Fatal Hearts (21 page)

“I’m coming with you.”

He frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? You’ve just said it’s not dangerous.”

Dammit.
“That doesn’t mean I want you in the middle of this. Hell, anywhere near this.”

“Too late for that.” She stood. “I’ve been helping you. And even if I hadn’t been, they’d probably assume I have been from all the time we’ve spent together.”

Shit.
She had a point there. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” he said. “If Josh was murdered, the more people who know what’s going on with my investigation, the less likely the murderer is to believe they can clean this up the way they did with Josh. You know. So does Dr. Stratton. And Detective Morgan, of course.”

“So there’s no reason why I shouldn’t come along.”

He massaged the back of his neck. “I’m saying having all those people know makes it marginally less risky for me to be confronting people. I still don’t want to involve you directly in the investigation.”

“I’m coming along.” She bent to pick up her underwear. “Josh was my friend, and I’m already part of this. And besides, you could use a second set of eyes and ears. Medically trained ones. Have you stopped to consider that this truth of his that he wants to tell might be a piece of misdirection? If I’m there, I can quiz him about the details, see if he trips up.”

He really didn’t think this meeting was going to be dangerous. Though Hayden’s point was well taken, that this could be a ploy to lure him there, she hadn’t heard Dr. Gunn’s voice on the phone. Boyd’s gut told him this was a man who was ready—no, anxious—to unburden himself. Just the same, there was no way he was letting Hayden walk into it.

“Good point.”

“I’m glad you agree, because—”

“I’ll relay what he said right away, and you can tell me if it was bullshit.”

“But—”

“You can wait in the car outside the house, okay? I’ll come report to you as soon as we’re through. If he fed me a line of crap, medically speaking, you can straighten me out and I’ll go back at him, see if he wants to change his story.”

“But—”

He glowered at her. “That’s my final offer, Hayden.”

She glowered right back. “I can’t believe how high-handed you’re being about this!”

“Not high-handed.
Cautious.
You’re my backup, baby. If you think something’s gone wrong, you can call in the cavalry. It just makes more sense than both of us going in there.”

He saw the resistance drain from her and knew that he’d won.
Thank God.

“Okay, I’ll stay in the car. But you have to dial my phone and keep the line open. Otherwise, I might not be able to hear if it goes bad.”

“Agreed.”

Forty minutes later, they pulled up outside Dr. Gunn’s Mitchell Street home. It was older and not as large as the new developments, but Boyd figured it was worth a big chunk of change. And it was extremely well maintained. The shrubs and flower beds were meticulously groomed, the grass was golf-course green, and the driveway was set with stone pavers in a herringbone pattern. In the drive sat a shiny black Lexus SUV. Clearly, there were no money problems at Casa Gunn.

“Okay, call my phone,” Hayden said.

He obliged, then slid the phone into his pocket. With a quick kiss, he climbed out of the car, walked to the front door, and rang the bell. He could hear the echo of it inside, but no one came to answer. After a moment, he rang it again.

“What’s going on? Why is no one answering?” Hayden’s voice came from his pocket.

“Hush, he could open the door at any moment.”

“But he’s not.”

He frowned and rang the bell again. “He said he had some company that might take an hour or two to get rid of, and to come on over at eleven. I’m sure I’m not wrong about the time.”

“Judging by the ‘DR.GUNN’ vanity plates, that’s got to be his vehicle in the drive,” she said.

He leaned sideways and looked in the long, narrow window flanking the door. Nothing moved. He rapped on the door with his knuckles.

Then he tried the door. The knob turned in his hand.
Unlocked.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

He turned back toward the street, meeting Hayden’s gaze. “Door’s open. I’m going in. Stay there.”

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Hello?” he called. No answer.

Leaving the door ajar, he moved farther into the foyer. “Hello? Dr. Gunn? It’s Boyd McBride.”

He took a few more steps so he could look down the hall. “Dr. Gunn?”

A door closed behind him, and he whirled, ready to launch himself at the threat.

Hayden
, he told his jackhammering heart. It was Hayden who closed the door, not a hostile.

“Boyd?” Her voice sounded scared. He focused on her face and saw that he was the reason she was scared.

“Jesus, Hayden,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting the door to close. Tactically, we don’t do that when we enter a building. Never close off an avenue of retreat.”

She looked back at the door. “Should I open it again?”

The seconds it took to open a door could be the difference between life and death, if an officer came under fire. On the other hand, this wasn’t Toronto, and it wasn’t like they were flushing addicts out of a crack house. Under the circumstances, maybe leaving the front door yawning open wasn’t the best idea anyway.

“What you should do is go back to the car where you agreed you would stay.”

Hayden hugged herself. “Something’s wrong. You’re inside the house yelling your head off, and he’s not responding.”

He turned around. “Dr. Gunn?” he called again. Then louder, “Dr. Gunn? Hello? Anyone home?”

Something
was
very wrong. Those hairs on the back of his neck that had prickled when he’d found the door unlocked went into full bristle mode. If he had a sidearm on him, he’d have drawn it right about now.

Dammit, why had he let Hayden talk him into bringing her at all? If he’d slipped out without her, she wouldn’t be standing here right now.

Or maybe she would. She was a stubborn thing.

And what should he do with her now? Make her stay here in the foyer or keep her with him where he could hopefully protect her?

As he was debating the question, she brushed past him and headed toward what he imagined was the kitchen.

“Hayden!”

She turned to look at him. “His car is home and he’s not answering the doorbell or our calls. He might have had a heart attack or a stroke or an aneurysm or God knows what.”

Maybe.
Or maybe something even worse had happened.
“Just do me a favor and stay behind me. If it turns out to be a medical emergency, he’ll be all yours.”

“Okay.”

Since she’d been heading for the kitchen, and since there was a faint sound coming from that direction, he kept going. The sound turned out to be the dishwasher in wash mode. The scent of coffee lingered faintly in the air, but it was overpowered by the smell of a cleanser. If Dr. Gunn had entertained a guest in here, he’d cleaned up very thoroughly afterward. There wasn’t so much as a coffee cup or a plate or a stray crumb to be seen.

He nodded his head to indicate they would go left next, through the adjoining room. It appeared to be a formal dining room. He moved through it and emerged into an open area, which he quickly realized was an extension of the foyer. From where he stood, he could see the entryway where they’d come in, as well as the foot of a staircase.

He walked back to the entryway, calling Dr. Gunn’s name again. Still no answer.

He turned right this time. The first room he encountered appeared to be Dr. Gunn’s study, or so he imagined from the masculine color scheme and the shelves of books lining the wall. When he stepped fully into the room, he realized why Dr. Gunn hadn’t answered the door.

“Jesus.”

“What?” Hayden moved around him before he could stop her. “Omigod!”

Dr. Gunn, or what Boyd presumed was Dr. Gunn, sat in the chair behind his desk, his body hunched forward on the leather-bound blotter in a pool of blood.

CHAPTER 21

“Stay back,” he commanded when Hayden would have rushed forward.

“But he might still be alive. I need to check for vitals.”

Boyd had seen enough of these scenes to know Angus Gunn was beyond Hayden’s help, or anyone else’s. At least on this plane of existence. He also knew she had no choice but to check. “Go ahead and check for a pulse.”

She tiptoed up to Dr. Gunn’s body and pressed a finger to his neck. “Nothing.” She pulled her hand back and wiped it on her jeans. “He’s cooling off fast too.”

“Come on—let’s get out of here,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “We’re just going to leave him?”

“We’re going to remove ourselves from this crime scene before we contaminate it any further than we already have.”

A patrolwoman was on-site within two minutes. Boyd stepped up to talk to her, leaving Hayden leaning against his car. He gave the officer his name and Hayden’s, and explained he’d had an appointment with the doctor at eleven. When Gunn didn’t answer the door, he became worried and entered the house to find the scene in the study. Of course, the officer went in to confirm the situation herself, and she emerged considerably paler. When she radioed the dispatcher, her voice was higher and thinner than it had been on arrival as she called for backup.

“Your first DB?” Boyd asked.

Her eyes sharpened. “You a cop?”

“Detective. Toronto Police Service Homicide Squad.” He held out his hand.

“Constable Ellen Green.” She grasped his hand in a firm shake. “Little far from home, aren’t you?”

“My twin brother was the journalist found dead in his car in Odell Park last month.”

“Josh McBride.” She nodded. “I remember. So what are you doin’ in town?”

“Carrying through on my brother’s investigation of our birth parents.” It was perfectly true. Just not the whole truth. “That’s why I’d come to talk to Dr. Gunn, actually. I spoke to him on the telephone just this morning, and he said he knew who my mother was, promised to tell me all about it.”

“Guess he had a change of heart, huh?”

“Or someone changed it for him.”

At that point, two more squad cars arrived, and Boyd could hear more sirens approaching. He stood back while the officers entered the house. Mentally, he pictured what they were doing, clearing the residence room by room to ensure no suspects lurked inside, not to mention other victims or witnesses or even free-roaming pets who could contaminate the scene.

Even as they worked, more units arrived to set up perimeter containment to seal off escape routes.

Then the EMTs rolled in. Boyd knew the ambulance wouldn’t be leaving with a patient, but he figured he’d let them come to that conclusion themselves. It’d be hours before the scene was processed and the body ready for transport to the morgue.

He glanced over at Hayden. She looked a little shaken still, her arms wrapped protectively around herself. He started to go to her, but a gray Ford Taurus rolled up. Boyd was relieved to see it was Ray Morgan who climbed out of the vehicle. Officer Green met him at curbside and the two of them talked for a few minutes. Then Green pointed to Boyd. Morgan thanked the uniform and headed in Boyd’s direction.

“Morgan,” Boyd said. “Glad to see you caught this one.”

“My sergeant assigned me when he saw who the nine-one-one caller was.”

Boyd nodded.

“So, explain to me how you came to be here, McBride.” He glanced over at Hayden. “She with you when you found the body?”

“Yeah. She’s a little shaken up, I think. I’m sure she’s seen lots of trauma, but probably not in the field. I was just going to go see what I could do for her.”

“Sorry, but you won’t be talking to her until we have your independent statements.” Morgan nodded his head toward the curb, where another sedan had pulled up. “That’ll be my colleague, Craig Walker. I’ll have him interview Hayden.”

Boyd watched as the newcomer climbed out of the car. It was a full-size vehicle, but Walker dwarfed it. As he walked toward them, Boyd figured he probably dwarfed most things. The man was built like an NHL enforcer, and he had the mug to match. Not battered like a hockey player’s, but ridiculously rugged. This dude was going to interview Hayden?

“I don’t know, Morgan. Shouldn’t you do both interviews, so you can make sure our accounts match up?”

“You can wipe that scowl off your face, McBride. Walker won’t be flirting with your girlfriend. He’s about as taken as a man can get.”

It was on the tip of Boyd’s tongue to deny that Hayden was his girlfriend, but he bit it back. He didn’t know how to politely categorize his relationship with Hayden. He didn’t want the men thinking they were casual fuck buddies, passing the time while Boyd was here. It was more complicated than that. Deeper. Yet it was also a temporary thing, a no-strings affair. Jesus, what the hell
did
they have going on?

Morgan introduced him to the big detective.

“Walker,” he acknowledged.

“McBride. Sorry about your brother. That was messed up, man that young dying.”

A surge of emotion caught him by surprise. He’d thought he was done with that. He’d gotten to the point where he could talk about Josh’s death without choking up. But something about the big guy’s head-on reference to Josh slipped right under Boyd’s defenses.

God he missed his brother.

“Thank you.”

With a nod, Walker went over to interview Hayden. Boyd forced his attention back to Morgan, who was asking how they’d come to be at Dr. Gunn’s. Quickly, he recounted his and Hayden’s efforts to make a short list of family physicians, as distinct from the ob-gyns that Morgan was running to ground, who might have been involved with his birth, how they fixed on Dr. Gunn, and what happened when they called him.

“Dr. Gunn confirmed he was present for our births. According to Gunn, he’d already told the story once to Josh and agreed to tell it to me. We made an appointment for eleven. When Hayden and I arrived, I asked her to stay in the car. I went up to the door and rang the bell repeatedly and knocked on the door, but no one answered. However, Gunn’s car was in the drive. When I checked the door, it was unlocked, so I went in. Hayden heard me calling for Gunn and getting no answer, so she came on in. Long story short, we found him dead in his study, slumped in a pool of blood. From where I was standing just inside the door, it looked like he’d bled out from a slashed artery in the forearm. Hayden got a closer look than I did, and she concurs. Radial artery, she thought.”

“That’s what Officer Green tells me,” Morgan said. “She figured he knew what he was doing with that scalpel. Vertical slash.”

“Somebody certainly did,” Boyd said.

Morgan ignored that. “So, did you touch anything?”

“No. I didn’t go any deeper into the room than just inside the door. Hayden did, to touch his neck. She insisted on checking for vitals in case he was still alive. She got no pulse and indicated his body had already begun to cool significantly. We backed out of the room and came out here to make the call.”

As Morgan scribbled some notes, Boyd’s gaze wandered to Hayden and the big detective.

“Thank you, that’s good for the moment,” Morgan said. “Now I want you to park it over there. Got it?”

Boyd peeled his gaze away from Hayden to see that Morgan was pointing to the vehicle he’d arrived in.

“We need to get separate written statements from the two of you before you put your heads together again, okay?”

“Understood. And if you can get me a statement form, I’ll write mine right now while it’s fresh, instead of standing here twiddling my thumbs.”

“Okay by me.” Morgan summoned Constable Green, who, together with another pair of uniformed officers, had already cordoned off the property with crime scene tape. “Can you get the man a statement form and a pen?”

“Yes, sir.”

When the officer walked off toward her cruiser, Boyd said to Morgan, “You do realize this is foul play, right? I mean, shortly after Dr. Gunn told Josh whatever he told him—presumably information that included the identity of our birth mother—Josh died. And within hours of agreeing to talk to me about the same subject matter, Dr. Gunn dies.”

“I’ll admit, it doesn’t smell good, but I haven’t seen the body yet. Could we give the coroner and our forensics team a chance to form an opinion before we start leaping to conclusions?”

Boyd’s lips tightened. “Of course. But while your guys are combing the place for evidence, could you look for a file that might be my mother’s?”

“You didn’t look around yourself?”

“I was tempted to—believe me.” Boyd rubbed his temple to try to ease the headache that was starting up. “But I didn’t want anything mucking up your crime scene. If Hayden hadn’t insisted, I wouldn’t even have let her check for vitals. Because the only thing I can think as I’m standing there is that if somebody killed Dr. Gunn, it was probably the same person who killed Josh.”

“Those are two big ifs, McBride, seeing as we don’t yet know for certain whether Gunn or your brother were homicide victims. But I appreciate your restraint.”

Boyd shrugged. “Wasn’t worth the risk of jeopardizing your case. And if there was a file there when we stumbled on the body, it’ll still be there when you process the scene. But I’ve got a sinking feeling you won’t find it. If someone killed Dr. Gunn, they’ll have taken it.”

“If there was a file there in the first place.”

“He said he’d show it to me.” He raked a hand through his hair. “And, yes, maybe that was just a ploy to lure me over here and there
is
no file. But that doesn’t make a helluva lot of sense.”

Morgan acknowledged the comment with a grunt. “So what you’re suggesting is if there’s no file to be found, someone helped him slit his wrists. But if we do find your mother’s file, then he likely committed suicide?”

“I guess, yeah.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I can’t see a killer leaving it. But if Dr. Gunn committed suicide over guilt about his role in our unorthodox adoption, or even over what happened to Josh, then he very well may have left the file or a note or something. He promised me information, and I think he meant it. But it’s possible he may have intended to keep that promise with a paper trail, rather than a conversation.”

“What about this visitor he said he was expecting? Any idea who that was?”

“None. But they might look good as a suspect. They were probably the last ones to see him alive.” He rubbed at his neck again.

“If there even was a visitor.”

Boyd angled a look at Morgan. “You’re suggesting he made up his mind to take his own life even as he talked to me on the phone. That he made up the visitor to give him time to get it done before I came knocking.”

Morgan shrugged. “One scenario is just as likely as the other right now. We need more information.” The approach of a vehicle drew Morgan’s attention away. “Sorry, we’ll have to finish this conversation later, McBride. The coroner’s here.” He nodded in the direction of his car. “Remember, plant yourself over there, and no talking to Hayden until we have both your statements.”

He watched Detective Morgan stride across the lawn to greet the guy from the coroner’s office. The two of them made their way up the drive and disappeared into Dr. Gunn’s house.

He slid his glance over to Hayden again. She was still fully involved with Detective Walker. There was nothing remotely flirtatious in their postures—just an attractive, distraught-but-composed woman being interviewed by a tall, ripped, testosterone-exuding woman magnet—

“Detective?”

He turned to see Constable Green had approached with a statement form on a clipboard.

“Thank you.” He took the clipboard from her. “I’ll get right to it. And maybe you can suggest to Detective Walker that Dr. Walsh be offered the chance to do the same. We’re not supposed to talk to each other until you have our official statements, so the sooner the better, since we’re traveling together.”

“Will do.”

Boyd took the pad and paper over to Morgan’s car. Using the car’s roof for a desk, he wrote up his statement. He found himself falling into cop speak, describing the victim as the deceased, and noting the location of the desk as being at three o’clock relative to the doorway. Not that Morgan would mind. Precise and unambiguous were what mattered.

He paused briefly when the forensic van rolled up. Two men and a woman hopped out. As he watched, they pulled on pristine white overalls, then grabbed big fishing-tackle-type cases from the van. He knew that before they entered the house, they would cover their footwear with plastic shoe covers, don shower caps, and pull on latex gloves, all in aid of keeping their own hair, fibers, and prints from contaminating the field. The bearded guy would no doubt put a surgical mask or hairnet of some kind over his face. Not as glamorous as the CSIs on TV, but then, not much about police work resembled what you saw on TV.

He went back to his statement. When he finished, he thought about handing it to the constable but decided against it. He wanted to hand it directly to Morgan if he could, so they could continue their conversation. That would give him a chance to press him for more information about what he’d found inside.

He glanced over at Hayden to see she was sitting on the street curb on the other side of the driveway, writing her own statement.
Good.

He leaned against Morgan’s car to wait. With nothing to do now, he started to get antsy.
Dammit all to hell.
He’d gotten
this close
to discovering what Josh had learned, only to have it jerked away. His gut told him someone had done this to Dr. Gunn. The timing of the so-called suicide was too convenient to suggest otherwise.

“McBride.”

Boyd looked up to see Ray Morgan standing in the doorway of the house, giving him a come-here gesture. As Boyd crossed the lawn toward the house, he saw the man from the coroner’s office leaving.

“What’s the word?” he asked, looking at the coroner’s retreating back.

“At first blush, it looks pretty convincing as suicide. The angle of the wound seems right. Even a couple of hesitation marks parallel to the fatal incision, where he started to cut, then backed off. Oh, and the pathologist thinks he might have taken some blood thinners to make extra sure, but there’ll be a full autopsy. And we’ll see what forensics comes up with.”