by Sara Bell
Brandon studied his face. “Something about this is bothering you, I can tell. What is it?”
“Just a weird feeling I got from talking to the agent on the phone. His name is Ralph Tatum. He seems like a nice enough guy.”
“But?”
Nate looped his arms around Brandon’s neck. “Tatum was really nervous on the phone. Kept talking about the importance of settling this right away. He’s coming out to the house this afternoon.” Brandon raised a brow. “On a Saturday?”
“That’s what I thought, too. He said it was of the ‘utmost importance that we reach an understanding as soon as possible,’ whatever the hell that means. When I bought the policy, I thought the whole thing was pretty cut and dried. I bought the building because Amy and Mike had just purchased a house, and she and I thought it would be easier if it was only in my name. Since my name is on the deed, I bought the insurance. My policy was all inclusive, so what’s there to settle?”
Brandon leaned his head against the couch. “What time is he coming?”
“Three.”
Brandon glanced down at his watch. “It’s just after eight now.”
“Why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest? You’re dead on your feet.”
Brandon hated to admit it, but Nate was right. “Promise you’ll get me up in a few hours so I can meet this Tatum guy with you?”
Nate gave him a soft kiss on the lips and smiled. “I promise. Now get that sexy butt of yours in bed.”
A few minutes later, Brandon went, thinking about all the things he wanted Nate to do to his butt, sexy or otherwise.
* * *
Ralph Tatum was a jittery little thing. Nate guessed him to be about five-four, five-five, tops. He was paper thin and almost bald with just a touch of bright red peach fuzz on top of his head. Nate surveyed the twitch in his jaw and figured it was probably a permanent affliction.
Nate and Brandon sat on the couch together, while Mr. Tatum took one of the easy chairs. He put his briefcase on the coffee table and cleared his throat. “Dr. Morris, perhaps it would be better if we discussed this in private.”
Nate shook his head. “Brandon is my fiancé, Mr. Tatum. Whatever you have to say to me concerns him, too. Frankly, I’d like to know why you’re giving us the old cloak and dagger routine. The policy I bought from you is ironclad. Why the big production over a straightforward insurance claim?”
Tatum shifted in his chair. “There is no insurance claim, Dr. Morris. Your policy was canceled five weeks ago.”
Nate felt like he’d been slapped. “I beg your pardon?”
“Five weeks ago, you came into our office and canceled your policy. I have the papers right here.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
Tatum shook his head. “The agent who handled the cancellation said you were adamant about severing all ties with our company.”
Nate stared at him in stunned disbelief. “What do you mean, severing all ties? Chicago Security has handled all my policies since I moved up here. You paid my claim when my apartment and office were trashed, and again when I wrecked my car. Are you trying to say that I came in and cancelled everything, even after all that?”
“Are you saying you didn’t?”
Nate was doing his best not to get angry. “Hell, yes, that’s what I’m saying. And if you’re going to deny my claim, you’d better have proof that I did.”
Tatum opened his briefcase and pulled out a termination-of-service form. He handed it to Nate with shaking fingers.
Nate moved the paper so that Brandon could see it, too. Brandon was the first one to speak. “That’s Nate’s name, but it isn’t his signature.”
Tatum looked like he was about to cry. “Are you certain?”
Nate got up and started pacing the room. After a minute, he turned back to Tatum, trying hard not to yell. “Don’t you think I would remember canceling my own damn insurance policy?” A sudden thought crossed his mind. “Did you say I canceled everything, even my malpractice insurance?”
“Yes.”
Brandon caught on. “So you would have had to issue a refund check, right?”
Tatum nodded and pulled another document out of his briefcase. “Yes. Dr. Morris, or whoever he was, wanted the money right then. The young agent who handled the transaction offered to mail it to him, but he demanded it be given to him immediately. Since I was out of the office, my secretary wrote the check. She assures me that the young man showed the proper ID and had all your policy information. Here’s the photocopy of the cancelled check from the bank.” He handed the paper to Nate. Brandon came over to stand behind him and look over his shoulder.
Nate stared down at the endorsement on the check. It was blurred and hard to read, but Nate was sure he could see a difference. He compared it to the signature on the termination agreement. “I’m no expert, but these signatures don’t match each other any more than they match mine.”
Brandon said, “It’s hard to tell, but the bank that cashed this check should have video surveillance of the transaction, and the check is time stamped. Shouldn’t be too hard to track it down.”
Tatum was still sitting in the chair, looking up at both of them. “If you can prove that the claim was cancelled under false pretenses, of course, our office will pay for all the damages.”
Nate saw the expression on Brandon’s face and felt a chill go down his spine when he said, “We’ll prove it, Tatum. You can count on it.”
* * *
Brandon hung up the phone and came back into the living room where Nate and Tatum were sitting. He took his place by Nate on the couch and said, “I just talked to Clive Rogers, manager of the Carlin Bank and Trust in Chicago, the place where that check was cashed. They send all their security tapes to the main office in Cleveland. He’s calling now to ask them to be shipped back here, but it will take until next week sometime to get them back.”
Tatum stood up and grabbed his briefcase. “Until this matter is settled, there’s nothing my office can do.”
Brandon stood up as well. Nate couldn’t help noticing the way the little man cringed at the tone of Brandon’s voice. “Actually, there is.”
“What’s that?”
“Tomorrow, I want you to have everyone who was in the office that day assemble at the Reed County Sheriff’s Station by twelve o’clock.”
Tatum started to stammer. “But. . .but tomorrow’s Sunday. You can’t expect my people to come in on Sunday.”
Nate could tell by the color rising in Brandon’s face that he was getting angry. “Look, Mr. Tatum. Your office screwed up, so I expect you and your employees to do whatever it takes to rectify this situation. Are we clear?”
Ralph Tatum looked like he was ready to faint. “Yes, we’re clear.” He was clutching his briefcase to his chest like a shield. “If you’ll excuse me, I should really be going.”
Nate got up and said, “I’ll walk you out.” When Brandon started to follow, Nate put his hand against his chest. “You stay here and cool down.”
When Nathan got done with Tatum, he came back to find Brandon still fuming. He sat down beside him and took his hand. “Want to tell me why you nearly took Tatum’s head off?”
Brandon ran his free hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “Because the little runt didn’t want to co-operate, that’s why. Hell, Nate, his office let some guy come in and cash in all your policies, and he acts like it’s no big deal. Well it is, damn it.”
“I know, but getting mad about it isn’t going to change anything. Why do you want them all at the office tomorrow, anyway?”
“I’m going to show them Wilson’s picture and see if he was the one who posed as you. It’s all we’ve got to go on right now, anyway.”
Nate leaned back against the cushions and closed his eyes. “What about the different signatures on the cancellation agreement and the check?”
“I’ll have a handwriting expert look at it, but the signature on the check has been blurred so badly
, it’s gonna be hard to tell.”
Nate sighed. “He really messed up by not killing me in the bombing, didn’t he?”
“What do you mean?”
Nate turned his head so that he was staring Brandon in the face. “Wilson and whoever was paying him cashed in my policies a week before the bombing. If I had died in the explosion, no one would ever have known I didn’t cancel the insurance myself. I guess they figured they could use the money to have a big ole’ ‘Nate’s dead’ celebration.”
Brandon reached over and smoothed back Nate’s hair. “It’s almost over, Nate. At least one of the key players is dead, and Howard is pretty sure we’ve got the other one in custody.”
“My father.”
“Yep. He’s sitting in a Georgia jail without bond waiting to be extradited to Illinois.”
Nate closed his eyes again. “And what if he isn’t guilty, Bran? What then?”
Brandon pulled him into his arms and said, “Then we’ll find the guy who’s responsible, babe. You trust me, don’t you?”
Nate nodded. “Right now, angel, you’re the only one I do.”
* * *
Nate sat in Brandon’s office while he questioned the employees of the Chicago Security Insurance Company in the interrogation room. After about an hour, Brandon came back in, grinning from ear to ear.
“Both the guy who handled the cancellation and the secretary who wrote the check positively identified Wilson from his picture. You should have seen the look on Tatum’s face. He’s ready to settle the claim whenever you are, by the way. I think he’s afraid you’re going to sue his ass.”
Nate shook his head. “It was never about the money, Bran. You know that.”
Brandon nodded. “I know.” He turned his head to the side and studied Nate for a minute. “You look awful cute sitting behind my desk, curled up in my chair like that. Ever thought of going into law enforcement? I’d love to show you how to use a pair of handcuffs.”
Nate laughed. “You and your bondage fantasies.” He got up and motioned for Brandon to have a seat. When he did, Nate sat down on his lap, one of their favorite positions for talking. “I would like to talk to you about my employment situation, though.”
Brandon wrapped both arms around him. “Go ahead.”
“I don’t think I want to open up another practice.” He gave Brandon a good looking over and said, “How would you feel about me trying to get a staff job at Chicago General?” Brandon started to speak, but Nate cut him off. “Before you answer, you should know that my hours will be erratic, and I’ll be on call a lot more. It won’t be as bad as it was when I was a resident, but I won’t have anything near regular hours.”
Brandon said, “You know I want whatever will make you happy. I assume you’ll be working with premature babies again?”
“Yeah. Keith just happened to mention that Chicago General has an opening for a pediatrician in the NICU.”
Brandon grinned. “I’ll just bet he did.” Brandon reached up and cupped Nate’s chin with one hand. “Irregular hours don’t bother me. God knows you’ve put up with enough of them out of me lately. Whatever you want to do, I’m behind you one-hundred percent.”
“I think I’m ready to go back into hospital medicine again. When I came up here from Atlanta, I wanted a break, and the idea of working with Amy was a dream come true. Private practice won’t be the same without her.”
“What about the patients you have now?”
Nate said, “One of the doctors who’s been handling my calls since. . .well, you know. Anyway, Dr. Brandt is his name. He has a wife and two small children and wants to move them out of Chicago. He mentioned last week that he’d like to start a practice in Reed. I think he’ll do well here.”
Brandon nodded. “If this is what you want, then I’m all for it.” He lifted Nate up and sat him on the edge of the desk.
“Bran, what are you doing?”
Brandon grinned. “We’ve just made some major decisions about the future here. I think that’s cause for celebration.”
Nate looked at him through narrowed eyes. “What did you have in mind?”
Brandon made a grab for his zipper. “Ever gotten a blow job in the sheriff’s office before?”
Nate tried to swat his hand away. “No, and I’m not going to now. What if someone comes in? The door isn’t even locked.” And damned if he wasn’t getting hard.
Leaving Nate right where he was, Brandon said, “I can fix that.” He was halfway to the door when it opened to reveal Agent Howard standing on the other side.
Howard took one look at Nate perched on the desk with a hard-on and started to grin. “I feel like I’ve just walked onto the set of a porn movie called Doc does the Sheriff. Hang on and let me grab some popcorn and a Coke.”
Nate knew his face was flaming red, but at least it couldn’t get any worse. That’s when Brandon said, “Damn, what’s a guy got to do to get a little dick around here?”
Howard laughed like a lunatic when Nate got down and popped Brandon on the arm. Howard took one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. Nate started to do the same, but Brandon grabbed him and pulled him back onto his lap. At first Nate was uncomfortable, but Howard didn’t seem to be bothered by it, and he soon felt himself relax.
Howard wasted no time getting to the point. “Autopsy’s back.” He slanted his head to the side and his eyes locked on Brandon’s. “Damned if you weren’t right, Nash. Massive heart attack. The medical examiner said it looked like the damn thing exploded.”
The doctor in Nate rose to the surface. “Did Wilson have a history of heart problems?” Howard shook his head. “No, but according to the toxicology report, he was speed-balling. Not long before he died, he shot a massive dose of heroin and snorted a nose full of cocaine. There was also a healthy amount of diazepam in his bloodstream, probably from the same batch he used on your dog.” He snorted. “Being a hit-man probably wears on the nerves.”
Brandon gave Howard a puzzled stare. “The only thing found in that room besides a suitcase and Wilson’s clothes was a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels and an empty glass. I went over the report myself.”
“That’s true, but the clerk said Wilson went out earlier in the evening. He could have gotten doped up while he was out. Combined with all that whiskey, the junk in his bloodstream was too much for Wilson’s ticker.”
Nate noticed that Brandon didn’t disagree, but he still seemed skeptical. Nate turned to Howard. “So what happens now?”
Howard’s expression softened a little. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you, Doc. Did Nash tell you that Wilson had a brother?”
“Yeah. He said the brother called the night Wilson’s body was found.”
“That’s true. They’re half-brothers, actually. Same mother, different fathers. We got the phone company’s records and tracked him down. His name’s Patrick Malone. He had a lot to say about his brother.” Howard’s face took on that sympathetic glaze that Nate was starting to dread. “He also had a few things to say about your father, Doc.”
Brandon’s hands tightened around Nate’s waist. Nate said, “Let’s hear it.”
“Malone works for Mor-co. He says he was the one who introduced Calder to Wilson. He claims Calder told him he needed some muscle, but didn’t tell him what for. He’s willing to make a deal in exchange for his testimony against your father.”
Nate looked back and forth between Brandon and Howard. “Can he do that? Even after what happened to Amy?”
Howard said, “That’ll be up to the local DA, but I’d say chances are good that Malone will get immunity in exchange for his testimony against Calder. To prosecute him as an accessory to murder, the DA would have to prove he knew ahead of time what the plan was. That’s gonna be damn hard to do since we aren’t even certain exactly what the plan was ourselves.” He turned his attention to Brandon. “Wilson’s death is officially listed as an overdose. I spoke with my boss not an hour ago. We’re off the case as of
now.”
Brandon helped Nate to his feet and then stood up himself. He extended his hand to Howard. “I can’t say I’m surprised, but I will say I couldn’t have kept Nate safe without your help. I owe you, Howard.”
Howard shook his hand and said, “You’re wrong about that, Nash. I was glad to help you, but you had it covered long before I got here.” Howard shook Nathan’s hand next. “Sorry about your dad, Doc. I wish things had turned out differently.”
Nate reached for Brandon with his left hand. “I’m sorry my father is a worthless bigot. And,” his voice cracked, “I’m more sorry than I can ever say about Marjorie and Amy.” He moved his gaze from Howard to Brandon. “But there are some things I’ll never regret.”
Brandon kissed his palm and returned the look, his gaze full of heat. Howard said his goodbyes and slipped out of the room with a smile.
* * *
Being in love with someone didn’t necessarily mean loving everything about them. Brandon accepted that. He knew he and Nate were always going to have their differences. Brandon never said a word about Nate’s obsessive neatness, or the fact that he chewed exactly thirty-two times before he swallowed his food. He even glossed over the fact that Nate talked baby-talk to their dog. But no way in hell was he going to ignore Nate’s callous disregard for one of America’s greatest inventions.
“It’s just a car, Bran.”
Brandon clutched his hand over his heart. “Just a car? Just a car, he says. Was the General Lee just a car to the Duke Boys? Was KITT just a car to Michael Knight in Knight Rider? And what about James Bond and all his different spy cars? Or Batman? Where would Batman be without the Bat-mobile?”
Nate started buttoning his shirt. “Walking?”
Brandon shot him a dirty look from his seat on the bed and continued lacing up his boots. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, you can find someone else to take you car shopping.”
Nate tucked his shirt into his jeans. “Brandon, it’s not that big of a deal.” When Brandon gave him another withering stare, Nate said, “If I get the urge to fight crime or join an international spy ring, I promise you I’ll consult only the top experts before I buy a car. And since I’m already sleeping with the local sheriff, I don’t think I’ll need a car like the General Lee.” He grinned and slipped his belt through the loops. “If I do decide to start bootlegging whiskey, I won’t need a special getaway car. I’ll just slip you about six inches and ask you to look the other way.”
