Death's Door (25 page)

What part of the country has the most dogs?

P
AUL OPENED
the door to the guesthouse with Madison’s key. Aspen was waiting right at the door, tail wagging.

“Do you need to go out, boy?” she asked, then turned to Paul. “I think I should take him for a walk.”

“Not alone. I’m coming with you.”

Madison couldn’t believe how protective Paul was. She’d thought a lot about what he’d said last night. She really didn’t think she was in any danger, but he had made her promise to keep her doors locked and carry the can of pepper spray he’d given her in her purse.

“What part of the country has the most dogs?” Paul asked as they headed toward the path along the beach.

“What would be your guess?” She unhooked Aspen’s leash and let him wander off the path to do his business. From the fob attached to his lead, she pulled out a plastic bag to pick up after the dog.

“I’m thinking the West Coast. Almost everyone in California seems to have a dog or two. It’s a big state with a lot of people.”

“Well, you’d be wrong. New England has the most dogs. Surprisingly, there are a great many in New York City. Many more than you’d think, considering there are so many highrises, which makes having a dog difficult.”

The bracing scent of the sea filled the moist warm air, and with it came the heady scent of the gardenias along the path. A full-throated bullfrog that hung out around the koi pond near the main house croaked. Clouds sailed like schooners across the moonlit sky.

“How do you arrive at answers to questions like that? You must do research all day long and have to update, too.”

Madison couldn’t help smiling at him. Paul seemed genuinely interested in all aspects of her life. Aiden had asked very few questions. He’d mostly talked about himself. It should have been a clue, she thought, but she’d been so upset over the loss of her father that she had rushed into a marriage doomed to failure.

“We consult a lot of databases online. If we need to, we can independently verify the info. In this case, dog licenses tell us the answer.”

“But aren’t there a lot of dogs without licenses?”

“Not really. Most people take their dogs for a rabies shot. Vets forward the info to the city.” Madison noticed Aspen was sniffing the garland of seaweed being pushed ashore by the waves.

“I see,” Paul said. “Other facts must be more difficult to compile.”

“You bet. If it’s even a little iffy, we—”

“Paul, Madison!”

They turned and saw Wyatt striding toward them. “I need to talk to you. Could we go into the guesthouse?”

“Sure.” Madison snapped Aspen’s leash onto his collar. She would have to walk him again later. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m not certain,” he said.

Madison caught Paul’s eye and he shrugged as if to say,
Weird.

They went inside the guesthouse. Paul and Madison sat on the sofa while Wyatt took the chair nearby. Aspen settled at her feet.

“What was the name of your friend who was murdered?” Wyatt asked.

Madison had the instant sensation that something was terribly wrong. “Erin Wycoff. Why?”

“Do you recall her parents’ names?”

“Of course—we were best friends since the cradle. Tony and Susie. I mean, Anthony and Susan Wycoff.”

Wyatt’s eyes were sharp and assessing. “Tobias found their names in the files my security people are going through. The actual file itself is missing. Tobias found part of her record misfiled in another patient’s folder, but it appears that she was one of the children conceived through my donation.”

Paul’s gaze shifted to Madison. She responded with an angry rush of words. “That’s impossible! Erin was my best friend. She would have told me.”

“What if she didn’t know?” Paul asked.

“I don’t believe it,” Madison replied, but the catch in her voice betrayed her doubts. “Susie was such an open mother. She had us call her by her first name. She’d answer any question we asked. I can’t imagine her not telling Erin something this important.”

“I don’t think it matters,” Paul said. “What’s—”

“Of course it matters,” Madison insisted. “Don’t you see?” She paused and turned to Wyatt. “New Horizons was a shady operation. No telling whose sperm they really used on women. I know I wasn’t conceived by insemination and I’m positive Erin wasn’t, either. You may be wasting your time trying to track children down here. You should concentrate on the Boston area, where the clinics were honest and kept better records.”

Wyatt’s brows knit together in an incredulous expression, as if he couldn’t believe she hadn’t accepted that she was one of his offspring.

In the long silence that followed her outburst, the only sound in the room was the lazy swish of the ceiling fan above them.
She reached down to stroke Aspen’s silky head. Finally, Paul spoke in a low tone meant to calm Madison.

“All I’m saying is what should concern us is the children being on record as related to Wyatt are dead.” He waited a few beats before adding, “Possibly murdered.”

Wyatt vaulted to his feet. “What do you mean? Weren’t the other deaths accidental?”

Paul motioned for him to sit down and the older man slowly sank into his chair. “I spoke with a detective in Boston. Apparently there is some indication—although nothing has been proved—that those deaths may not have been accidents.”

Madison listened intently while Paul explained what he had learned during the telephone conversation after dinner. She assumed he’d meant to discuss it with her but found it strange that he hadn’t. Certainly there had been enough time while they were walking Aspen. She decided her fact-based theory on coincidence was so at odds with his cop take on them that he might not have told her until he had more evidence.

“My God,” Wyatt responded when Paul concluded. All the color had drained from the older man’s face. Madison could see Garrison was right. Wyatt was in poor health and did his best to hide it.

“There’s more,” Paul said.

His tone of voice sent a tidal wave of apprehension through her. Now what?

“Last night a man, Keith Brooks Smith, was killed with a lethal dose of succinylcholine.”

Madison didn’t pipe up with her usual trivia response. She was certain Wyatt knew what this drug was typically used for.

“You two probably know the drug disappears rapidly and leaves no trace for a coroner to find.”

Madison hadn’t known that. She made a mental note to see what Total Trivia had on the drug.

“If a nosy neighbor hadn’t phoned the police, we wouldn’t have discovered it was a homicide.”

Madison asked, “What does this have to do with—”

Paul directed his answer to Wyatt. “Smith was next on the list to be contacted if Madison can’t donate.”

Madison gasped. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. Now what do you say about the coincidence rate?”

Madison shrugged. This was beginning to spook her. Erin. Identity theft. Luis Estevez. The need to find a new place to live. Her mother. Now that she thought about it, this was the longest stretch she’d had without hearing from her mother. An image of a sailboat foundering on a coral reef filled the screen in her mind.
Please, God. Let her be safe.

“This is extremely disturbing.” Wyatt’s voice was like an echo in an empty tomb.

“Is there a way to recheck any of those Boston-area cases?” Madison asked.

Paul shrugged. “It’s doubtful. I just don’t like the fact that people who could help Wyatt are dead. Two of them died in the same week.”

Madison refused to protest again that she wasn’t related to Wyatt. The man looked as if he’d stepped off the curb and had narrowly missed being mowed down by a bus. Time would support what she said. DNA tests would reveal the truth.

Paul leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he asked Wyatt, “Who knew or would have had access to the New Horizons files?”

Wyatt almost flinched as he realized the implications of Paul’s question. After a pause that lasted much longer than it should have for him to formulate a response, he said, “Tobias, the staff at Holbrook Pharmaceuticals, my attorney, your father and his staff. You.”

“What about the janitorial crew?” Paul asked. “Are the
security offices locked? I know my father has an elaborate alarm system and sophisticated locks. It would have been difficult for anyone to remove the file on Erin Wycoff while those boxes were at my father’s office.”

Why had someone removed that file? wondered Madison. A sharp splinter of doubt pierced her like the prick of a sharp needle. Was it possible Erin knew and hadn’t told her? Her heart said no. But her more rational intellectual side thought,
Maybe
. After all, there had been a lot that she hadn’t known about her best friend.

“The executive offices are secure but not state-of-the-art,” replied Wyatt. “We don’t keep any top-secret information there, like drug formulas or other sensitive material. Your father updated our system. We have all our vital information stored elsewhere.”

“How would someone have obtained the names of the people in Boston?” Madison wanted to know.

“That wouldn’t have been difficult,” Wyatt said. “They were listed at DonorSiblingRegistry.com.”

“What about your estate?” There was an edge to Paul’s voice.

A smile spread across Wyatt’s face for the first time since he’d come to tell them about Erin. “Forget about Garrison and Savannah. They have no reason to want me dead. They won’t get a dime from my estate. You see, their mother was immensely wealthy in her own right. Before she died, she set up trusts for both of them. They have plenty of money. Plus, they know I intend to leave what I do have to the foundation I’m setting up.”

“What about business competitors?” Paul asked.

“I can understand why you’d ask—being a detective—but let me explain a little about my company.” He looked at Madison to make sure she was paying attention. It seemed as if he lost no opportunity, even at a time like this, to tell
her about his business. She couldn’t help feeling flattered. “I’m a small operation that’s family-owned, not a big corporation like most pharmaceutical companies. I have had one big hit and a couple of minor discoveries that are on the market and making money.”

Madison couldn’t help noticing the trace of pride in his voice. Why not? He’d worked a lifetime and had a lot to show for it.

“The big guys have drugs on the market generating billions of dollars annually. Trouble is many of the patents on so-called ‘blockbuster’ drugs are expiring and they’re going generic.”

“Profits will go way down,” Paul said.

“Exactly. For example, the world’s bestselling drug will go generic in 2010. That’s a nanosecond in pharmaceuticals where it takes years and billions to develop a drug. The megacompanies have hit the skids. They’ve relied on blockbusters for so long that their profits are going to nosedive.”

Madison thought there might be a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “Wall Street will have conniptions.”

“My very point,” Wyatt said with a nod. “When profits go down, the price of your stock goes down. The big guys are scrambling and—”

“They must have some drugs in the pipeline,” Madison interrupted. Aspen stirred, then rested his head on her foot.

“You’d be surprised. They’ve promoted the hell out of their products. How many TV ads have you seen for a drug? They’ve sacrificed research on the altar of marketing.”

“True of many industries,” Paul added. “Marketing is the tail that wags the dog.”

Wyatt laughed. “I’ve never heard it put that way but you’re right.”

Madison realized that though she’d seen Wyatt smile many times, he rarely laughed. His smile was part of his public persona, she decided. He wasn’t really that happy. Proud of his accomplishments, but not truly happy.

Why? she wondered. He had two accomplished children who adored him and a successful career. Did he miss his wife? That could be it, she decided. Her own mother had begun acting different after the death of Madison’s father.

Maybe he was just afraid he would die before he could get his foundation up and running. It might have nothing to do with his wife or children.

“So, when I die, my company will be gobbled up by one of the giants. The money from the sale is slated to go into my foundation.”

“Wouldn’t Garrison be interested in running it?” she asked.

“I wish.” Wyatt shook his head. “He shares a few facilities with me but his lab is very different. You know how he is about discoveries coming from the sea.”

“Passionate,” she said.

“Obsessive, according to his sister,” Wyatt responded. “The point is both my children have their own money, their own interests. My company will be sold to one of the giants. The conglomerates have time on their side. They’ve made so much money and are recycling drugs that are altered just enough to be considered new. They can wait me out. These big companies are greedy and the public naive, but I can’t see them hiring a hit man to kill me.”

Wyatt seemed resigned that his business would be sold to men who cared less about science and helping people than profits. Madison wondered if that was how he really felt. She was having a hard time letting go of Total Trivia. Selling to a sleaze like Estevez bothered her. Surely Wyatt must be disappointed that neither of his children would take over his business.

“What about employees?” Paul wanted to know. “Would any of them profit from your death?”

Wyatt immediately shook his head. “I pay them well. Everyone from the executives to the cleaning crew gets a bonus at Christmas. I seriously doubt a public company will do the same. They’ll probably cut jobs to max profits.”

Paul asked, “How many people know you’re looking for your donor-conceived children?”

“The whole world could find out. I registered on several Web sites when I found out I would need a relative for a transplant.”

“I think we need to take some precautions.” Paul’s eyes darkened as he held her gaze. “I don’t want Madison to be next.”

“Mary, mother of God,” muttered Wyatt.

“I don’t think I’m…” Her voice trailed off. “You’re starting to scare me.”