Chapter 36

Ruby firmed her lips, not caring that such an expression marred the smooth contours of her face. She didn’t want to see the detectives, who showed up yet again unannounced on her doorstep. After their last visit, Consuela had been instructed to leave them standing outside if they returned. She was through offering them hospitality, since they insisted on tormenting her family rather than finding her baby boy.

After yanking open the door, she glared at Livingston and Collier. “If you don’t stop harassing my family, I’m going to report you to your superiors.”

“Ma’am, I have a warrant to search the premises.” Livingston handed her a piece of paper.

Only then did Ruby notice the pair weren’t alone. Uniformed officers milled about on the paver-stone driveway. She craned her neck to see behind the two detectives. In the driveway, a woman unloaded two dogs from the back of a van. “What’s going on?”

“The warrant explains we will be searching the grounds and the house,” Livingston said as his partner waved to a waiting group of men and women, who started toward them. “Who’s currently inside?”

Ruby crumpled the warrant in her hand. “My housekeeper and daughter.”

“Where’s your husband?” Livingston put his hand on Ruby’s arm and gently guided her inside as men and women filed in behind them.

“Quentin’s at work.” As if saying his name broke a spell that had held her immobile, she shook her arm out of Livingston’s grip. “I’ve got to call him.” She hurried to the kitchen as she pressed the call button on her phone. A female police officer positioned herself within earshot of Ruby.

Her husband picked up on the first ring. “Ruby, I told you I have meetings all day today. In fact—”

“The police are here with a warrant to search the house and grounds.” The words tumbled out in a rush.

Silence.

“Did you hear what I said?” From the corner of her eye, she could see Livingston had joined her in the kitchen.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Quentin disconnected the call.

Ruby laid the phone on the counter, her husband’s decisiveness bolstering her courage to face the police alone. Her daughter stormed into the kitchen, followed by a uniformed female cop.

“Mom? What’s happening?” Jillian pointed at the police office behind her. “She kicked me off my computer and told me I had to come to the kitchen.”

Livingston answered. “We have a warrant to search the house and grounds. You’ll need to either vacate the premises or stay in the kitchen under supervision.”

Jillian’s mouth fell open in the classic expression of disbelief.

The fear in her daughter’s eyes paralyzed Ruby for an instant, then she rushed to gather Jillian in her arms. “It’s okay. Everything will be all right.”

Jillian shoved back out of Ruby’s embrace. “It won’t.”

Ruby reached for her daughter, but Jillian shook her head. “Your father’s on his way. He’ll sort this out.”

“Not this time.” Jillian’s mouth tightened. “He can’t.”

“Of course he can.” Quentin always took care of his family first. That was one of the things Ruby admired and loved about her husband.

Jillian snorted. “Don’t you see? Don’t you get it?”

Ruby shot a quick glance at the detective, whose attention was fixed on mother and daughter. After stepping closer to Jillian, she hissed, “You need to calm down and pull yourself together.”

“I need to calm down?” Jillian’s voice rose. “Of all the times to not be cool and collected, I think this ranks as one of them. They’re going through my stuff!”

Ruby reined in her own emotions, which were steadily rising in correspondence to her daughter’s see-sawing outburst. “This is just another incidence of police harassment, and as soon as your father comes—”

“What?” Jillian snapped the question. “What will Dad do? He can’t make them stop searching. They have a warrant.”

Ruby didn’t have an answer to that, but Jillian wasn’t waiting for one anyway, as her daughter plowed on. “And you know what? I hope they find whatever it is they’re looking for.” She lowered her voice. “Then at least we can finally get all of our dirty little secrets out in the open instead of them festering and poisoning all of us.”

Jillian dashed tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands, then turned to face the large kitchen window. Before Ruby could go to her daughter, a suited technician entered the kitchen.

Livingston and the man held a short, murmured conversation before the detective slipped out of the room after the technician. Ruby rubbed her hands on her arms, a chill in the air despite the warm September day. Things had gotten so topsy-turvy, she doubted anything could put them right side up again.

“Ruby?”

She turned to see Quentin pause in the kitchen doorway, another uniformed police officer at his heels. Wordlessly, she held out her hands and her husband hurried across the kitchen to take them in his. At his touch, her composure crumbled.

“My poor darling.” Quentin pulled her into his arms.

She laid her cheek against his crisp dress shirt, his heart beating beneath her ear. The tranquil rhythm helped to slow her breathing. Quentin was here. He would make everything better. He always did.

“Mr. Thompson?”

Livingston’s voice jerked Ruby out of her comfort zone. She twisted out of Quentin’s embrace to face the detective alongside her husband.

“Detective Livingston, isn’t it?” Quentin’s voice held no hint of distress, and his warm grip on Ruby’s hand renewed her confidence in his ability to handle any situation. “What can I do for you?”

“We’ve discovered a safe hidden in the master bathroom linen closet. Would you please open it?” Livingston gazed directly at Quentin. “We can call a locksmith to drill the lock but thought you might prefer the safe not to be damaged.”

Ruby’s mind raced. What was he talking about? The only safe in the house was in the study behind her portrait.

But her husband’s expression stayed the same, leaving her to believe he didn’t seem flummoxed by the discovery. “I can give you the combination.” He then rattled off a series of numbers that the detective jotted down. As soon as Livingston left, Quentin dropped her hand and paced to the sink. He grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and drank it down in one long, gulp.

Ruby plucked at his sleeve. “What safe? Quentin, what was he talking about?”

He didn’t answer, his shoulders a tense outline in his dress shirt. Ruby aligned herself with him to follow the direction of his gaze. Men and women swarmed over their backyard using long poles to poke into shrubbery, while two women walked behind leashed dogs that sniffed the ground. One dog promptly sat beside her prized rose bushes. The ones her husband had planted in the days after Jesse had disappeared.

* * *

Brogan grittedhis teeth as the surgeon drew the needle through a laceration in his forearm. Even though the woman had swabbed the area with numbing gel, he still felt the tug of the thread. He’d already been checked over thoroughly and pronounced ready for release once this cut had been stitched. A butterfly bandage closed a cut on his forehead, and other than bruising on his shoulder and hips from the seatbelt, he had come through the accident relatively unscathed.

His questions about Melender had been fruitless beyond the fact that she was somewhere in this hospital. Once the surgeon finished her handiwork, Brogan would roam the hallways until he found her.

“All done.” The doctor tied off the suture and stepped away to allow a nurse to bandage the arm. “Keep the dressing on until tomorrow, then change it every day. The nurse will send home instructions with you.” She peered closely at Brogan’s face. “And some prescription strength ibuprofen for the pain.”

“Thanks.” Brogan stifled the urge to leap off the bed and find Melender.

With a wave, the surgeon departed the cubicle, swishing the curtain back into place. The fabric hadn’t stopped swinging when someone pushed it open again.

“May we come in?” Detective Livingston, followed by a man in a suit Brogan didn’t recognize, entered the cubicle. “You don’t look so hot.”

Brogan grimaced. “Being rammed by a SUV into oncoming traffic can do that to a person.”

“I heard about your accident.” The other man held up a hand as if to stave off questions Brogan would ask. “Melender’s fine. She has some lacerations and bruising, but she’s being cleared for release.”

“Thank God.” Brogan sincerely meant what might sound trite.

“But I didn’t come to the hospital just to see how you’re doing.” The detective remained quiet as the nurse tied off the bandage.

“I’ll be right back with the ibuprofen, instructions, and discharge papers,” she said.

Once she had gone, Livingston gestured to the man beside him. “This is Detective Tom Billets. He’s in charge of investigating the accident.”

“It wasn’t an accident.” Brogan flashed back to the deliberate actions of the other driver and suppressed a shudder. “We could have been killed. The other driver was trying to make us crash.”

“We know,” Billets said. “The other driver fled the scene, but we recovered his cell phone, which had texts between the driver and someone else directing the driver to make sure you had an accident after leaving Stabe’s office.”

The folder. “Did you recover an accordion folder from my vehicle?” Brogan had a sinking feeling what the answer would be.

Billets frowned. “No, there was nothing like that in the vehicle, but we might have missed it, as we weren’t conducting a thorough search. I’ll call the impound lot and have the guys there go through the SUV again. Can you describe the item?”

“It’s about yea big”—Brogan demonstrated with his hands, wincing as the gesture pulled at his fresh stitches—“so it’s not likely you missed it.” Frustration tightened around him like a vice. “Then there was someone else there, someone who followed the driver and managed to get the folder from our car before help arrived.”

Billets flipped through a small notebook. “A couple of witnesses said a man had been examining your vehicle immediately after the accident, but they thought he was trying to help you and Ms. Harman.”

Livingston’s eyebrows rose. “What was in the folder?”

“I’m not sure.” His focus slipped as a pounding headache galloped into place. “Stabe called to tell me he had a package at the front desk of his law firm. He wanted me to pick it up right away.”

The nurse whisked back the curtain. “Here you go.”

Brogan took the paper cup the nurse held out, then took a sip of water from the cup on the bedside tray table.

“These instructions outline how to care for your arm wound and when to seek additional medical help.” She handed him the papers.

“Thank you.” He signed the discharge papers and returned them, keeping the copy for himself.

“You’re all set to go.” She gave him a cheery smile, then departed.

The two detectives, who had been carrying on a muted conversation during the nurse’s visit, stepped toward the bed. Billets spoke first. “I think that about wraps it up on my end. We’ll be in touch, although I don’t hold out much hope. The other vehicle was reported stolen this morning.”

Brogan wasn’t surprised. “Thanks for stopping by.” He eased himself off the bed as Billets exited the cubicle while Livingston lingered. “I thought you were on leave.”

“Circumstances required my return.”

Something else had happened, but Brogan’s sluggish mind couldn’t form the questions to ask, not when he needed to have eyes on Melender. “I need to check on Melender.”

Livingston smiled. “I thought you might. Come on.”

Brogan managed to keep up with the other man as he wove his way through the crowded emergency department. Curtained beds fanned out in a ring around a central hub where medical personnel checked computers and snatched papers off a bank of printers.

On the opposite side of the room, Livingston stopped beside a closed curtain. “She’s in here.”

“Melender?” Brogan eased back the curtain to find an empty bed. Whirling around, he snapped, “Where is she?”