Authors: Meryl Sawyer
P
AUL WAITED
for Captain Callahan to enter the conference room. It was a little past four. Link Burgess and Trey Williams were with him. Paul had called for this meeting because he hadn’t revealed what he’d learned about Aspen. If he planned to have a career, he’d better not withhold more information. They’d had to wait for the captain because he’d been making an appearance with the mayor.
Captain Callahan strode into the room, his military background reflected in his brisk stride and erect posture. He sat at the head of the conference table and spoke directly to Paul. “I assume there’s a very good reason that you’re keeping two overworked detectives from their jobs and taking up my time?”
“Yes, sir.” He rarely used the term
sir
except with the captain. The guy got off on respect. “Last night, I received information that Erin Wycoff was a donor-conceived child of Wyatt Holbrook.”
Callahan’s jaw didn’t drop, but it flexed. No doubt he’d met Holbrook. The captain attended as many public functions as he could justify. It was no secret that he was angling to become the next chief of police.
“So what? That’s why you hauled us away from real work?” The missing link snorted. The guy should keep his mouth shut until all the facts were on the table.
Trey Williams got it. “Keith Brooks Smith was also one of Holbrook’s children.”
Callahan leaned forward ever so slightly. Paul had his attention now. The Smith case was the talk of the department because it was so unique. Erin’s murder had generated headlines thanks to the media, who never failed to play to the fear factor to sell papers.
“In Boston two of Holbrook’s donor-conceived children died in one week,” Paul added. “An accident and an overdose.”
“So what?” Link repeated.
Paul realized the two detectives didn’t know about Holbrook’s need for a transplant. The captain might; it wasn’t a secret among Holbrook’s friends. Callahan was well enough connected to have heard about it.
“Wyatt Holbrook has primary sclerosing cholangitis. He needs a partial liver transplant. He also has a few complications that means he needs to receive a transplant from a close relative.”
“Didn’t Walter Peyton have PSC?” Trey asked.
“That’s right,” Paul responded. “No compatible donor could be found.”
The captain was nodding slowly, but Paul couldn’t be sure what he was thinking.
“The Wycoff case was supposed to look like an accident,” Williams said, which showed why Trey was coming up the ladder fast and Link was stuck in neutral.
“You’re saying we’ve got a serial killer?” asked Link.
“I’m not sure what we have,” Callahan responded. “What does Boston PD say?”
“Boston didn’t know about the birth angle. They’d closed the cases already,” Paul told the group. “They’re taking another look, but this guy is clever. They may not be able to prove the two were murdered.”
“How did you find out about them?” the captain asked.
“I didn’t. My father did. He does Holbrook’s security.”
There was a moment of heavy, awkward silence. Mike
Tanner’s abilities were legendary. If he hadn’t taken early retirement, he would have been a serious contender for police chief.
“Tell us what else you know,” Captain Callahan said.
Paul filled them in on Holbrook’s search for his donor-conceived children. He ended by telling them about the bogus Chagas finding and saying he believed the killer seemed to be after Madison Connelly now.
“Okay, it may look like the kids are clean but—” he nodded at Link “—check their charge records. See if either of them went to Boston.”
“Women don’t commit—”
“Check anyway,” Callahan interrupted Link.
“You might want to look at Nathan Cassidy, Savannah’s boyfriend,” Paul added.
“Do you have a theory?” Callahan asked Paul.
“Revenge for something. It’s probably business-related. I’m meeting with Holbrook tonight with my father. I’m going to find out about any enemies.”
“Why didn’t the killer just take out Holbrook?” Trey asked.
“He wants to watch him suffer,” Paul theorized. “He gets off on it.”
“See that you get both Burgess and Williams a copy of your report on any enemies Holbrook may have. It’s been my experience that guys that rich make enemies—sometimes unintentionally, but it happens.
“I want you three to e-copy each other about any developments in these cases even if they don’t look important or related. Anyone got anything else?”
Link opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. “I don’t think it’s related, but Erin Wycoff’s former boyfriend, the vet, lied. He said he broke off with the victim because of her work with covert animal rights groups. His partner, Dr. Wallace, says he left her because Madison
Connelly was getting a divorce and Matthews was interested in her.”
Paul’s mouth went dry; he tried to keep his face expressionless. Callahan didn’t need to know about his involvement with Madison. He’d never met the veterinarian, but Madison had spoken as if he were a friend, not a romantic interest.
“I’d made this for a love triangle gone bad,” Link concluded. “The Connelly woman was the killer.”
Paul couldn’t help jumping to Madison’s defense. “Why would she kill Erin if she’d already stolen her boyfriend?”
“That happened months ago,” Link whined. “Could be the situation had changed or something. Plus Connelly stood to gain by the will.”
“Why would Erin Wycoff leave money to the Connelly woman if they were fighting?” Trey asked.
“Probably hadn’t gotten around to changing her will,” Link suggested.
“Did you find any evidence that Madison was dating the vet?” Paul demanded.
“We’re still checking.”
“Wouldn’t the friend who worked with him know?” Paul asked.
“Dr. Wallace said Matthews only discussed it the one time when he’d inquired about Erin. She was around a lot, then she wasn’t. He was curious but didn’t keep asking because he felt Matthews didn’t want to talk about it.”
Paul wondered why the vet had lied. It was a simple thing, but it was often those little slips that broke open a case.
“I
T’S TOO BAD
you can’t help my father.” Savannah swished into the dining room where Madison was sitting with Tobias Pennington. As usual Nathan Cassidy was a half step behind the gorgeous redhead. It didn’t sound as if Savannah was all that upset, but maybe Madison was imagining it.
Paul and his father had escorted Madison from work to have dinner with Wyatt. Tobias had been completing a project with Wyatt in his home office and had been asked to join them.
“You didn’t hear?” Tobias said before she could speak. “The lab made a mistake. Madison doesn’t have Chagas.”
“I was wondering why you were still here. That explains it.” She bestowed a smile on Madison. “I’m thrilled your tests were okay. Let’s hope you can help my father.”
“The lab made a mistake?” Nathan asked. “With computers, isn’t an error nearly impossible?”
“Nearly but not absolutely,” responded Madison. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to raise the question of tampering. They didn’t want the killer to realize they were onto him. Or her. Paul truly believed a woman could be behind this.
“Where’s my father?” Savannah asked.
“In a meeting,” Tobias said, and Madison had the feeling he deliberately kept the answer short to force Savannah to ask for more information. A power play, or maybe he didn’t like the glamorous redhead.
“A meeting at this hour?”
Tobias merely nodded with a smug smile.
“Oh, well. We’ll just have to go to the bar for another drink.” She motioned toward Tobias and Madison. “Come on. Father can join us there.” She didn’t wait for a response, sauntering out of the room, Nathan once more at her heels.
Tobias arched one fine eyebrow. “We might as well. I’m sure the staff is waiting to clean up this room.”
“Right,” she said, and pushed her chair away from the table. She had been enjoying an after-dinner cappuccino made with a Cuban flair while Mike Tanner and Paul interviewed Wyatt. Since it was “official police business,” they’d asked Tobias and Madison to wait for them. Tobias was a more interesting man than she’d originally thought. He had a degree in business and a master’s in economics from Harvard.
Tobias led the way to the pub-style bar that had six huge flat-screen televisions. “Wyatt is a die-hard Dolphins football fan and a Gators booster. He has a skybox but is often too busy to attend games. He had this room converted to a sports bar.”
“Interesting,” Madison commented. “Is Garrison a fan, too?”
“No. My brother has never been interested in any sport except scuba diving,” Samantha answered for Tobias from her perch on a bar stool. “He learned to dive at nine while we were at our place in the Bahamas.”
“It’s not legal to certify someone so young here, but outside the U.S.—” Nathan shrugged “—they look the other way for enough money.”
“In other words, my brother nagged my parents to let him take lessons. He’d been snorkeling since he was five but he was determined to go deeper,” Savannah told them. “He’s always been obsessed by the sea. Always.”
It was a long bar with at least a dozen brass and leather bar stools. Madison wasn’t sure where to sit, considering the men should be joining them soon. Tobias settled the question by leaving an empty stool and pulling out the next chair down from Savannah.
“How did you get into skin-care products?” Madison felt she should ask something to keep Savannah talking. Madison certainly didn’t want to discuss anything personal with these two.
Nathan handed Savannah what appeared to be a green-apple martini. The woman accepted the drink, took a sip, then said, “My mother was a fantastic woman, a real lady. She took great care to preserve her skin, and it was flawless—hardly a line right up until the day she died. Most people thought she had cosmetic surgery but she didn’t. The secret was in hideously expensive Swiss skin care products. I was a whiz at science.” Savannah paused to give Madison a smirk of a smile. “The apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree.”
Madison got the message. She wasn’t even a twig on this
magnificent tree. Savannah might want someone to save her father’s life, but that didn’t mean she had to like the person.
“I started analyzing Mother’s favorite product. It took some doing and a little help from my father’s lab, and it was almost a year before I could duplicate the product, but I finally did. I was a junior in high school.”
Pretty impressive, Madison had to admit. She’d excelled in all her classes and had earned the prestigious National Science Foundation Scholarship, but she hadn’t attempted anything quite as ambitious.
“What would you like to drink?” Nathan asked them. He seemed so comfortable behind the bar that Madison guessed he often did this.
“Just sparkling water for me,” Madison replied.
“Same here,” Tobias added. “We had wine with dinner and I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
“Soon I was making stuff for all my friends,” Savannah continued as if everyone was dying to hear this when both men must know her story by heart. “I went to college, of course. Georgetown. Then an advanced degree in biology at Emory. You see, by then I was interested in nature’s remedies.”
“She never gave up compounding creams and lotions even when she was in school,” Nathan said with an unmistakable note of pride.
“She’s into powerful antioxidants derived from grapes processed for wine,” Tobias added, although his tone seemed bored.
“When you slice open an apple, brown forms within minutes. That’s oxidation,” Savannah informed Madison as if she were a child. “Our skin oxidizes, too, but not as quickly. Antioxidants slow down the process, which ages our complexions.”
From the looks of Savannah’s flawless complexion, she’d been using something for years. Not a wrinkle showed, even around her eyes.
“For years cosmetic makers have been adding antis to their products,” Savannah went on even though the men didn’t seem to be listening.
“You mean resveratrol,” Madison said, not liking being talked down to; Savannah had already told her about the cures in the bottom of a wine press.
Savannah studied Madison for a moment. “Right. Grape-based products.”
Savannah made it sound as if she’d cornered the market. But after their first discussion, Madison had gone online. Dior and L’Occitane had grape-based products, as did several other lesser-known firms.
The prices of their products were stratospheric. When Madison got her hands on some money, she planned to invest a little in grapes. Between wine and beauty products, grapes were bound to go up.
“That’s my story,” Savannah concluded.
“What about your brother?” Madison asked. She would rather learn more about Garrison than hear Savannah brag. “Was he always into science?”
“Not exactly.” Savannah wrinkled her nose as if she smelled one of Aspen’s deposits. “He got great grades, but all he wanted to do was study things in the sea. He spent three summers at Woods Hole. We all assumed he’d become a marine biologist.”
“He’s responsible for the collection of invaluable coral prints and the rare blue coral in the living room,” Tobias added.
Savannah gave him a look for cutting her off. She seemed to be getting a little tipsy, yet she motioned to Nathan for another martini. “That’s right. When my brother was fifteen, he used money he’d saved for years to purchase the prints at Sotheby’s auction in New York.”
Madison asked, “They let someone so young—”
“My mother went with him.” Savannah said this in a tone that implied Madison was down to her last marble.
“Not your father?” Madison wondered out loud.
“Are you kidding? We rarely saw my father. He was as obsessive as Garrison about his work. Mother busied herself with charity work and me.”
There was a pause, then Tobias asked the question for Madison. “Did she have a problem with Garrison?”
Savannah took another sip of her drink, then tossed her head in that provocative way of hers so that her abundant red hair swished across her bare shoulders. Tonight she was wearing an emerald-green dress with a thin strap that held up the gown on one shoulder while leaving the other bare. It skimmed her body until it reached the lowest part of her hips, then the dress descended to midcalf in a series of waves of gold and green fabric that swayed with the slightest move. Obviously it was an outrageously expensive designer gown that made the pale pink halter dress Madison was wearing look like a housecoat.