Authors: Meryl Sawyer
Trey banged his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Great idea! Why don’t you look through the files to see if anything else jumps out at you?”
Paul agreed and went over to Trey’s desk and flipped through the incident reports that would become murder books as soon as they were written up. He wasn’t really interested, but he didn’t want to appear overly involved in the Wycoff case.
Keith Brooks Smith. That was the man who’d been put down like an animal. If the neighbor hadn’t alerted the police, it might not have been listed as a murder.
Interesting.
Something flitted through his brain like a few bars of a song his mind was struggling to remember. Did he know this man? There wasn’t much in the report, but Paul didn’t think he’d ever met the dead high school teacher. And Smith was a common name.
He set the report aside and rifled through the other incident reports. A gang shoot-out. What else was new? The name kept playing through his mind.
Keith Brooks Smith, Keith Brooks Smith, Keith Brooks Smith.
Why was this man’s name so familiar? It was, yet Paul couldn’t place it. It had to mean something.
P
AUL COULD TELL
by the look on his father’s face that Mike was more than a little surprised to see him again so soon.
“Did you get reinstated?” he asked.
Paul shook his head. “No. Captain Callaghan gave me permission to help with the Wycoff case, but he can’t formally reactivate me until the board gives its okay. Could have legal repercussions.”
“Right. Chalk up another one for the lawyers.”
“I came by to look at the New Horizons files.”
“They’re in the security offices at Holbrook Pharmaceuticals. Remember?”
“I assumed you made copies.”
“I would have, but Tobias Pennington was hell-bent on getting his staff to sift through the files.”
Paul dropped into the chair he’d used earlier that morning. He’d fought the traffic all the way back here for nothing. “Aren’t you still working the case? You’re paying me to make sure Madison Connelly agrees to be tested.”
“Right,” his father said in a level voice. “But in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m shorthanded. That’s why I offered you a job.”
Paul hadn’t realized this, but he kept his surprise out of his expression. He’d half hoped his father had hired him to help him out while he was on leave. He should have known better.
“Wyatt’s security staff is sorting through the records. They’ll
prepare a list of names—in case the Connelly woman can’t donate—and Tobias Pennington will contact other candidates they find. I’m helping only if someone is difficult to locate.”
“Makes sense,” Paul conceded.
“Why? Has something come up?”
“I’m not sure. I wanted to check on a name in the files. Did you compile a master list of the names at least?”
“Of course.” His father sounded offended.
“Could I see it?”
Mike stood up and walked over to the wall of metal file cabinets. He retrieved a manila folder and handed it to Paul.
“What are you looking for?” his father asked.
“A Keith Brooks Smith was killed last night. I thought I recalled that name from the files.”
He checked the names on the list in the file folder he’d been given. “Here it is. Mrs. Keith Brooks Smith received Wyatt Holbrook’s sperm. She was pregnant on the first try.”
“Her husband was killed?”
“No. The murder victim was too young. I’m wondering if it could be their son.”
“Smith is a fairly common name. Must be thousands of them in the greater Miami area.”
“True, but the exact same name? What are the odds?”
His father shrugged and he could almost hear Madison telling him coincidences were much more common than you’d think. She was damn cute when she took on that soapbox attitude.
“Didn’t the jacket on the dead man have his next-of-kin info?”
Paul smiled inwardly. His father had left the force over five years ago, but he still called files
jackets
the way guys on the force did. “No. The dead man was ID’d with his driver’s license. Next of kin hadn’t been established. The man could have been married. The wife would need to be notified.” He handed his father back
the file. “I’ll check at headquarters later. If it is the same guy, then I’ll let you know so he can be removed from the contact list.”
“If it’s the same guy, I’m not liking this. We’ve got two dead in the Boston area. If this guy’s the third…”
Again Paul kept his smile to himself. Mike had been an ace detective and still reacted like one. “Exactly what I was thinking. But before we worry about it, let me verify it’s the same man.”
J
ADE RUSHED
into Madison’s cube, waving her hands and saying, “You’re not going to believe how cool this is. You’re, like, going to be blown away.”
Madison almost said she couldn’t take any more, but then she recalled Chloe whining those same words to Aiden. She braced herself. “Blow me away.”
“Guess who’s here? So totally cool.”
Madison craned her neck to see the front of the office where the reception desk was located. A tall, dark-haired man in a navy blazer and open-neck light blue shirt was waiting near Jade’s desk.
“Who is he?” More trouble? she wondered.
“Luis Estevez.” Jade whispered the name with something bordering on reverence. Why was she surprised? The man was well-known because he owned a number of nightclubs. Madison suspected Jade spent a fair amount of time at trendy clubs. “Aiden had an appointment with him. He must have forgotten, with Chloe so sick and all.”
Great. In addition to the clubs, the Cuban venture capitalist headed Allied Miami Bank. Total Trivia didn’t seem to be a big enough operation for Estevez to be interested. It had to be the gambling angle. What was Aiden thinking?
“Explain to him that Aiden’s wife is ill and he’ll have to reschedule the appointment.” That would buy her time to discuss this with Aiden.
“I did, but he insists on talking to you.”
Honest to God. Just when you thought things couldn’t get much worse, they did. “All right. Send him down.” She swiveled in her chair to pet Aspen at her feet. What was she going to say to the man?
Listen to him, then tell him you’ll take it up with Aiden
.
Luis Estevez was a lot younger than she expected, Madison realized when he walked into her office. He’d made money in loans in Little Havana, parlayed that into clubs, then bought Allied Miami Bank. It sounded as if it should have taken years, but Luis Estevez appeared to be just closing in on forty. She didn’t know a lot about the man, but rumors had floated around town for years that he was “connected” and laundered money from South American drug dealers. Maybe that was why he was interested in Total Trivia. It could be a way to launder money.
Luis extended a hand with square buffed nails, clearly from a professional manicure. His grip was firm and his gaze direct as he looked at her with whiskey-brown eyes. “I’m glad you had time to see me.”
“Have a seat, Mr. Es—”
“Luis.” He sat in the chair opposite her desk.
“I’m not sure I can help you,” she told him.
His warm smile seemed to say he thought she could. In a heartbeat she knew it would be foolish to underestimate this man. “I’ve had preliminary discussions with your husband about adding gambling to your trivia site.”
“Ex-husband. Aiden has a new wife.”
He nodded, and she was certain he’d known that and deliberately made the mistake to see how she would react. And patsy that she was, she’d snapped at it.
“Right. Ex-husband. He’s very receptive to the idea but says you don’t want to do it. Why not?”
Madison hadn’t quite expected him to be so direct. Aiden would probably kill her for torpedoing his idea, but she decided
to say exactly what she believed. “I think too many things in our society revolve around money. We’ve been doing fine giving gamers a trivia site and earning revenue with ad banners. Why include gambling? We’re making money. There’s far too much gambling in this country. A lot of people spend more than they can afford on it. I don’t want to be a part of that.”
She knew she sounded holier-than-thou but it was how she felt. It had been one of her father’s pet peeves, too. He claimed gambling came to America like a swift-rising tide and flooded the land. Riverboat gambling, Indian casinos, and practically every state had a lottery.
“Perfectly understandable,” he agreed, his tone sincere. “That’s why I’m prepared to make you an excellent offer for your half of Total Trivia.”
Madison knew she was staring at him, slack jawed, but she couldn’t help it. Why on earth would a man with a huge bank to run and a string of clubs want part of a small online company?
“Look, here’s what I’m prepared to do.” He went on to explain an all-cash offer that seemed to be more than her share could be worth. He was willing to conclude the deal immediately.
She was tempted to stomp her foot and scream that this was her company. She’d created it and she was proud of her success. But an image of Holbrook Pharmaceuticals intruded. Here was a venture that could help all mankind. Did she want her life’s work to be a game?
With this money, she could go back to school and pursue a different career. Considering the way Chloe had acted today, the atmosphere around the office wasn’t going to improve. Even though she’d stolen Madison’s husband, the woman acted as if she were the injured party. Maybe it was time to leave.
Luis smiled, a captivating grin that said he got his way more often than not. “I take your silence as a ‘maybe’?”
It suddenly occurred to Madison that his cash offer would solve her financial problems and buy her time until her identity-theft mess could be straightened out. Just as this thought flashed through her brain, another followed. Could it be coincidence that Luis Estevez was making this offer
just
when she’d become the victim of ID theft and needed the money?
She’d lectured Paul on coincidences. Statistically they were much more common than most people believed. Somehow the urban myth that “there’s no such thing as coincidence” had taken root.
Luis Estevez stood and shook out the razor-sharp creases in his beige trousers in much the same way Garrison Holbrook had done. “My offer will be open for a week.”
She watched him saunter down the main aisle of the cube farm. Maybe she should be more suspicious of coincidences.
Madison called Jade into her office and asked in a low voice, “Our personnel files are near your desk. Have you seen anyone searching through them?”
“You think someone here obtained your personal information?”
Jade was sharp. She knew exactly what Madison was thinking. “It’s a possibility.”
Jade drummed shiny black nails on Madison’s desk. “I haven’t noticed anyone near the files, but I’m at lunch and on breaks. Then there’s no one around to see what’s happening. But even if one of the guys did get into your file, how would they get your password?”
“Good question.” Madison sighed. “Thanks for your help.”
“Y
OU’RE RIGHT
,” Rob told her as he moved the wand down the back of Aspen’s neck just behind the ear. “This dog does have a microchip.” He pulled back the wand shaped like a pack of cigarettes and showed her a number on the display screen.
“The owner’s name doesn’t come up?” she asked.
“No. The way it works is the dog receives an ID number. This is 72340 from Pet Search. That’s one of several companies. We’ll access the Pet Search Web site and input the number. It should give us owner information.”
He led her out of the small examining room toward the main office, where the computers were located. “Now, if a dog is sold, the previous owner should update the info with Pet Search. Unfortunately, too many times an owner moves and fails to update the info or sells the dog and forgets to mention the chip. I can’t tell you how many searches are a waste of time.”
She touched his arm. “Maybe I don’t want to find his owner.”
His dark eyes were studying her with a curious intensity. “Let’s just see whose number is on the chip. A vet’s office or an animal shelter can change the info. Otherwise the original owner
must
be the one to update the chip.”
“Wouldn’t you get into trouble for doing it when I haven’t legally purchased the dog? Erin purchased him—or so the papers say.”
“Don’t worry about it, babe.”
She’d always disliked being called “babe,” but coming from Rob, it sounded like a term of endearment. Her mind swung back to this morning and the scene with Aiden and Chloe. No doubt, he called her “babe” all the time.
The office was deserted. Madison had taken the last appointment because her day had been consumed by looking into the identity theft, then going to the office where Luis Estevez had confronted her, but she wanted this chip thing settled before—what had Paul called him? The missing link. Before Lincoln Burgess decided to have Aspen wanded. She didn’t want to risk having the retriever returned to Dicon Labs.
Rob clacked away at the computer while Madison stroked the dog’s silky coat. Someone had cared enough to chip him, yet something had been sprayed in Aspen’s eyes. What was going on here?
“Interesting,” Rob said. “Aspen is owned by someone named Bewley Allen. An address on Star Island.” He whistled.
They looked at each other in surprise. This was unexpected. Star Island was one of three private islands in Biscayne Bay, where Miami’s elite lived.
“Bewley. Do you suppose that’s a man or a woman? It certainly isn’t the name on the paperwork Erin had.”
“Let’s look up the name online and find out.”
A few clicks later streams of information filled the screen. Madison stared at it in amazement. Bewley Allen was a man—the head of research at Dicon Laboratories.
“Just what I suspected,” Rob said, his voice low. He leaned closer to Madison as if to prevent anyone from hearing, even though no one seemed to be around, unless the janitor was disinfecting the back rooms. “Erin and one of the rights groups, probably the EADL, took Aspen and maybe other animals.”
“And set fire to the lab.” Madison found it hard to believe, at least on one level. Her best friend had kept any sign of illegal activities from her. But when she thought about it, the signs had been there. There were parts of her life Erin hadn’t shared. She’d never mentioned the appreciated value of her parents’ land or that she intended to sell it and give the profits to Save the Chimps.
Once someone registered disapproval, Erin backed off and shut up. Madison had been quite vocal about the things some animal rights activists were doing. Erin no longer talked about it. Madison thought Erin had stopped. But was that just what Madison assumed? Had Erin ever said this in so many words?
No.
Now, here was proof positive that she’d continued and become more aggressive. Who would set a fire? Someone could have been killed.
“Do you think she was killed because of her animal rights work? Maybe I should tell the police the truth about Aspen.”
“No,” he responded emphatically. “Why would the activists hurt her? You saw how many people came to her service, but didn’t come back to the house. I’ll bet most of them were with the animal rights group.” He touched her shoulder and looked directly into her eyes. In them she saw the compassion he had for the animals he so gently treated. “The police will give Aspen back to Dicon. Do you want that?”