Montana Fire (17 page)

“T
hat’s Dr. Yolanda Withers,” Trent said. “Took two gunshots to the chest, but from
the cut on her lip and the red marks on her neck, it appears as if they roughed her
up first.”

“Jesus. What did they take?” Max was sick to his stomach. Apparently he’d gotten soft
in his old age.

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. This is where I’m hoping you can help us. Come with
me.”

Max followed Trent to a back room where the drugs were kept. The refrigerated section
was still locked, and the glass untouched. Boxes on shelves had been tossed aside,
but anything in a vial was left alone.

Nothing made sense. “What about the narcotics? Could they have been after only one
type of drug?”

“Not that we could tell. We’ll need someone who has the inventory list to confirm
that.”

“You thinking this was personal against Dr. Withers?”

“That was my first thought, until I went into the break room. Let me show you.” Once
more he followed Trent who pointed to the destruction.

Max stopped in the doorway. Three officers were taking pictures and cataloging the
mess.

“Holy shit. What do you think they were looking for?” The cushions were ripped, and
everything in the cabinets was dumped on the floor. Max didn’t dare enter, not wanting
to mess with the crime scene.

“Beats me. Did Jamie mention anything about storing something important at the clinic?”

So that was why Trent had called him. “Not that I recall. She mentioned their limited
supplies, as well as their inadequate drug supply. I can’t imagine what would be so
important that it would require five men to storm the place. I’m guessing you looked
at the camera footage?”

“Yes.” Trent’s head lowered.

“What? They have baseball caps over their eyes?”

“Worse. They had infrared LEDs under their caps. All we could see was five people
with big glowing heads.”

“Crap. You let Hartwick know?”

“He came by earlier. He’s speaking with the mayor now.”

“Sounds like a professional hit.”

Trent nodded. “That was my guess.”

“What can the mayor do other than find another doctor to take her place?”

Trent stepped out of the room, away from the crime scene. “This might sound crazy,
but do you think there’s anything in here domestic terrorists might use to make a
bomb or a deadly virus?”

A band tightened around Max’s chest at the thought that kind of destruction could
cause. “I can tell you how to make a Molotov cocktail, but that’s it. You’ll need
to ask a chemist for what goes into a bomb. My knowledge is rather limited, though
I do know that bombs require a lot of chemicals, and none of the boxes in here are
large enough for what they’d need. Unless there’s a cleaning supply cabinet with,
say, a shit load of drain cleaner and rust remover, they won’t have enough for something
substantial. They can buy what they need at a local store, so why come here? They’ll
need to find a way to make nitroglycerine, but a few ten-ounce bottles of hydrogen
peroxide won’t do it. For that, they’d be better off with a pool sanitizer. I think
you’re barking up the wrong tree if you think this is chemical related.”

Trent dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’m having my men do a background search
on Dr. Withers, but I doubt I’ll find anything.”

“I trust the clinic will be closed tomorrow?”

“For a few days at least. If the mayor suspects terrorists, he’ll want every inch
of this place processed.”

Max dreaded having to tell Jamie. “What can I do?”

“Talk to Jamie. See what she knows.”

Max glanced over Trent’s shoulder at the dead woman. “The men couldn’t have mistaken
Jamie for Yolanda Withers. Jamie is blonde and petite. This woman is much taller with
dark hair. Besides, the men after Jamie didn’t have on infrared caps.”

“There has to be a connection.”

“Got any ideas?”

*     *     *

When Jamie’s cell rang, it took a second to figure out what the noise was. She cracked
open her eyes, and spotted the glowing phone. The bedside clock read eleven. None
of her friends would be bothering her at this hour. She sat up with a jerk. It must
be Max. He might have finished with the crime scene, and perhaps wanted to continue
where he left off. How he could see a dead body and then be in the mood to make love
was anyone’s guess.

Jamie quickly picked up the phone, and when she saw who it was, her heart raced. “Hey.
You okay?”

“Yes.”

She waited a beat for him to continue, but he didn’t say anything. Oh, shit. “Was
Jonathan murdered?”

“No. No. May I come over? I need to speak with you.” His voice was measured, controlled,
and tense. There was also a decided sense of urgency.

“Of course.” The last time he said they needed to talk, he told her about Jonathan
being involved in his investigation.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Is that okay?”

Jamie swallowed hard. “Sure, but what happened?”

“I’d rather tell you in person.” Max disconnected the call, and Jamie sat there stunned.

It was a good minute before the blood returned to her limbs, and she could move again.
He’d said there hadn’t been a fire, that someone had been murdered. Who was it?

Oh, no. Amber was still on her honeymoon. Had she, Cade, and Stone left the island
early and their plane went down? Her ears pounded. No, that tragedy would have been
blasted all over the news.

She prayed it wasn’t Becky. The person who’d been following her could have come back
and attacked her. Acid burned Jamie’s throat.

“Stop it.” She’d fall apart if she kept up with what ifs.

She hurried to dress. If she had to leave for some reason, she wanted to be warm.
Just as she yanked on her boots, the doorbell rang. At the sound, bile tinged her
mouth. She wasn’t sure she could take another blow. Jamie rushed to the door, peaked
out to make sure it was Max, and opened up.

He looked like shit. “Jamie.” His voice sounded like gravel.

She stepped to the side to let him enter. His hair was tousled, looking as if he’d
plowed his fingers over his scalp a hundred times. Even his coloring was pale. “Come
in.”

Max hugged her, and then kissed the top of her head. “Got some coffee?”

“I’ll make some.” The familiarity should have calmed her stomach, but it didn’t.

Max followed her into the kitchen. “Jamie, I’m afraid there was an incident at the
clinic.”

Jamie’s hands shook so hard, she feared she might drop the cups if she reached for
them. “Mugs are on the top shelf of the cabinet next to the sink.” Jamie nodded to
the correct one. “Want to get down two?”

The door squeaked open and two cups scraped across the shelf.

She measured the coffee grounds and dumped them in the container, spilling a portion
of them. Then she added the water. “Cream or sugar?” Shit. She knew better. “I forgot.
You like it black.” Jamie wiped her palms down her pants. She didn’t want to know
anything. If only she could wish everything away.

“Black’s good.”

She faced him. “You said someone was murdered.”

“Yes. The security guard.”

She slumped against the counter. “Oh, my God. Why? Were those same men trying to break
into the clinic? Did they get mad when he didn’t have the key?”

“We can’t be sure, but it probably was to stop him before he stopped them.”

Her mind raced. “Do the cops think it was the same men who came after me?”

“Let’s get our drinks, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Why are you dragging this out? You can tell me.” Her words squeaked out.

“Jamie. Let me do this my way. Please?” His in-control tone softened, as if he knew
she’d need to sit down.

She blew out a breath, knowing she couldn’t shake the news out of him, even though
she wanted to try. The coffee finished dripping, and she filled their cups. “Shit.”
She’d spilled almost half the contents. Jamie was about to get the paper towels to
clean up the mess when he gently clasped her arm.

“Go sit. I’ll wipe up the counter and bring in the drinks.”

Jamie set down the carafe, stepped around him, and went into the living room, shaken
to the core. Her stomach was churning, and her throat felt as if it was on fire. She
dropped onto her usual place on the sofa and closed her eyes, needing to find some
calm.

Max came out with two mugs and placed hers on the coffee table in front of her. He
sat on the cushion next to her. Her mouth was too dry to ask him again what had happened.

“Around nine this evening, after one of the men killed the guard, five men stormed
the clinic.”

Her mind spun. He’d said the crime occurred at nine. “Oh, no. Yolanda would still
have been there.” Jamie clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the slight keening sound
from leaking out.

“I’m sorry, Jamie. They killed her, too.”

Her whole body shook. Knowing the details wouldn’t make it any easier, but she had
to ask. How?”

“Two bullets to the chest.”

Jamie dropped her head in her hands and wept. His cup smacked against the wooden coffee
table a second before his arm wrapped around her shoulder. She leaned into him, but
her mind refused to process anything but the tragedy. Jamie normally wasn’t a crier,
but Yolanda’s death was too much to bear.

Be strong
. She sat up, and a handkerchief appeared under her gaze.

“Here.”

She blew her nose and wadded the cool material in her hand. Thinking more logically
would help. “What did they take?”

“That’s the thing. We can’t tell.”

Her heart lurched. “No drugs? Isn’t that what they were there for?”

“Nothing in the refrigerator was touched. Many of the boxes on the shelves were moved
or tossed on the floor, but for the most part, they left the storage room alone.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Were they after Yolanda?” Her breath hitched. “Did they
think I might be there?”

“I never said the crimes were related. The first attack might have nothing to do with
the second.”

“You don’t believe that any more than I do. Two attacks, one right after the other,
suggests they might be.”

He studied her for a moment as if he wanted to wait until she’d calmed before asking
her more questions. “Were you wearing a hat the night of your attack?”

That seemed so long ago. “No. I had on my thinner coat because I’d forgotten to check
the weather forecast. I didn’t think to bring a hat. The day before had been much
warmer.”

“I remember.”

His question registered. “Without a hat they would have spotted my blonde hair and
known I wasn’t her.”

“Yes.”

The sadness and pain blocked out her thoughts. “I realize this is an ongoing investigation,
but if my safety is a possible issue, I should be told what the police think.”

“We believe these men were looking for something besides drugs. Trent thought you
might be able to help.”

“Me? I go to work, deal with patients all day, and then come home. I usually don’t
have much time to socialize with anyone. I might have lunch with Sasha, and occasionally
Layla, but that’s it.”

“Hmm.”

Jamie thought that when Benny had killed all those patients, nothing could be worse.
Now, she realized she’d been wrong. The people he killed had little time left on earth.
Yolanda wasn’t yet fifty. Jamie’s body shuddered. Max scooted closer and pulled her
into a hug.

She choked back another sob and looked up at him. “What happens now?”

Chapter Fourteen