by Andrea Kane
“She’ll live,” Ryan replied. “This is important. Meanwhile, I have to keep a close monitoring ear on every conversation the Lexingtons have and every place they go. I don’t know how deep Ron and Felicia’s involvement in this is, and I don’t know how far Nancy’s already gone. But I will.”
* * *
Abby was finally asleep, and Aidan used that time to sit down at his decryption computer and check on the files he had been given by Forensic Instincts.
With what Marc had relayed to him a little while ago about the hospital lawsuit, it was more important than ever that he crack the key.
Aidan had repeated Ryan’s efforts first, this time using special decryption algorithms. He started his efforts with seed words based on Ronald’s life, hoping for an early win. Family members. Pets’ names. Favorite sports teams. Hobbies. Alma maters. All the personal information that he and Ryan had dug up and that formed many people’s core passwords and even encryption keys.
Aidan’s computer had quickly analyzed the millions of permutations and rejected all of them. Now it was going to take brute force techniques to break the encryption key. Billions of attempts. Billions of failures.
Hunched over the computer, Aidan responded to Ryan’s earlier text with a simple but accurate answer. Not yet.
24
WORD OF THE lawsuit spread through Manhattan Memorial like wildfire.
The staff was shocked and terrified as their worlds were thrown totally into chaos. The potential fallout from the hospital merger became secondary compared to this. Even the possibility of a lawsuit of this magnitude could impact the entire hospital.
The atmosphere within the walls was grim, the silence and whispered conversations permeating everything, compromising the fine work that had always been associated with Manhattan Memorial.
Jacob Casper was locked in his office with counsel almost around the clock, desperately working to stop this avalanche before it took on a life of its own.
Janet had no time for anything, much less a dinner with Casey. She was expected to be in on all the meetings with Jacob, taking notes, following up on instructions. For once, she was too overworked and exhausted to be plugged into her gossip line. Besides, there was nothing to gossip about other than what was happening here. And she was in the inner loop, bound by confidentiality. There was nothing she could do to calm the frenzied staff.
This was just an overwhelming nightmare.
During the limited time Janet had to run to the ladies’ room and buy a bite to eat, she did, and then hurried back to her office to eat in privacy. To hang out at Au Bon Pain would mean to answer a million questions—none of which she could, or was permitted to, answer. Plus, she didn’t want to be bombarded. To say what? That no one’s job was secure? That no one’s future was a fait accompli? That no one even knew if the hospital would survive this unless the lawsuit was settled quickly and quietly?
Solitude was the only solution. That, and a lot of strong black coffee.
During one of those brief, solo meals, Diana knocked on her door.
Janet looked up, and then gave a faint smile when she saw who it was. “Come in, sweetheart.”
Diana poked her head in and waved a brown paper bag. “I thought you might like some company for lunch—company who loves you and has no desire to pump you for information.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Janet gave a weary sigh. “Pull up a chair and join me. I apologize in advance. I’m lousy company.”
“No apology necessary. You’re going through hell.” Diana settled herself, placed her lunch on the desk and glanced at the small fruit salad her mother was picking at.
“Mom, you have to eat.” She pulled out the turkey sandwich she’d brought from home and placed half of it in front of her mother. “You’re going to get yourself sick. Nothing is worth that.”
Janet stared down at the sandwich, and then lifted her gaze. “Thank you. I’m trying to keep it together. But sitting in that conference room, hour upon hour, hearing the same ominous predictions—it really gets to me. This is my hospital, too. I’ve worked here forever. And that bitch, Nancy Lexington, wants nothing more than to destroy it. For what? It won’t bring Ronald back.”
“Yeah. I know.” Diana swallowed hard. “And selfishly, I’m hysterical, Mom. My job was in flux before. Now? What am I going to do if they cut me loose?”
“We’ll fix it the way we fix everything,” Janet replied. “But right now, we don’t even know if there’s going to be a job to fight for, or a Manhattan Memorial to practice in.”
“What are the odds that Nancy Lexington will settle?”
Janet shrugged, trying to choke down a bite of sandwich. “It depends. The woman who burst in here last week, threatened me and slapped me across the face was definitely irrational and paranoid. Maybe she’s really lost it and she went over the edge for good. I don’t know. But if she won’t accept the millions we’re offering her, we’re in deep trouble.”
Diana munched on a carrot stick, her own mind working. “If she doesn’t give a damn about the money for herself, you’d think she’d care about it for her children—the children who she so loves and shields.”
“Shhh,” Janet said. “You’re not supposed to know about what she’s shielding them from.”
“I’ve never repeated anything you told me, and I never will,” Diana replied. “I’m just talking to you. We’re alone, and the door is locked. But I don’t know what more that woman wants other than what she already has—and now, what she’s being offered. FYI, I doubt her children are in the dark about anything their father did. He wasn’t exactly discreet—even if he thought he was.”
“I’m not sure how much Nancy wants or what would be enough for her to settle. But I have a feeling we’ll be finding out very soon.”
* * *
“Soon” came even sooner than Janet had expected.
At eight o’clock, with Janet sitting at her desk wondering if she’d be needed any more that day, Jacob burst through the administrative doors and into Janet’s office.
“We had our settlement conference.”
“Already?” Janet was surprised. “That wasn’t supposed to take place until tomorrow.”
“Well, Nancy Lexington’s attorney summoned us. So counsel and I went.”
Janet didn’t have to ask. She could tell that the conference had gone horribly just by looking at Jacob. He was positively gray, and he looked as rattled as the rest of the staff. The only difference was he also looked livid.
“Get the board chairman on the phone now,” he commanded.
She nodded. “I can see that you’re furious. May I ask what happened?”
“No settlement. Nancy Lexington was there, and she wouldn’t budge. She doesn’t want money, she wants revenge. She wants everyone’s head. Conrad’s. Madeline’s. Manhattan Memorial. The entire world, all of whom she holds responsible for Ronald’s death. The woman is certifiable.”
“Are those demands her attorney’s or hers?”
“If they were the attorney’s, we’d stand half a chance,” Jacob snapped, running a shaky hand through his hair. “But no, those are Nancy’s own demands. Actually, her attorney had begged her to accept the more than generous offer. He continued to urge her to do so throughout the meeting. And she continued to refuse.”
A dark pause, during which Jacob lowered his head. “I even followed the board’s instructions and offered to fire Conrad and Madeline. She didn’t give a damn. That wasn’t enough. She wants a court of law to find them responsible for Ronald’s death. Once that judgment is entered, they’ll be ruined. She wants no part of settlements wrapped in confidentiality agreements to protect the guilty parties’ reputations. She wants them and their reputations destroyed, personally and financially. Her goal is to have the Westfields unemployable, except for flipping b
urgers in a fast-food restaurant, and if the hospital goes down with them, so be it.”
“Oh, my God.” That was worse than Janet had expected. Without pursuing it further, she reached for the phone. “I’ll get the board chairman right now.”
* * *
Ryan sat down at the computer desk in his lair. He had to listen to the recording of the latest conversation that had taken place at Nancy Lexington’s house—courtesy of the bug he’d planted there when no one was home. He was really psyched, not about the content, but about how he was going to listen to it.
He’d been looking for the right opportunity to test Audio Detracktor, the new app he’d downloaded to his iPad, and this Lexington family conversation would be perfect for the task at hand.
“Yoda, please upload the Lexington audio file to my iPad Dropbox account,” he said.
Mere seconds passed. “Your request has been completed,” Yoda responded.
“Excellent.” Ryan launched the app, selected the file and tapped the analyze button on his screen.
The app displayed “Working,” together with a swirling icon, as it crunched through the audio, attempting to separate similar sounds into layers. Each layer appeared as a horizontal band, stacked one on top of another, down the screen. They were arranged in descending order based on average decibel, the intensity of the sound isolated by the software.
Ryan tapped the play icon on the first and loudest layer. After a few seconds of silence, he heard some harsh words from Ron Lexington. Then more silence. Ryan tapped Stop, and moved onto the second layer. The voice he heard was Nancy Lexington’s, angry and irrational. A quick pause and then more of Nancy, petering down into silence.
Time to move on to the next layer.
This time it was Felicia, who sounded no less pissed off than her brother.
Cool.
The app had detected the pattern of each of their voices and separated each of them from the other as well as from the other sounds in the room.
Felicia’s words ended. Curious, Ryan played the next layer in the sequence. A honking horn from the traffic in the street below. The rumble of a truck’s diesel engine lumbering down the street. Then the click-click-click of high heels on a wooden floor, followed by the springs of a sofa as someone either sat or stood. And finally, tick-tick-tick, the telltale sound of expanding metal radiators as the heat kicked on inside the room. Ryan was beginning to wonder if he’d be able to hear the room’s occupants breathing.
His excitement over this new toy was abruptly halted when his mind reassembled the pieces of this audio puzzle, and he realized that the conversation in its entirety was important.
Time to actually listen.
“Yoda, please shut down the app,” he said.
“Of course, Ryan.” An instant later it had been done.
Now Ryan played the audio file using the standard music app so he could concentrate on the conversation itself.
Evidently Nancy had recently arrived home to find her children waiting.
“Mom, what did you do at that meeting?” Ron demanded.
“Exactly what I said I was going to do.” Nancy sounded completely unhinged. “I turned down their offer and insisted on going to trial.”
Felicia groaned. “Didn’t you hear a word we said?” she asked. “This witch hunt of yours is going to drag Dad’s name through the mud. The media will have a field day with what the hospital leaks. They’re going to go for the jugular, not just sit back and let you destroy Manhattan Memorial and its staff members. They’re going to come at you with all they’ve got.”
“Really?” Nancy gave a triumphant laugh. “Let them. They’re desperate. I already got them to offer to fire both Conrad and Madeline. Quite a coup, wouldn’t you say?”
“Are you kidding?” Ron sounded flabbergasted. “Isn’t that enough? What more do you want? Conrad and Madeline will be disgraced, jobless and punished for the crime you’re convinced they committed. Take the money and their offer to kick the Westfields out of Manhattan Memorial and walk away.”
“Never.”
“Mother.” Felicia was clearly about to go for her mother’s Achilles’ heel. “The hospital is going to uncover every sordid affair that Dad ever had. Every woman he ever slept with. Every employee he crossed the line with and then lied about. Every hospital employee he got fired to keep them from talking about their trysts. The media will gobble up every word—and magnify and sensationalize it. Dad’s reputation will be shattered. And our lives will be ruined.”
“Don’t ever speak of your father like that!” Nancy screamed. “He was a good man. An honorable man. He loved all of us. And he loved his job. There’s nothing they can say that will undermine that!”
“They’re not trying to undermine him,” Ron said. “They’re trying to destroy him. They want popular opinion to shift to the Westfields as victims in all this. You’ll be labeled jealous and crazy, and we’ll be penniless. If you accept the settlement, Dad’s good name will remain as such, and we’ll be as rich as kings. Isn’t that the ultimate revenge?”
“No. And I’m not discussing this anymore. You should both be ashamed of yourself, disrespecting your father like this. I’m disgusted by your lack of support. Now get out! I don’t want to look at either of you!”
After that, there was nothing more than the sound of a door slamming—Ryan would guess the door to Nancy’s bedroom—and the rustling of coats being donned.
“She’s lost it, Ron,” Felicia murmured. “We have to do something.”
“We will,” he replied.
* * *
Marc lay quietly, holding Madeline in his arms. The one pillow that was still left on the bed he’d propped under his head, and the one section of bedcovers that wasn’t crumpled on the floor he’d pulled over them when Maddy started shivering in the aftermath of their lovemaking.
Despite the crises that were going on around them, they were still reveling in the wonder of their reunion. Quite frankly, Marc couldn’t get enough of Maddy, nor she of him.
Now she shifted a little, draping one leg over Marc’s.
“I wish we could stay at your place,” she murmured. “I hate that I’m trapped inside these walls ninety percent of the time. And yet I’m scared to death about what Nancy Lexington has in store for me.”
Cradling her closer, Marc stared at the ceiling, his jaw hard. “I’m more worried about when and how the perp will strike next.”
Madeline tilted her head back and gazed up at Marc. “You’re still not convinced that Nancy is the one trying to kill Conrad and me.”
“Less and less so every day,” he replied. “She’s certainly not keeping a low profile with this lawsuit. Killers don’t usually wave red flags saying they’re crazed with rage and on the warpath. Plus, how does she think that winning her lawsuit will eliminate whatever incriminating evidence or knowledge you and/or Conrad must have? Sure, she’d discredit the two of you, maybe even destroy your careers, but you’d still be walking around. So how does that satisfy her needs? Why would she go backward in her attempts to wipe you both out as threats?”
Madeline considered that for a moment. “I can’t dispute any of what you said. But if you’re right, it scares me even more. My killer is still a nameless, faceless enemy at large. How can I combat that?”
“That’s FI’s job,” Marc responded. “We’ll keep you safe. And we’ll find the son of a bitch who’s going after you.”
Madeline shut her eyes, wishing she could shut out everything outside this bed with it. “I believe you. I just wish I could do something. Much as I love you, I’m not the type to sit around like a damsel in distress.”
Marc’s lips twitched. “Yeah, I know. You’re the type to spill coffee on an unarmed man.”
He was rewarded with a playful punch in the arm. “You’ll never
let me live that down, will you?”
“Nope.”
Madeline was silent for a moment, then said, “I have to talk to you about something.”
“Uh-oh. I know that tone. I’m not going to like what you’re about to say, am I?”
“Probably not. But it’s not up for debate. As I just said, I hate being trapped in this apartment. And as I also said, I’m not the type to sit around doing nothing. So I pushed up the appointment I had for a recheck with my doctor. I went early this morning.”
Marc did not like what he was hearing. “Why didn’t I know about this doctor’s appointment? Who went with you?”
“Patrick did. And before you call and ream him out, it’s my fault that he didn’t tell you. I made him promise not to. Our deal was that I had to tell you myself by the end of the day, or he’d go to you. I’m living up to my end of the bargain, so cut the poor guy some slack. I didn’t ask his opinion. I announced that I was going with or without him. He just did his job.”
“Son of a bitch,” Marc muttered. “How is it that I know what’s coming next?”
“Because you know me.” Madeline propped herself on an elbow and gazed down at Marc. “I’m going back to work tomorrow—with my doctor’s approval. My ribs are sore but healing, and my concussion is long gone. I’m not allowed to lift heavy objects, and my initial shifts have to be shortened. But I’ll be back at Manhattan Memorial.”
Marc’s entire body was tense, and his stare bore through her. “This is the wrong time for this, Maddy. Even if you are feeling stronger. You’re in the middle of a lawsuit that will probably go to trial, making you a prime target for the media, for hospital staff members and for anyone else who wants a piece of you. Conrad’s not back, so you’ll be standing in for him, too. Don’t do this. It’s a bad idea.”
“I’m not afraid of emotional backlash. If I walk back into that hospital with my head held high, it says I have nothing to feel guilty about. Hiding suggests guilt.”
“You’re not hiding. You’re recuperating.” Marc frowned. “Also, have you given any thought to your security? How the hell can we watch you at work? Follow you around like puppies?”
