“My name is Cat,” she repeated more forcefully and tapped a spot close to her heart with her fingers.
He reached out and took hold of her hand. His was hard, the pads of his fingers calloused, but as he had been the night before, his touch was surprisingly gentle.
“I wish I could believe that you weren’t just repeating what you’ve heard.”
Suddenly Mick shot upright, his manner hard once more. “You’ve been drugged, Cat. It may take some time for the drugs to wear off.”
“My name is Cat,” she insisted, but the music coming from the machine by the bed called to her. It was so beautiful. The tones rich and melodious. Soothing. A smile came to Caterina’s face as the music wrapped itself around her. Tangled with her thoughts to drive away some of her fear.
Mick grudgingly smiled as well.
“Glad to see that you like it,” he said and then walked out of the room.
She did like it. She closed her eyes and fragments of images spilled from her brain, filling up her limited consciousness. The black and white of notes on paper. Honey-gold wood, cold and smooth against her skin. Coarse hair, sticky with rosin.
His words repeated in her brain.
That’s you, Cat. You playing the cello.
Like two pieces of a puzzle coming together, the pictures in her mind joined with the words.
A cello. She used to play the cello and it had brought her joy. It had to have made her immensely happy before because it was bringing her a great deal of peace now.
She shifted her position, turning on the bed. Yanking on the restraints to get closer to the music.
With the notes embracing her, she released herself to the melody washing over her.
“You left the condo very early this morning, or maybe it’s more accurate to say late last night,” Harrison said. From the corner of his eye, he shot a look around to see who might be in the hall in the surgical wing before he laid his hand on Liliana’s sleeve.
Easing his index finger beneath the edge of her jacket, he inched it up to reveal the first hint of a bruise. “Was it because of our fight? I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, leaning toward her and speaking in hushed tones, the gesture seemingly nonthreatening.
Unfortunately, Liliana knew what would usually follow. He used his size, coupled with his proximity, to intimidate. When that failed, his fists reinforced who was lord and master in his domain. In their relationship.
It hadn’t always been that way. At first he had been a caring and solicitous fiancé. Then a few months ago he had withdrawn, seemingly worried about something. But he had not revealed the source of his concern to her, no matter how hard she had tried to reach him.
The depression had cemented itself in him. He became more possessive and increasingly angry and prone to violence.
Needing distance from him, she took a step back and inched her head up to meet his gaze, refusing to be cowed. His light blue eyes chilled at her actions and the muscles of his jaw clenched tight. She knew she needed to avoid confrontation at all costs, especially now when Mick and his guest needed her help. But she would not let Harrison control her with fear any longer.
“I wanted to check up on one of my patients before rounds,” she finally answered.
“Is that right?” He took a small step toward her, the tightness of his body causing an instinctive response in her to avoid the threatening gesture. Unfortunately, the wall was at her back and he had effectively cut off any forward retreat.
Stiffening her spine and pulling back her shoulders, she tilted her head and defended herself in the only way she could at that moment. Calmly she said, “Do you really want to do this here and give the hospital even more to gossip about?”
He narrowed his eyes, considering her.
“What do you mean? Gossip?”
The squeak of a rubber-soled shoe on the gleaming tile floor intruded.
Harrison’s head snapped around as the nurse turned the corner and came into view. He took a step away from Liliana and, with that step, his entire persona morphed.
“See you at home later, honey,” he said, the tones of his voice light and cheerful. A movie star smile brightened his face.
She barely controlled the flinch when he dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and sauntered away with that phony grin.
“Morning, Nurse Edmonds,” he said, his tones almost too friendly.
The nurse gave a curt nod and chill look to Harrison. As Liliana stopped at the nurse’s station to slip a patient’s chart into the chart rack, the nurse offered her a warmer greeting. “Good morning, Dr. Carrera.”
When the nurse’s gaze met hers for one brief second, understanding blossomed there.
“Good morning, Sara. How is Mrs. Rodriguez this afternoon?”
“Better than you are, I suspect,” she said beneath her breath as she removed the Rodriguez chart from the rack and handed it to Liliana.
Liliana buried her head in the papers, reviewing the patient’s vitals and progress. “Looks good. I’m going to pop in and check on our patient.”
“By the way, Dr. Rojas was looking for you. She came up to the floor about half an hour ago.”
With a quick nod, Liliana walked away, chart in hand to see to her patient, but all the time she was wondering what Carmen could want, since her friend hadn’t been expecting the results of any of the other tests so soon.
At the patient’s door, Liliana stopped to see if Mrs. Rodriguez was awake. The hip replacement surgery had gone well, but had taxed the older woman.
When Mrs. Rodriguez noticed her waiting by the door, she grinned happily and waved her in. “Come in, niña.”
The welcome on the older woman’s face filled her with satisfaction and confirmed yet again the reason why she had gone into medicine.
Something that whoever had worked on Mick’s friend seemed to have forgotten.
CHAPTER 12
Mick’s investigation was being seriously hampered by his having to babysit the unpredictable Ms. Shaw. Luckily his sister’s schedule had some freedom for the next few days. Until then, Mick had figured out what to do to keep Shaw contained, which was why he was waiting for his cousin Ramon. Sheriff Ramon Gonzalez, now that he was all grown up. Head of one of the local police departments.
Ramon had agreed to meet Mick at the Dunkin’ Donuts in Belmar, which was buzzing with an assortment of the resident clamdiggers and the Bennies who rented shore homes in town during the summer months, inflating the town’s population and filling many of the local shops along Ocean Avenue. The place was crowded, but far enough away from his usual haunts that it was safe to meet Ramon there.
At Mick’s request, Ramon was dressed in civvies to avoid attracting attention. His cousin slipped onto the cement bench opposite him at the outdoor table where Mick had settled down to wait for him. On top of the table were Ramon’s favorites: black coffee with a chocolate frosted donut.
As his cousin noted the treat, his eyes lit up with joy, reminding Mick of the Ramon from their childhood.
“Thanks, mano.” He picked up the paper cup and took a sip, wincing at the heat of the coffee. His hand was headed for the donut when Mick stopped him.
“Did you bring what I asked?”
Ramon rolled his eyes. “When you called me, I thought, Miguelito is finally going to do the right thing and join the force.”
Mick shook his head. “You know that I can’t consider joining the force—”
“On account of your parents? Because of the money they need?” Ramon immediately challenged. He braced his hands on the edge of the thick cement tabletop and leaned forward. “They’re almost finished paying off that bank loan. You don’t need to keep on sacrificing what you want—”
“No sacrifice, Ramon. It’s what I like to do,” he replied and picked up his own cup of coffee to take a sip.
“Bullshit, mano. You were always a White Hat. You can’t have changed that much over the years.”
A White Hat, he thought, clench
ing his jaw to contain a retort. If he was, that hat was a mite muddied and grey in spots these days. Life had taught Mick that nothing was ever black or white.
“Did you bring what I asked?” Mick repeated.
Ramon looked from side to side, clearly cautious. Then he plopped a plastic bag from a local grocery store on top of the table. “Everything you need is in the bag, but if you get caught—”
“I’ll explain how I stole it from your police station. Does Mabel still leave the women’s bathroom window open so she can sneak a smoke?”
Ramon shook his head and in a chiding tone said, “Mabel retired last year. You might have known that if you came to visit more than once a month.”
Mick knew that Ramon wasn’t just talking about visiting the people he had befriended while working as an EMT for the town. Ramon was trying to make him feel guilty about visiting his family.
Mick raised his hands and held them out in a now-you-see-me gesture. “I’m here.”
Ramon rolled his eyes again, picked up the donut and took a big bite. Gesturing to Mick with the half-eaten confection, he said, “You’re here out of the blue and I bet you haven’t called your mami. You know that the last thing you want is to have her show up at your door uninvited.”
Mick could well imagine it. His loving but demanding mother descending on his home in the midst of this mess with Shaw. He could just picture her going all camo in front of his mother. Hell, he wished he could hide out when his mami was on one of her missions.
Snagging the plastic bag from the middle of the table, Mick opened it and peeked within. Inside was the electronic monitoring device he had requested, as well as a small piece of paper. He didn’t need to look at the paper to know it held information on how to access the system to activate and track the ankle bracelet.
“Thanks, mano. Now what do you know about Mc-Mahon and Hernandez?”
Ramon took another sip of his coffee. “The two detectives manning the Wells murder?”
Mick nodded and Ramon continued. “Met them years ago at a police conference. I thought they were straight-up guys. I hear they’re stuck waiting for the state lab guys to process the evidence.”
“So they can’t release the crime scene yet?” Mick said with a smile.
“Don’t know, but I can find out. What’s your interest in the case?” Ramon asked.
Not that Mick intended to answer. Instead he stood, grabbed the bag and jiggled it as he said, “Thanks again. Could I ask you to do me one more favor?”
Ramon grew serious and once more perused the area around them before responding, “You name it.”
Mick nodded, leaned forward, and whispered, “Keep mami away for the next few days.”
Mick hadn’t been gone for long. Not more than an hour. The beep beep beep of the alarm system announced his return.
Caterina wondered where he had been while she lay tied to the bed, the soft strains of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons playing in the background. Her one hand moving against imaginary strings, recalling how to play the piece.
“Summer” was playing. Somehow appropriate. She couldn’t remember how long she had been in the Wardwell facilities, but recalling the heat and humidity after she had escaped, she definitely knew it was summer now.
Noise came from downstairs. Mick’s voice, muted from the distance between her room and wherever he was on the lower floor.
Then silence.
A few seconds later she heard his tread on the stairs. It was surprisingly light. She caught a glimpse of him through the open doorway as he climbed up the stairs, and then he was at the entrance to the room.
He said nothing as he entered, walked to the chair and sat, a plastic bag in his hand. Opening the bag, he slipped a small piece of paper into the pocket of the button-down shirt he wore and then removed a small black box connected to a black plastic band of some kind.
He rose, stepped to the foot of the bed and grabbed hold of her heel. He held it steady as he slipped the band around her ankle, joined the two ends and then snapped them into place to secure it to her leg.
“What is that?” she asked.
“An electronic monitoring device. If you attempt to leave the area, it’ll warn me. If you continue beyond the perimeter of the house, I’ll still be able to track you down. And I will.”
Caterina stared at him hard, anger vibrating through her body at his threat.
Mick wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly felt like he needed to defend himself. “I’m not a monster,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.
“Prove it,” Caterina challenged. “Let me go.”
CHAPTER 13
Surprise, and even a pleased smile, flickered across the harshly chiseled lines of Mick’s face before he reined himself in. “No can do.”
He returned to the chair, staring intently at Caterina as he said, “I have to go, but I won’t be gone long. Don’t think of running away.”
Without a second glance, Mick left again.
Over an hour later, he parked the Jeep in the visitor section, taking a moment to survey the three different wings of the Wardwell facilities.
The center wing held all the corporate staff and security. He had met with Edwards there the other day.
Based on the research he had done, he knew the wing to the left housed the sterile lab areas responsible for creating the cloning products and tests Wardwell manufactured, while the wing to the right held the medical complex where Caterina and the other patients were housed.
He entered the center wing, where he stopped for a moment to check out the guards at the security desk. As he had hoped, a different set of guards was on duty than had been present when he had visited the other morning.
He sauntered up to the desk and waited for the guard to acknowledge him.
The ill-fitting suit he’d chosen to wear was tight across Mick’s shoulders and the starch in the collar of the shirt had chafed a spot on his throat raw, but the outfit certainly screamed underpaid cop.
When the guard finally looked up from his papers, Mick reached into the suit jacket pocket and flashed a fake local police department badge. Fake, but good enough to pass.
“Detective Ramirez,” Mick said, tucking the badge back into his jacket pocket.
“I thought you guys were done already,” the guard asked as he pushed forward the log book for Mick to sign.
Mick scrawled a name in the book and answered, “State lab boys needed another sample. Asked me to come down and get it so they can finish up their investigation and release the crime scene.” He held up a briefcase as if to confirm that he intended to put the evidence within it.
The security guard nodded and handed over a visitor’s badge. “Third door on the right. Then go through the breezeway into the next wing and follow the hall to the very end. You’ll need the badge to open all the doors.”
Mick shot him a quick salute and did as the man said, swiping the badge at the door to access the breezeway before he walked down to the end of the hall. Even if there hadn’t been crime scene tape everywhere, a quick peek through the glass panel in the door would have confirmed that something major had gone on in the room.
Blood spatter marred the walls and a larger splotch stained a spot in the center of the floor. Pieces of lab furniture, shattered beakers, microscopes, and other equipment littered the room. Across the room, large pieces of plywood closed off what had once been a large plate glass window.
Mick slipped beneath the crime scene tape, swiped the card to open the door, and entered the laboratory, where he took photos with a camera and made mental notes of everything in the room, including the destruction in various areas. Then he strode to the lateral file cabinets along the far wall. The doors of the cabinets were dented and blood-splattered.
He cracked open the first drawer. Lots of files, but with very few papers. The second drawer held more of the same.
The next lateral file was locked.
He removed a locksmith’s pick from his suit jacket pocket and
slipped it into the opening. A few pokes and twists and the lock on the cabinet popped out with a ka-thunk.
Patient files filled the top drawer. Files with red labels that read TERMINATED took up the bulk of the space. The name on the last file in the cabinet was Jenkins.
He closed the drawer and opened up the second one.
Bingo. Shaw’s file was smack in the middle. He removed it and for good measure grabbed two of the nearby files labeled with the troublesome TERMINATED stickers.
He tucked the files into the briefcase and locked the cabinet, returning it to its original state. He hurried back out into the hallway and as he did so, a woman in scrubs turned the corner and headed toward him.
When she realized he was by the door to the lab, she paused, clearly uncertain.
“Detective Ramirez,” he said, as he reached into his jacket and extracted the badge.
She nodded and he said, “Do you work here? In the lab?”
“I did until Dr. Wells was murdered. They’ve closed up the facility for now,” the woman said, fingering the hem of her shirt nervously. She motioned to another door farther up the hall. “I was just going to pick up some samples in there.”
“Where are the patients?” he asked.
The woman shrugged. “Gone. Dr. Edwards thought it would be better to move them away from the violence.”
And away from anyone who could question them about what really went on the night Wells was murdered, Mick thought. Edwards was certainly trying to cover up the incident. He wondered why his client hadn’t already called him about the progress he was making on the case.
“Thank you for your time,” Mick said, and with a polite nod of his head he exited the Wardwell facilities.
Outside the building, he hurried around the exterior of the structure to the spot where Shaw had supposedly made her escape by tossing a heavy piece of lab equipment through the glass. Several large pieces of plywood sealed off the damage.
He bent down and examined the base of the makeshift plywood barrier and bits of broken window glass glinted in the sunlight.
Sins of the Flesh Page 8
