Devil in Disguise

by Morgan James

  “Kate, this is Becky Statler. I know you’re scheduled to be out for the next week or so, but we’ve kind of had an emergency situation, and I’m looking for someone to take over some patients. Could you please give me a call back when you get this?”

  Curiosity piqued, I slid from the bed and called her back. Her tone was weary when she answered.

  “This is Becky.”

  “Hi, Becky, it’s Kate calling you back.”

  “I’m sorry to call so early,” she apologized, “but you’re kind of my last resort. I know this isn’t ideal, but I’m looking for someone to take over Dr. Coleman’s position.”

  “Oh,” I said, concerned. “Is he sick?”

  Something that sounded like a soft sob filtered through the speaker. “I... I’m sorry. I thought maybe you’d seen the news.”

  Goose bumps rose over my flesh. “No. What happened?”

  “Dr. Coleman isn’t coming back. He’s...” Becky drew in a deep breath. “He passed away last night.”

  I sucked in a breath, and I heard the rest of the sheets behind me. “Oh, my God.” My mind spun uncontrollably, and I tried to make sense of the words. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  “It was a shock to all of us,” she said sadly. “I don’t want to rush you, but if we don’t have enough coverage, I’ll have to let his patients know.”

  “Yes, of course I’ll do it,” I blurted without thinking.

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “I don’t want to rush you.”

  “Yes,” I said decisively. I couldn’t turn her down; it was the right thing to do. “It’s no problem at all. I’ll see you soon.”

  I hung up, then turned to meet Gavin’s curious stare. “Looks like we can cross Coleman off the suspect list.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s dead.”

  His eyes flared wide. “You’re shitting me.”

  I let out a mirthless laugh, still half in shock, and shook my head. “No. She said he passed away last night.”

  His brows dipped, and concern clouded his expression. “I wonder what the hell that means.”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. But I’ve got to take his patients today.”

  At that, he bolted upright. “Not a chance in hell.”

  “I have to do this,” I argued. “There are people counting on him, on me, and—”

  “Jesus, Kate.” His tone was exasperated as swung his legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed my forearms. “You were just shot at a week ago. I don’t want you going out until they figure out who the hell it is. Especially after this whole ordeal with Coleman. He was the only viable suspect, and now—”

  I understood where he was coming from. “Listen. The office is never empty, between the staff and the cleaning crew. I’ll be safe enough with them there.” Gavin shot a hard look at me, and I stared right back. “Really, though. It’d be stupid for someone to try something while I’m at work, surrounded by a whole bunch of ex-military men all day long.”

  His chin dipped, and one eyebrow lifted toward his hairline. “Not making me feel any better.”

  “You know what they say about a man in uniform...” I couldn’t help but tease him a little, and I pressed my lips together to contain a small smile when he let out a little growl and lightly smacked my ass.

  “I’m the only man allowed to touch you.” His expression turned serious again almost immediately, and he stared up at me. “I really don’t like the idea of you going back there yet.”

  I felt strange, caught halfway between wanting to laugh or cry. Coleman was dead, which meant that our only suspect was now gone. Had Coleman killed himself out of guilt, or was it some natural cause? The timing seemed too coincidental, and that worried me immensely. I tried not to let it show as I leaned into Gavin.

  “Honestly. It’ll be perfectly fine.” I hoped it would, anyway.

  He frowned at me, then as if realizing it was a losing battle, he let out a low sigh. “Fine. But I’m taking you to work and I’ll be there when you get off.”

  “Deal.” I leaned down to kiss him. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Gavin

  So, we were back to square one. Coleman had been found in his vehicle yesterday evening after leaving the precinct, dead from a single gunshot wound to the temple.

  “Foul play?”

  “Looks that way. There was only a small amount of gunshot residue on his hands—not enough to indicate that he pulled the trigger.”

  Son of a bitch. So, someone had killed him at point-blank range—probably someone he’d trusted, if he’d allowed the person to get in the car with him. “Have they questioned Raines yet?”

  “They brought him in this morning. Apparently he owns a Smith & Wesson 9mm—the same caliber bullet they found in Coleman. It was also,” Clay continued, “the same slug they dug out of the brick after Kate was shot at.”

  Fucking finally. “So they brought him in?”

  “Yep. Apparently, he has no alibi for the time of the murder.” Clay leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. “According to my guy at the PD, he’s denying everything except his arguments with Coleman. Police got a warrant to search the house but haven’t found the gun yet.”

  I scowled. “Has to be there somewhere. And, seriously? Nobody heard a fucking gunshot in the middle of the evening?”

  What the fuck? In a world where everyone had a goddamn cell phone, no one had seen a damn thing, hadn’t captured anything on camera or on video?

  Clay spread his hands wide. “What do you expect?”

  Not a damn thing, honestly. As much as I wanted to make it easy and blame him for Kate’s incident, I had to look at it objectively. He didn’t have an alibi, but they also hadn’t found the gun to positively match ballistics. “We can’t go off half-cocked and accuse Raines of anything. It won’t fly in court. If Larry’s responsible for shooting at Kate, I’m gonna make damn sure he doesn’t get off on a technicality.”

  Con smirked at me from where he rested one hip against the desk. “Sure you don’t want to come work for me?”

  “I’m seriously considering it,” I murmured. If Larry was found guilty of murder—attempted or otherwise—or God knew what else, the firm would likely collapse. We’d lose all credibility. “Is that offer open-ended?”

  “Always.”

  I nodded. “I appreciate it. So, where do we stand with Raines?”

  Clay shrugged one shoulder. “They can hold him for twenty-four hours. After that...”

  Yeah, I knew the drill. And, if what he said was true, that there was no evidence of his involvement, they’d release him just like they had with Coleman.

  “This guy might not be involved at all,” Clay offered, echoing my thoughts.

  “I know,” I responded. “It just seems like too much of a coincidence to ignore.” Something just didn’t shake out with that.

  “When was the first time?” Con asked.

  “First time that I know of was at the VA,” I said. “Supposedly he was arguing with Coleman. Second was at my law office a week later.”

  Clay’s phone vibrated an alert, and he made a face as he read the message. “Fuck.”

  “That your guy at the PD?”

  “Yep. They found a couple sets of prints inside Coleman’s car, but none of them belonged to Raines.”

  “He could’ve worn gloves or something.” Hell, some people even used superglue to minimize their fingerprints and eliminate the oils from the skin.

  “Possible, but they also found a hair that doesn’t seem to match Raines, either. Raines is mostly gray. This is short, likely a man’s, but dark blond or brown.”

  Jesus Christ. Couldn’t we catch a break? I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. I knew the police were doing everything they could, but in the meantime, whoever had killed Coleman was still running loose. I wouldn’t let him get to Kate next. “Okay. So Raines didn’t kill Coleman. What do
we know about an organ-smuggling ring?”

  “Bad news on that.” Con grimaced. “PD thinks whoever is harvesting the organs is working with Escobar Valdez.”

  I dropped my head back on a groan. This shit just kept getting better and better. “The goddamn cartel? Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “Nope.” Jason Doyle rolled his chair over. “Got a tip from an acquaintance that the feds are on his trail.”

  I lifted a brow. “Nice of them to join the party.”

  The former FBI agent’s lips quirked up in a wry smile. “Don’t expect too much. It could take years to build a case.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “This is a fucking shit show.”

  “Anyone else with motive?” Con asked me.

  “Not that I can think of, but Kate was pretty adamant it’s someone with medical experience.”

  “So, we’re operating under the assumption that she overheard something she shouldn’t have? Maybe Raines and Coleman were working together.”

  “That’s my best guess.”

  “But Coleman was cleared,” Clay reminded us, “so either they didn’t find any evidence, or he really was clean.”

  “I’m guessing clean,” I replied. “Why else kill him, unless he was on to whoever was responsible?”

  Doyle glanced between the three of us. “Do we think Raines is involved in the smuggling ring, or maybe someone else Coleman worked with? Another doctor from the VA, maybe?”

  “Possibly,” Con spoke up. “But she works there every day. If it was someone from there, she most likely would’ve recognized them. Plus, why wait so long?”

  “But for what purpose?” I said as I raked one hand through my hair. “She hasn’t done anything.”

  “Doesn’t mean someone doesn’t think she saw or heard something she shouldn’t have,” Con spoke up. “It’s just a matter of figuring out what.”

  Doyle nodded. “I’m running background on employees at the VA right now. They were done at the time of hire, but God only knows how long ago that was for some of them.”

  With the number of people Kate interacted with on a daily basis, I had a feeling it was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Kate

  I peeked out of my office and glanced up and down the hall, but everything was clear. Everyone else had already left, and I’d seen Magda come in just a little bit ago to begin cleaning. I left the records room and started down the hallway toward the offices.

  Gavin had texted a little while ago and told me he was running late, so I decided to do a little digging of my own. I tried to justify it by telling myself it wasn’t that bad. All I wanted to do was find out if Coleman had kept any records anywhere, any indication of who may have been responsible for his death. By now, we all assumed that it was tied in together. Like the police said, it was probably someone we both knew.

  I rounded the nurses’ station where Magda stood disinfecting the counters. “Hello, Dr. Winfield.”

  I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jacket and smiled back. “Hi, Magda. How are you?”

  “Fine, thank you. Such a shame about Dr. Coleman,” the woman clucked. “Such a nice man.”

  Sympathy seized me, along with shame for what I was about to do. “I know. I feel terrible. I’ll be taking over a few of his patients, and I need to get a few things from his office.” I prayed the woman wouldn’t read into it and wouldn’t question me for being in his office instead of my own.

  “Well, don’t let me bother you,” she said. “We weren’t sure what to do with it, so we just left it alone.”

  I nodded, grateful that HR had decided not to clear it out just yet. I wondered if the police had searched it, or if they would need to now that he’d been killed. That made me feel even worse, but I was tired of waiting around for something to happen. “That’s perfect. Thank you.”

  Leaving Magda to her work, I meandered down the hall to Coleman’s office and veered straight to the window. After the blinds were in place and I was sure that no one could see inside, I crossed the room again and flipped on the lights. Leaving the door open so as to not raise any questions, I glanced around the space. It felt oddly empty without Coleman here, and the realization that he would never sit behind that desk again sliced through me. Though I hadn’t known him all that long, he’d been a nice enough man. I still wasn’t sure if he was involved in whatever was happening; we might never be sure. It only made my reason for being here more resolute. I was determined to find anything I could to help the investigation along.

  I pushed down the guilt I felt at snooping around the dead man’s office, and with a deep breath, I dived right in, starting with the desk first. I sifted through the contents of the drawers, inspecting everything, unwilling to disregard anything. The drawers were cluttered with paraphernalia, from notepads and pens to nail clippers and stock supplies like fabric tape and bandages. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to his storage methods, and the next three drawers were almost identical.

  In the fourth though, I found a worn paperback copy of Jane Eyre. It seemed incongruous with its surroundings, and I flipped through the pages. As I did so, a small rectangle slipped out and fluttered to the ground. The watermark on the back identified it as a photograph, and I turned it over. The pretty blonde’s face took my breath away. She was beautiful—captivating, really. There was something light and airy, inherently good about her. From her manner of dress, I speculated the picture had been taken a decade or more ago, and as I studied her features, I realized something else—this was not Coleman’s wife.

  I lifted my gaze to the framed photographs on the bookshelf behind me. Eli’s wife was pretty enough, with curly brown hair, but she looked nothing like the woman in the photograph. My eyes dropped to the blonde again. Who was she? Whoever it was must’ve been important to him. She obviously meant enough for him to secret away a picture of her in his desk. The book made sense as well. It looked well loved, a timeless romance read and reread by someone in love.

  I sucked in a breath as realization hit hard. What if this was Meredith—Larry’s wife. They’d been together at the time of her accident, obviously very much in love. Part of me felt sad for them; both were married to other people, but they’d never been able to let go of one another. If they hadn’t been in the accident, would they be together today?

  I was so caught up in my musings that the soft pop from the vicinity of the lobby barely penetrated my consciousness. I glanced toward the doorway, expecting to hear someone or something, but silence reigned. I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut to keep from calling out. Uneasy and on edge, I crept toward the hallway. Peeking around the doorframe, I searched for Magda. The building remained quiet—too quiet. Moving slowly and keeping my back to the wall, I walked silently toward the lobby. I had just reached the nurses’ station when something on the floor caught my attention. I froze in place and leaned forward as far as I could, straining my neck to see around the corner. Blood pooled on the floor around Magda’s body, and I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out.

  Quickly, I ducked down out of sight and fought to get my emotions under control. My breathing seemed to echo in my ears, and I forced myself to calm, listening intently for any movement.

  “Kate.” A soft voice lilted on the air. “I know you’re in here.”

  Without thinking, I scrambled on my hands and knees into the closest exam room and ducked behind the patient table. Seconds later, the soft rustle of material met my ears, and I knew the person was right outside the door. My heart threatened to beat out of my chest, and I drew a deep, even breath in through my nose, then expelled it slowly out my mouth, fighting to keep my body from shaking.

  “Kate.” The voice was closer this time. I pressed myself back against the table, and the traitorous paper stretched over top crinkled slightly. Every muscle in my body coiled with tension, and I prayed he hadn’t heard the sligh
t movement. The soft scrape of footsteps against the rough industrial carpet resumed, and I let out a measured breath. I remained still, tracking his movements, trying to gauge where he was going.

  As silently as possible, I duck-walked toward the doorway and, keeping low to the ground, peaked around the doorjamb. The man’s back was to me as he moved around the nurses’ station, checking beneath the desks. As he turned slightly, his profile came into view.

  Chris.

  I felt absolutely blindsided, my mind spinning as I tried to understand. Why would he do something so terrible? He glanced upward, almost as if feeling my presence, and I jerked backward out of sight.

  Shit. I couldn’t stay here and risk being found, but he was blocking the main exit to the lobby. There was an emergency exit on the other side of the facility, and I plotted how to best get there. I peeked around the doorjamb and watched as Chris turned his back to me again. I had to make a decision, and now. Repositioning myself in a low couch, I got ready to run.

  As quickly and quietly as possible, I bolted from the room and sprinted down the hallway away from Chris, staying bent at the waist. I heard a harsh expletive behind me, but I didn’t slow down. The hallway that led to the emergency exit came up on my right, and I got ready to turn. Just as I started to slow, a shot rang out, and sheetrock exploded near my right shoulder, sending a flurry of powder into the air.

  Instinctively throwing my body away from the path of the bullet, I kept running. The door to the supply closet was just ahead on my left, and I seized the handle as a second shot rang out. My fingers shook as I tapped in the three-digit code, then shoved the door open and threw myself inside. In my peripheral vision, I watched as Chris bounded down the hallway toward me, his feet slapping against the floor, the sound warring with the rapid heartbeat thudding in my ears.

  I managed to slam the door just as Chris heaved himself against it. My gaze dropped to the floor, and I noticed a small rubber door stopper. I hastily shoved it underneath the door, and the low beeping tones, along with the click of the lock disengaging, reached my ears just as I kicked the door stopper into place. Chris threw his weight against the door, but it only budged an inch, thanks to the door stopper.