by Debra Webb
“You said for me not to worry, you were going to make it right.”
And that night she had fallen down the stairs.
Chapter Twelve
Parkridge Drive
Homewood
7:00 p.m.
Lori Wells joined them at the dining room table. “Sorry about that, guys. Layla should sleep for a while now.”
“Your little girl is beautiful,” Natalie said.
Lori beamed. “Thank you. We think so.”
“I hear you’re still working too many hours,” Clint said as Lori grabbed her beer.
“Don’t get him started.” Lori darted a look at her husband.
Harper had made lieutenant only a few months ago. With Jess and Clint gone, Harper was the senior detective in SPU, the major crimes team. Lori had moved over to Crimes Against Persons.
Chet Harper grunted as he glanced up from the report he was reviewing. “Her mom takes good care of Layla when we’re at work.”
Lori grinned. “Sounds like someone’s trying to stay on my good side tonight.”
Clint laughed. “The joys of married life.”
“And how would you know, Mr. I’m-staying-single-forever?” Lori teased.
Clint held up his hands surrender style. “You’ve got me there.”
Lori turned to Natalie. “I do have wine if you’d prefer.”
Natalie had accepted the offer of a beer but she’d hardly touched it. “No thanks. The beer is fine.” She lifted the bottle to her lips as if to confirm her words.
Harper closed the folder in front of him and reached for another. “The case reads pretty cut-and-dried.” He glanced up at Clint. “It boiled down to the word of the nurse against the wife.”
“Why didn’t she take the settlement they offered instead of going to trial?” Lori asked. “Seems like that would have saved her a lot of grief.”
“Mrs. Thompson really wanted the world to know what Rison had done,” Natalie spoke up. “Her attorney was adamant that the only way to do that was a trial. I’m sure you’re aware the settlement offer would have come with a confidentiality agreement.”
Lori made a face. “Wow. She risked everything to try to get justice for her husband.”
Natalie nodded slowly. “Others would see it as an attempt to get more money.”
“Lawyers.” Harper looked from Natalie to Clint and back. “No offense, ma’am. Sometimes I wonder...”
“If we have hearts?” she finished for him. “Sometimes it feels as if we don’t, but everyone has a job to do. Keep in mind there are plenty of unethical people out there who file lawsuits based on false claims.”
Lori rolled her eyes. “Forgive my husband. He sometimes speaks before thinking.”
Clint laughed. “I thought I was the one who had that problem.”
“You are,” Harper assured him.
They all had a good laugh, but the amusement died quickly.
“Natalie,” Lori broached the bottom line first, “it’s pretty clear from an investigator’s point of view that your accident was no accident. I’m with Clint on this one. I think it has to do with the Thompson case, which means someone at your firm could very well be responsible.”
Clint wished there were a different answer, but he couldn’t see any other scenario. He added, “You know the only alternative.”
Natalie inhaled a deep breath. “My family.” She moved her head from side to side. “For all our imperfections, we love each other. I don’t believe my family was involved.”
“The firm won’t let this go,” Clint reminded her. “I’m certain they have someone watching us.”
“Unfortunately,” Natalie confessed, “I have to agree.”
“Our next step is to determine who has the most to lose if you recall whatever it was Stuart confided in you.” Lori scooted the files over to one side and unearthed a sheet of poster board. She grabbed a marker. “Where would you start?”
“Vince Farago,” Clint answered for her. “He wanted to be partner. Natalie was under consideration before her fall. He stepped into her spot on the team defending Rison.”
Natalie didn’t disagree with him. Maybe she finally recognized Farago for what he was—a shark with a straightforward motto: eat, sleep, kill.
Lori added his name to the board. “Anyone else?”
Natalie leaned forward and braced her arms on the table. “There’s one other person we need to add to that list.”
Tension rippled through Clint. Had she recalled something new or was this the thing he’d sensed she was holding back?
“Art Rosen.” She moistened her lips and stared at the bottle of beer for a moment. “He and I had a brief affair when I first came on board at the firm. I’ve never told anyone about it, but...I said I’d be completely truthful.” She glanced at Clint. “This is deeply personal and, frankly, I’m ashamed I allowed it to happen.”
Clint wanted to reach out and touch her, to let her know he understood, but this wasn’t the time. “We all have our uncomfortable secrets.”
“Some more than others,” Harper said with a pointed look at Clint. He tipped his beer up and had a long swallow.
“I have a secret,” Lori said.
Harper’s expression fell.
Lori laughed and held up her beer. “Don’t worry, I’m not pregnant. I wouldn’t be having a beer.” She punched her husband on the shoulder.
“Don’t get me wrong.” Harper held up his hands. “I want more babies. But first we need a bigger house. When Chester is here, it gets pretty tight.”
Chester was Chet’s son with his first wife. The kid started kindergarten this year. Chet was already certain his son was the next Einstein. The kid was damned smart. That was another thing about his friends, Clint realized. Moments like this, they made him yearn for his own family.
“Cook is planning to pop the question to Addi,” Lori said.
Harper made a face. “How do you know this and I don’t?”
“Because he showed me the ring he was planning to buy. He wanted a woman’s opinion.”
“Addi’s a catch.” Clint was glad the relationship had worked out for the two despite Cook’s prior relationship with Dr. Sylvia Baron who also happened to be Addi’s biological mother. It wasn’t until Addi came to Birmingham in search of her biological mother that Addi and Cook met.
“I’m sorry,” Harper spoke up, “but that relationship is going to take some therapy if you ask me.”
“It was complicated,” Lori explained for Natalie’s benefit. “Cook and Addi’s mother had a relationship a couple of years ago. They’ve worked it all out and I’m thrilled for them.”
Harper shrugged. “Me, too. Addi’s hot.”
Lori’s jaw dropped and even Natalie laughed at Harper’s remark.
“Sylvia’s sister Nina is planning the engagement party,” Lori warned. “Jess says it will be the event of the year. You’ll have to wear a suit.”
Harper groaned and the women laughed again.
Clint was grateful for the normal chatter. Natalie needed a dose of normalcy. He had a good idea that it had been a long time since she’d felt that way. He hated to be the one who drew her back to the painful reality of the present. “Would you have shared your misgivings about the Thompson case with Rosen?”
Natalie considered the question for a moment. “Our affair ended two years before that case. He was my mentor and friend. Nothing more,” she added as if she sensed he needed to understand. “I have no recall of going to him with any concerns.”
“But,” Clint countered, “he’s the one you would have gone to.”
She met his gaze, uncertainty in hers. “Yes.”
“Art Rosen,” Lori said as she wrote the name on the makeshift case board. She drew a line f
rom his name to Farago’s and inserted the firm’s name between them.
“Beckett is a wild card,” Harper said. “We don’t know who hired him. Chances are it was Farago. I don’t see a senior partner getting his hands that dirty.”
“Agreed,” Clint said. “We should add any private investigators the firm hired on the case.”
“There was only one,” Natalie said. “Donald Murray.”
“I think he retired,” Harper noted.
“As long as he didn’t move to some exotic island finding him shouldn’t be a problem.” Clint wasn’t familiar with the man, but he would find him.
“Let me run his name in the morning,” Lori offered. “Save you some time.”
“I appreciate that.” Clint might not admit it out loud, but he missed these brainstorming sessions with the team. He suspected that Jess did, as well.
Layla woke from her nap and demanded her mother’s attention while Harper saw them out. When they reached Clint’s car, Natalie hesitated before getting in. “Your friends are nice. I can see why you made such a good team.”
“We got off to a bumpy start, but we pulled it together.” She settled into the passenger seat and Clint closed her door. He rounded the hood to the driver’s side. When he’d first been assigned to SPU, he’d been on a mission. Chief of Police Burnett had asked Clint to keep an eye on Jess since the serial killer obsessed with her was still on the loose at the time. It hadn’t taken then Chief Jess Harris long to figure out what Clint was up to. Thankfully, the team accepted him anyway.
Lori, Harper and Cook were the first people he’d let this close to him. He intended to keep them close.
Lately he’d been feeling the urge for something he’d sworn he would never want again. He stole a glance at the woman next to him. He knew better than to trust those feelings.
The sooner he wrapped up this investigation, the better for all involved.
11:45 p.m.
THE WHISPERS WOKE HER.
Natalie threw back the covers and sat up, dropping her feet to the cool floor. She closed her eyes and allowed the sounds to envelop her.
No...laughter—April’s laughter. We can’t...she might hear us. If David found out...
She won’t tell—the man’s deep voice. I need a drink. Didn’t you say the liquor cabinet is in your father’s study? Come on...
Natalie’s eyes opened. Her father’s study. She used his study as an office. Could she have hidden something there? Was that what the dark whispers were trying to help her remember?
Heart thundering, she hurried to the stairs. For a moment she stood there, recalling that fateful night. She’d come out of her room. Why would she come out of her room at that time of night?
Her body trembling, she grasped the bannister and closed her eyes, trying harder to recall the events. Relax, let the memories come. No fear. No resistance.
The sound of secret laughter, so soft it was barely audible swept past her. Her breath caught as if her sister’s very presence had just touched her.
Come on, the man whispered. Nat will kill me, April protested. Shhh...we won’t wake her, the man promised. April and the man had gone downstairs.
Natalie opened her eyes. Her sister’s laughter had awakened her that night. Natalie held very still, allowed the memories to surface. She remembered climbing out of bed, dragging on her robe, and padding to the stairs. Then...
She was falling.
This is your fault.
Natalie clung to the bannister, her lungs struggling for air. Who had said those words? This is your fault. Male, for sure. Harsh, deep...a growl. The voice was at once familiar and at the same time completely alien. Had a man pushed her? The man with April? Not David, it seemed.
The night of Natalie’s fall her sister had claimed she was angry with David, which was the reason she’d decided to come to her childhood home and spend the night. Had April lied just to have a secret rendezvous with her lover? But why would a man Natalie didn’t know try to hurt her?
Could April’s lover have been Vince? Natalie couldn’t see that match under any circumstances.
Where had the secret lover been when the ambulance arrived? Had he taken off, leaving April alone with her gravely injured sister?
“You always did know how to pick them,” Natalie muttered.
She steadied herself and descended the stairs. At least she hadn’t awakened Clint. She resisted the urge to look in on him. As much as she would love a glimpse of his bare chest, there was something else she had to do right now.
Holding her breath she eased apart the pocket doors of what she would always call her father’s study. Though she had years ago packed his files and stored them away, many of the things that made the room his space remained. She turned on the light and went to the liquor cabinet. She opened the doors and surveyed the variety of liquors her father had prided himself on collecting. Most were decades old and unopened. Her father had rarely partaken, but he’d felt the need to have a variety available for guests. She opened a door and touched the rich wood of the humidor that still held his special occasion cigars.
She smiled. Whenever she opened that humidor the scent of fine tobacco made her think of her father. She closed the doors and tension banded around her chest. The air fled her lungs.
The sound of doors and drawers slamming echoed in her ears. She closed her eyes and told herself to relax. She had hurried from her bedroom...saw the intruder at the bottom of the stairs.
She frowned and took a moment to sort the memories. This new one wasn’t from the night of her fall, it was from Monday morning when she’d shot an intruder.
Wait. Natalie opened her eyes. The intruder—Beckett, she reminded herself—hadn’t been facing the stairs as if he were looking upward. He had been facing the direction of the great room, his back to...
This room. Her father’s study. Her office.
Natalie turned around, surveying the room she had loved her whole life. It made her feel close to her father.
The intruder had been here...looking for something.
It’s in your hands now.
Natalie tried to breathe.
You’re the only one who can make it right.
Imogene Stuart’s voice whispered through Natalie’s mind. Imogene had given her something. A new statement about what happened in that hospital room. Stuart had been in the corridor on the phone. She’d just found out her husband was dying with cancer. She was upset. She couldn’t even afford to take a day off to be with him. The treatments were incredibly expensive. Her insurance wouldn’t cover everything.
She’d lied to secure her early retirement and for the money Rison Medical offered her. Money she needed for her husband’s treatments, but neither the money nor the treatments had saved him. He died anyway. On his deathbed he’d begged her to tell the truth. She had called Natalie. They’d met at the funeral home. She’d given Natalie the amended statement. That was the reason Natalie hadn’t remembered any of this when she was at her house today. She and Stuart had met at the funeral home where the poor woman had been picking out her husband’s coffin.
Natalie gasped for air.
The evidence was here. Somewhere.
If she had to take this room apart she would find it. She started with the desk. She removed drawers, dumping their contents on top of the desk, and then looking on the underside as well as in the cavity. When every single drawer in the room had been emptied, she moved on to the shelves and cabinets.
“What’re we looking for?”
Natalie dropped the books she’d moved from the shelf. Her heart launched into her throat. “Good Lord, you scared the hell out of me.”
Clint was at her side, retrieving the books before she could get a breath past the band around her chest. She might have helped him with the books if she hadn’t
gotten lost staring at his naked torso.
“Where do you want these?”
Just watching his muscles bunch and flex as he reached and grabbed and then straightened made her wish for a long cool drink.
“What?”
“The books?” He held up two handfuls.
“Look through them for any document I might have hidden.” Focus, Natalie. “Then put them in the stack over by the chair.”
She turned back to the bookshelves. Keep your wits. This was too important to be thinking about anything else.
As they rifled through book after book, looked on top of and under every item in the room, she explained her most recent memories.
“I don’t understand.” She braced her hip against the desk and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. The inability to find what she absolutely knew she had possessed was so damned maddening. “It has to be here.”
He turned the leather executive chair upside down as if it weighed nothing at all and made sure nothing was taped on the under side. “At least now you know you had evidence.”
“If I can get Mrs. Stuart to talk, I won’t need the evidence. Her husband urged her to tell the truth. I can use his final wish as leverage.”
Clint placed the chair back on its wheels. “It’s been two years. His dying wish may not carry as much weight now.” He threaded the fingers of one hand through his hair.
Natalie so needed something to relieve her dry throat. “True. I guess when I failed to follow through she decided to put it all behind her. Now her life is about self-preservation. I can understand that.”
He came around to her side of the desk. “You should go back to bed.”
This close, his scent enveloped her, made her want to lean into him. Memories of the way he’d kissed her had her knees growing weak.
“Don’t look at me that way, Natalie.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she lied.
“You’re just getting your life back and you still have a long way to go. You don’t need a man like me.”
She dared to touch him, the slightest brush of her fingertips across his contoured chest. His skin felt hot and so smooth. “What kind of man are you?”
