by Neely Powell
I sent Evan wary glances. What would I do if he went all Terminator on me?
His ability to sense my thoughts was eerie. “Nothing I do will come between you and Hunter. He’ll explain everything to you.”
Now I felt like an idiot. I focused on the television and worked to get my head back in balance.
“There’s a quote I like that I think works here,” Evan said in the awkward silence. “It says ‘cats are intended to teach us that not everything in nature has a function.’ No one knows who said that, but I think it’s very wise and applies to this situation.”
Okay, maybe he was a cyborg/psychic/philosopher. How weird was this?
I jumped when he reached over and hit the remote to turn up Craig Ferguson talking with his guest.
I’d had enough of Evan Egan for tonight. I stood. “This couch is comfortable and I’m sure we won’t be getting up too early. If you need anything, please tell me.”
“I’m comfortable wherever I am.”
“I’m sure you are.” I backed away, keeping my gaze on him.
He appeared ready to stay up all night on guard duty. Did I need someone else not human in my life?
Trying not to picture him morphing into an armored monster, I headed upstairs and wished I had a shot of brandy for my mug of cooling tea.
Chapter 16
I woke with a head full of cotton and a mouth full of sand. I felt like I’d spent the night wrestling with a hot man, but I was as alone in my king-size bed as I had been since my “unfortunate incident” with Mike Scala. My only wrestling had been with my pillow.
The sunlight trickling into the room told me it was late. The bedside clock said it was almost nine. I could smell coffee, and for a moment, I thought Bernie was still in my house. Then I remembered I had two male houseguests. Someone was already up. I threw back the covers and hustled into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Rather than my usual Saturday morning attire of ratty robe and faded sleep shirt, I made myself decent in jeans and an off-white sweater.
While I touched some blush to my cheeks and a little mascara on my lashes, I told myself I was stupid for thinking about the good-looking hunk who had spent the night on my sleeper sofa. Hell, what was wrong with me? Did I wish I was wrestling with Mike or the warrior-prince downstairs?
The smell of bacon and eggs greeted me at the top of the stairs. My stomach growled in appreciation. In the kitchen I found Evan at the stove flipping eggs, and the table was set for three.
“Good morning,” he said as I crossed the doorway. He looked at home.
I poured coffee. “That smells wonderful. Do you always cook a big breakfast?”
“At least once a week, especially after I’ve had a good run.”
I speculated on why a cyborg would need to run as I sipped my coffee. “So you left Hunter alone in the house in order to run?”
“I figured you had it covered,” Evan said, his brown eyes glinting.
Touché, I thought, but didn’t reply.
“I went six miles today. This is a great neighborhood. The small hills make it challenging.” Evan slid his eggs from the skillet onto a plate. “How do you want your eggs?”
“Just one, over medium. Thanks.”
I sat, feeling useless in my own kitchen but pleased to have a handsome man preparing a meal for me. Maybe the fact that he ate real food meant he was human, after all.
After fixing my egg, Evan turned everything off and grabbed the toast that popped up, a masculine move. He buttered both slices and put one on each of our plates. He sat down across from me and smiled, “I’m sorry I didn’t have any potatoes and haggis to add to the breakfast.”
I shuddered. “I had haggis in Scotland, and that’s something I will never do again. I don’t buy potatoes because I tend to forget about them until I have a funny smell in the pantry. Same goes with onions and stuff.”
“I try to keep staples on hand because I never know when I’ll get the urge to cook something.” His smile was disarming. “My mother always said the only person who could let you go without was yourself, so she made sure my brothers and I knew what we needed to get around a kitchen.”
I laughed, thinking of my parents. “It’s safe to say my mother never cooked in her life. I’m not sure my dad could get coffee if he couldn’t find a Starbucks.”
“But I hear he can shred a witness in a courtroom.”
I wondered how he knew my father was an attorney. Maybe Hunter had said something?
“Dig in,” he said. “What are you doing today?”
“Going in to work.” I hesitated. “Is there something else I need to do? For Hunter?”
Evan shrugged. “Not that I know of. I’m not sure of his plans.”
“Well, I’d like to work,” I said, irritated to feel that I needed to explain myself to Evan. “I’ve got a case I’m working to find a lost sibling.”
“How does one lose a sibling?” Evan asked, adding milk and sugar to his coffee.
“She didn’t actually lose her, she just remembers having a sister when she was very young but that sister disappeared.”
“That must make it a real challenge, like trying to find a needle in a needle factory.”
I opened my mouth to say something, and then closed it. He’d thrown me off guard when he hadn’t finished with the familiar cliché. He seemed adept at that. He was becoming more of a mystery and that wasn’t good because I enjoyed solving mysteries.
As we finished breakfast, he asked more about the case and I found as I talked that I was sorting out points that had been confusing me. Hunter and I usually did this, but he was out of commission and might be that way for a while.
Evan stood and took both our plates to the sink and ran water over them, just like he knew the egg yolk would stick without a soak.
“I could get used to this.” I smiled up at him. “Leave the dishes. It’s only fair that I clean up since you did all the cooking.”
We both turned as a moan came from the stairs. Evan grinned and said, “Well, at least it’s alive.”
We waited, hearing Hunter groan every time his foot hit the floor. When he came to the kitchen doorway, Evan handed him a mug of coffee and Hunter sat across from me. He was wearing boxers and a Cold Play T-shirt and all the evidence of his drinking last night was on his face.
“God, who’s idea was it to go clubbing last night?” he asked in a whisper.
“Yours,” I said cheerfully. “I had a great time. I slept well, and I’m ready to get to work.”
My little headache was gone after my good breakfast. “Are you coming in today?” I asked Hunter.
“Isn’t it Saturday?” he grumbled.
“Since when does that matter?”
He moaned again. “I’m not even sure I’m entirely human this morning.”
I gave him a long look up and down and said, “I don’t see any signs of fur.”
He raised his finger in a universal obscene gesture and I laughed, making him grimace.
Before I could get in another dig, the doorbell rang. Evan was heating the skillet to fix Hunter some eggs as I headed for the front door. When I looked through the peephole and saw the top of Mike’s head, I was the one who moaned. I had a feeling that my “unfortunate incident” was about to have a second act.
I opened the door, and he gave me a tentative smile. “I hope it’s okay that I’m just dropping by. You said you get up early, even on the weekends.”
I darted a look over my shoulder. “Sure.”
He paused. “Can I come in?”
Knowing the inevitable was about to happen, I moved back. Mike stepped around me.
I turned just as he saw Evan and Hunter in the doorway to the kitchen.
Mike darted me a dark look. “I see you haven’t spent your time moping about me.”
“Did you think I would?” I let anger overrule my discomfort. Hunter made a sound that was close to a growl. I spared him a warning glance. I could handle this.
“
Is there someplace we can talk alone?” Mike’s chin jutted out in challenge. “I don’t like the idea of talking in front of lover boy there.”
His tone was infuriating. We had been out one time and slept together. What rights did that give him? “These two men are my friends, and you’d do well to watch what you say. They anger easily. Let’s go to my office.”
Hunter watched us through narrowed eyes. Evan never took his gaze off Mike. We headed down the hallway to the small den I used as my office.
I shut the door and took a seat behind my desk, feeling like I needed a position of power in this conversation. Mike continued to stand, his entire body emanating anger.
So I took the lead. “I’m sorry about what happened the other night, but I can assure you that Hunter is just a friend. We’ve been best friends for many years, and we have a...a real connection.” I stumbled to find the right words. “We’re very close, and I sometimes know when he’s in trouble—”
“Oh, come on, Zoe, you can do better than that,” Mike said through gritted teeth. “Just tell me the truth. You were enjoying the sex. You just weren’t enjoying it with me.”
“That is absolutely not true!”
He gave me an unyielding glare. “I know when people are lying.”
“I’m trying to tell you the truth. Hunter was…hunting and was in an accident. I had a vision—”
Predictably, that made him sputter. “A vision? For God’s sake, just tell me the goddamn truth. Are you trying to make him jealous with me? Or are the two of you just into kinky stuff with other people.”
Footsteps clomped in the hall. Evan’s voice came through the door. “Everything all right, Zoe?”
“Everything’s fine, thank you.” I hated that Evan and Hunter might be hearing this exchange. I turned back to Mike. “Look, it’s obvious we’re not going to agree on this. All I can do is ask you to believe me. Hunter and I are not lovers. I’m sorry for what happened. I certainly didn’t intend to hurt or embarrass you. I’m not using anyone.”
“That’s what you say,” he said, his expression sad and distant. “But I’m a cop. I deal in facts, and the facts tell me a different story.”
“Sometimes you just have to accept things on faith.”
I watched him process my words, his expression growing even darker. “I’m a homicide detective. Faith hasn’t been part of my life for a long time.” He opened the door and stepped into the hallway. “I’m sorry I came here this morning. I thought maybe we could figure this out.”
“I could never be with a person who doesn’t trust me.”
“Maybe trust has to be earned.”
“We obviously don’t look at life in the same way at all.”
He glared at me in silence.
“Bye, Mike,” I said without breaking my gaze.
He turned his back, walked down the foyer and out the front door. I resisted the urge to watch him walk to his car. As I closed the door, Hunter’s arms came around me from behind and pulled me against his broad chest. “What was that all about?”
I turned and wrapped my arms around his waist. “I was just enjoying some male company and things didn’t go exactly as planned.”
“Did he break your heart?”
“The heart hadn’t become involved yet.”
“Want me to send Evan to beat him up at the playground after school?”
I laughed. “Could you turn into a tiger and scare the shit out of him?”
“You bet,” Hunter said in all seriousness.
He would do it for me. And I knew for someone as pragmatic as Mike that would be a mind-blowing trip. It was tempting, but I shook my head. “I’m kidding, Hunter. Leave the cop alone. I’ll be fine.”
Evan called out that Hunter’s breakfast was ready. We walked into the kitchen, and Evan told me, “Don’t worry, Zoe. It will get better.”
His confidence was disconcerting. I avoided his gaze and loaded the dishwasher while Hunter ate breakfast and took over the conversation. I only half listened, still mulling over Evan’s strange comment. Like Hunter, he sounded sincere. I couldn’t help wondering what he might know about my future. Was he a seer? Did he have visions, too? Maybe he could help me with mine?
I gave myself a mental shake as I turned on the dishwasher. I honestly didn’t know what to make of the whole lot of us, and I felt like I needed to put Hunter, Evan, and Mike out of my mind.
Thankfully, there were practical matters to consider. Hunter had driven his car to the city the night his grandfather died, but the always efficient Marie had made sure it had been returned to his apartment in Jersey City. So I took them home, then backtracked to the office.
I went straight to work on Lizzie’s file. I needed to organize my thoughts, so I pulled out a new legal pad to write down what I already knew.
Lizzie had been born in Secaucus, New Jersey, at The Hayden Clinic, but had grown up in London. The Hayden Clinic was closed now; Mrs. Hayden was still alive though remarried. Lizzie had an image of herself and her sister standing at the bottom of the stairs in matching Easter dresses for a photo. There was no evidence of this picture or any other sign that Douglas and Camilla had more than one child together.
And one last fact: Camilla left everything to Lizzie, and had taken Douglas out of her will. Was that because of his financial indiscretions or because he had messed up her family?
That was the definitive question. Was Camilla trying to tell Lizzie something by hitting Douglas in the place she knew would hurt him the worst—his wallet? Like many wealthy families, these people were completely dysfunctional and their one connection was their money. That motivated most disagreements.
Geez, I wondered how families like that were described before dysfunctional entered our vocabulary.
One thing I knew for certain—I needed proof, proof there had been more than one biological child in the Wilkinson/Baines family tree.
I tried again to reach Elaine Hayden. This time, not even a maid answered, so I left a voice mail with my name and phone number and told them again that I was calling about Lizzie’s birth at the Hayden Clinic. I hoped the woman would be interested enough to call me or contact Lizzie.
Until then, there had to be something I could do. That’s when inspiration struck. Bernie and her husband had been an active part of the New Jersey medical community for many years. Maybe she knew something about the Hayden Clinic and specifically about Charles and Elaine Hayden.
Rather than call, I headed for my neighborhood. Bernie answered her doorbell immediately.
As always, Bernie was delighted to see me. “Come on back to the den,” she said. “I was just about to get comfortable and watch some stuff I had taped. My grandson taught me to record any program I want to see. I don’t have to wade through all of that trash to find something entertaining.”
I followed her to the small den that adjoined the kitchen at the back of the house. The house was very warm and had the lingering aroma of food.
“Do you want some coffee or a glass of juice?” she asked, ignoring my answer and pouring us both some cranberry juice and filling a plate with homemade cookies.
I smiled as I took a seat on the oversized leather sofa. “I’m working on a case that involves a doctor and his wife, and I wondered if you knew them.”
Bernie set my juice and the plate of cookies on the table beside me and took a seat in a recliner nearby. Her eyes were bright with interest. “Who are you investigating? What did they do?”
I explained that I needed information about Charles and Elaine Hayden and the Hayden Clinic.
“Ira and I were friends with the Haydens. In fact, we were in the same bridge club and played together every week for at least fifteen years. Professionally Ira and Charles were very different, but as bridge partners they were unbeatable,” she said with a laugh. “The four of us won most of the local tournaments.”
“How were Ira and Charles different?”
“Oh, Ira was always a very involved doctor. He believ
ed he needed to get to know the patient to understand what made them sick. Charles was always a bottom-line kind of guy. He kept up with the latest developments in obstetrics and when he opened his own clinic, I guess you would have called it ‘state of the art.’ He always had a staff of young doctors and medical students to order around,” she said with a wave of her hand. “He liked being in charge and certainly had a strong sense of self-importance.”
“Anything else?”
Her eyes shifted and she put her hands on her knees. It was obvious she wanted to tell me something but wasn’t sure about it.
“Nobody will know where this came from,” I said. “I’m doing research for myself here.”
“Well, this sounds silly now, but Ira always had suspicions about Charles and his ‘fertility’ work.” She used air quotes.
“Why? What about it bothered him?”
“It seemed that everybody who came to the clinic had a baby, and, well, I think we all know you can’t be successful all the time with women and fertility. Ira wondered how Charles managed success so often. Women came from everywhere to see him.”
She stopped and shook her head for a moment and then shrugged. “Then again, maybe he was just a good doctor.”
“What about Mrs. Hayden?”
“Elaine was, and is, all about status. She couldn’t wait until they were making enough money to live in Manhattan. She was born in Newark, but she’d never tell anybody that. When they asked, she’d always say she grew up in the New York area.”
“When Charles was passed over for chief of obstetrics and gynecology at Wayne Memorial, she was the one who pushed him to get his own clinic. She was also the one who got the investors and brought in the money to get it opened. Ira always said she had the balls in the family.”
We talked some more about the Haydens as I munched cookies. I wasn’t sure if what Bernie told me was anything more than speculation, but at least it lent a framework to start my investigation of the Hayden clinic.
Thanking Bernie for her help, I stood.
“I have some leftover lamb chops if you’d like them for dinner,” the older woman said.
