All She Ever Wanted

by Barbara Freethy

  Laura sighed, her expression clearly troubled. "I do want change."

  "So start now, with us," Madison encouraged. "Call Jessica. Help us get to the bottom of this book situation. Think of it as a small step on the way to your independence."

  "Fine. I'll do it. Give me the phone."

  Natalie handed her the portable phone, pleased that they were taking some action. Even if calling Jessica accomplished nothing, at least they weren't just sitting back, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pushed the button to put the phone on Speaker as a woman's voice came over the line, saying, "Hello?"

  "Is Jessica Holbrook there?" Laura asked.

  "This is she. Who's calling?" Jessica asked, a brisk edge to her voice.

  "Hi, Jessica, it's Laura Hart. Actually, Laura Hart McKinney now. Do you remember me?"

  "Of course. How nice to hear from you. What can I do for you?"

  Laura licked her lips, then said, "I was calling about planning a reunion. I know you weren't in my class, but I thought you might be able to help me track some people down. I hear you're working in the Panhellenic Office with Diane Thomas."

  "Yes, I am, and both Diane and I would be happy to help. But—" Jessica paused. "I hope you're not thinking of inviting your entire pledge class."

  "Isn't everyone usually invited?" Laura countered.

  "Not in this case. I know you were very good friends with Madison and Natalie, but you simply cannot invite them to any reunion that would be held at the sorority house. Do you still keep in touch with them?" Jessica asked.

  "I lost track of them after they left," Laura said. "But I don't see what would be wrong with inviting them."

  "Some people think Natalie had something to do with Emily's death."

  "They do?" Laura asked. "Why?"

  "Apparently someone saw Natalie up on the roof that night."

  Natalie's jaw dropped at that comment. Laura and Madison also looked stunned.

  "Laura, are you there?" Jessica asked when the silence lengthened.

  "I'm here," Laura said hastily. "Who saw Natalie up on the roof?"

  "Well, I really can't say, and I'm not sure there's any proof, but where there's smoke, there's fire. And look how fast Natalie transferred. She couldn't wait to get out of there. Maybe Madison was in on it, too. She moved out even faster. Diane and I were talking about it all just the other day. Emily was such a beautiful person. It was tragic the way she died. And so unfair. She had so much to offer the house, far more than Madison or Natalie did. You know, we really only took Natalie because of Emily, because they were best friends. I know most of the sisters feel the same way I do, Laura. Any reunion that includes Natalie or Madison would not be well attended. I'm only telling you this so you don't waste a lot of time and energy. It's nothing against you. We all love you. You know that, don't you?"

  "I really don't think Natalie had anything to do with Emily's fall."

  "You always were a sweetheart, Laura."

  "It's not about being a sweetheart," Laura said with spunk. "I knew Natalie and Madison better than anyone. Emily, too."

  "Sometimes it's easier to read people's true intentions when you're standing farther back. Now, I have to run, but call me tomorrow at my office," Jessica said. "I have the alumni directory there. I can fax you the names and addresses."

  "Thanks." Laura pressed the button to disconnect the call. "Well, what do you think? Who's this witness? Garrett Malone?"

  "He did say in the book that someone saw me push Emily off the roof," Natalie replied, feeling discouraged by Jessica's comments. She'd thought she was one of the sorority sisters, accepted by everyone, just as Emily was. Now it appeared that they'd only pledged her because of Emily.

  "We know it wasn't you," Laura said.

  "But if there was someone on the roof," Madison continued, "then Emily didn't fall by accident."

  They stared at each other—for the first time forced to address the idea that Emily had been deliberately pushed off the roof.

  "We know a lot of people didn't like me," Natalie said slowly. "But who didn't like Emily?"

  Chapter 9

  Natalie was still pondering that question as she finished her shift late Monday afternoon. It had been a hell of a day, starting with an early-morning bus crash and multiple victims, followed by a blur of cases ranging from poison oak to a heart attack and everything in between. Dropping off her last chart at the desk, Natalie headed to the lounge. There were two other doctors in the room, one stretched out on the couch, another reading the newspaper, which did not provide the privacy she was looking for. Grabbing a cup of coffee, Natalie walked outside and found an empty bench in the hospital garden. She pulled out her cell phone and called Cole.

  He answered immediately, obviously reading her Caller ID as he said, "Natalie. I'm glad you called. We have an even bigger problem."

  Her fingers clenched around the phone, not sure she was ready for a bigger problem. They hadn't solved the last one yet.

  "I spoke to Malone's publicist," Cole continued. "She told me that he was in L.A. on a book tour and was appearing on the Corey Hart Show this afternoon, which I immediately turned on, just in time to hear a woman call in and ask if the book was based on a true story about a girl named Emily, who died at a sorority house in Santa Cruz. She also said she was sure that the Fabulous Four actually existed and that she knew Natalie Bishop was really the Nancy in the book."

  Natalie's heart stopped. "Oh, my God! She mentioned my name specifically, first and last?"

  "Yes. Unfortunately, I didn't catch her name. I called Malone's publicist back. I wanted to challenge her to respond to the claims that the book was based on a true story. I got her answering machine."

  Natalie felt sick to her stomach. "What am I going to do, Cole? The Corey Hart Show is national. A million people probably heard my name." Her mind raced ahead. She'd been publicly identified. It wouldn't take long for someone at the hospital to make the connection, putting her reputation and her career on the line. Doctors had to be above reproach, beyond scandal, especially medical residents seeking permanent positions in the very near future.

  "We're going to find Malone," Cole answered. "I've asked my investigator to put this on the front burner. He believes that Garrett Malone is a pen name, and so do I. It may take a while to get through the red tape, but we will determine who he really is. You can count on that."

  She wanted to believe him, but Malone seemed to be one step ahead of them.

  "I'm going to L.A. tomorrow morning," he continued. "I have Malone's itinerary, and he's making several appearances tomorrow afternoon. With any luck, I can pin him down before my parents get back from Europe on Wednesday."

  Natalie had wondered about his parents, but it was one subject they hadn't touched on.

  "I'll call you when I find Malone," he added.

  "No," she said quickly. "I'll come with you."

  "Don't you have to work?"

  "Of course I do, but my whole career is at stake. I'll take a personal day off. When are you leaving?"

  "Tomorrow morning. Do you want my secretary to book you a flight?"

  "Yes." She paused, knowing she had to ask. "Cole, you said you didn't hear the woman's name. Did you recognize the voice? It wasn't Madison or Laura, was it?" She felt guilty even asking the question, especially after their heart-to-heart conversation the night before, but she also felt too vulnerable to risk trusting anyone.

  "I don't think so, Natalie, but I couldn't say for sure."

  She ended the call, wishing just once she'd get a definitive answer to a question. As she got to her feet, she saw Gloria Grayson approaching. Gloria was one of the best ER nurses she had ever had the pleasure of working with. With ten years' experience under her belt, Gloria knew the ropes better than most of the residents and usually kept a smile on her face no matter what the circumstances. At the moment that smile was missing.

  "Natalie, there you are. Dr. Raymond just called in. He wants you to call him bac
k right away on his cell phone. Here's the number." She handed Natalie a piece of paper.

  "Did he say what he wanted?" Natalie asked, surprised and wary to be getting a call from the chief resident, who was currently on vacation with his family.

  "No, but he wasn't happy about something. Are you in trouble?"

  "I think I might be," Natalie said.

  "Let me know if I can help."

  "Thanks." As Natalie stared at the piece of paper in her hand, she had a feeling she was going to have to help herself this time around. She punched in the number and was not surprised to hear the first words out of Dr. Raymond's mouth.

  "Natalie, your name was mentioned on television a few minutes ago. Are you the woman they're talking about that's connected to this mystery novel? Please tell me it's another Natalie Bishop."

  "I wish I could."

  "Is any of it true?"

  "I didn't do anything wrong or illegal, if that's what you're asking."

  "Can you prove that?"

  "I'm working on it."

  "Work fast, Natalie. The hospital doesn't like bad press. And patients don't like doctors whose names are mentioned in connection to murder."

  * * *

  The temperature was fifteen degrees warmer in L.A. when they got off the plane late Tuesday morning. Cole had made a rental car reservation, so they stopped there first and picked up a small silver Honda in the parking lot. They'd flown into the Burbank Airport because it was closer to Studio City, where the book signing was being held; unfortunately, it was also close to Natalie's old neighborhood. It was bad enough having to revisit her college years; now she had to take another look at her childhood years.

  She'd grown up in North Hollywood, just a few miles away. She'd walked and shopped and worked in retail outlets along these streets. She'd woken up to the sight of the smog hanging over the foothills, the valley locked in a perpetual hot haze. She'd grown up in a town where seeing a movie star at the local burger joint or grocery store was a given, where beauty, tans, and designer clothes were everything and those who had none of the above were nothing. She'd fallen into the nothing category.

  Pushing those memories away, she focused on the present. "Turn right at the next light and get on the freeway."

  Cole did as she suggested and within a few minutes they were taking the turnoff to Universal Studios. The bookstore Garrett Malone was signing at was part of the Universal Theme Park shopping area. His hotel was also on the hill. Natalie checked the time. It was just eleven and the book signing was scheduled for noon.

  "Book signing or hotel?" she asked.

  "Let's try the hotel. He might not have left yet."

  They parked in the lot and walked into the hotel and directly to the elevator. Somehow Cole had come up with a room number. Natalie felt both nervous and excited as they got off at the seventeenth floor. She wanted to face Malone. She wanted to ask him why. She wanted to make him admit it was all a he.

  Cole knocked on the door of Malone's room. There was no answer.

  "He's already gone," she said, disappointed yet again. "Maybe he was doing another interview before the signing."

  "Anything is possible." Cole glanced around, tipping his head toward the maid's cart next door. "I have an idea. Come on."

  "Where are we going?"

  He didn't answer until they had walked down the hall and turned the corner. "We'll wait for the maid to open up Malone's room. Then you'll walk in like it's yours."

  She frowned at that idea. "Me? Why can't you do that?"

  "Because women aren't afraid of other women. You won't make her nervous. I might."

  He was probably right about that, Natalie thought. Well, what the hell. She was already being set up for murder. Why not add breaking and entering to her resume?

  She sighed and walked over to the window, which overlooked the studios. The gray sound stages looked like airplane hangars in the middle of carnival rides. The San Fernando Valley spread out behind the studios, each city blending into the next, with little difference in the scenery. The neighborhoods were lined with palm trees, ranch-style homes, and swimming pools in every backyard. Suburban strip malls and chain stores made up the shopping areas in this part of Los Angeles County. The expensive boutiques were in Beverly Hills and Bel Air or in the more upscale cities closer to the ocean.

  "Have you ever been down there—to the studios?" Cole asked idly.

  "On the tour? A long time ago, when I was a kid. What about you?"

  "Emily always got sick at the wrong time. We'd make plans, then cancel them. After a while it was easier to stay home. My parents did everything they could to turn our house into Emily's personal version of Disneyland."

  Natalie nodded. "The first time I saw her bedroom, I thought it belonged to a fairy princess. She didn't just have a canopy bed, she had curtains that enclosed the bed entirely. It was very cool."

  "She was happy in that room. I know she was," he added somewhat defensively. "You said she left home to be free, but I never thought she was trapped there."

  "Just because a cage is gold doesn't make it any less of a cage."

  "It was a cage born of Emily's illnesses, not anybody's desire to keep her in a place she didn't want to be."

  "I never said that it was."

  "I think you did, Natalie."

  "No, I meant that Emily's college experience was something she really wanted. She enjoyed every minute of it."

  "Except maybe the last few minutes," he said harshly. "Don't you ever wonder if she knew what was happening to her? If there was some split second when she realized she was going to die?"

  Of course she'd thought about that, agonized over it. "Those first few days, questions like that ran through my mind every second," she said. "I couldn't handle it. I had to put them away." She wondered if he'd make some nasty comment about burying her head in the sand or denying the truth, but he remained silent. "It was the only way I could go on." She drew in a breath. "Do you want to check on the maid? If we don't get into the room soon, we might miss the book signing. It's only for an hour."

  "I'll check. Wait here." He reappeared a moment later, an eager light in his brown eyes. "Showtime," he said. "Be bold, Natalie. Don't let her intimidate you."

  "Please, I'm a female doctor. I learned a long time ago how to stand up for myself." She'd also learned how to fake it when she was asked a question for which she did not have an answer, usually by some arrogant male doctor who wanted to show her up. If she could handle that situation, she could certainly handle this one. Squaring her shoulders, she headed around the corner.

  The door to Malone's room was open, and the maid was vacuuming. Natalie paused for a second. When the maid shut off the vacuum, she walked in and tossed her purse down on the bed. "Hello," she said cheerfully. She kicked off her high-heeled shoes. "Ooh, that feels better. I have to use the bathroom. I won't get in your way."

  The maid offered a shy smile. She was young and Hispanic and probably didn't speak much English. Natalie walked into the bathroom and shut the door. She turned on the sink and prayed the maid would leave without reporting a strange woman in a room that was assigned to a man. She waited a good two minutes, then shut off the water and opened the door. The room was empty. The maid was gone.

  She couldn't believe how easy that had been. So much for heightened security measures. A quiet knock on the door sent her heart back into overdrive, but it was Cole's face she saw in the peephole. She let him in and shut the door quickly. "She didn't ask me anything," she told him.

  "It's amazing where you can go when you look like you belong."

  "Let's get busy. I won't relax until we're out of here. I can just see the headlines. Natalie Bishop arrested on burglary and possible murder charges."

  "You write a good headline. We could use you at the paper."

  "Thanks, but I'd prefer to keep my real job."

  She glanced around as Cole riffled through the dresser drawers. Malone was neat or had brought little with
him. There wasn't much more in the room than the hotel furnishings. She opened the closet door and looked at the two suits hanging there, one brown, one gray. A couple of dress shirts on hangers were the only other items. A suitcase sat on its side on the floor. She knelt down and unzipped it, and wasn't surprised to find it empty. As she closed the closet door, she heard Cole whistle. He held up a mat of hair in his hand, hair that was the same color as Garrett Malone's. "This looks like a wig or a hairpiece."

  Why would the man wear a wig? Was he bald?

  Natalie moved over to the dresser and saw Cole going through a black leather case. "What the hell is this shit?" Cole muttered.

  "It's makeup. Malone is wearing a disguise," she added in amazement. "A wig, cover-up, black charcoal pencil to line his brows."

  "And colored contact lenses," Cole said, holding up a case.

  She looked into Cole's eyes and knew he was thinking what she was thinking. "That must mean he's afraid he'll be recognized. He's someone we know, Cole. The question is—who?"

  * * *

  Laura knew she should not be spying on her husband. It wasn't right. But she couldn't seem to stop herself from going through the pockets of every piece of clothing Drew had in his closet. For a while she had tried to pretend that she was simply checking the pockets before taking the clothes to the laundry. It was a lie. She was looking for evidence. She'd called Drew's hotel room late last night and he hadn't answered. She'd tried him again this morning on his cell phone, but he hadn't picked up. If she truly had an emergency, how on earth was she supposed to reach him? Didn't he consider the fact that his family might need him?

  Her anger grew with each passing minute. Of course he didn't consider that fact. She was in charge of the house and the kids. She was supposed to handle everything on the home front while he went off and brought home the bacon. Maybe something was wrong. Maybe something had happened to Drew. Her imagination was capable of creating all kinds of horrible scenarios. She had to focus. Most of the time her instincts were wrong. She wasn't proud of that fact, but it was the truth. And it was a good thing, because it meant that most of the horrible things she worried about never actually came true.