[BAD 07] - Silent Truth (38 page)

He’d told her she could try again in Chicago. The police had to be searching for Abbie by now and BAD would have both the medical center and Kore Women’s Center under surveillance. If he exposed that he had Abbie, he’d have no chance at catching Eliot’s killer or getting into Kore to gain a bargaining chip with Joe. Not if they locked him up. All his training warred against what he’d already put into motion, but every minute they spent on the run could be the last one of Abbie’s freedom. “We’re going to the medical center to see your mother.”

The smile she gave him lit up her whole body. “Thank you.”

“But we can’t go in through the front doors.” Joe’s people would grab her the minute they saw her. When she nodded her compliance, Hunter instructed the driver to head to the Oakbrook Shopping Center west of downtown Chicago, where an associate from Hunter’s CIA days waited. Their sedan arrived at the parking area for the mall close to two o’clock.

He directed the driver to park next to an ambulance sitting by itself, then told him, “If we’re not back by five return to the office.” That gave Hunter three hours. If he and Abbie hadn’t returned by then he wouldn’t be coming back. Plus, he had a meeting with Kore’s senior vice president at four o’clock.

A wiry guy in his thirties with sharp eyes and quick movements climbed down from the ambulance driver’s seat and shook hands with Hunter. “Everything’s in the back.”

“Thanks, Ned.” Hunter rushed Abbie and her purse from the sedan to the rear of the ambulance, then Ned shut the doors.

She sat on the gurney and looked around. “We’re going in as an emergency? Won’t that be a bit high profile?” The vehicle started moving. She fell sideways.

“Not going to the emergency entrance.” Hunter caught her by the shoulders, righting her, and sat down on the gurney. He leaned down and dug through a duffel, pulling out a maternity top. “Put this on.”

“I’m pretending to be
pregnant
?” She eyed him. “What about you?”

“I’m your doctor.” He discarded his jeans and the faded green T-shirt came off next, exchanging them for a dark suit hanging on the wall of the truck. The white doctor’s coat went on next.

By the time the vehicle parked at the rear of the medical center, he had an ID clipped in place. Abbie had pulled a sleeveless pale yellow maternity top sprinkled with daisies over a long-sleeved white T-shirt that hid a half-round foam piece.

She looked up at him, smiling. His breath caught.
She’d make a beautiful mother.

Had Eliot looked at Cynthia and thought that?

Ned opened the back doors, jostling Hunter’s thoughts. “Wheelchair’s inside.”

Hunter jumped down and lifted Abbie to the ground. A short guy with a receding hairline and stained scrubs opened the back entrance for them. For as nonthreatening as the guy appeared, Hunter knew he was not medical personnel but one of Ned’s men who had reconned the facility.

Ned gave Hunter directions to the floor for Abbie’s mother, then said, “You’ve got twenty minutes.”

“Got it.” Hunter ushered Abbie to the wheelchair.

At her mother’s room, she pulled the foam piece from under her blouse, dropping it on the chair, then opened the door.

Where the halls had smelled antiseptic, this room reeked of sickness. Her mother had a semiprivate room, but the second bed was currently empty.

Abbie paused. Hunter looked down to find the misery she’d been holding in check clouding her face. They couldn’t stay long so he gently pushed her forward. “Go see your mother.”

She took a tentative step, then rushed over and carefully hugged her mother, whose eyes didn’t open. Tubes ran everywhere and her breathing was shallow. By the yellow tinge of her skin Hunter assumed her liver was still deteriorating.

He hadn’t told Abbie about Dr. Tatum’s suicide… murder. Hadn’t wanted her distracted while they got inside.

“Where’ve
you
been?” a female voice demanded.

He turned toward the doorway, where a woman stood, wearing black pants and a wrinkled cotton shirt a darker brown than her straight hair. Similar to the skinny-looking Abbie he’d orignally met.

“I’ve been trying to find out what’s wrong with Mom, Hannah,” Abbie answered.

“Where, pray tell, have you been doing that?” Hannah carried a cup of hospital coffee to a side table and sat it down. “And who’s this? He’s not Mom’s doctor.”

“He’s
just
a friend. He’s helping me,” Abbie answered in as snippy a tone as her sister’s. “I can’t tell you what I’m doing or where I’ve been, or where I’m going when I leave here, but I
am
working on something that might help Mom.”

“Oh, I see, you’re doing something investigative and important.” Hannah’s sarcasm whipped across the room to slap Abbie.

Hunter started to step in, but Abbie pushed past him. “Will you give me a break for once? I probably don’t even have a job anymore.”

“You don’t. I tried calling your office to find you and they said you were terminated.” Hannah enjoyed sharing that too much. “If I
could
have found you, it would have been nice to have some help getting Mom a doctor. The new one’s so young I’m not sure the ink’s dry on his diploma.”

Abbie backed up, stunned. “New doctor? What do you mean?”

“Tatum. He committed suicide.”

“Oh, my God.” Abbie reached for the chair next to her and sat down. “Dear God.”

“Yeah, it’s the pits,” Hannah agreed. “His little girls
have lost their mama
and
daddy in the same year.” She took a sip, eyeing Hunter. She put the cup down, discarding it along with her catty snarl. “I can’t do this alone, Abbie.”

“I don’t mean for you to, but you have to believe me when I say I’m really close to finding something that might help.” Abbie got up and walked over to Hannah. She put her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Can you trust me for once and just believe me? I’ll worry about my job once we get Mom turned around. But I need you to stay with her while I’m doing this. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Hannah didn’t look convinced. “Where are you going?”

“To see someone Dr. Tatum told me about. Please don’t ask, because I don’t want to involve you if what I’m doing goes really bad.”

Hannah nodded. Her eyes teared up. “They said you were with that Wentworth woman when she got shot.”

Abbie swallowed. “Yeah. Is Gwen still alive?”

“Aren’t you watching the news?”

“Not really. I’ve been on the road.”

“She’s hanging on, stable. Oh, and the police stopped by looking for you. They weren’t happy I didn’t know where you were. I gave them the message some guy left with the nurses about you traveling.” Hannah slashed a glance at Hunter that should have left a mark, then her eyes lit with a sudden revelation. “A guy came here looking for you.”

Hunter checked his watch. They had to go, but Hannah had raised his interest. “Who?”

Her sister glared silently until Abbie told her it was okay to tell him. “He didn’t leave his name. Said he was
a friend of Abbie’s from the television station and wanted to get in touch, but he didn’t even have a card. Wore sunshades he wouldn’t take off. I hate to talk to anyone when I can’t see their eyes. He said he couldn’t go without glasses. He had a blood birthmark right here.” She pointed above her right eye at her forehead. “Ring any bells?”

“No.” Abbie looked at Hunter, who told Hannah, “The less you say about Abbie being here the safer it is for her.”

That alarmed her sister. “Is she in danger?”

Hunter hated to pull Abbie away, but they had to go. “Abbie, it’s time.”

“For what?” Hannah said, and stepped up beside Abbie, putting her arm protectively around her.

Abbie hugged her sister. “I’m okay, but he’s right. Keep a lid on my visit. He’s helping me get what we need. I hope to find out something today or tomorrow.”

Hannah hugged her sister back, then Abbie went over and kissed her mother’s cheek before reaching Hunter’s side. Pain and worry wicked through her gaze, but she soldiered up, ready to go.

He turned her toward the door as it opened. A half-put-together-looking young woman with long wavy brown hair and pudgy cheeks entered wearing burgundy corduroy pants and a gray sweatshirt. She stopped the minute she saw Abbie. “You finally managed to fit Mom into your busy schedule?”

“Get out of my way, Casey.”

This had to be the younger sister. She gave Hunter an up-and-down perusal. “He’s not Mom’s new physician, so what’s going on? You using this place for hunting
grounds?” Her lips twisted in a sour frown; she was clearly trying to embarrass Abbie.

Hunter considered several ways to put this mean-hearted sibling in her place. That would only undermine Abbie, whose shoulders slumped, but her voice didn’t waver when she replied.

“How’s the pig, Casey? Caught him sleeping with any relatives lately?”

Hunter put everything together when she referenced the “pig” who she’d indicated had thought he was trading up to a newer model “without pesky morals.” Abbie had caught her fiancé sleeping with her
sister.

Not so clichéd as she’d joked bitterly this morning.

They had to go and he was damned tired of seeing Abbie attacked. He put his arm around her. “Ready, sweetheart?”

Casey’s mouth fell open at the endearment.

He kissed the top of Abbie’s head and led her out. She didn’t say a word all the way to the ambulance. Once they were inside the vehicle again and moving, Hunter’s cell phone buzzed. No one should have had this number, but he wasn’t overly surprised to find Gotthard on the other end when he answered.

“Got something you need to hear before you go into Kore,” Gotthard started in. “Tatum took a drug that induces cardiac arrest. The police now question Tatum’s suicide and are trying to figure out what the killer’s spoon means. They’ve tied the spoon to the ones found at Gwen’s home and the Blanton woman’s apartment. The only common thread is Abigail. The authorities haven’t gone public with anything but the FBI is avidly searching
for her.”

Hunter closed his eyes. Fuck.

Hunter, you getting all this?” Gotthard snapped. “Abigail is a suspect in Gwen’s shooting. We
have
to talk to her first.”

“I hear you.” Hunter moved over to the end of the gurney so Abbie wouldn’t hear much above the rumble of the ambulance motor. “What else do they have?”

“That Gwen’s security saw Abigail upset Gwen enough for her to leave the party, and one of them overheard Abigail tell Gwen she would
only
talk outdoors, somewhere private. Gwen’s patio was an obvious location. The shooter had to know she’d be there and in position for that shot.”

“That’s not definitive,” Hunter argued, sounding too defensive of Abbie. But something that had been said in Abbie’s apartment after the shooting started making noises in the back of his mind.

The killer told Abbie she’d been most helpful.

“There’s more. Abigail works for a television station in Chicago. The station manager said she blackmailed him into letting her replace the female journalist assigned to the Wentworth party. That was
after
he’d offered her a promotion as his assistant and a raise.”

Everything Gotthard said slammed up against Hunter’s image of Abbie as anything but a conniving female with an agenda. He looked at her leaned back on the gurney, lost in sad thoughts. She couldn’t be playing him. Something would have given her away by now. “We
know anything about her boss?”

“He’s not well liked by some at the station, but he is dating a board member’s granddaughter, who confirmed she gave up the ticket and went to New York with him.”

“That all the police have?”

“No. Remember the accidental deaths from the files our contact sent about women with rare blood who did not enter the Kore center? Abigail’s stepfather, who adopted her, died eleven years ago. She went to see her father just before he died. He drowned in a lake on his farm with no history of mental problems and in perfect health. It was listed as a suicide, but our people reviewed the autopsy report and aren’t buying that.”

“Why?” Hunter squeezed his fingers around the frame of the gurney next to his leg.

“Her adoptive father had been on a high school swim team. He broke a state record for swimming a mile. No history of depression. He had a pig farm and everyone who came in contact with him the week before his death said he was excited his daughter was coming to visit. That fits the type of peculiar accidental deaths in the file we’re building on the women with rare blood.” Typing pecked through the phone speaker when Gotthard paused, then he said, “Here’s a side note. She was living just a couple miles from the area where you and I dealt with that little problem six years ago.”

The night before Hunter met Abbie, when six men died, not one of them worth mourning. “Really?”

Gotthard paused, waited on something, then continued. “Abigail’s the only one who can answer some of these questions. Gwen can’t be interrogated. She’s under lockdown inside the Kore Center. Supposedly, she hasn’t
regained consciousness.”