by Debra Webb
Whatever had been on that page—he’d thrust it into his jacket pocket too quickly for her to get so much as a glimpse—it had shaken him. The paper was evidence and he’d taken it from the scene. He’d put her in an untenable position. Yet her first responsibility was to the client. She couldn’t say for a certainty that the paper he’d taken was significant evidence—which would present the one situation in which her obligation to him slipped out of first place. Basically until she knew what was on that page, she needed to focus on protecting the client.
From himself as much as any other threat.
They reached the quarantine unit and the door to Maynard’s room was open. The guard was no longer at the door. Bella glanced at Pierce and his face was clouded with that same anger she’d been watching darken his eyes since their conversation with his pretend wife hours ago.
A uniformed Chicago PD officer and two men in suits—detectives, she surmised—were crowded around Maynard’s bed.
“What’s going on here?” Pierce demanded.
“Dr. Pierce,” one of the suits said, “glad you’re finally here.”
The suit glanced at Bella. “Detective Corwin,” he said, then gestured to the other suit. “Detective Hodge.”
He didn’t introduce the uniform, but his name, Laurence, was on his name tag anyway.
“Investigator Isabella Lytle.” She thrust out her hand. “The Colby Agency.”
“We have a situation,” Corwin said.
“Your patient—” Hodge checked his notes “—Cara Pierce.”
“That is not her name,” Pierce snapped.
Bella started to speak but Hodge cut her off. “She called 911 and reported that you, Dr. Pierce, had kidnapped her and held her hostage for two months until she escaped yesterday. That running from you is the reason she had the accident. She said you were holding her here at the hospital as well and that she had to get away so she could hide from you.”
“What?” Pierce demanded. “We spoke to her—Audrey Maynard—just this morning. She claimed to have been paid by some person she couldn’t name or identify to pretend to be my deceased wife. The man who hired her also orchestrated her accident so that she would be brought here. Ask her for yourself.”
The suits and the uniform stepped away from the bed. It was empty.
Bella’s instincts rocketed to the next level. “How long has she been gone?”
“The call came in to dispatch around noon,” Corwin said. “We’ve been here maybe half an hour.” He shifted his gaze to Pierce. “Waiting for you.”
“Where’s the guard who was stationed at her door?” Pierce demanded.
“We’ve interviewed him,” said Corwin, who seemed to be the lead detective. “He’s headed downtown, where we’ll question him some more.”
“What did the guard say happened?” Bella asked before Pierce could make another demand.
“He says she came to the door demanding a phone. When he refused to provide her with one, she took off down the hall. She snatched a cell phone off the counter at the nurses’ station. When we got here,” Corwin went on, “she was gone. We’ve got uniforms crawling all over this place.”
Bella held up her hands when Pierce would have bellowed something not in the least helpful. “Take your time, gentlemen. Interview every member of staff if necessary. Ms. Maynard was not a prisoner here. The guard was for her protection since we couldn’t determine if there was a further threat to her life. Considering the way she was brought here, we were concerned. As for her sudden disappearance, she can’t have gotten far in her physical condition.”
“Hold up.” Corwin shook his head. “What does all that mean?”
“Why don’t we take this discussion to my office?” Pierce suggested. “We’ll explain everything.”
Corwin instructed Laurence to wait at the abandoned room. He and Hodge followed Bella and Pierce to his office. Patricia glanced up as Pierce warned that he didn’t want to be disturbed. She ignored Bella altogether. Apparently she was still unhappy about the questions Bella had asked. There was no help for that.
Once the two detectives were settled in front of Pierce’s desk and Bella had taken a seat at a small conference table, Pierce explained the events that had taken place since Maynard’s arrival in the ER. He walked them through his interview that morning and the information about the car’s license plate and the hotel where she’d met the man who’d hired her. Occasionally he looked to Bella for confirmation. When he reached the part where they looked at the car Maynard had been driving, he allowed Bella to take over.
“The interior of the car appeared fine,” she said. “According to the paperwork in the glove box, it was only purchased yesterday. The one troubling issue we noted was the blood in the trunk.”
The relief on Pierce’s face when she didn’t mention the page he’d tucked into his jacket was palpable. Protect the client.
“Ms. Lytle,” Hodge said, “the dealership reported that car stolen. We got the call just a little while ago.”
“Then the paperwork was forged,” Pierce said. “To prevent the officers who responded to the accident from becoming suspicious.”
Corwin nodded. “Evidently. We’re well aware of who you are, Dr. Pierce. Your work in the community is well noted and our captain warned us to keep the gloves on for this one. The way I hear it, the mayor himself is a personal friend of yours.”
“Dr. Pierce wants the truth,” Bella interceded. “He wants you to investigate this situation to the best of your ability. A woman was brought to him posing as his deceased wife. Clearly, someone is attempting to besmirch his name and to cause him great personal pain.”
“Since we can’t question the woman you claim is Audrey Maynard,” Corwin began, “we’re going to need your full cooperation, Dr. Pierce.”
When Pierce would have spoken, Bella held up a hand for him to wait. “Before we proceed, Dr. Pierce has a right to proper counsel, particularly in an unknown situation like this one. If your assertions are accurate, Ms. Maynard and whoever hired her are attempting to frame Dr. Pierce in a very serious crime. Kidnapping is a very grave crime.”
Corwin heaved a breath. “First, this is not an assertion. You can listen to the 911 call for yourself. The woman made the statement. She gave the name Layla Devereux.”
“That may be her street name,” Bella argued. “I’m confident if you take her prints from the cell phone she used or from the room, you’ll find that her name is Audrey Maynard.” Her friend had sent a text confirming the name and a couple of arrests for solicitation. Bella had the address listed as her home but, under the circumstances, she wasn’t giving up that information. She wouldn’t compromise the identity of her lab contact—or herself—by telling them she’d already found the information before reporting the crime. These two could figure it out for themselves.
“We have a two-man forensic team en route as we speak,” Hodge assured her.
“Don’t waste your time investigating me, Detective,” Pierce said. “The man who hired this woman, who seriously injured her, is the person you should be looking for. If my associate, Ms. Lytle, and I are correct in our conclusions, Ms. Maynard is very likely in danger. The man behind this, whatever it is, will want to ensure nothing and no one leads back to him.”
“Let’s talk about your enemies,” Corwin suggested.
While Pierce spoke, Bella sent a text to her Colby Agency backup. She wanted someone at the address listed as Maynard’s residence just in case she showed up there. Bella sent him a pic she’d snapped of Maynard in the room this morning.
Pierce went through the same paces with the detectives that Bella had put him through last night. The sooner they satisfied the detectives, the sooner they would be on their way.
When enough questions had been asked and answered, Bella took advantage of a pause and asked, “Where did Ms. Maynard claim Dr. Pier
ce had been holding her these last two months? And how did she escape in a brand-new stolen Lexus with another woman’s driver’s license in her bag?”
She felt confident the detectives could see the absurdity of the scenario the same as she. Pierce spent sixteen or more hours a day here. He’d said as much and had the staff and security footage to back it up. He’d already asked his security specialist to pull up the feed for all exterior doors and the parking lot to show Maynard’s exit. If someone picked her up, maybe the license plate would be captured on the video. Or, at the very least, the make and model of the vehicle.
Corwin looked to Pierce. “She says you kept her in your home. The clothes, the ID with your dead wife’s name were things you forced her to use. Furthermore, she said you have a red room and that’s where you kept her as your private sex slave.”
When Pierce stared blankly at him, Hodge tacked on, “You know, like that movie, Fifty Shades.”
When Pierce didn’t appear able to find his voice, Bella argued, “It sounds as if she did a lot of talking on that call for a woman who wanted out of here for fear that her captor or one of his hirelings would return at any moment.”
Pierce glanced at her, a glimmer of appreciation in his gaze.
Corwin nodded. “Definitely. I’m with you. Sounds like a setup.” He pressed his lips together and made a noncommittal sound. “But then there’s the issue of those rumors that lingered after your wife died.”
Bella looked from Corwin to Pierce. His face had closed. No more anger, no more gratitude or uncertainty. The poker face was back. “What are you implying, Detective?”
“The doc knows,” Corwin said to Bella rather than respond to Pierce’s demand. “When his wife died, there were rumors that he wanted her dead.”
Bella rose from her chair before she realized she intended to do so. “Thank you, Detectives. Dr. Pierce has been through quite enough for today. I’m certain you’ll let him know if you have additional questions.”
Corwin looked from her to Pierce. “Is that the way you want to play this, Doc?”
Pierce removed a business card from the center drawer of his desk and handed it to Corwin. “Contact my attorney if you have more questions.”
The two detectives stood. “If you’ve got nothing to hide, you needn’t be concerned.” As he turned away, Corwin paused to survey Bella from head to toe and back. “Be careful, Investigator Lytle. You might find yourself strapped to a leather bed.”
When the two had exited the door, Bella closed it. She looked directly at Pierce. “I’m going to assume none of what they’re suggesting is true.”
Pierce said nothing.
“You know they’re going to get a warrant.”
Pierce’s cool composure slipped, but only for a moment. “A warrant wasn’t mentioned. I doubt they’d go to those extremes just yet.”
Bella struggled to keep from rolling her eyes. “They aren’t going to give you the heads-up—they’ll want to catch you off guard. They don’t want to risk you hiding or disposing of evidence before they get there. But you can bet a warrant is coming. If they search your house, will they find anything incriminating?”
“Nothing that will connect me to any of this.”
His tone was flat, his face giving nothing away.
“Have you ever met Audrey Maynard before?”
“No.”
She already knew he had nothing to do with his wife’s death, so she wasn’t even going there. “Do you have a so-called red room?”
“How is that relevant?”
A spark of anger was back in his eyes.
Holy hell. “When they search your home—and they will—anything that lends credibility to her story will throw up warning signs and warrant further investigation.”
She tried to focus on her job instead of Pierce’s so-called red room. Suddenly, the short-sleeved silk sweater she’d chosen to wear today felt too thick though it was thin and gauzy. Perspiration rose on her skin. The urge to peel off her jacket was nearly overwhelming. Of all the things she expected to learn about Dr. Devon Pierce during this investigation, his taste for kink wasn’t one of them. She blinked away the images of his lean body, naked save leather handcuffs. She drew in a harsh breath, willed her mind to stop conjuring those erotic mental pictures. “I need you to be open and honest with me, Dr. Pierce. It’s the only way I can help you.”
“What they will find,” he said, forcing her attention back to him, “is personal and irrelevant to this investigation.”
Liar.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Our time is short. I hope your status in the community and the powerful people with whom you are associated will slow their efforts to get a warrant. That said, I doubt those two will stop until they persuade one judge or the other to sign the warrant. But we’ll worry about crossing that bridge when it’s in front of us. For now, we’re going to visit Audrey Maynard’s mother.”
A frown furrowed his handsome brow. “You believe she’ll talk to us or are you hoping her daughter will be hiding there?”
Bella wanted to believe Devon Pierce was as honest as he was handsome. As much as she hated to admit it, she wasn’t immune to his mysterious pull. But her instincts warned her he wasn’t being completely truthful. There was more to the story. “I do believe we can gain some amount of cooperation. As for Audrey, it’s possible she would risk going to a known location. I suppose it depends on just how scared she is.” She grabbed her bag and headed for the door. “Let’s go.”
The sooner she was out of this office and focused on the investigation, the sooner she could clear her head of the images the detectives’ accusations against Pierce had elicited.
His bare skin draped in leather and chains flashed full-size in her mind.
You are in trouble here, Bella.
Deep trouble.
South Bishop Street, 5:00 p.m.
THE MORGAN PARK neighborhood was an old one with plenty of historic bungalows to prove its age. Some parts were undergoing gentrification and others were less fortunate. The small brick bungalow belonging to Olivia Maynard landed somewhere in the middle with its sagging roof begging for attention and picket fence in need of paint while meticulously groomed shrubs and vibrant blooming flowers filled the yard. On the front porch, an array of eclectic pots overflowed with more flowers. A swing and a rocking chair welcomed visitors while at the same time clashing with the iron bars on the windows and the triple dead bolts on the door.
Bella knocked on the door. If they were lucky, they had got here before the police and would have the information they needed before their arrival. She wanted to hear the mother’s take on the daughter before her opinion was colored by reality. Pierce stood so close to her that she felt too hot again in her chosen wardrobe. She resisted the urge to step away from him.
Was his closeness an attempt to intimidate her?
No answer at the door. She knocked again and waited, absently rubbing her knuckles. Would Audrey have dared to take off on her own? Had she chosen to completely ignore the warning about being a loose end? Bella hated the idea of her ending up dead. She wouldn’t have been the first prostitute to get caught up in a game that led to her demise.
Whoever had hired her to pretend to be Pierce’s wife clearly was not playing games.
The shade on the door drew back far enough for someone to peek out. One by one, the dead bolts were released and the door swung open a couple of inches.
“If you’re selling something, including religion, I’m not interested.” The woman had blond hair, though her gray roots were starting to show, and blue eyes. Her face was an older version of her daughter’s.
Definitely Audrey’s mother.
“Mrs. Maynard?”
The woman looked at Bella and said, “If you’re cops, Audrey’s not here. I haven’t seen her for a couple of days.”
At least part of that statement was good news.
“Mrs. Maynard, my name is Isabella Lytle and this is my associate, Dr. Devon Pierce. We’re here about Audrey.”
Her face fell, and fear crept into her eyes. “Is she all right?”
“Please,” Bella urged, “may we come inside?”
The door opened wide in invitation and Bella breathed a sigh of relief. Inside, her eyes quickly adjusted to the dim interior. A lamp sat on a table flanked by two chairs. On the far wall was a small box-style television perched on a long narrow table loaded with framed photographs. Across the small room to Bella’s left was a well-loved sofa. A throw and a couple of pillows were tucked at one end. The part in the curtains allowed a strip of sunlight to cut across the worn wood floor.
Hands wringing together, Ms. Maynard sat down in the chair closest to the television set. She reached for the oxygen concentrator on the table next to her chair. She put the nasal cannula in place, draped the lines over her ears and inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes and seemed to relax a little.
When she’d opened her eyes, Pierce asked, speaking for the first time, “When was the last time you saw your daughter?”
“Sunday night, I think. She was gone the next morning before I woke up.” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “I suppose she could have left in the middle of the night, but she was here when I went to bed Sunday night.”
This was really good news. The mother’s statement directly contradicted the daughter’s assertion against Pierce. Audrey Maynard left her home either late Sunday night or early Monday morning and showed up in the ER on Monday evening. Dr. Pierce’s whereabouts, other than the few hours before seven Tuesday morning, could be verified.
Bella pulled the photo she’d taken of Audrey on screen and showed it to Mrs. Maynard. “Is this your daughter?”
