night long. He’d had his share of women, sure, but this woman was different. There was something about her that had gotten to him just after they’d discovered Erin’s body and had walked outside.

She was adorable, sexy as hell, but her attraction for him went beyond that. The way she spouted trivia, the way she stood her ground, the way she looked at the world appealed to him. He knew better than to get involved with her but he hadn’t been able to resist.

Madison wasn’t a woman he was going to be able to casually leave as he had in the past. She represented something much more permanent. Hell, had he ever enjoyed a permanent relationship? No. He didn’t go in for psychological bullshit, but even he realized his mother deserting him and being sent to military school had fostered a certain emotional detachment that had undermined his ability to allow himself to be close to a woman. He used his privacy like a shield to maintain his distance from anyone who could hurt him.

He chuckled, recalling how one girlfriend had characterized him. “You’re like a dog, Paul. If you can’t eat it or hump it, you piss on it and strut away.”

She was probably right, he thought. Here he was, almost thirty-six years old, and he walked whenever relationships became too stressful, too involving. Aw hell, whenever a relationship required more than sex, he was outta there.

Not this time, buddy.
This time things had changed. Not much for introspection, he still asked himself, How? Why?

Maybe he had changed. Getting shot had been the turning point, he realized. The only permanent thing in his life had been his job. Then one bullet put him out on disability. Hung him
out to dry. He was nothing if he wasn’t working. Lucky for him, good ol’ dad came to the rescue with a job that was a little like what he’d been doing.

How or why he had changed didn’t matter, he decided. He wanted Madison Connelly in his life—and not just for one night or a month. He wasn’t sure where this was going exactly, but he was determined to give it his best shot.

Paul was on his way to the station when Madison finally called. “I was waylaid by the Holbrooks,” she told him. “I had lunch with them.”

Paul listened while she explained about Savannah’s apology and the family’s belief that she was related to them. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the Holbrooks. He was too concerned about Madison. She irrationally clung to the belief that she wasn’t one of Wyatt’s donor-conceived children. What would happen when the DNA came back conclusively proving she was a Holbrook?

“Did you find out anything more by going through the files?”

“Not really. I came across a page of just numbers. Pennington says they went over it, but the list simply assigned numbers to the various women and the children they conceived through New Horizons.”

“What about your friend in the field office? What did he say?”

Paul almost corrected Madison and said his friend was a woman but decided against it. What difference did it make? “Estevez hasn’t been buying small Internet-related companies, but this could mark a turn in that direction.” He went on to explain just how the scam could work.

“Interesting. I guess I’m not selling. I don’t want to hand Total Trivia over to crooks.”

“Expect some pressure from Estevez…from your ex.”

“Right. I’m pulling into the office parking lot now. I’ll check for that keystroke logger and call you if I find it.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.” He was impressed with the way she was holding up. Most women would be falling apart at this point, but not Madison. “Where would you like to go for dinner?”

“I promised the Holbrooks we would eat with them.”

“We? As in you
and
me?”

“That’s right. Us. Casual clothes. It’s a barbecue.”

He disconnected. Us. He liked the sound of it.
Admit it, buddy, you
love
the sound of it.
Most of the time defining moments in life were revealed in hindsight. Not this time. This was a defining moment for him, Paul realized. From now on, he’d be thinking in terms of “us.”

M
ADISON DIDN’T FIND
anything attached to the underside of her keyboard. So, that wasn’t how her personal information had been obtained. Unless. Unless the device had already been removed. That was possible, she decided. It had been days since someone had accessed her accounts. Once this was accomplished, they wouldn’t need to keep the keystroke logger in place. Or it could have been a Trojan horse in an e-mail.

She gazed out across the cube farm, thinking. Jade was bent over a programmer’s desk, talking to one of the guys who had recently been hired. Clearly, Jade was flirting with him. The girl did not have enough to do. She was overqualified for a receptionist position. She could earn a lot more elsewhere. Why did she stay?

Madison had seen Jade’s résumé but didn’t remember much about her background except that she had dropped out of Florida State in her junior year. Being a receptionist didn’t require much education so Madison hadn’t paid attention to all the details. From what Madison could remember, Jade had worked as a waitress and tended bar. At a club. One of Estevez’s clubs? she wondered.

The files were in Aiden’s office in the far corner opposite
Madison’s office. He was there now; he’d been in his office talking on the phone when she’d arrived fifteen minutes ago. She rose and walked across the cube farm to Aiden’s corner. She rapped once on the partition to get his attention.

Aiden looked up, “Hey, Madison. What’s up?”

There was a false note of cheer in his voice. “I just want to look at the personnel files for a moment.” She walked over to the cabinet where the employee files were kept.

“Look, I’m sorry about the way Chloe acted yesterday. She’s been through a lot. She isn’t herself. It’s not like her to lash out like that for no good reason.”

Madison had her back to him and she thumbed the files until she found Jade’s. “It was for the best. Her outburst proved I need to sell my half of the business.” There! She’d said it. Thinking of selling was one thing, verbalizing it to Aiden made it real.

“Estevez made you an offer.”

Madison spun around. “How did you know?”

Aiden shrugged, then said, “Jade told me.”

Madison felt a flush creep up the back of her neck. She turned around and pulled Jade’s file from the cabinet. Her back to Aiden, she scanned the information. There it was. Just as she suspected. Jade had worked at Barely There—one of Luis Estevez’s clubs.

The girl had acted as if she knew Estevez by reputation alone. Obviously, that wasn’t the case. Jade could have installed, then removed the keystroke logger. Having Madison in a financial pinch could have been done on purpose to force her to sell.

“You’re going to accept his offer.” This wasn’t a question from Aiden. It was a statement of fact, a foregone conclusion. “It’s probably a good idea…considering Chloe and all. I just never thought it would come to this. We were so great together when we started.”

Was Aiden being sentimental? It wasn’t like him, but then she had to admit he’d changed a lot since he’d married Chloe. They’d never been “good together,” but now was not the time to dwell on the past.

“No, I’m not selling to Estevez. He’s a crook and you know it. If you’re smart, you won’t have anything to do with him.” She thought back to her conversation with Aiden on the morning she’d found Erin’s body. “You said we were going to wait and discuss gambling further, then come to a decision before contacting Estevez.”

“Well…things happened fast.” Aiden was hedging; there was something he wasn’t telling her.

“What things?” she demanded.

“Chloe spoke with Estevez.”

Madison shot her ex the coldest look she could muster. She might have known Chloe was responsible. Where it would have taken Madison weeks and a lot of sweet talk, Chloe was able to persuade Aiden with a few words.

“Chloe’s more—” he searched for a word and after a moment settled on “—materialistic, ambitious than you are.”

Madison believed she was more ambitious than Chloe. Madison had all sorts of plans for expanding the business. But there was no denying Chloe was materialistic. Designer clothes, fancy cars. Yes, it was easy to understand why Chloe would want to wring every last dime out of Total Trivia. She wasn’t really ambitious, just greedy. “Doesn’t Chloe know the man’s a criminal?”

Aiden snorted a dismissive laugh. “He’s never been charged—”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t be. Get mixed up with him—”

“Who are you planning to sell to?”

“Why don’t you buy me out?”

“I—I don’t have the same kind of money Estevez does.” A
shadow of annoyance darkened his handsome face. “You should accept his offer.”

Madison stomped out of Aiden’s office. She passed Jade, still chatting up the programmer in the middle of the cube farm. “Jade, I’d like to speak to you.”