No Mercy (17 page)

and her name was Carrie Prince. “What can I do for you, Agent Curtis?”

“I’d like to talk with to Ms. De La Paz’s physician.” He looked from Carrie to the other nurse.

“And I’d also like to speak to you a moment about Dr. Zumsteg.” More DHS agents would be asking

questions, so he intended to keep his questioning brief.

Carrie nodded. “I’l see if I can reach Dr. Mil er.”

While they waited for the doctor, Dylan asked the two nurses if they worked closely with Dr.

Zumsteg and they both had.

“I can’t believe his house just exploded.” The other nurse, Jan Wickenburg, blew her nose with

a Kleenex, then lowered the tissue. “How could that have happened?”

“Rest assured it’s being fully investigated.” Dylan looked at both nurses. “Did anything seem

different about Dr. Zumsteg tonight, out of the ordinary?”

Carrie frowned and shook her head. “Not that I noticed. I was just coming in as he was leaving.

He nodded to me and told me to have a good night, but that was it. Although he did seem a little

more subdued.”

“My shift started about an hour before Dr. Zumsteg left.” Jan tilted her head. “He seemed

preoccupied. He is normally a little more talkative. Not a lot since he’s so busy, but today he was

quieter.”

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***

saw by her badge that her name was Dr. Emma Miller. She was gorgeous, her blonde hair pulled

back with a clip, and a no-nonsense look about her. Dark circles were under her eyes, but that didn’t

detract from her beauty. He wondered if the darkness was caused by exhaustion or the death of

Tom. Or both. When he looked into her gaze and saw the depth of pain within them, he knew.

“Dr. Mil er, I’m Special Agent Curtis with DHS.” Dylan held out his hand. She shifted the chart

she was carrying to her left arm then took his hand. Her grip was firm.

She held his gaze as they released hands. “What can I do for you, Agent Curtis?”

Dylan nodded to the empty corridor. “Mind if we speak in private?”

“Not at all.” She fell into step with him.

He came to a stop, out of earshot. “I have a few questions to ask you.”

She didn’t smile and he was certain why there was such pain in her gaze. “I’l answer whatever

I can.”

First things first. “Please tell me about Marta De La Paz’s condition.”

“Certainly.” Dr. Miller explained what Nancy had already told him, about the blow and having to

induce the coma. “We’re doing everything we can for her.”

He asked her a few more questions before he said, “How well did you know Dr. Zumsteg?”

The pain was back in her eyes. “I knew Tom well.”

He dove in. “You were seeing Dr. Zumsteg outside of work.”

Her eyes widened slightly. It took only a flash for her to compose herself. “Yes, but we were

discreet about it. How did you know?”

“I’m adept at reading people.” Dylan studied her. “You’re doing a good job at holding yourself

together, but I have a feeling when you go home you’re going to fall apart.”

She cleared her throat. “So you need to question me?”

“Yes.” Dylan took in the magnified pain in her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be the last.”

“I understand.” She visibly swal owed.

“I need to know if you noticed anything different about Tom earlier today.” Dylan watched her

expression intently. “Did he mention anything unusual?”

A look of recognition dawned on her features. “You’re the agent he spoke about, a good friend

of his. He was supposed to meet you tonight.”

Dylan did his best to not look surprised. “What did he say about that meeting?”

“Not much.” She gripped the medical chart with both arms, hugging it to her. “He told me he had

a postcard to give you that an old friend sent him. The friend that committed suicide.”

“You two were close.” A sharp pain tore his gut at the mention of Nate. “Did anyone else know

about your relationship?”

She shook her head. “We made sure that no one did.”

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***

“No.” She looked at him curiously. “Why?”

“Your home or his?” Dylan asked.

She looked as though she was starting to get perturbed. “Why does that matter?”

“It wil help.” He spoke in a low voice as a nurse passed by. “Trust me.”

“I went to his house.” She looked like she was forcing herself to relax and she shifted the chart

to one arm. “I have a fifteen-year-old daughter and I never know if she might come home at a time I

expect her to be gone.”

“Why don’t you take the day off?” Dylan said gently. “Is there anyone on call who can cover for

you?”

“I am the on call physician.” The beautiful doctor looked as if she was hanging on to her emotions

by a thread. “I’m replacing one of our staff members who came down ill with strep.”

The last thing Dylan wanted to do at that moment was contribute to the doctor losing her cool

when she needed to maintain calm professionalism for her patients.

He dug his card out of the pocket of his overshirt and extended it. “This has my office number

and my cell. Contact me if you think of anything that might have seemed odd or out of place. Perhaps

a person you didn’t know that you saw around more than once.”

She took the card with an amazingly steady hand. A doctor’s hand. “You think someone might

have been following him?”

“Just looking at all angles, Dr. Miller.” He stepped back.

“Thank you, Agent Curtis.” She tucked the card into a pocket of her white coat and turned away.

Dylan headed for the waiting room. Before he reached it, his phone vibrated in its holster. When

he withdrew it, he saw that it was his RAC.

When he answered, Sofia didn’t waste time. “Everything has been arranged. Trace will be in

contact with you.”

“Thank you,” Dylan said.

“You have some explaining to do.” Her tone was hard. “Why the hel didn’t you bring those

postcards in?”

Dylan stayed outside the waiting room where he couldn’t be heard. “This was personal. The

cards were addressed to members of the Circle.”

“Personal, my ass.” She maintained an even tone but it had a harsh edge to it. “If it’s so damned

personal, you should be taken off the case.”

“No.” Dylan spoke sharper than he’d intended to. “These cards have very individualized

messages to them, and I believe they have clues that only we can decipher.”

He could picture Sofia pacing her home. “I don’t give one shit about what you think. Get those

cards to the office. You can make copies but the originals are to be on my desk when I get in. I’l be

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***

“I’l get them to you.” He wanted to keep the originals, but he did need to allow them to be

examined. Not to mention they could be evidence to more than one murder case. He glanced out a

nearby window and saw that the sun was rising. It had been one hel of a long night. “I’m keeping

Belle with me. We’l get her to the safe house later.”

A couple of seconds passed, as if Sofia was deciding whether or not to tell him otherwise. “Once

the agents arrive for Salvatore and Christie Reyes, and take them into protective custody, get your

ass to the office.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Dylan holstered his phone as soon as Sofia disconnected the call.

He walked into the waiting room, where he saw Salvatore staring out a window. Christie had her

head against Belle’s shoulder and both women appeared rumpled and exhausted. They had

discarded the jackets on one chair.

Christie’s bathrobe had slipped off one shoulder, and beneath it she wore a silky nightgown in a

peach shade. Her dark red hair was tumbled around her face and she looked younger than she was.

Belle’s cream-colored sweater was smudged with a black streak, probably from the scene of the

fire when she’d left the truck. Despite her exhausted appearance, she was even more beautiful to

him than ever.

Salvatore whirled from the window to face Dylan. “How is Marta?” It felt as though a touch of

insincerity was in Salvatore’s tone, and Dylan had to work to keep from frowning at the man.

Both Belle and Christie glanced up, apparently not having noticed Dylan in the room until

Salvatore had spoken.

“She’s stil in a coma.” Dylan cut his gaze from Salvatore to the women. “The doctor won’t state

whether or not Marta will make a full recovery.”

Tears rolled down Christie’s cheeks as she looked at Dylan.

Belle appeared even paler than she had a moment before. “Why would someone do that to

her?”

Salvatore cursed under his breath. “Marta was a good woman.”

“She
is
a good woman.” Belle’s voice rose and she glared at Salvatore. “She is
not
going to die.

She
is
going to come out of this.”

“Of course she is going to survive.” Salvatore put his hands on his hips. “I am sorry. I am very

angry at whoever is responsible.”

“We all are upset.” Christie sat up and wrapped her bathrobe more tightly around her. Her blue

eyes pleaded with Dylan. “Find them. Make them pay.”

He nodded slowly and gave them the same promise he’d given Nancy. “Trust me. I wil .”

Salvatore looked as if a thought had just occurred to him. “What about Leon Petroski and his

family? Where are they?”

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***

find out and get them to a safe house. But he wasn’t about to discuss it with anyone.

“Where wil we be going?” Salvatore went to his wife’s side and rested his hand on her shoulder.

“You and Belle will be going with us, of course.”

Dylan dragged his hand down his face, feeling so damned tired. “You and Christie will be going

to a different safe house than Belle will be at.”

“I’m going to a safe house alone?” Belle frowned.

“It’s safer keeping you all separated.” Dylan met her eyes. “It’s not good for you all to be at the

same location.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Belle was stil frowning. “What about you?”

“I have work to do to get this solved.” Dylan looked from Belle to Christie. “I’m going to need to

talk with everyone separately to determine what Nate was trying to tell us.”

Belle said quietly, “With Tom dead, that’s going to be a lot harder.”

“Yes, it is.” Dylan clenched his jaw before forcing himself to relax. “But I wil figure this out, one

way or another.”

“
We
wil figure this out.” Belle’s eyes had the same determined look in them that he remembered

from when they were younger. “We’re all in this together.”

***

***

Belle stood in the hospital lobby and worried the inside of her lower lip with her teeth. Her insides

hurt, a gut wrenching pain that felt as if it might tear her apart.

She watched Salvatore and Christie being swept away by two agents in a black SUV. They were

on their way to the safe house they’d be staying in, wherever that might be. Dylan had told her it

could be anywhere in the county—Sierra Vista, Wilcox, Benson, or right here in Bisbee. No one

would know but the agents.

When they were gone, Dylan walked with Belle out to his truck. He’d given the keys to two other

agents who had pulled the truck up to the hospital doors so they wouldn’t have to walk across the

parking lot, leaving them wide open. The agents stayed with them until they were safely inside.

The agents had swept the vehicle for tracking devices and explosives, just in case someone

had gotten to the truck while Dylan was in the hospital. When they left the parking lot, the two agents

followed them in another black SUV.

Instead of taking Belle immediately to a safe house, he brought her with him to his office just

outside of Douglas. A tall chain-link fence with barbed wire surrounded the buildings. He mentioned

the office had been remodeled a year ago, and the fence added after an incident, but he didn’t go

into detail. She didn’t press him because it didn’t seem to be something he wanted to talk about, or

maybe it was because he couldn’t.

When they arrived at the DHS office, Dylan unlocked the glove compartment and pulled out the

familiar postcards.

Once they were out of the truck, the agents accompanied them inside the office. It was just

before eight AM and Belle was dead on her feet. She hadn’t felt this tired since the old days when