I took a generous gulp of water and gave him a more complete rundown on last night's interviews, ending with Matthew's confession about using a private eye. "For all we know, the birth certificate might not have even existed."
"True. All we have is Richter's word. But his word has been good in the county for a long time, so I'm still ready to give the man the benefit of the doubt. I've been asking around, and no one in town much likes that family—except for the main man, Elliott Richter. He's well respected. I checked into the financial situation. He's worth megamillions, a lot more than I realized. The relatives have a lot to lose if Elliott rewrote his will in favor of JoLynn. Maybe we should ask Richter if that's what he's done."
"That's your next step, then?" I asked.
"Nope. First I get Kent Dugan down to the hospital for an ID—tonight if possible."
I wanted to be there in the worst way, wanted to meet the guy, but I also wanted my alone time with Jeff. "Okay if I bring my HPD investigator friend?"
"Sure. I'd love to meet him."
Though Jeff was tired after his long day at the courthouse—he says court is more tiring than fieldwork— he agreed a trip to the hospital might be interesting. First we'd shared our quiet dinner and engaged in other activities not so quiet before heading to Ben Taub to meet up with Cooper Boyd.
Jeff held my hand a whole lot tighter the minute we walked through the hospital doors. He'd been shot in the chest by a bad guy last year. I understood his reaction without his saying a word. He didn't like being reminded of the day he nearly died and neither did I. It was a very silent elevator ride.
We found Cooper in the neuro ICU waiting room—he'd sent the private security on a break—and since he and Jeff seemed to hit it off immediately, Jeff reverted to his old self. Law-enforcement types seem to quickly discover they know some of the same people. But they both put on their game faces when Kent Dugan arrived.
As Roberta had mentioned, Dugan was a pretty boy— reminded me of a Calvin Klein underwear model, as a matter of fact. He wore jeans with small tears and frayed seams along with a rock group T-shirt—at least I assumed Wilting Wilma was a rock group and not a euphemism for something I didn't want to know about this guy.
"Where is she?" He sounded downright panicked and seemed to be addressing anyone and everyone in the waiting room.
Cooper introduced himself and said, "She's in very capable hands. Let me show you a picture first—see if you recognize the young woman we're talking about."
When we'd first arrived, I gave Cooper the article I'd found under the clock, as well as a copy of the picture I'd scanned and Photoshopped. I'd enlarged JoLynn's face and cropped out the family. I wanted to avoid having anyone ask the questions Roberta had, about who all the other people in the picture were.
Dugan grabbed the photo and stared. "That's her, but where did you get this?"
"Never mind," Cooper said. "We need to talk, Mr. Dugan."
"I have to see her." He started for the ICU doors, but Jeff did a quick side step and blocked his path.
"Who are you?" Dugan asked.
"Sergeant Kline, HPD Homicide." He took out his pack of Big Red and offered a stick to Dugan. "Let's sit over there and chill for a minute."
Dugan didn't even seem to notice the gum. "Is Elizabeth dead? Is that why you're here?" The man couldn't be more than five-nine and had to look up at Jeff, who's six feet tall.
"Not dead—though someone did try to kill her." Cooper gestured at the cluster of waiting-room furniture. "She's not going anywhere and we need to discuss what happened."
Being double-teamed had the desired effect and Dugan walked over and sat on one of the sofas, his eyes focused on the ICU entrance.
We all followed and I held out my hand. "I'm Abby Rose, by the way. I helped identify your wife."
Dugan squeezed my hand briefly and squinted up at me. "I don't know you. How could you identify Elizabeth?"
"That's a long story." I sat on the edge of a faux-leather and chrome chair opposite him, and Cooper sat next to me. Jeff went over to a counter where an industrial-size coffeemaker sat. He started checking cupboards for cups, since none were visible.
"As I told you on the phone," Cooper said, "we pulled your wife from the wreckage of her car. Her brake line had been cut. I understand she's been missing for more than a year."
"Um, yes." Kent Dugan's expression told me he was surprised we knew that piece of information, but he quickly recovered. "Who would want to kill Elizabeth? She'd never hurt a fly."
"Good question. We're hoping you can help, Mr. Dugan," Cooper said. "What about her disappearance?"
"She has been gone, left on her own. She said she needed time away from the relationship. She's ten years younger than me and wasn't as ready to settle down as she thought."
"How young is she?" Cooper asked.
"You don't know?" Dugan said.
Cooper leaned forward, his gravel voice low. "What's her age, Mr. Dugan? Where is the rest of her family?"
Dugan stiffened. "She's twenty and Elizabeth has no family except for me."
"Interesting." Cooper sat back. "When people disappear voluntarily, it's been my experience they head straight for Mom or Dad—or maybe another relative. What you're saying is that she had nowhere to go."
"I—I never looked at it that way." Dugan seemed a little flustered by this assessment.
"What's the story with this nonexistent family?" Cooper asked, taking a Styrofoam cup of coffee from Jeff.
Jeff handed another cup to Dugan and tossed packages of creamers, sugars and stirring sticks onto a table beside the sofa. Jeff raised his eyebrows questioningly at me and I nodded. I was ready to settle in with some much-needed caffeine and watch Cooper work. I was certain I'd learn a lot.
"I don't know what happened to her parents," Dugan said. "I don't believe she knew, either."
I blinked at this answer. What the heck did that mean? "Where did she grow up?" I asked.
Dugan's tongue traveled over his lips and he took a sip of coffee. He then stared into the steaming cup he held with both hands. No wedding ring, I noted. "Elizabeth and I . . . we didn't know each other that good when it came to our pasts. We agreed it wasn't important. We loved each other and that's all that mattered."
Cooper leaned in again. "What kind of bullshit answer is that?"
From the corner of my eye I caught Jeff's expression as he filled cups for the two of us. Small grin. He liked Cooper's style.
Meanwhile, Dugan's magazine-ad face tensed. He avoided Cooper's hard stare by stirring sugar into his coffee. "She wouldn't want me telling you, but I guess you won't let me see her until I do. Elizabeth was adopted and it wasn't a good situation. She wanted to forget. That's all I know."
Cooper smiled. "Thank you. Where'd you meet her?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" Dugan looked at me, perhaps to avoid Cooper's unblinking attention.
But Cooper wasn't letting him off the hook. "I ask, you answer. Then it's your turn, okay?" Pleasantly spoken, but no question. Cooper wasn't fooling around.
"At community college. San Jacinto." Dugan's reply was clipped. He was getting impatient now.
Cooper reminded me of a sculptor chipping away at stone. I could recognize the personality now emerging, the one Roberta had described. Dugan had no control here and he hated it.
"Any children?" Cooper asked.
"No." More edginess in his tone now.
"She never contacted you after she left? Not once?" Cooper pressed.
Dugan shook his head, and I decided he was trying to recapture the concern he'd displayed when he arrived. "I would have notified the police if she had. But I always knew she'd come back. And in her own way, she has."
"Not exactly her own way," I said, holding the coffee Jeff had given me. He was settled in the chair next to me now. I was afraid Cooper might be pissed off by me voicing my opinion, but his passive face gave nothing away.
"Can I ask why you're questioni
ng me like this? What have I done wrong?" Dugan said.
"What do you do for a living?" Cooper said, ignoring this request to get off the hot seat.
"I'm a consultant," he replied.
Cooper leaned back, sipped his black coffee. "Really? Sounds important. You have a business card I could have?"
"I didn't bring any with me. I didn't think I'd need one." Testy again. There was a real struggle going on in this guy's head.
I glanced at Jeff because the tension seemed like a balloon around us ready to burst and I wondered if he felt it, too. But he was as calm as a plate of oysters, probably loving every minute of watching someone else interrogate a man whose emotions were all over the map.
"What kind of consultant? Suit-and-tie kind with one of those big firms?" Cooper asked.
"I'm freelance. I work from home."
Cooper smiled again, cocked his head. "Doing what?"
Dugan stood. "That's enough. I want to see my wife right now."
Cooper and Jeff slowly rose in unison, like they'd been a team for years. I stayed in my chair, amazed at how intimidating Cooper could be without ever raising his voice.
"I'm sure you do want to see her. Sorry about the delay, but this is a very active investigation. Attempted murder gets a police officer's attention. Let me see whether her nurse thinks this is a good time for a visit." Cooper took his time walking over to the double doors.
"You must have been surprised to get a call about your wife after all this time," Jeff said. He'd finished his coffee in no time and didn't bother offering Dugan a stick when he pulled the Big Red pack from his jeans pocket.
"I was more upset than anything. She's hurt and she needs me. I wish I could have been here the minute they brought her in." Dugan had regrouped. He was about to get his way and that apparently made a huge difference in his demeanor.
"Oh, I'm sure you do wish you could have been around." Jeff's tiny dose of sarcasm was lost on Dugan but not on me.
I've learned from Jeff that relatives are usually the first suspects in a murder or assault and I was guessing he and Cooper quickly pegged Dugan for the not-sonice guy Roberta had described.
Cooper gestured for Kent Dugan to come to the ICU doors and he strode quickly in that direction.
Jeff and I stayed back. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jeff pulled out his phone. I looked at him, puzzled, but he just chewed his gum.
He speed-dialed, waited a second, then said, "This is Sergeant Jeff Kline from Homicide Division. Can you run a name for priors?" A short silence, then Jeff said, "Thanks. See if we have a sheet on a Kent Dugan." He spelled the last name. "I'll wait."
"You think he's been arrested?" I said.
"Hang on, Abby. This won't take long." And he was right—a moment later he said, "Appreciate it." Jeff snapped his phone closed. "Hot checks, petty theft and a fraud charge Dugan pleaded out. Guy's done no time, though. Probably talked his way out of everything."
"How'd you know to make that call?" I sipped my coffee, but it had gone nearly cold in the frigid waiting room. I set it on the table.
Jeff fixed a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Honest people don't get vague with the police about simple stuff like family history. They usually talk too much. Believe me, I've learned some dirt during interviews that I didn't need or want to know. Dugan was evasive about his wife and himself. To me, that says he knows a lot more than he's saying. Something's definitely hinky."
I nodded in agreement.
"Your friend Cooper made him right off the bat," Jeff said.
I said, "But at times, Dugan seemed genuinely concerned about JoLynn or Elizabeth or whatever her real name is."
"Concerned, yes, but maybe not for her welfare. Continuing to dig around for that girl's story is a good idea." He drew me to him and whispered, "Now, here's my good idea. Why don't you and I—"
Cooper had sneaked up on us and now cleared his throat. Jeff and I stepped away from each other.
"What happened in there?" I asked.
"He picked up her hand, seemed shaken by her appearance. Could have been an act. The staff has questions for him—name, address, phone number, and of course they told him he's got a date with the billing department. He'll be out in a second."
I said, "You look puzzled. What are you thinking?"
"There's something else going on here," Cooper said.
"That's what I thought." Jeff told him about Dugan's rap sheet.
"Thanks for running the background. He's a damn paper hanger?"
I must have looked confused because Jeff said, "That's what we call the hot-check writers."
"And petty theft? Fraud? Those are little-girl crimes, all of them," Cooper said with disgust.
Just then, Kent Dugan and a woman in scrubs emerged from the neuro ICU and the two of them came over to us.
"Shelly Young," the woman said. "I'm Miss Richter's private-duty nurse tonight. Mr. Dugan is unable to help me concerning his wife's medical history and says there's no other family to give us what we need. Do any of you have information about her previous heart surgery? Or know someone who does? The physician can't disturb her medical coma to figure out what kind of repair she had, but she might require medication, even though her EKG shows a strong, healthy heart."
"I told you she wasn't taking any medicine and like you said, her heart is fine." Dugan seemed downright hostile now.
Heart surgery? Whoa. I thought about Elliott Richter, wondered if he knew. I opened my mouth, deciding JoLynn's welfare was more important than keeping secrets about Richter from Dugan, but before I could speak, true to her word, Roberta arrived as quietly as a snowflake falling on a feather.
"I can tell you about her heart surgery," she said.
Everyone focused on the newcomer. "I'm a vet and I recognized the anomaly when she told me."
Dugan stepped back, trying to hide his surprise. He was all pleasant when he said, "Roberta. Hi. This is awful, isn't it?"
She gave him the stink eye and addressed the nurse. "I may not be a medical doctor, but I know plenty about heart problems, since dogs suffer from similar health issues. Considering what Elizabeth knew about her condition, I'm guessing she underwent an aortic repair."
Shelly Young smiled. "Thank you so much. You don't happen to know when she had the surgery?"
"Sorry, no," Roberta said.
"She may have been quite young by the size and condition of her scar," the nurse replied. "I'll add this information to her history for her cardiology consult—the one her neurologist has already ordered." Shelly Young turned and left.
Roberta's gaze returned to Kent Dugan. "Are you trying to make these people believe you didn't know about Elizabeth's surgery? That you never bothered to ask how she got that scar down the middle of her chest?"
I was sure she wanted to add "you asshole" to the end of her sentence, but she kept her cool.
"It's Dr. Messing, right?" Cooper said. "I'm Chief Boyd from Pineview PD and I'm investigating this accident."
"Accident? Abby said someone tried to kill her." Ro
berta was staring straight at Dugan. She stepped toward him, no doubt because she considered him a lying sack of dirt.
Jeff ran interference again by blocking her path this time. He said, "I know she's your friend, but this is a hospital waiting room. Let's keep it low-key. I'm Jeff Kline, by the way. HPD."
Roberta said, "HPD? You guys are a little late to the party. I told you people last year this . . . this man, if that's what you want to call him, was capable of harming her."
"That doesn't mean he did," Jeff said. "Why don't we ask if you can see your friend, okay?"
Roberta took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sorry. This isn't your fault. And thank you. I do want to see her."
Jeff took her elbow and they walked toward the ICU doors.
"Don't you have business downstairs in billing, Mr. Dugan?" Cooper said.
"Not exactly. For one thing, they only want my information for notification
purposes. Apparently someone else is picking up the tab. But that doesn't matter because Elizabeth and I never made our relationship legal." He smiled at Cooper and said, "Think I'll be going now. It's getting late and I'll need to be here to see her early tomorrow. The nurse said her favorite music might help. People can sometimes still hear when they're in a coma."
As we watched him leave, I said, "If he comes back for something in the next few seconds, please keep me from harming him."
Cooper's gaze followed Dugan as he headed down the hall. "If it helps, he won't get anywhere near her tomorrow. I'll make sure of that. Won't be a hard sell to the staff, since apparently the two haven't cohabited for a year." Then he turned to me. "And now, I have a job for you, if you're willing."
But before I could ask him what he needed, Elliott Richter and Ian McFarland came walking from the elevators toward us. Jeez, they must have passed Kent Dugan on the way.
I took a deep breath, feeling like I'd just received an audit notice from the IRS. "He doesn't know about Dugan yet," I whispered.
"He will in a few seconds," Cooper said.
Richter quickened his pace when he saw Cooper and me and said, "Is something wrong?"
"No. JoLynn's condition is about the same," I said.
"But something's not right. I can tell by your faces," he said.
Ian gripped Richter's shoulder and squeezed. "Abby said she's no worse, Elliott. She will be all right, you know." He then stuck his hand out to Cooper. "Ian McFarland. Elliott and I had a meeting in Houston today. Ran rather late, but Elliott wanted to stop by to check on his granddaughter."
While the two shook hands, Richter honed in on me. "What's going on? Why are you here?"
"I—I planned on calling you as soon as I could. I learned that JoLynn was living in Houston right before she arrived at your ranch," I said.
"Okay . . . she had to be somewhere," he said. "What else did you learn?"
"She was living with a man named Kent Dugan and using the name Elizabeth," I said.
"So this man must know something about her past," Richter said. "Have you spoken with him?"
"Yes. He claims she told him she was adopted and not much else," Cooper said.
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