Chapter Forty-Four DAWSON

Chapter Forty-Four

D AWSON

Saturday, July 20, 2024

5:00 p.m.

When Dawson arrived at the hospital, Margo was in recovery and the doctor reported that she had come through the surgery well. The doctor had repaired muscle and nerve damage and patched her up. She’d recover fully.

He thought back to the night they met. She’d come up to him. Her smile had been infectious. And what happened in that bedroom had bonded him to her. Had she read him and summed him up as a lost soul like Della had Scarlett?

Della. Shit. Now he was thinking like Scarlett.

As he stood outside Margo’s hospital room, he glanced at his empty hands. Should he have flowers? But if he had flowers, it was proof he wasn’t an objective cop when it came to her. They’d see him as the cock-trapped ass that he was.

They’d slept together multiple times, and he’d do it again in a heartbeat. She was a hard woman to quit. But that had to stay in the past until he sorted this all out.

In the dimly lit room, she was lying on her back. Her eyes were closed. Her expression was always so controlled and stern, and now sleeping, she looked years younger. As he sat beside her bed, her eyes fluttered open immediately.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he said.

“I never really sleep,” Margo said.

“The hospital would like an emergency contact.” He inched his chair closer to the bed.

“I don’t have one.”

“No one?”

“Nope.” She raised a brow. “Don’t look stunned.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m a big girl.” She moistened her lips. “Who’s your person?”

He filled a pink plastic cup with water and held it to her lips. She drank, smiled. “Once it was my wife. Now, I’m not so sure.”

“I kind of thought for a fleeting second that you could be my emergency call.”

“I’m not. I can’t until all this is sorted out.”

She tried to sit up but winced. “I know.”

He arranged the pillows behind her until she appeared more comfortable. “You’ll be as good as new in a couple of weeks.”

“Where’s Scarlett?” she asked.

“Arrested. Bailed out now.”

Tension creased her brow. “She made bail?”

“She has a good attorney.”

“Have you talked to Lynn Yeats yet?”

“She’s next on my list.” Odd, he didn’t want to tell Margo that Lynn was two floors down in the same hospital. Had the seeds of Scarlett’s doubts rubbed off on him?

“Good.”

“Why were you at Scarlett’s house?” he asked.

“She told me to meet her at the warehouse. She had something to tell me.”

“How did she reach out?”

“We passed on the street. I had to run up to my place. When I came back, it all went sideways.”

“Why bring Lynn to her warehouse and tie her up? Why not just kill her?”

“She wanted Lynn to confess,” Margo said. “All these years of not knowing if Lynn had helped Tanner ate away at her.”

“She painted pictures of Della, not Lynn.”

A soft smile tipped her lips. “I can’t explain all of Scarlett’s drama right now. Give me a day or two.”

Not drawn in by her humor, he mentally imposed the sketches of Della over Margo’s face. The images were close, but close didn’t count in court. He’d need DNA proof. “Confess to what?”

“Lynn helped Tanner. She knew what was happening in the basement.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I read the original interviews. Gut feeling, but she was lying. But instinct isn’t proof.”

Margo didn’t have evidence. Would she have drugged and bound Lynn for a confession? “Do you want to make your statement now?”

“Are you here for my statement or as a friend?” Margo asked.

“The statement can wait.”

“I can give it now,” she said. “I don’t want to forget a detail.”

“I know. But wait. You know it takes a good night’s sleep to process a trauma like this.”

“I’m fine. I’m not your average victim. I’m a cop.”

“Still a human, last I checked, so we’ll wait.” The nurse came into the room. She was carrying a tray of bland, simple shrink-wrapped food.

Margo grimaced. “Yum.”

“Let me refill your water jug,” Dawson said as the nurse set the tray in front of Margo. He took the cup and pitcher to the sink. Water, ripe with DNA, glistened on the edges of the glass. If the DNA on Sandra’s body was viable, it would answer a lot of questions. He’d pull Margo’s DNA in her personnel file so he could put an end to the doubts.

When he turned, Margo was watching as the caregiver opened a cup of broth. She scowled. “Don’t suppose you have wine?”

The caregiver shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

When the woman left, he handed Margo a fresh cup of water. “Don’t look so grim.”

“I’m all smiles,” Margo said, finding that electric grin.

“I’ve got to get going.” He was tempted to lean in for a kiss, but it felt too civilized for them.

“Talk to Lynn Yeats. I know she must be in this building somewhere. She’ll have an idea of who took her. And she knows more than she’s said about Tanner.”

“Gut feeling?”

She shifted, winced. “It’s only steered me wrong once in my life.”

“When was that?”

She laughed. “For another day.”

“I’ll return tomorrow.”

“Be ready to bust me out of here. If you don’t spring me, I’ll break myself out. I’m an excellent escape artist. Brilliant with locks.”

Like Della. “Your release depends on the doctor.”

“I’m outta here come hell or high water, Dawson.”

“To be negotiated.”

He needed the damn DNA test results to nip his growing doubts. For years he’d had misgivings about his wife, but he’d ignored them. He wouldn’t now. And once Margo was in the clear, or not, he’d deal with Scarlett.

Dawson left her staring after him. She reminded him of a trapped animal doing its best to cling to bravado.

He rode the elevator to the third floor and found Lynn Yeats’s room and knocked. Inside, a television clicked off. “Come in.”

He moved into the dimly lit room and found Lynn lying in her bed, IVs hooked up to her arm. The doctors had told him she’d been heavily sedated and the plastic on her face had come close to killing her. She’d been at the critical stage of hypoxia.

“Detective Dawson.” Her voice was rough, jagged.

“Ms. Yeats.” He moved to the side of the bed. “How’re you doing?”

A romantic comedy played out on the muted television screen. “Okay. Better.”

“I hate to bother you now, but I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He’d called the hospital and spoken to Lynn’s boss. She had a solid reputation as a floor nurse. However, she’d changed hospitals five times in the last decade. Digging deeper, he’d found reprimands on her record. Not enough to trip a criminal investigation but enough to force her out of the job.

“Sure.” She sat up and turned off the television.

“Mind if I sit?”

“No, go ahead.”

He pulled up a chair, sat, and flipped through a notebook that didn’t have many clean pages remaining. “For my own understanding, can I confirm a few facts?”

“Sure.”

“You and Tanner Reed met at Mike’s Diner in January of 2014.”

“January 15. It was cold and windy. I ducked in for breakfast before my morning shift.”

“You were a regular at Mike’s, correct?”

“Yes.”

“A little off the beaten path for you, wasn’t it? Opposite direction of your work from your house.”

“Not at the time. I worked closer to the diner, but it wasn’t super convenient. But I also never ran into doctors or nurses from the hospital. I closed my mind to work completely when I was off duty.”

“Was it love at first sight?”

She plucked at the hospital identification band. “I was attracted to him. He was a beautiful man. But I never thought he’d notice me.”

“But he did.”

“Yeah.”

“Magical, right? When I met my wife, it was at a fundraiser for a circus. She was working the dunking pool. I knew the second I met her, I had to talk to her. But she’s the one that made the opening line. Who made the first move with you and Tanner?”

“He did. I thought he was talking to someone else at first.”

“That’s how I felt about my wife. I never thought I had a shot, but I went for broke. How long before your first date?”

“We met in the diner for breakfast several days a week for a couple of months. He asked me out for the first time in late March.”

About the time Sandra had vanished. “You two hit it off right away?”

“We did. It all started to feel very natural.”

He flipped back pages. “You said you met his cousin at his house.”

“Yes. The young girl. Dark hair. Quiet.”

“Did you speak to the girl?”

“Just smiled at her.”

“How did Tanner react when you met his cousin?”

“A little tense. But he covered it with a smile.”

“Her name was Cindy?”

“I think so. But I didn’t realize he had no family then. So much I didn’t know.”

“Did Cindy seem stressed?”

“No. She was just quiet. I didn’t stay long, and we really didn’t speak.” She cleared her throat. “Who was she?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“She wasn’t Scarlett Crosby.”

“I know.” He shifted. “Tell me about this recent attack. What’s the last thing you remember?”

She blinked as if shifting mentally. “I was headed to my car. I’d been out with a friend having drinks.”

“What time was this?”

“About two a.m. We’d stayed until last call.”

“Who is the friend?”

“Debbie Watson.”

“Did she walk you to your car?”

“No. I said goodbye at the bar.”

“What bar?”

“Riptide.”

“I know the place.” It was a middle-range wine bar featuring acoustic guitars, painting nights, and book clubs. His ex-wife had loved it. “The doctors found Rohypnol in your bloodstream. Did you feel woozy?”

“The date rape drug,” she said quietly. “I felt buzzed, but I was fine when I got in my car. I keep a water bottle in the side console.”

“You drank from it?”

“I guzzled it. I’m obsessed with hydration.”

“When did you get woozy?”

“Almost as soon as I pulled up in front of my house. I could barely see straight.”

“That was about two thirty a.m.?”

“Yes.”

If her water bottle had been spiked, it could have been done at any time after Lynn entered the bar. “What’s your last memory?”

Her hand rose to her throat. “Sitting behind the wheel of my car. And then nothing. The next memory, I was struggling to breathe. I couldn’t open my eyes. And then I heard a slicing sound.”

“When the plastic was pulled free, what did you see?”

“Scarlett standing over me.” Tears welled in her eyes. “And another woman. They were fighting. Then you showed up.”

Her story jibed with the evidence and what he’d witnessed. “Mind if I backtrack a little?”

“Sure.”

Pages in his notebook spun backward. “I checked into Tanner’s finances. You cosigned for a few loans for him.”

“He had big dreams for his business. I wanted to help him.”

“The loans added up to a hefty amount. Fifty thousand dollars.”

“I believed in him.”

“You loved him.”

“I did. I look back and wonder how, but I did love him.”

“Sandra Taylor’s body was found in the house he was flipping for a client.”

“It was charming. Had potential.”

“So, you were in the house?”

“A couple of times, when I had a day off.”

“Did he demolish any walls?” Dawson asked.

“A few.”

“You were head over heels in love with the guy.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes. I thought I’d hit the jackpot.”

He understood. “You’d have done anything.”

“I loved him,” she repeated.

He leaned back and did his best to look genuinely curious. “Were you aware of the box under Tanner’s bed?”

She paled. “What box?”

“According to Scarlett, Tanner locked another girl in that box while he was with you.” Anger surged, but he tamped it down. Lynn Yeats was now on the testing list for the DNA found on Sandra Taylor’s body, and he’d know soon if she was lying.

Her eyes widened. She blinked. “I never knew that.”

He smelled fear. “Never heard a sound?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay. I’m not making an accusation. Just trying to understand. You met Tiffany at Mike’s Diner, right?”

“As I told you, I was aware of her.”

“Did Tanner talk about Tiffany?”

“No.” Her voice sounded low. Childlike. “Not at all.”

“But he flirted with her.”

“Tanner flirted with everyone.” Bitterness edged the words.

“You’re right about that. I might have to reach out to you again.”

“Sure, of course. What’s going to happen to Scarlett?”

“She’s been charged and released.”

Panic widened her eyes. “She’s out of jail?”

“For now. Don’t worry. We’re keeping an eye on her. Do you have a friend you can stay with?”

“Yeah.”

“Bunk with your friend for a few days. Maybe Debbie. I’m close to sorting this out.”

“What if Scarlett comes for me again?”

“We’re watching her.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, standing. “You’re going to be fine.”

As Dawson left the room, he dialed the familiar number of former prosecutor Luke Kane. There was no love lost between them, and he wasn’t sure the man would take his call. Kane answered on the first ring. “What do you want?”

“I have no favors to call in. And I need several.”

“I’m listening.”

“I need the DNA found on Sandra Taylor’s and Tiffany Patterson’s bodies done yesterday. You still have contacts at the lab.”

“A few.”

“One way or the other, we need to know if Scarlett or Lynn Yeats was involved in either murder.”

“Or Della, a.k.a. Margo, right?”

Tension radiated up his spine. “Yes.”

“I’ll make a few calls.”