what she knew (BREAKDOWN Book 4)

by Regan Black

“A witness remembered seeing a man standing alone on the Mill River bridge, staring at the water a few weeks back,” Julia explained. “She couldn’t pin down the exact date and she didn’t have much of a description since it was late at night, but like you with the cold meds, we followed intuition and went to look around.”

  “Are you all right?” Ana’s question was for all of them.

  “Finding that shoe tangled in the brush didn’t leave me much hope for a positive outcome,” Julia admitted. “I wanted so badly to be wrong and have you three accuse me of turning back into a cynical reporter.”

  The laughter around the table was brittle and brief.

  “I can’t imagine the shock of it,” Ana said. Except she could, having faced the grim finality of death before her twelfth birthday, long before her studies in medical school.

  Julia twisted her wineglass side to side, watching the golden liquid roll and glide. “Now we just need to find Special Agent Adler.”

  “The hunk’s missing partner?” she asked, trying to make Julia smile.

  It almost worked. Julia’s old flame, Special Agent Patrick Richards had come to town less than a week ago on the trail of his partner Evan Adler who seemed to have disappeared. Julia had adamantly sworn off rekindling any romance with Rick but Ana recognized the telltale signs of Julia struggling with old memories during a season that troubled her enough without having her ex around.

  When asked, she’d told Julia she hadn’t seen Alder. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. Sylvia had mentioned the FBI agent was coming to town to visit with her about Josie’s disappearance. Ana’s stomach twisted. Recognizing the signs of anxiety, she once again coached herself away from the abyss of full disclosure.

  If she blurted out everything right now, she wouldn’t be able to help people who needed her still. Patients like Yolanda, wrecked by grief, and Troy Duval who was dealing with the progression of his Multiple Sclerosis.

  Better to wait for the facts to come in. If the girl from the river wasn’t Josie, Ana would have exposed herself to persecution—and worse—for no reason.

  “If the girl you found is Josie, why would the Windermeres cover up her disappearance?” Ana queried.

  “They didn’t know,” Julia said. “They believed the family emergency thing. Quentin saw her through security. Then poof.” She flicked her fingers.

  Ana had her doubts. She met Laney’s gaze. “What about her family?”

  “Her parents came up to Grass Valley when she got the exchange student spot,” Laney said. “After so much time without any word, they’d gone to the local police to list her as missing.”

  “Naturally, they haven’t looked too hard,” Julia muttered. “Lumping her in with the typical angst-ridden teenagers who turn into runaways. Her mother recently met with Mr. and Mrs. Windermere too, begging for help to find her.”

  Josie hadn’t been typical. She’d been responsible, smart, and determined to make a better life by following Sylvia’s example. “Venezuela isn’t exactly known for reliable infrastructure.” Ana’s mind was spinning. “If her parents were here, so close…” She looked to Dana.

  The school principal brushed at the red fringe of her bangs. “Josie would’ve lost her position at our school if we’d found out her parents lived nearby. I can’t blame her and the Windermeres for hiding that fact and I commend her for finding a job to help out her parents.”

  “Sylvia thought the world of Josie.” At Laney’s sharp glance Ana wished she could reel the words back in. “They cleaned the clinic together a couple of times.” Ana traced the curve of her wine glass, wondering how best to proceed. Jumping the gun could cost her, yes, but it could also be a detriment to the investigation if she sent Laney down the wrong path.

  This town needed answers about the crisis, not more drama from the doctor they counted on to be calm and collected. When no one else seemed eager to continue the conversation about Josie or Sylvia, Ana steered the conversation in a less volatile direction, grateful when Dana picked up the cues with talk of the upcoming Fall Carnival for the school. Dana even managed to wrangle a few volunteer hours of out of each of them for the event.

  “I’m going by Batter Up tomorrow,” Dana said. “Hopefully Heidi is willing to donate a cake for the cake walk booth and,” she crossed her fingers, “cupcakes for the bake sale table.”

  “Better you than me,” Julia said. “The woman can hardly be civil to me.”

  “I need to speak with her as well,” Laney said. “Let me know when you’re done.”

  “What did she do, shoplift butter?” Julia joked.

  Ana hoped not. At her last physical, Heidi’s bad cholesterol levels were on the high end.

  Laney gave them her I’m-not-at-liberty-to-say look. “Nothing like that. Considering how prickly she’s been lately, I don’t want her turning down Dana because I put her in a bad mood.”

  “She’s either prickly or chattering like a hen.” Julia flicked her fingers. “There’s a reason I prefer The Grind. Nolan and his staff are steady.”

  “The investigation has everyone on edge,” Ana said. Her hours meant she didn’t get to the bakery often, thank goodness. One taste of Heidi’s chocolate delight frosting and she’d been hooked. Well aware of her weakness for decadent sweets, Ana typically saved Batter Up treats for the quarterly birthday parties at the clinic.

  The rain had finally moved out of the area by the time the four of them settled the check and headed to the parking lot to go their separate ways. Ana stopped Laney before she could move toward her vehicle. “I didn’t want to ask in front of the others. When do you think the Coles can claim Sylvia’s body?”

  She couldn’t breach confidentiality and tell Laney outright that it would help Yolanda, but it was a no-brainer that a mother would want to lay her only child to rest.

  “I’m sure it will be soon. The report was filed and evidence collected. I’ll call the coroner first thing in the morning and lean a little.”

  “Thank you, Laney.”

  At her car, Ana slid behind the wheel and just sat there for a minute. Staring out into the darkness, the streets gleaming after the rain, she knew what she had to do. Once her contingency plan was in order, she would write out everything for Laney. What she knew, what she suspected, and how it might tie everything together.

  Then she’d leave before Laney was forced to lock her up. It wasn’t ideal, deceiving her friends, but it was her only hope to stay ahead of the nightmares she’d been running from for the past twenty-six years.

  Chapter Two

  The drive home was too brief to gain any insight into the troubling issues. Ana parked in the drive and cut the engine, her thoughts still spinning. Through the years, she’d found a long, quiet drive immensely helpful, allowing her problems to percolate in the back of her mind while she focused on the roadway. This rugged, gorgeous area allowed her plenty of scenic options—she just had to make the time. Despite the days growing shorter, maybe she could get away tomorrow after the press conference in time to enjoy a sunset drive through the mountains.

  A rap on her window had her jumping, heart slamming against her ribcage. Griff McCabe, Shutter Lake Chief of Police motioned for her to roll down the window.

  “You okay?” he asked when she complied.

  “No.” Ana breathed in the brisk air, letting the soft damp of the autumn night cool her heated cheeks. “I mean, yes. Of course. Just lost in thought.” She breathed in again, realizing McCabe didn’t smell of beer or fresh mouthwash. It was difficult to assess in the darkness, but his eyes might even be clear, rather than bloodshot per the usual. “What are you doing here?”

  It was common knowledge in Shutter Lake that the chief spent most of his evenings pouring beer after beer into his body at the Rabbit Hole. From what she heard, the pattern was occasionally interrupted by a shot of whiskey. He didn’t come to her wellness classes and as far as she could tell, his only effort at exercise came from the walk home from the bar each
night. None of her advanced medical degrees were necessary to diagnose that the man was troubled.

  Year after year at his mandatory annual physicals she’d urged him to back off the copious amounts of alcohol. There were treatment options he could benefit from without risking the position that suited him so well.

  “Chief?”

  “Your alarm system went off. The company called the station to respond. I was closer than the officer on duty.”

  Too many things struck her as wrong about his reply. First, the Rabbit Hole was a windowless pub just off the town square and a block away from the police station. Technically, anyone in the station would have been closer to her house. Unless McCabe had been on this side of town already. She and Laney had been physically closer as well, though Laney was off duty.

  “I wasn’t informed of the alarm,” she said, voicing the safest response. She checked her phone, confirming the lack of messages.

  His brow puckered over eyes that were often warm when not glazed from alcohol. “I can’t speak to that, but I have walked the perimeter. Looks clear now.” Griff was an attractive man and good at his job when he was on the clock. It was the hours of downtime he couldn’t seem to cope with. She wished Laney was here instead.

  “Let me call them.”

  “Sure.” He opened her car door and stepped back to give her room. “One of the motion-detector flood lights out back was the issue according to dispatch. No other sign of trouble out here.”

  She listened to his report, waiting for the alarm company to answer as they walked to her front door. As he’d said, there were no obvious signs of a break-in. Her hand trembled as she simultaneously unlocked her door and gave the customer service rep who’d answered her address and information.

  The young man on the other end of the line was kind and professional as he confirmed McCabe’s story and apologized that the text alerts she’d set up for her account had not gone through. She thanked him and ended the call. It was ridiculous to feel as if the police had cornered her, but she couldn’t help it after the speculation in Laney’s gaze earlier and the chief’s surprise appearance.

  Standing out on her front porch with McCabe at her back, a chill washed over her. By mid-October the nights were downright nippy. At the clinic, she would have invited him into her office, but this was her home. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem in a hurry to get back to his normal beer-guzzling routine. “Where’s your car?”

  He shifted a bit, as if he expected to see his vehicle in her driveway. “Oh. I parked down the road.” With his mouth edging toward a smile, he tipped his head in the direction of Sylvia’s home. “So I wouldn’t scare anyone off.”

  “I see.” Her hand wrapped around the doorknob. “Thank you for responding.” She regretted the stiffness in her voice. “It was probably a raccoon. They set off the lights once in a while.”

  He tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. “Dr. Perez, I’m happy to take a look around inside before I go if that will ease your mind.”

  Hardly. “You said there weren’t any signs of trouble.”

  “I’ve only walked around outside.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was trying to scare her or if he hoped to find something incriminating lying about in plain sight. That was paranoia tickling the back of her throat, making her palms damp. She’d done nothing wrong. Or rather, she’d done nothing that resulted in direct harm to Sylvia or anyone else.

  “I’ll be fine.” She forced her lips into a smile. “Do you need a lift back to your car?”

  “No, thanks. I can walk.”

  “All right.” She waited. He stayed rooted to the spot. “Is there something else?”

  He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Medical records,” he said. “I couldn’t get the body from the river out of my mind. Did you ever treat Josie Rodriguez?”

  It wasn’t the question she expected. “No. But a full medical history with a vaccination record would’ve been part of the exchange student requirements. I’m sure the school has that on file.”

  “Right. Dr. Perkins sent that over. Unless they took a DNA sample too, it won’t help us with identification. So far we’re drawing a blank on finding her dental records.”

  “I’m sorry.” Ana inched toward the door again. McCabe wasn’t taking the hint. “If you’ll excuse me?”

  “Actually, I wanted to ask about my medical records too.”

  She felt her jaw drop and snapped her mouth closed. Resigned, she opened the front door. “We should go inside.”

  “You keep records here?” He closed the door behind him.

  She did her best to recall he was an officer of the law, no need to brace for an attack. “No.” Flipping the light switch, she set her purse on the hall tree, keeping her cell phone in hand. “I prefer to keep business and home separate.”

  “Don’t we all,” he muttered.

  “It really is the healthier choice.”

  He murmured his agreement, his gaze roaming over the space. “Wow. I’d heard… but this is some perk.”

  “The council insisted I should be comfortable.” The house, with all its custom, luxurious finishes set on a serene, wooded lot had been a significant part of her decision to lead the Shutter Lake Medical Clinic.

  Dark, rustic beams emphasized the vaulted ceilings. A fireplace framed by river rock divided the living and dining areas. The long table, a custom piece made from reclaimed wood, could comfortably seat ten. The earthy, neutral tones of her décor made a gentle backdrop for the vibrant artwork she’d gathered through the years. In the daylight, the trees that ensured her privacy offered a living, ever-changing canvas through the wall of windows and doors that opened to a sprawling deck. The kitchen, furnished with only the best appliances and finishes, was a masterpiece as well, turning what she’d often viewed as a chore into a delight.

  He checked windows and doors, finding everything locked up tight, taking it all in.

  Looking at her home as a newcomer might, she felt a familiar swell of pride with equally familiar doubt creeping along the edges. No one could argue she’d done well, overcoming tremendous odds as an Hispanic woman in America’s competitive medical field. Regardless of the years separating her from the crowded barrio of her youth, she worried about the long slide back down if anyone discovered her secret.

  Nothing she’d learned or accomplished could balance what she’d done. Because it clouded her perspective, she didn’t dwell on it often.

  Although Sylvia had often teased her that the house was far too much for one person day to day, Ana never regretted having all this room. It was an ideal home for entertaining. In addition to the annual cook out for the city council to discuss new treatment options and tools and present her equipment requests, she hosted game nights for clinic employees as well as the holiday gathering that had become a much-loved tradition.

  “Would you like coffee?” she asked before he moved down the hallway to the bedrooms.

  “Hmm?” Clearly distracted, he turned slowly away from the framed print of a Yolanda deCosta painting. “Oh. No, thanks.”

  To her eye, the red-roofed village tucked into the green mountains in the painting were the best blend of where she’d come from and where she’d landed. “You had some question about your medical records?” she prompted.

  His hands caressed the marble countertop. Those broad hands, callused and scarred, told a story of a man who enjoyed digging into projects outside of his work as the chief of police. She wondered why he’d stopped working on cars and now filled his free time with drinking.

  “Yes.” He drew his hands back, as if he’d realized what he revealed. “I’d like to know what’s in my record.”

  His annual physical wasn’t due for several months. “Have you been feeling ill?”

  “Am I an alcoholic?”

  “Yes,” she answered immediately. He sank onto one of the stools that ran the length of the island. No longer afraid he was going to prod her about Sylvia or anything more personal
, she rounded the counter to join him. “That can’t be a shock, Griff. I’ve brought it up before.”

  “Have you documented it so bluntly in my file?”

  “No.” Was he looking for another job? If it was the job that drove him to drink, she wasn’t sure his body could handle a place with more stress. Shutter Lake was the least stressful place she’d known, until murder cracked the façade. “Are you ready to seek treatment?”

  “No.”

  Emphatic as ever. “Then what?”

  “In your professional opinion, does my drinking impact my work?” He braced an elbow on the countertop, as if her answer didn’t matter at all, but she saw the tension in the lines bracketing his mouth, the set of his jaw. “Well?”

  This was a conversation she’d be happier having at the clinic, with her lab coat on, surrounded by people who could assist if he turned surly. “I rarely see you at work,” she began. “You seem to have the respect of Deputy Chief Holt and the other officers in the department. Together, it seems you handle the responsibilities quite well.”

  He slapped the counter. “Stop spoon-feeding me what you think I want to hear.”

  “I’ve never done that.” She hoped her exaggerated calm defused his sudden temper. “Maybe you should ask me whatever it is you really want to know.”

  “I want to know if someone is killing women here or dumping bodies in our back yard because they’ve heard I’m inept.” Agitated, he shoved to his feet. “Everyone knows I’m out of my depth on the Cole case. Now that girl…” His voice trailed off.

  “Griff.” He paced to the windows that overlooked the deck and flipped on the flood light, tested the locked handle. “Chief McCabe.”

  He continued to ignore her, checking the window over the kitchen sink. She wished Dana were here. She always seemed to have the right words when people of any age were facing a crisis. Her expertise revolved around the body and its systems. Sure the brain was a piece of that puzzle, but she preferred dealing with test results and facts rather than raw emotions.

  He stalked off down the hallway before she could stop him. She trailed in his wake as he checked the windows in each bedroom, her office, and the baths as well. It wasn’t much of a privacy invasion. Still, she struggled against that old sensation of being violated, judged, and found lacking.