Big Shot. Joanna Wayne
going to want to catch the next flight to Texas, but she’s eight months pregnant. She’s having some complications and her obstetrician has ordered total bed rest until the delivery.”
“Keep Lucy in Connecticut,” Durk encouraged. “When I leave here, I’m going straight back to the hospital and I’ll be there as long as Meghan is at risk. Count on it. I’ll keep Lucy informed of everything.”
“I’ll see what I can do. But I’m not sure how much faith Lucy has in you.”
“I understand that. But I still consider Meghan a friend. Nothing that happened between us changed that. I’ll make certain Meghan gets the best of care.”
Durk heard footsteps in the hallway. “I’ve got to go now. The cops are here.”
He hung up the phone and walked into the outer office, leaving the murder weapon behind him on Meghan’s desk.
“Hands over your head and face the wall,” one of the cops demanded. All weapons were drawn and pointed straight at him.
For once in his life, Durk followed orders without as much as a blink.
Chapter Three
Bearing a family name well-known in Dallas’s social, business and philanthropic circles frequently offered significant perks and dismaying pitfalls. In this situation, it definitely worked to Durk’s advantage.
The cops were actually giving him a chance to explain the circumstances instead of just hauling him off in a squad car to be interrogated at the local precinct.
He detailed every move he’d made since he’d first spotted Meghan at the hospital, giving particular attention to his actions at the crime scene. But even though they listened to his account, he wasn’t sure they were convinced of his innocence.
“Check it out for yourselves,” Durk said. “Talk to the cops who answered the 911 call to Meghan Sinclair’s apartment. Talk to the E.R. staff at Grantland. They’ll tell you I was there to see my aunt when they brought Meghan in and that Dr. Levy specifically requested that I help them gather needed medical and insurance information.”
“And so you rushed to the office of a woman you admittedly hadn’t seen for two years?”
“I figured her assistant was the best source of the information they needed. Like I said, I remembered she didn’t have any family in the area.”
One of the cops scratched a craggy jaw that was sporting a five o’clock shadow. “Wouldn’t it have made more sense to call the assistant instead of rushing over here?”
“I did, but the line was busy. Besides, I figured this was the kind of news better delivered in person.”
“How long has Mr. Conroe worked for Ms. Sinclair?”
“At least two years,” Durk said. “Probably longer.”
“Did Meghan mention any problems between her and Ben?”
“No, they appeared to be very close, but like I said, I haven’t actually talked to Meghan in a couple of years.”
“Yet here you are,” one of the cops noted. “A busy executive like you, rushing in to help an ex-girlfriend.”
The sarcasm didn’t warrant a response.
“Were Meghan and Ben romantically involved?” another cop asked.
“Not to my knowledge.” At least they hadn’t been two years ago. “As far as I know they were just coworkers and friends,” he added, though he couldn’t imagine what relevance a relationship between them would have to the case. It wasn’t as if Meghan had shot him and then beat herself up.
But Meghan was going to take the news of Ben’s murder hard. And knowing her, she’d be out looking for the killer the second she was released from the hospital—if not before.
A middle-aged cop with salt-and-pepper hair, a nose that showed signs of being broken more than once and a spare tire that hid his belt had asked most of the questions. His was the only name Durk had caught in the noisy confusion that accompanied their arrival. Officer Jordon.
Durk addressed his next question to him. “Do I need to contact my attorney or are you going to release me to return to the hospital and check on Meghan Sinclair?”
“First off, I need to request a crime scene unit. Then I’ll make a few calls to verify your story. If everything checks out, you’re free to go—for the time being. However, I expect you’ll be contacted shortly by a detective. Are you staying in town for the Thanksgiving holiday?”
“Yes, I’ll either be at my home or at the hospital. And you can assure the detective I’ll be glad to help in any way I can. If he thinks a reward will help flush out the perpetrator, I’ll supply the funds.”
Durk waited while Officer Jordon made the calls, his mind struggling to make sense of the attack and murder. Had the killer come to the office first, killed Ben and then gone after Meghan?
Had he gone to both places looking for something in particular—like files on one of her cases? Had he found them, or had Bill Mackey frightened him away before he could fully search her condo?
Or was this someone Meghan had helped put away coming back to exact revenge?
At this point, those were all merely theories. Hopefully when Meghan was talking again, she’d be able to explain everything and identify the man who’d assaulted her and killed Ben.
Assuming they were one and the same.
Fortunately, the officer’s calls backed up everything Durk had told them. Once released, Durk made a quick exit before the CSU team arrived.
On his way to the car, he called the number the nurse named Jane had given him. As soon as he identified himself, she thanked him for having Lucy call them but still refused to release any information on Meghan.
He figured Pam might be more accommodating, but when he got her on the phone, all she could tell him was that his aunt was being admitted to the hospital for observation and further tests.
Which meant Durk would undoubtedly run into his mother before the night was over. She’d be a much tougher interrogator than the cops had been as to his involvement with Meghan.
One thing you could always count on as a Lambert: your secrets never stayed that way for long. Not that he had any reason to hide his past relationship with Meghan. They had been lovers for a while and then they weren’t.
The past was simple. The feelings churning inside him now were inextricably complicated.
Durk made a stop at his penthouse condo to take a quick shower and change from his bloody dress clothes into a pair of jeans, a blue pullover shirt and his boots.
He also took a couple of over-the-counter painkillers. What had started as a dull ache while he was still at the scene of the crime had burgeoned into a hammering throb at both temples.
By the time he made it back to the hospital, stars and a crescent moon were shining in the night sky. Not that they ever sparkled inside the Dallas city limits with the same brilliance as they did on the ranch.
It dawned on him as he parked that he’d never taken Meghan to the Bent Pine Ranch.
He climbed from behind the wheel and walked to the E.R. entrance, hoping to dodge interference and make his way back to the trauma unit on his own.
No such luck. Pam spotted him as he walked through the door. She waved from behind the glass partition and motioned him over to where she was talking to a patient.
“Give me a minute to finish here and I’ll be right with you,” she chirped. She looked back to her patient and handed the woman a clipboard. “Just fill this out while you’re waiting and sign the areas that are highlighted. Bring it back to the desk when you finish.”
As the woman walked