The Silence That Speaks. Andrea Kane
she might be overlooking that would make her a target?”
Conrad spread his palms wide. “No, but I’m at a distinct disadvantage. I haven’t seen my ex-wife in months, and my exposure to her life, most especially to her work, is nil.” He paused. “My former place of employment is not a topic that’s introduced to me unless I bring it up in a session.”
“Your former place of employment?” Marc responded to that one. “I was under the impression that you planned to return to your previous position—or your new one, when the hospital merger goes through.”
“You don’t have to discuss this if you’d rather not, Conrad,” Dr. Oberlin was quick to point out.
Conrad stared down at the carpet for a moment, then lifted his gaze—that sad, hollow gaze. “That’s all right. I’m just not sure how to answer your question. Whether or not the position is still open to me isn’t the primary issue. The truth is, I don’t know if I’ll ever be capable of performing surgery again. I’m not even sure how I’d react to walking into an operating room.”
Casey couldn’t help but feel pity. The man was visibly suffering. A huge portion of his life and his identity were gone.
“I’m very sorry about Ronald Lexington,” she said quietly but directly. “I can’t imagine how painful his loss has been for you. But from what I understand, you’re a brilliant surgeon. Hundreds of people could benefit from your skills. Life happens. That doesn’t make it your fault.”
“We’re not here to analyze Dr. Westfield or to discuss his ghosts,” Dr. Oberlin interrupted. “Do you have any other questions for him—ones that relate to his former wife’s predicament?”
Casey took the hint, and fast. She backed off from any reference to Ronald Lexington or to Conrad’s state of mind. “We won’t keep you.” She rose and handed Conrad a business card. “If you could make arrangements for us to do the necessary background check that you so kindly offered, that would be great. Also if you think of anything—however small—that might give us a lead, please call Forensic Instincts anytime, day or night.”
“Of course.” Conrad took her card and came to his feet, as well. His forehead was still creased. “Is Madeline being protected?”
“She has 24/7 security detail,” Marc stated flatly. He was letting Conrad know that if he was concerned about Madeline, he had nothing to worry about. And if he wasn’t—if it was access to his ex-wife he was looking for—that wouldn’t be happening. “No one is going to reach Madeline again, much less harm her. We’ve made sure of that.”
“Thank God.” Again, relief—genuine or otherwise—swept Conrad’s face. “I realize we’re divorced, but I still care deeply for her. Madeline is a wonderful and special woman who places everyone’s needs above her own. I want her kept safe, regardless of the cost.”
“She will be.” Marc’s tone was still firm, his expression still impersonal. Whatever he was feeling, he was keeping it under control.
“I’d appreciate if you’d keep me posted,” Conrad added. “I’ll arrange with Dr. Oberlin for your phone calls to be put through to me immediately.”
* * *
Marc stared out the window as Casey steered the van up the winding driveway leading to the iron gates.
She edged him a sidelong glance. He looked tense and introspective. “Brooding?” she asked.
“Aren’t you subtle,” Marc returned drily. “No, I’m not brooding. I’m thinking. Westfield is either a decent guy and the best ex-husband any woman could hope for, or a consummate actor and con artist...and an attempted murderer.” A pregnant pause. “And yes, I’m being objective.”
“Actually, I think you are.” Casey’s eyes were back on the road as she slowed down at the gates and signaled the guard that they were leaving. “I also think you’re purposely avoiding stating the obvious, because you think I’ll call you on it. Well, I won’t. Because I see the same thing. Conrad Westfield still has feelings for his ex-wife.” She paused. “Feelings that Madeline is totally unaware of and that she doesn’t return.”
Marc grunted. “I wonder how that factors into this little equation.”
The iron gates swung open, and Casey steered the van onto the main road.
“It could exacerbate it. And it could mean nothing. But you’re right,” Casey continued. “The depression is real, and it’s deep. So is the self-blame. But Conrad is very intelligent and very aware. Could he have orchestrated the attacks on Madeline—out of pain, spite, whatever? Cognitively, yes.”
“So now we check out his phone records, which are going to be squeaky-clean or he wouldn’t have offered them up. Then what?”
“Then we have Ryan dig deeper. Figure out if Conrad has a burner phone or some other means of communication. Find out if he has any seedy connections inside the facility who might be willing to do his dirty work for him. Conrad’s rich and well-connected. This meeting we just had is only step one where it comes to Madeline’s ex.” Casey frowned. “My concern is the long list of hospital employees Madeline gave me, every one of whom is a potential suspect until we figure out the assailant’s motive.”
“Some of them will talk to us willingly,” Marc said.
“And some won’t. Plus, who knows who’ll be lying and why? Between the skills you learned from your days at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit and my psychological training, we’ll be able to do a pretty good job of figuring out who’s lying. But their motives? That’s another story entirely. We’ve got to find a nonconfrontational way into that hospital to get a thorough take on the names on Madeline’s list. We have to plan our approach carefully. We’ll only get one chance at this before we lose the chance to keep our role in Madeline’s life a secret.”
“The dedication ceremony to Ronald Lexington is our best shot at doing that,” Marc replied. Casey had told him about the hospital courtyard ceremony on the drive to Connecticut.
“Exactly.” Casey nodded. “But we can’t just walk in there. We’ll need to go as Madeline’s guests. Just a few of us, not the whole team.”
“That few will include me.”
The emphatic tone of Marc’s response wasn’t lost on Casey.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” she asked.
Marc pivoted to face her. “Look, Casey. You and I agreed that I was going to assume my usual role in this investigation. I haven’t given you any reason to doubt that I can. So keeping me away from Madeline is ridiculous. I’m the most qualified person on the team to protect her, while simultaneously scrutinizing and assessing the attendees. I think it should be you, me and Claire who go.”
“And Emma,” Casey surprised him by saying.
“Emma?”
“Uh-huh. Let’s go back to the office. I have a plan that I think will work.”
THE HOSPITAL COURTYARD was lovely, and not just from the natural beauty of the red, orange and gold trees around it. The area was lined with miniature boxwoods and colorful, manicured plants, and surrounded by an iron fence that gave the entire area a close, intimate feel, despite being surrounded by tall hospital buildings. There were several benches situated around the courtyard’s periphery, so that employees could sit and enjoy the view. And, most impressive of all, there was a brass plate planted in the grassy entranceway that was engraved In Honor of Ronald Lexington.
Casey glanced around as the small group of FI team members and Madeline approached the site, noting that there were already so many attendees they were barely able to be contained within the courtyard itself and were spilling over onto