Hostage Midwife (5 page)

The road leading from Julia’s twisted through the secluded, secretive forest. At the intersection with the main road, they had a wide panoramic view of the valley and the little town of Valiant nestled below. To the south, she could see the distinctive outline of the Flatirons.

“Do you think Samuel’s project
had something to do with the gold mine?” she asked.

“It’s a place to start.” He glanced over toward her. “But first, we’re going to check with the investigator who works for Spencer Enterprises and see what we can find out about Trask.”

The visit to Julia’s house had pushed her concerns about Trask out of her mind. Compared to Radcliff and the million dollars, he was nothing more than
a blip.

At least she hoped so.

Chapter Seven

Monday, 4:15 p.m.

“Radcliff is a cold-blooded killer.” Rod Esterhauser slammed the flat of his hand on the surface of Nick’s desk in his office on the tenth floor of the Spencer Building.

“Has he ever been charged?” Nick asked in a low, calm voice. His strategy with the longtime head attorney for Spencer Enterprises was to maintain control and play his cards
close to the vest. Otherwise, they’d both be yelling.

“Guys like Radcliff don’t get charged,” Rod said. “They hire henchmen and minions.”

“And attorneys who play beach volleyball.”

“What?” Rod’s voice went up a few decibels. “What the hell are you talking about?”

In his effort to avoid engaging in argument, Nick kept his back turned to the attorney. He stood at the window with
Kelly beside him. As he looked down at her shining hair, he had the urge to slip his arm around her shoulders, which probably wouldn’t be considered appropriate, but would definitely keep his attention focused somewhere other than on Rod Esterhauser.

He turned his gaze to the foothills where the long shadows of dusk were beginning to settle. His office was directly above his uncle’s and had
the best view in the ten-story building.

As he turned to face Rod Esterhauser, Nick prepared to dig in his heels. “We’re going to honor the loan to Radcliff. The document appears to be in order.”

“This document?” Rod waved the single piece of paper. “I could tear this thing apart in court.”

“But you won’t.”

Rod Esterhauser was a stocky man with short, bristling gray hair. Though
he wasn’t a cowboy and probably hadn’t been on a horse in years, he preferred Western-cut suits and bolo ties. Right now, his face was red from shouting.

“Is this about the gold?” he asked. “Are you scared to take a risk with the Valiant gold?”

Nick looked down at the surface of his desk. Since he didn’t really spend much time in this office, there was a minimum of clutter—a photo of
his daughters and a couple of knick-knacks. He had the sense that something was missing.

“I’m not scared, Rod. I’ll pay off the loan because that’s what my uncle would want me to do. There was a time, not so long ago, that Spencer Enterprises made deals with nothing more than a handshake.”

“Before the economy went straight to hell and housing starts dropped into the—”

“Either Spencer
Enterprises pays the loan,” Nick said, “or I’ll cover it myself.”

“Is that so? Do you really think you can come up with a million in cash by next week?”

“You bet I can,” he said with more confidence than was justified. Most of his assets were tied up in property and investments.

Rod shook his head. “Marian isn’t going to like this. And neither is your brother. Jared gets back on
Friday, you know.”

“My mind is made up,” Nick said. “There are other topics we need to talk about. What’s going on with the investigation into Samuel’s death?”

“So far, the police are calling it suicide. The forensics team didn’t find any unusual prints or trace evidence to suggest that Samuel was murdered.”

Nick wasn’t so sure. “It doesn’t seem right.”

“I’ve got to agree with
you.” The wind went out of him. Rod visibly shrank as he sat in the chair opposite the desk. “Your uncle and I had plenty of scuffles, but I always liked the feisty old guy. He didn’t seem like somebody who’d kill himself. Or leave a note saying he was sorry.”

Nick looked over toward Kelly. She stood in front of his bookcase with her head tilted sideways to read the titles. Her position reminded
him of how excited she’d been when she saw Julia’s library. She bent at the waist and picked up something on the floor.

Coming toward his desk, she held up a chunk of pyrite. “What’s this?”

“It’s fool’s gold.” That’s what had been missing from his desk. He placed the rock beside the photo of his kids and moved on to the next order of business. “What have you found out about Trask?”

“Who?”

“The fake private investigator who approached Kelly.”

“O’Shea is taking care of that.” Rod took his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll call him for a progress report.”

Kelly touched the sleeve of Nick’s jacket to get his attention. “If it’d help, I can sit down with a sketch artist.”

“I think they do composite sketches on computer now.”

“I’ll do whatever I can,
and then I need to leave. I can call Serena to pick me up.”

He still had concerns about her safety. “Trask could be part of a bigger problem. It might be good for you to stay somewhere else.”

“Of course, I will,” she immediately agreed. “If there’s any chance of danger, I don’t want Serena’s family involved. But I don’t want to cause a lot of extra trouble, either. Do you think there’s
a threat?”

“I hope not.”

Rod snapped his cell phone closed and leaned back in his chair. “O’Shea is on his way up here.”

Still worried about Kelly, Nick moved on to the next issue to discuss with Rod. “When we drove up to the building, I saw a television news truck parked at the curb.”

“The Spencer family is news. Everybody from the governor on down knew your uncle.” Rod laced
his fingers over his belly. “I called in security. They’re keeping the media out of the building and watching your sister-in-law’s house. By the way, you might want to have a little chitchat with Lauren. She’s pretty upset, and being pregnant doesn’t help.”

Nick wasn’t surprised by the media attention. His family was a big deal in Colorado. Reporters and photographers had covered his wedding,
the birth of his kids and his divorce. Most recently, he’d been featured in a magazine article about the state’s most eligible bachelors.

Craig O’Shea rushed into Nick’s office. With his shaggy red hair, jeans and baggy sweater, he looked more like a hip snowboarder than a hard-nosed private investigator. He claimed that his casual appearance was a disguise. People didn’t mind talking to
him. They opened up and gave him information.

He closed the door. Clearly excited, he turned to them and announced, “I’ve got new evidence.”

“Hold on there,” Rod said. “First we want to hear about Trask.”

“Really?” He walked two paces toward the desk and then went back to the door. “This evidence changes everything.”

“It’ll keep. First, Trask.”

“Okay, sure, I can give
you that info real quick. I couldn’t find anything on Y. E. Trask. I mean nothing at all, zero, zip,
nada
. He’s not listed with any professional organizations, and nobody else has ever heard of him.” He’d been talking so fast that his words overlapped. He paused to take a breath. “The good news is that I checked in criminal records, and he’s not in that database. The bad news is that I couldn’t
even find a driver’s license.”

“I can describe him,” Kelly said. “He has white hair.”

“Already have that description. He’s not an albino, is he?”

“No, it’s prematurely gray. I’d guess that he’s only in his thirties.” She dug into her purse. “And I have his business card. Can you get fingerprints off that?”

“I can try.” O’Shea took the card from her, holding it by the edges.
“Don’t count on getting a positive identification. Real life isn’t like those forensics TV shows. Okay, are we done with Trask?”

“Not yet.” Nick wasn’t ready to let this go. “It must mean something that you can’t find any information on him.”

“Simple conclusion.” O’Shea deposited the card in a clear plastic bag he took from his jean’s pocket. “Y. E. Trask is a fake name.”

“Can we
tell who he works for?”

“Do you have somebody in mind?”

“Barry Radcliff.” If Trask was one of the minions or henchmen that Rod was worried about, Kelly might be in danger.

“I’ll check it out.” O’Shea’s gaze darted around the room. His new evidence must be really significant. He looked as if he was jumping out of his skin.

“Tell us,” Nick said.

“The autopsy report. It’s
amazing that we have results already. Rod said he’d pull some strings, but I’m impressed, and so was the medical examiner.”

“What did they find?” Nick asked.

“I’ll show you.”

O’Shea pulled Nick out from behind his desk and had him stand beside it. He pointed to the floor. “He fell here, right?”

“Yes.” Nick’s voice was terse. He didn’t want to reimagine that scene.

“And
the blood was here. Not tracked all over the room.”

“That’s correct.”

“According to the autopsy report, the path of the bullet indicated a slightly upward trajectory.” Using his index finger to represent the barrel of a gun, O’Shea pointed to the right side of Nick’s body. “If Samuel committed suicide, the weapon would have been approximately here, and then fired.”

Nick’s interest
was aroused. “If he committed suicide? I thought that was a given.”

“Maybe not,” O’Shea said. “The autopsy showed that the bullet went up. That’s not the natural path for someone shooting at himself. Your hand would point down.”

“Not necessarily.” Nick swallowed hard. Imagining his uncle killing himself was painful. “He could have aimed up.”

“Try it.” O’Shea stepped back. “Pretend
you’re pointing a gun at yourself.”

Nick held up his right hand, but he didn’t need to aim it. He had the answer already. “Samuel was murdered.”

Rod Esterhauser shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“My uncle was left-handed.”

He should have realized last night that he’d taken the weapon from Samuel’s right hand. They’d wasted a day of valuable investigative time. Nick didn’t know
how the murderer had gotten away without being seen. And he didn’t know the motive. But he was 100 percent certain that his uncle had been killed.

This changed everything.

* * *

K
ELLY
WAS
ANXIOUS
TO
GO
HOME
to Serena’s farm. The chaos of meandering goats and llamas and kids would be a welcome relief from an investigation that had gone into high gear with a combination of police
detectives, CBI agents and more forensic researchers. She was glad that many of them wore jackets with the initials of their department on the back, allowing her to identify their jobs.

Nick stood in the eye of this storm. Though he never raised his voice or was unreasonable, he was the unacknowledged leader. Nobody was required to salute him or call him “sir,” but they looked to him for
guidance, and so did she. She’d promised Nick that she wouldn’t leave until O’Shea had more information on Trask.

In Nick’s office, she sat quietly, watching and waiting as the minutes ticked slowly by. It was her nature to be patient, but time dragged. When she looked through the window, she was surprised to see that it wasn’t yet nightfall.

Nick approached her and sat in the chair
beside her. “Bored?”

“I wish there was something I could do to help. With all this activity swirling around, I feel like a bump on a log that’s stuck in the middle of the river. All I can do is watch.”

“According to O’Shea’s sources, Trask is still the invisible man. Nobody knows of a white-haired guy who works for Radcliff or anybody else.”

“Is that more or less dangerous?”

“It’s always better to know what we’re dealing with,” he said. “I can arrange for you to stay with me tonight. Or you could go back to the house with Lauren. We have a security team there.”

“I’m not one to take risks,” she said, “especially not if it means Serena and her family could be in danger. But I can’t help thinking that Trask already has everything he needs from me.”

“How so?”

“Since we now believe that your uncle was murdered, it makes sense for Trask to contact me. He’d want to know if Samuel named his killer before he died.”

“Is this theory supposed to reassure me?” His eyebrows lifted. “If he was looking for the name, Trask has to be working for the murderer.”

“Okay, he’s a bad guy. But he knows I’m not a threat.”

He took her hand. This time,
it was more than a friendly gesture. His fingers caressed hers. “I want you to be safe, Kelly. If anything happened to you, I couldn’t live with myself.”

Deep inside, she responded to his sincerity and concern. He cared for her. It had been a long time since anybody wanted to protect her, maybe never, and she liked the feeling of warmth and safety. Going home with him appealed to her on many
different levels, but she didn’t think it was necessary.

“I’ll stay with Serena tonight,” she said.

“Okay. Lauren showed up a little while ago. She can drive you.”

“Why is Lauren here? We don’t have Lamaze class until tomorrow night.”

“She’s upset about something.” Nick cringed. “I’m sure we’ll hear all about it.”

It took only a few minutes to locate Lauren on the ninth
floor outside Marian Whitman’s office, ticking off a list of complaints on her fingers. The thin blond accountant was utterly motionless. Kelly had never seen such a display of willpower. Marian’s face could have been a Kabuki mask that registered no emotion whatsoever.

When Lauren stopped talking, Marian said simply, “Are you done?”

Hands on hips, Lauren glared. “I just told you seven
things I need help with. You’re not going to do a damn thing about it, are you?”

“Arrangements for Samuel Spencer’s funeral and memorial are outside the purview of my job,” Marian said. “I am well aware that you are the wife of the CEO. But if Jared were here, he would tell me that the way I can help is to keep my focus on Spencer Enterprises business.”

Nick stepped between the two women.
“Problem?”

“You bet,” Lauren said. “Ever since early this morning, I’ve been getting phone calls. Flower arrangements have been arriving. Relatives want me to arrange to pick them up at the airport, and they all want to stay at the house.”

“You’ve got two people on staff,” he said.

“A housekeeper and a part-time cook. If I was throwing a dinner party, I’d be all set. This is a hundred
times more complicated. Don’t even get me started about the media.”

Lauren’s breathing became more rapid. She flung out an arm to brace herself against the wall. Kelly had spent enough time with pregnant women to know that stress was a problem. “This isn’t good for you,” she said.