by Shayla Black
“But according to everything the family heard about the accident, Constance was alone in the car, rented in her name. How is that possible?” It didn’t make sense to Roman. How would a woman on lockdown have managed that? There was no evidence that Frank had been in the country. His passport records showed he hadn’t left the US until a full twenty-four hours after Constance’s death. That trip had been only long enough to retrieve his wife’s body for burial.
So who had signed her out that night?
Doctor Billings shook his head and set his glasses aside. “I’m afraid I can’t shed any light on that. Much of those records were sealed away because of the lawsuit. You need to talk to Franklin Hayes. I understand he’s in no state to explain, but if you ask the right questions, you might learn a thing or two. With dementia patients, it’s all about setting a proper stage and finding the lucid moments. But I can’t give you those records. They’re sealed.”
All of this was news to him. “There was a lawsuit?”
“We paid the Hayes family an undisclosed amount of money and they signed a nondisclosure agreement. Your client should have mentioned that.”
“Frank Hayes signed that NDA,” Gus tried. “Zack didn’t.”
“You’ll have to talk to our legal department. I’m not authorized to help you. Now, I have a hospital to run. I’ve given you everything I can.” The doctor stood, his decision obviously made. “I think your best bet is to deal with our technology department and talk to the president’s father.”
Gus stood, too, holding out a hand to the doctor. “If there’s anything else we can think to ask, we’ll call you. Thank you so much. We’ll be sure to tell the president how cooperative you and your staff have been.”
The doctor seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you. And yes, please feel free to call me with further developments. If I can help you, I will.”
Roman took Gus’s hand and headed for the door. The minute they were out of the doctor’s earshot, he turned to her. “I still had questions to ask.”
“He was done,” she said with a shake of her head. “He got spooked when we asked about her death. He wasn’t going to touch that lawsuit. We need to find another way.”
“I never heard a word about that lawsuit. I’m not convinced it’s real. If that’s the case, we can force him to talk,” Roman insisted.
At the time of Constance’s death, he’d already assumed responsibility for most of the family’s legal issues. They would have told him about such a lawsuit, right? Yes, and let him handle it. Even though the suit would have been filed in England, he would have been the one to vet the British solicitor and advise Franklin.
But if it was real…why had he been left utterly out of the loop?
“Not without some legal pressure. The minute we apply that, we run the risk of our investigation becoming public. The press will ask questions.”
She was right, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t keep quietly digging. He might know someone else they could interview.
He stopped at the desk where Yolanda was once again doing her nails. “Hey, can you tell me if any of the nurses still working here were around ten years ago?”
Yolanda looked between him and Gus. “Did the good doctor pause treating the ‘stars’ long enough to play matchmaker?”
Gus grinned. “No, my boyfriend and I had a mix-up in our schedules. I was trying to surprise him by getting some of his errands done. You know men can’t multitask.”
Yolanda waved a hand. “Don’t I ever! There’s a reason there aren’t many male nurses. Men couldn’t handle being a nurse, if you ask me. Trying to remember all those tasks while handling the emergencies. Well, this place would fall apart if it was all run by the docs.”
“Yes, the nurses are important.” Roman didn’t want Yolanda to get off topic. He got the feeling she could talk forever if he let her. “I’ll be honest, the doctor wasn’t as helpful as I’d hoped. He doesn’t recall much about our patient. I thought talking to one of the nurses who was here at the time might be beneficial.”
“We have a small staff and a lot of turnover. I think it’s because they’re tight fisted with the cash, if you know what I mean. We get these bright-eyed young nurses who come here thinking they’ll make a fortune and meet a man, then realize that village life ain’t as charming as those romance novels make it out to be. The doctors are all old and married, and most of our young men leave here for London. So they find out that their real choices are between slow Jimmy and Alfie, who’s a bit too close to his mum, if you ask me. Now Jimmy ain’t slow in the traditional sense, so don’t throw your political correctness my way. He’s just lazy as pie and I’m fairly certain he talks to his sheep.”
Gus snorted, a sound she somehow made adorable. “So you have a lot of turnover?”
“Oh, yeah. If those doe-eyed girls last a year, we count it as a win. They run right back to London, they do. Marjorie House was the director of nursing for the longest time. Now she was a local. Went to university and come right back home. ’Course she came home pregnant, which was a scandal at the time, but she was here for some twenty-five years.”
“Did she retire?” Roman asked.
“Yes, but she died two years ago.” Yolanda’s words killed Roman’s hopes. “Such a shame. Only murder we’ve had in this town in fifty years. Police think some punk was looking for drugs and shot her when she couldn’t give him any money and ran off. We were all scared for a long time after that.”
Naturally his only witness was dead under suspicious circumstances. Roman knew he’d have to hunt down her police report, too. Frustration welled inside him. Every turn seemed to lead to another dead end.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” There was nothing left to say here, and they were losing daylight. No, he didn’t have to hurry back to London now, but his gut told him every minute that ticked by only made this tangle more dangerous. He glanced down at Gus. “You ready to go?”
She nodded, slipping her phone back into her purse. “Yes. Thank you so much.”
Yolanda gave them a little wave and picked up the e-reader near her elbow.
As he led Gus to the parking lot, the stiff set of her shoulders made Roman suspicious. “How did you get here? Do you have a car?”
He intended to return hers to the nearest facility because there was no way he was allowing her to drive all over the countryside, not when Constance had probably been conveniently murdered here. Marjorie House, too. Yolanda was most likely wrong about the cause. The nurse had died for no other reason than she’d tended to Constance Hayes.
“I took the train,” she murmured as the gray afternoon enveloped him. It had rained earlier and the clouds above suggested storms yet to come. “Then I caught a cab here. Apparently the only one in the area, according to the cabbie.”
“Then you can ride with me. I rented a car.” He gently took her elbow, steering her toward the Benz he’d driven up in. “Are you going to tell me how you knew to look here? I told you what you wanted to know.”
“Well, I knew Mrs. Hayes had died in this area. But when I was searching Kemp’s room, I spotted a notepad. He’d pulled off the top sheet, but I found this address left behind as an impression. When I looked it up, it led here.”
“And you didn’t bother to mention that to me?”
“I was going to, but then you told me you’d turned everything I’d already given you over to Connor. Sure, you promised me updates, but I wanted in. This is my fight, too. And I knew if I gave you the address, you’d only cut me out of this excursion.”
He stopped in the middle of the parking lot. “I wasn’t cutting you out. I was protecting you.”
“It’s the same thing. And have you considered that leaving me completely in the dark puts me at risk? I realize now that I could have screwed up everything by talking to the doctor today. I had no idea you were coming here, much less had a meeting scheduled with him. If he had been the suspicious sort, he could have easily had me arrested for tre
spassing.”
“Yet another reason for you to trust me to handle this. I’m taking care of it.”
“You’re still not listening.” She huffed and shook her head as she approached the car. “You want me to just give it all up and sit back at the house like a good girl and forget how many people I’ve lost. That’s the sort of woman you want, isn’t it, Roman?”
“Don’t make me sound like some kind of caveman. I’m worried. Everyone who has touched this case is dead. Doesn’t that strike you as suspicious?”
“It certainly does now. How are these events connected to Mad’s death? I don’t get it. Had he figured something out? He must have, but I don’t understand what he would have seen or learned that would have led him to uncover a conspiracy like this. Mad didn’t care about politics.”
“Mad didn’t care about much except getting laid and his next party,” Roman muttered.
Gus stopped, fists clenching. “That’s not true. He cared about many things, but politics wasn’t one of them. He wouldn’t have gotten mixed up in Zack’s campaign any further than to write him a check and show up at his victory party. Although he had an alternate plan. He called it a consolation bash and asked me if it would be poor form to offer Zack his choice of hookers if he lost.”
Roman couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of Mad trying to figure out how to buoy his friend’s spirits after losing a presidential election. It probably would have involved a shit ton of liquor and likely made The Hangover look like a kiddie film. “Yeah, I can see that.”
“Naturally he stopped talking about it after Joy’s death. He said that attending a closed casket funeral for the wife of one of his dearest friends took the party right out of him.”
Roman unlocked the car with a beep but didn’t get in. Instead, he opened the passenger door for her. “I’m sorry I said anything negative about Mad. I have complex feelings for him, but I miss him every single day. I wish he was here because things never seemed as grim when he was around.”
She glanced away, but not before he saw the haunted look in her eyes. “Yeah, Maddox Crawford made even the worst things seem a little better.”
God, he hated the jealousy that snaked through him every time she said Mad’s name. Neither one of them deserved it. They’d been adults and single, and Roman had been plain when he’d ended things with Gus. But it still fucking hurt that Mad had never once asked him if touching Gus was okay.
Not that he’d asked Dax. As far as Roman knew, whatever developed between him and Dax’s sister was going to come as a hell of a surprise.
He held out a hand, blocking the open door so she couldn’t get in the car. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you by sending Connor here. I was simply worried. There’s more you don’t know. I want to tell you, but, damn it, Gus, you can be so reckless. I’m worried if I let you in on everything, you’ll try to fix this on your own. You’ve always broken off from the pack and done your own thing. But the implications are bigger than just Mad’s death or Constance’s, or even your father’s. And now that whoever is behind all this is trying to blackmail Zack, I’m sure you’ve figured out this is serious. I can’t let you go rogue.”
She laughed, the sound tinged with bitterness. “Roman, I’ve never broken off from the pack to go it alone intentionally. I didn’t have a pack to run to, and I was never one of you. Even when I was sleeping with one of you. At the time I thought no woman ever would be included in the inner circle, but I was wrong. You’ve accepted Everly and Lara, and Holland fits right in. Joy was on the inside, too. I know if Mad had lived and married Sara, she would have been included with you all. I’m the only one who gets shut out.”
Because she’d picked the wrong gentleman. She’d picked the one who couldn’t love the way the others did. Roman frowned, but that didn’t stop his hard truths. He’d been handed someone amazing at a young age and he’d kicked her to the curb because she hadn’t been who or what he’d thought she should be. She hadn’t fit the ideal in his mind of whom he should love.
He stood frozen as she sat and buckled her seatbelt.
She wouldn’t look at him, and he didn’t blame her.
With a long sigh, Roman closed the door. Gus was here with him, but she still felt alone. That much was apparent. He couldn’t ignore the fact that he was, at least in part, responsible. And the only way to fix the situation was to betray his best friends and potentially put her in danger.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gus took a calming breath and again surreptitiously read the text message she’d received while Roman had been questioning Yolanda. She prayed he didn’t pay her any notice now.
If you want the truth about Constance Hayes, meet me in the village cemetery at midnight. Come alone or bring the Hitman with you. I don’t care, but you’re the only one I’ll give the information to.
Deep Throat
The message sent a thrill through her. Sure it was ninety percent abject terror, but she felt the adrenaline rush, too. Maybe this person had answers, like the Deep Throat of Watergate, the source who’d led reporters Woodward and Bernstein to the truth about the break-in at the Watergate Hotel. The information had blown up Nixon’s presidency and forced him to resign.
Sure, she’d considered sharing the message with Roman, but then he’d reminded her once again that she was outside the Perfect Gentlemen’s circle and she always would be. And if this source could tell her something useful, it might put her back in this game. After all, if she got answers, Roman and the others wouldn’t be able to shut her out anymore.
Then, after this mess was unraveled, she could walk away on her own terms.
But if she shared the meet time and place with Roman now, she would likely find herself surrounded by armed escorts, being hauled back to London. Connor would take her place. Roman would throw a wig on the former CIA agent and style him in her Herve Leger bandage dress rather than letting her go to the cemetery.
So now she had to find a way to persuade Roman they needed to stay in the village tonight, instead of returning to London. They’d retire early because she was so exhausted, of course. Once he’d drifted off, she would slip out.
Roman emerged from the small law enforcement office he’d insisted on visiting. “That was a complete waste of time. They have the same police report I’ve read a hundred times. Constance’s blood alcohol level was five times the legal limit, etcetera, etcetera. But when I asked the cop how he thought she could have possibly driven even a mile that intoxicated, he shrugged and said he’s seen worse.”
It must be super frustrating for Roman not to be able to use his powerful position to force people to follow his orders with the snap of a finger. He was so used to it. “Were you able to talk to the officer who wrote the report?”
“He retired last year and now lives in Aruba, believe it or not,” Roman replied. “Come on. Let’s drive to the site of Constance’s crash. I didn’t notice much when we drove past earlier, and it probably won’t tell us anything since it’s been years, but I feel as if we should see whether the police might have overlooked anything relevant about the road or the surroundings. I owe it to Zack to be as thorough as possible. Then we can head back to London before it gets too late.”
“Or we could talk to some of the locals,” she suggested. “Villages like this are similar to small towns back home. Their residents have long memories about events like these. I’ll bet someone remembers that night. Going to the site might even give us an idea about who we should talk to.”
He opened the car door for her. “I thought about questioning the locals myself. That’s not a terrible idea.”
It was a brilliant idea, thank you very much, but she was used to his faint praise. “I know you need to head back to London tonight, but I could stay for a while. I saw a B and B on the edge of town. I’ll see if I can get a reservation. Tomorrow, I’ll shop in the village and have lunch at the local pub, see what I can find.”
Roman shut the car door and before she knew it, he was sliding
in beside her. He had the engine purring and they were making their way down the road that connected the village to the sanatorium again for a closer look at the crash site. “What are you up to, Augustine?”
“The same thing you are, trying to investigate without drawing too much attention,” she replied carefully. “If you’re worried about me being up here alone, call in Everly. She’s worked security and she’s nonthreatening. We’ll say we’re having a girls’ trip. People will talk to us.”
She could deal with Everly. Gabe’s wife was perfectly reasonable and would treat Gus like an actual adult.
“Yes, I’m sure Gabe would love me for that.” Roman turned the car right and kept his eyes glued on the narrow, hilly road. Still, she felt as if his attention was weighing her down. “I can hear the conversation now. ‘Hey, buddy, my girl wants to draw yours into a shit ton of trouble and danger. What do you say?’”
“You don’t have to be an ass about it.” She should have known exactly how he’d respond. All these men seemed to think their women were made of glass.
Gus held in a sigh. Could she return to London and find a way back here before the meeting? She wasn’t missing this opportunity. If someone wanted to play Watergate, Gus would happily play along.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t say it wasn’t a good idea. I just don’t think Gabe would be all right with me luring Everly into a situation that might require body bags. As it happens, I have a room at that B and B tonight. If you’re intent on doing this, I’ll go with you. I’ll keep my mouth shut since you think I scare people away. You can say I’m your mute boyfriend or that I speak no English. Hell, half the time I’m in Britain I’m sure I don’t. I asked someone where the PCSO was and I was told the bizzies lived on Main.”
