Fatal Hearts (5 page)

“Unfortunately not. I already knew the pathologist found nothing untoward on the autopsy—no anatomical evidence of a heart problem—and that the standard hospital tox screen showed nothing. The forensic toxicology report is probably weeks away still, and the genetic report will no doubt be months coming. My results from the private lab will probably be back quicker.”

She licked suddenly dry lips. “So do you have reason to suspect anyone?”

“No, no one specific.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “But it just doesn’t smell right. The message he left me, then his phone going missing . . .”

“To play devil’s advocate here, that could be coincidence, couldn’t it? The timing, I mean.”

“I’m a detective. I don’t have the luxury of believing in coincidence.”

“Fair enough, I guess.” She watched him take a sip of his beer. “What about the phone. Isn’t it possible that he could have just lost it?”

He slanted her a look. “Again, this is Josh we’re talking about. I can’t see him letting carelessness separate him from that phone. It was like a damned appendage.”

She shrugged. “It happened once before.”

His eyes widened. “He lost his phone? How?”

“While he was gassing his car up, he thinks. He finished his call, put the phone on the roof of his car while he recapped his gas tank, went inside and paid, then hopped in the car and drove away without pocketing the phone. He completely forgot about it once he set it down. It must have fallen off the roof somewhere along the way. He retraced his route, but he never did find it, or even pieces of it. When he tried calling it, he got that ‘customer out of range’ message, and figured it must have been smashed when it hit the asphalt, or maybe gotten run over.”

“Or someone stole it while he was in paying for the gas,” Boyd put in. “There’s a huge market for stolen phones.”

“Really?” She arched an eyebrow. “Then maybe someone stole it this time too. Maybe he left it in the car while he went for his run and someone stole it.”

He shook his head. “No evidence of a break-in, and you know Josh. He’d never forget to lock his car.”

“Maybe they used one of those mystery devices we’ve been hearing about that can unlock a car remotely. Then there wouldn’t be any broken windows or scratched paint.”

“And they only used this rare high-tech break-in tool on Josh’s car? None of the other cars that were parked there?”

“Okay, so probably not.” She tapped her finger on her glass. “So basically, you’re in a holding pattern, waiting for those reports?”

“Not quite,” he said. “Detective Morgan has been checking in with obstetricians, trying to discover which ones Josh had talked to, what they’d told him. But he’s one guy, and he has other cases.”

“What are the chances they’re going to voluntarily tell the police if they were involved, even peripherally, in a shady adoption?”

“I know!” A few diners turned their way. His face strained, he continued more quietly. “Sorry. I’m just a little frustrated. I know we don’t have much to work with. Maybe when the toxicology report comes in, it will point to something that can help. Or maybe there’ll be nothing there at all. Maybe the coroner will call it natural causes, and the guys won’t be able to sustain the file. But I can’t sit still doing nothing, waiting God knows how long on the damned tests to come back when I feel in my bones something isn’t right about his death. And if our situations were reversed, if I were the one discovered dead in my car, I know Josh wouldn’t rest until every stone had been turned, every lead exhausted, every theory—no matter how implausible—run to the ground. And that’s what I’m going to do for him.”

The waiter arrived just then with their meals. Grateful for the interruption, Hayden leaned back in her chair to allow the young man to place the plate in front of her. The gorgeous salad failed to tantalize her as it usually did. Not surprising, since her stomach felt like a leaden ball.

After placing Boyd’s plate in front of him, the waiter said, “Enjoy your meal,” and left them alone. Hayden noticed Boyd seemed even less interested in his meal than she was in hers. Then she remembered how pale he’d appeared earlier. He needed to eat.

She picked up her fork and dug into the salad. “Mmm, just as good as I remembered.” She gestured with a fork at his untouched plate. “How’s the salmon?”

The look he sent her told her he knew what she was doing, but, dutifully, he picked up his knife and fork, cut off a piece, and ate it. “Pretty good,” he said, sounding surprised. “Pretty damned good.”

They ate in silence, which was probably a good idea considering the subject matter of their conversation thus far. Forensic talk, grief, and guilt were not good dinner companions.

Guilt.
Yes, he felt plenty guilty. She’d heard it in his voice, in his words. He really thought if he’d been home to take that call, Josh might not have died. But she doubted that. On the other hand, he now would have had the name of the woman Josh thought was their birth mother. She put down her fork.

Across the table, Boyd put his own utensils down and leaned back. His plate, she saw with satisfaction, was bare.

“I guess I needed a good meal. Thank you, Doc.”

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

Instead of answering, he picked up his mug of beer and cradled it. “Did you ever go to Josh’s place?”

“At Dr. Stratton’s? Yeah, I used to go there to watch TV sometimes. It felt strange, at first, being in her house. She’s sort of medical royalty in this town, which made it kind of weird. Initially, I couldn’t get why Josh didn’t just go ahead and rent an apartment, but he seemed to like staying there.”

“You must know how he wound up there?”

“Yeah. He told me. Apparently, she was one of his first stops when he got to town. He picked her because she’s one of a handful of active docs who were practicing back then, and he figured she’d be a good resource to give him the lay of the land. When she realized the duration of his stay was contingent on his investigation, she suggested he take a room she’d just finished as a B&B rental.” She laughed sadly. “He took her up on the offer for the short term, planning to get himself an apartment, but then he had his first gourmet breakfast there. The arrangement instantly became longer term.”

Boyd grinned. “Classic Josh. Thinking with his stomach.”

“Definitely.”

“I imagine he was also influenced by not knowing how long he was going to be here.” Boyd sat back in his chair. “If he’d solved his investigation within the first few months, he probably would’ve given his notice at the paper and gone back to his old job, or at least another big-city paper. By staying at the B&B, he wouldn’t have to fuss with a lease or find someone to sublet when he left.”

“All while saving a bundle. So I got used to it. It’s not like I even saw Sylvia when I went there. Well, not very often.”

“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her—she wasn’t around when I went there to clear out Josh’s things—but she sounds intimidating.”

“She is. Very old-school. It’s
Dr.
Walsh and
Mr.
McBride. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a person’s first name pass her lips, not even her ailing husband’s, whom she refers to as Senator Stratton or the Senator. I gather they were a serious power couple, back in the day.”

Boyd frowned. “I remember Josh talking about the Senator. He’s in a coma, right?”

“I’m not sure it’s a coma, exactly, but he can’t communicate. Or so I’ve heard.”

“I’m going to head over there later, I think.”

“To Stratton House?”

“Yeah. I’d like to give Josh’s room a thorough search. The kind I should have done the first time around.” He shrugged. “I just wasn’t thinking.”

She imagined him packing away Josh’s clothes. Had he taken them back to Ontario? Or had he dropped them off at one of the many community donation centers around town? And his toiletries . . . Her heart hurt for him.

“What are you expecting to find?” she asked.

“Josh’s journal. That has to be where he kept the details of his investigation into our birth parents,” he said grimly. “There were no relevant notes on his laptop, which the cops did a forensic examination on, and no file to be found in his room. And, yeah, I know his phone is missing, but no way would he have kept his research notes on that. I bought him a slick hand-held PDA once, and he hated it. He preferred his notebooks and his laptop.”

“He wasn’t much for gadgets, that’s for sure,” Hayden agreed. “I tried to convince him he should buy himself an iPad when I saw all the notebooks he’d filled for work, but he said the only tablets he was interested in were the ones you could write on with a pen or pencil.”

“Exactly. So I’m betting he kept the notes for this personal investigation in a physical notebook. I didn’t come across it when I cleared his things out of his room at the B&B, but I wasn’t thinking straight at the time. I should have looked harder. Josh was private about his personal journals. If they weren’t on him, they were tucked away where prying eyes couldn’t find them.”

“You think he hid it because the information he uncovered was sensitive?”

“Yeah, that too, but I’m pretty sure he’d hide it anyway. Force of habit.” At her lifted eyebrows, he explained, “Years ago I found one of his journals lying around. I teased the hell out of the poor bastard, quoting his deep thoughts back to him. You know, stupid teenage brother ribbing. Oh, man, he was furious. Wouldn’t speak to me for the longest time. He eventually forgave me, but ever since then, if the journal wasn’t on him, he made damned sure it was well hidden.”

“So you’re saying the journal—”

“I think there’s a good chance he hid it in his room.”

CHAPTER 4

Boyd trailed Hayden’s black Subaru Outback through the light evening traffic with ease.

He hadn’t meant to invite her along. Scratch that; he literally
hadn’t
invited her. But once she’d realized his destination, she’d insisted on accompanying him. It didn’t take a genius to see she was concerned about him. She hadn’t wanted him to face that empty room alone. Now that he’d had a few minutes to think about it, he decided it was a good thing. Hayden knew more about Josh’s life here than anyone else. He needed to keep her close, keep her talking, see what he could learn.

He had a GPS and could find his way back to the B&B on his own, but following a set of taillights was easier. She led him past a rear view of the provincial legislative assembly building and the towering steeple of Christ Church Cathedral. Then it was through the strange, convoluted intersection beneath an underpass that had confused him last time. Hayden didn’t hesitate, though. She’d probably traveled this path dozens and dozens of times.

On his left flowed the Saint John River, flat and black and glistening with the reflected lights of the city. On the right, they passed a series of grand old houses until she signaled and turned into the driveway of one of them.

It was a large circular driveway constructed of paving stones. Boyd didn’t know a lick about architecture, but the house was impressive, in a monstrous yet distinctly feminine sort of way. Victorian, he supposed, as he took in the rambling, asymmetrical shape of the whole, with its steep roof, gabled windows, and wraparound veranda complete with white rounded columns. And, yes, it even had a tower. A round one. Funny, he hadn’t even noticed that on his earlier visit to claim Josh’s stuff.

Instead of drawing up in front of the veranda, which Boyd had done on his visit, Hayden took a side road that sprouted off the driveway. Paved tastefully with crushed rock instead of cobblestones, it led around the house to a parking lot at the rear, also finished with crushed rock.

He parked his rental beside Hayden’s car, climbed out, and looked around. “Wow, do they have enough parking?”

“They need it.” Hayden closed her car door. “According to Josh, Dr. Stratton expanded it after Senator Stratton fell ill. She keeps a fairly large staff coming and going. Maids and gardeners for the house, LPNs and personal care workers for her husband.”

“And B&B customers, of course.”

“Yes, B&B guests too. Josh tells me—” She broke off, biting her lip. “Josh
told
me that’s why she turned it into a bed-and-breakfast, to help defray the cost of keeping such a big staff. Although that probably points to a certain frugality, not a need to make ends meet.”

“She doesn’t look like she’s hurting.”

“She comes from old money, the kind that doesn’t get wiped out by a market crash. And even without the Proust money behind her, she still has a healthy medical practice, and the Senator would have a generous pension.”

She turned toward him in the lighted parking lot, and he found himself catching his breath. The light cast a halo around her curly golden hair and plunged part of her face into shadow, but the part he could see . . . God, she was beautiful. No wonder Josh had been so hung up on her. If only she’d loved him back like he wanted, instead of loving him like a brother . . .

He cleared his throat. “Will Dr. Stratton be around?”

“I hope so,” she said. “I doubt we’ll get permission to check Josh’s room if she’s not here. And remember—”

“I know. It might already be occupied by a new guest. I got it.”

She led the way to the rear entrance, rang the bell, and stepped back. A moment later, an older woman dressed in black right down to her practical nonslip shoes, opened the door to them. Boyd recognized her as the housekeeper.

“Dr. Walsh,” the woman said, her voice sounding younger and more melodious than her years. “Good to see you again. And who’s that with you?” The woman leaned to peer around Hayden, caught sight of Boyd, then stepped back, her hand going to her chest.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Garner,” Hayden hastened to assure the distraught woman. “This is Josh’s brother, Boyd McBride.”

“Oh, dear, of course!” she said. “I hadn’t thought to see you again after you cleared out Josh’s room, Mr. McBride. And seeing you with Dr. Walsh . . .”

“I understand. Sorry to pop up like a ghost.”

“I’m just helping him get a feel for Josh’s life here, and he’d really like to see Josh’s room,” Hayden said into the awkward silence. “Do you think that can be arranged? I mean, if it’s not rented again.”

Mrs. Garner’s features softened in sympathy. “It hasn’t been rented. Come in, and I’ll see what I can do for you.” When they stepped inside the entryway, she said, “I’m going to have to ask you to wait here while I talk to Dr. Stratton.” Her tone was apologetic. “She has strict rules about these things.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Garner,” Hayden said. “We’ll be happy to wait here.”

When the old girl bustled off, Boyd turned to Hayden. “Strict rules?”

“I think she’s worried someone will try to see the Senator,” she murmured, keeping her voice low. Even at that level, the acoustics of the vaulted ceilings made her voice echo around. “She’s very particular about visitation. Josh said no one gets in to see the Senator except Dr. Stratton, their son, Jordan, who’s an internist in Saint John, and the Senator’s caregivers.” She peered around to make sure no one was coming up the hall where Mrs. Garner had disappeared.

“And you felt comfortable coming here?”

Hayden shrugged. “Josh always met me at the door so I didn’t have to run the gauntlet alone. But we still managed to bump into her once in a while.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. Or at least he hoped it was exaggerated. The woman couldn’t be that much of an ogre. She’d been working the day he’d come by for Josh’s things, so he hadn’t met her.

He heard the click-click of high heels on hardwood before he saw her. Then she turned a corner and entered the room. Beside him, Hayden straightened her back. Wryly, he realized he had too, in that come-to-attention response a soldier had to his officer in charge.

“Well, well, Mrs. Garner was right. You are the spitting image of our Mr. McBride. Identical twins, I presume?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She was thin and very fit looking for her age, but her dark hair was shot with silver. And she projected incredible command presence as she crossed the room, her carriage as upright and impeccable as any queen’s. No wonder Hayden had described her as royalty. She drew up in front of him and looked him squarely in the eye. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. McBride. We still miss your brother at our breakfast table.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She extended an elegant hand and he grasped it in a firm handshake. She released her grip quickly, turning to Hayden. “Dr. Walsh. Good to see you again.”

“Thank you, Dr. Stratton. You too.”

She turned her gaze back to Boyd. “And what’s your first name, Mr. McBride?”

“Boyd, ma’am.”

“Well, Boyd McBride, for all of your shared genetics, you are a harder customer than Joshua, unless I miss my guess.”

She didn’t add, “And I never miss my guess,”
but she might as well have. He heard it loud and clear.

“I understand you wanted to view your brother’s room?”

“That’s right, ma’am. I’m just trying to get a feel for his life here. I never got a chance to visit, and now . . .” He let his words trail off.

“I understand,” she said, and he felt oddly pinned by those steely blue eyes that held his gaze so steadily. The Senator must have had brass ones to take this woman on. “But perhaps I can do you one better?”

One better? What the hell does that mean?
“Ma’am?”

“Your brother had paid his rent to the end of the month, Mr. McBride. If you’re going to be reconstructing his life and death here in Fredericton, you’re welcome to have his room. I had thought to prorate the unused rental and send a check along to his estate, but if you’re in need of a place to stay, perhaps this will work just as well.”

Yes!
Legitimate, long-term access to Josh’s room, handed to him on a platter. He could quietly tear the place apart until he found Josh’s notes. Plus it would save him a bundle. He could cancel his reservation at the Comfort Inn. Nothing of his excitement showed, though, when he spoke.

“Thank you, Dr. Stratton. That’s very kind of you. I’ll take you up on that offer.”

She waved his thanks away with a gracious hand. “No need to thank me. The room is bought and paid for. Breakfast is served between six and seven thirty, if you want to avail yourself of it. You may, of course, have to share the breakfast table with myself or my staff.”

Better and better on the budget. “That’s great with me.”

“All other meals are on your own, and please, no music or television or other loud noises late at night.” She aimed a look at Hayden as if that message were for her too.

Boyd’s mind leapt immediately to a picture of him and Hayden in a bedroom upstairs and the kinds of noise they could make. Clearly, Sylvia Stratton’s impersonation of a general must have put him more off balance than he’d realized. Time to get a grip.

“Thank you—that sounds very reasonable.”

“Very well. Shall I show you to the room? The key is in there.”

“Please.”

She turned and click-clicked her way back along the tiled hall. With a gesture for Hayden to precede him, he brought up the rear of the procession.

Sylvia Stratton led them up a wide, elegant staircase with an intricately carved newel post. As they climbed the stairs, he let his right hand glide along the polished banister. The dark wood felt smooth as satin beneath his hands. She hung a left at the top of the stairs and led them along a high-ceilinged hall. If Boyd hadn’t already seen it for himself, he probably would have stopped to gaze in amazement at the width of the planking on the floor, not to mention the wide, ornate baseboards and crown molding. The house had to be hundreds of years old. You couldn’t get wood like that anymore.

“Your home is very lovely, Dr. Stratton.”

“Isn’t it?”

She stopped before a tall door framed in wide trim that matched the baseboards, but with extra hand-carved details at the top corners. If he added up the running feet of trim in this old house, the cost of reproducing it would probably exceed the value of his tiny condo back in Toronto. Hell, his condo
and
his car.

“This is it.” Pushing the door inward, she waved them into the room.

He felt his chest tighten to be standing again in the room where Josh had lived for the past five-plus months of his life.

“So, have you just landed in town, Mr. McBride, or are you already established somewhere?”

“I hit town earlier today,” he confirmed. “But I haven’t had a chance to check into my motel.”

“If you have your bags with you, you’re welcome to take up residence tonight.”

“That’d be great,” he said. “My stuff is still in the car.”

“Then, please, make yourself comfortable.” She crossed the room to the bedside and pulled open the drawer of the night table. Turning, she held out a plain key ring with a pair of keys on it. “This one will get you in the rear entrance you just used, and the other is for the room. When you’re ready, you can go fetch your things and let yourself back in without disturbing my staff.”

He took the key from her. “Thank you.”

She stepped back. “Well, if that’s all, I’ll go back to reading to my husband.” She glanced at Hayden. “I trust you can see yourself out later?”

“Of course, Dr. Stratton.”

With a regal inclination of her head, Sylvia Stratton turned and left. Boyd could hear the tapping of her heels as she retreated down the hall; then he heard them on the stairs.

He turned to Hayden. “I see what you mean. Seems like she’d have been more at home during this house’s heyday, commanding a fleet of servants with an iron hand.”

“Yeah, that whole lady-of-the-manor routine.” Hayden gave a delicate shudder. “The scary part is that she’s on the medical advisory board at the hospital. I try to minimize my contact with her, because I always come away from any encounter feeling as though I’ve been found lacking. I tell myself not to take it personally, since pretty much everyone comes away from her feeling like that, but it’s a challenge some days.”

“I don’t know . . . Something tells me you can hold your own.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Oh, yeah, he could definitely see why this woman had captivated his brother. She was pretty damned stunning.

He realized silence had fallen, so he said the first thing that came to mind. “So, have you ever met the Senator?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think he ever gets out of his sickroom.”

“That’s a damned shame to see a guy like Lewis Stratton laid low.”

She was watching him curiously. “You know him?”

His lips twitched at the idea. “Just by reputation. He took an interest in law and order.”

“I guess that stands to reason. Josh said he was some kind of big deal lawyer before he went into politics.”

Boyd snorted. “Isn’t every politician a former lawyer?”

Her lips curved in a smile that was quick to come and go. “Seems like it, doesn’t it?”

Her face sobered again, but Boyd found himself looking at her world-class lips, wondering what it would take to make that smile flash again. Or even better, to make her laugh. Would her laughter be throaty and sexy? Or clear and delighted as a child’s? And what would it feel like if he were to catch that laugh on her lips, take it into himself?

He realized she’d caught him looking at her mouth.

“I’m sorry—I lost my train of thought,” he offered. “Not enough sleep.” That was certainly true. His eyes felt gritty and his head clouded with fatigue.

Her mouth softened again. “I can only imagine. It must be so hard.”

His throat clogged with unexpected emotion at her words of sympathy. “For you too. I can see how much you miss him.”

They stood there in the small, high-ceilinged bedroom, not touching but connected by their shared grief. He felt an even stronger pull toward her to comfort and be comforted.