Darker Than Midnight (22 page)

He sighed, dragged his gaze away from Cassandra and went to the door, quietly lifting her keys from the little rack on which they hung. He took the car key off the ring and put the others back. Then he took one last look at her.

He wondered if she'd been mortally offended when he'd turned down her offer last night. And then he almost smiled, because he knew better. She knew he wanted her. She wouldn't take his rejection personally and she wouldn't become moody and petulant about it. Hell, she probably figured it was his loss, and that it was only a matter of time anyway.

Maybe she was right about that.

Sighing in real regret, he slipped out of the house, all without alerting Rex or waking Cassandra. He put the car in neutral and let it roll backward out of the driveway, before starting the engine and driving away. It was still dark outside. He worried a little about how she would get to work, but knew she'd just catch a ride with someone. She was resourceful enough to find a way to work and come up with a believable lie about why she needed one. She didn't need him worrying about her.

Now, an hour later, he stood outside the small brick building that housed Ethan Melrose's office. He'd been in private practice before landing the job as chief of psychiatry at the state hospital, thanks to his wife's connections. He'd kept his office open, though his private patients were few and far between. His practice was extremely exclusive. He treated the very wealthy who were lucky enough to travel in his social circle and who needed psychiatric help guaranteed to be discreet, not to mention expensive. And he'd treated his two best friends—Stephanie and River.

If he kept an appointment book or a diary, it would be there, in his private office, River thought. He'd parked the car a block away, and around a corner. He'd fed the meter a quarter he found in the cup holder. Then he walked. No point risking anyone seeing it. He didn't want Cassandra's car spotted near the scene of a crime.

He didn't have time to be subtle. And he didn't imagine he had the skills to break in without setting off any alarms even if he did. So he pulled out the gloves he'd found in Ben Jackson's box of castoffs, smashed the glass out of the window in the back door, reached in and unlocked it.

From there on he had to move fast. He headed through the reception area and into Ethan's office, straight to the desk. Its drawers were locked, but the locks were flimsy, and yanking
hard was all it took to drag them open. He made quick work of thumbing through them—was momentarily elated when he found a date book. Then he realized it was for this year. He needed the one from two years ago.

The telephone was ringing by then. Probably the police or Ethan's security company, calling to check whether whoever had opened the door had the right password or something.

He turned to the file cabinets, wrenching them open, flipping through the files. He thought if there were any with his name on them—or Stephanie's—he'd take them. But there were none.

Dammit, he wasn't leaving here without something!

He scanned the bookshelves, but saw nothing of any use to him. Then he returned to the desk, his eyes straining to see something useful on its surface.

Sirens sounded in the distance. Dammit, he had to move.

He snatched the Rolodex—he wasn't even sure why—and ran out of the place, out the back door, kitty-corner through the lot in back, and dived into Cassandra's car. He took off and was already around a corner onto a side street a block away by the time the police vehicles went screaming by.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he kept on driving. He was going to have to try Ethan's home. That was the only answer. But it was getting light outside now. He was going to have to wait until tonight, when darkness covered him again.

In the meantime, there were other things he could do.

He drove into the city, to the office of his attorney, pulled the car around to the back of the building next door. Which gave him a good view of the attorney's parking lot. Then he crouched down and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. He watched the car, a sleek black Lexus, pull into the lawyer's parking spot, and he stayed low, and dialed the man's mobile number on Jax's cell phone.

He watched Brown get out of the car and then stand still to answer his phone.

“Derrick Brown,” he said.

“Walk to the coffee shop across the street. Go to the takeout window and order yourself some coffee.”

He hung up before Brown could reply, then watched as the man gave a nervous glance around him and finally started across the lot, and then across the street.

River went across as well, stepping up behind him in line. He looked around. There was no one else there, but there was an unmarked police car parked in the office lot. It had been out of sight from his vantage point earlier. Good thing he'd been careful.

“Derrick,” he said. “Don't turn around, okay?”

The lawyer stopped in his tracks. He looked left and right from behind his round, wire-rimmed glasses, as if for assistance in case he should need it, but he didn't turn around. He was scared. If he'd had enough hair in that dark horseshoe pattern remaining on his head, River thought it would have stood on end. And no wonder, he told himself. He thinks I'm insane and a killer.

“I'm not here to hurt you. Hell, why would I want to hurt you? You're about the only guy who can help me.”

“And I intend to. I—I faxed the hospital last night. I'll have your records by day's end.”

River nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate it. That probably explains why the police are watching your office.”

“The police—”

“Don't turn around,” River reminded him.

The man calmed, faced front. A girl appeared at the window and he ordered coffee. When she went to get it, he said, “Michael, you should turn yourself in. It's dangerous, you being on the run like this. The police are hunting for you—you could get hurt.”

“If I go in right now, I'll be worse than hurt. I don't have a choice, Derrick. Besides, do I seem crazy to you?”

The attorney blinked, looking now at River through his re
flection in the window glass. “Frankly, no. But the last time I saw you in the hospital—”

“The last time you saw me in the hospital I was pumped so full of psychotropic drugs I barely knew my own name. I'm off them. They've had time to clear out of my bloodstream. That's the only difference. I've still got the same head injury I had before.”

Brown was frowning, searching his face.

“Don't you get it? It was the drugs. They were making me lose my mind.”

The lawyer blinked, then nodded slowly. “I didn't expect to be convinced, Corbett, but…you've got me wondering. What you told me on the phone about that orderly was true. He had a record, was using a false name—” He started to reach into his coat.

River grabbed his arm fast, and the man went still.

“Sorry,” River said. “I've been a cop a long time. What are you reaching for?”

Brown licked his lips. “Money. Cash. I took some out of your account on the way in this morning. I kind of expected you'd show up, or send someone.” He lowered his hands.

“Take it out and set it there on the counter. Be casual.”

Slowly, Brown removed an envelope full of cash from his pocket and set it on the counter where the cream and sugar were located.

River closed his eyes in relief. “Thank you.”

Brown nodded. “I'm going to have to tell the police I saw you this morning, if they ask,” he said.

“I know. It's okay, they're gonna know I was in town today anyway. And hell, it's only a matter of time before they look for me here. I should go.”

“Wait. There's one more thing.” The attorney started to reach into another pocket, then stopped, his hand hovering above it as his eyes sought permission in the window glass.

This was an outer pocket. There was no telltale bulge in the fabric of his coat. River nodded to tell him to go ahead, and he did, pulling out a key, setting it on the counter, as well.

“This is to a storage unit, out on the East Ridge Road. Hide-Away Storage. Your belongings, everything that was left in the house, it's all out there. Unit seven. I figured you might need some things.”

He nodded. “Do the police have to know you told me about this?”

He licked his lips. “No, I don't have to tell them…not unless you tell me you're going to be there. You're not, are you?”

“Of course not,” River said. Then he nodded. “Thank you, Brown. You're not going to regret this. I mean—even if it turns out I really did…what they say I did…that doesn't change the fact that someone tried to kill me in that hospital. Twice.”

“You still don't remember…what happened the night of the fire?” Brown asked.

“No. I'm beginning to wonder if I ever will.”

“I'll do everything I can for you, Corbett. You have my word on it.”

River nodded. He'd wondered whether Brown would be the kind of man he could trust. He'd barely known him before—Ethan had been the one who'd hooked him up with the lawyer. River hadn't been in any state then to take care of such things. Now that he'd talked with him, River thought Derrick Brown was all right—maybe even one of the good guys. “Go on, your coffee's ready.”

“Are you…going to be all right?” the lawyer asked.

“It doesn't matter,” River told him. “All that matters is finding out the truth. That's all I care about right now.”

Brown studied him in the window glass for a long moment, as he paid for his coffee and took his cup. Then he said, “I actually believe you. Take care, Corbett.” He turned and went back across the street.

River took the envelope and the key, then went back to Cassandra's car, got in and pulled away.

He passed a police cruiser coming from the other direction on the way out of town. Part of him wanted to go straight to the storage unit to go through his possessions. But another part of him wanted to get back to Blackberry—back to Cassandra. He hadn't known her long, but he thought he knew her well enough to guess she would keep that date with Ethan tonight unless he could come up with some solid reason why she shouldn't.

And as much as he feared
he
might be some kind of a threat to Cassandra, he was starting to wonder if Ethan might be, as well.

J
ax couldn't focus on work all morning. She couldn't believe she was worrying about a grown man—a cop, for heaven's sake—the way a nervous parent might worry about a child. But she was doing exactly that and it was out of character. She wasn't a caregiver. Wasn't a nurturer. She didn't want anyone depending on her and she didn't intend to ever depend on anyone else.

And besides, she knew damn well River could take care of himself. Even if he was still on the weak side. A little underweight. Probably running on very little sleep and a whole lot of tension.

She closed her eyes. It was almost lunch hour when the phone rang, and Rosie handed it to her as Jax passed the desk with her fifth or sixth cup of coffee.

Her mind hoped it was River. It wasn't.

“Hey, Jax. It's Beth. I'm taking you up on that promise to spend some time catching up. And guess who else is backing me up on this?”

She frowned and couldn't come up with an answer.

“Dawn, of course,” Beth chirped, before Jax could have replied. “She wondered if you wanted to slip away for lunch with her and me. She'd love to see you.”

“I don't know…I've got a lot going on, Beth.”

“I know you do. I'd kill to know what. Listen, we can
make it quick—maybe meet at the diner across from the station? Grab a sandwich and a coffee? Half hour, tops. And you'll be within shouting distance if Blackberry suddenly erupts in a major crime spree. Come on.”

From somewhere close to Beth, Dawn's voice called, “Pleeeease?”

Jax smiled. “Tell the kid I'm not buying the girlie voice.” She wasn't. Dawn was way older than her birth certificate claimed. She'd been through more than most women three times her age. “All right. I'll come.”

“Great. Ten minutes?”

“I'll be there.” Jax hung up the phone and smiled her thanks to Rosie. Then she went into the chief's office. “Hey, Frankie. I'm going to take lunch.”

“In a minute. Close the door.” Frankie looked up, frowning, her graying eyebrows bending together.

Jax closed the door and took a seat.

“You're a nervous wreck today. Any particular reason?”

“Nothing I want to talk about.”

“And your folks will confirm what you told me about your car, if I ask them?”

“If you ask them. Though I might resent you checking up on me like that.”

Frankie sighed. “I just had a call from Burlington PD. There was a break-in early this morning.”

“So why is that our problem?” Jax asked.

Frankie pursed her lips. “It was at the private office of Dr. Ethan Melrose.”

Jax brought her head up fast.

“Yeah, I thought that would get your attention.”

“Did they catch him?” Jax was almost breathless, until Frankie shook her head slowly.

“No. No witnesses. A little damage. They're not sure yet if anything was taken. The incident was confined to Mel
rose's office itself—desk was rifled, file cabinets broken into.” She drew a long, deep breath. “Any ideas?”

“Yeah, I have ideas—the same ideas you have, the same ones any halfway decent cop would have. Our fugitive is trying to find something in his shrink's office. Unless you've got reason to suspect someone else?”

“No. My question is, what's he using for transportation?”

“I don't know, Frankie. Maybe he sprouted wings and flew to Burlington.” She hoped biting sarcasm would cover her increasing discomfort. She did not like lying to another cop. It wasn't something she'd had much practice doing. “Why?” she asked after a moment. “Did anyone get a look at the car?”

Frankie let the question hang there for a long moment, her eyes probing, before she finally said, “No. No one saw anything.”

Jax barely kept herself from releasing a sigh.

“You were saying something about lunch?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, glad of the change in subject. Frankie could have pushed a lot harder than she had. She'd simply chosen not to, and Jax was grateful. “I'm meeting Beth and Dawn across the street.”

“Dawnie's back in town?” Frankie's eyes lit up, and it seemed she was finally distracted from the bone she'd been gnawing. “What about Bryan?”

“Yeah, they're both here. Thanksgiving break.”

“Well, go on. And you tell that girl to come by and see me while she's here. I want to hear all about college.”

“I will,” Jax said. “If you need me—”

She waved a hand. “I'll know where to find you. Take your time. Not much we can do here, anyway.”

Jax nodded and got to her feet. She grabbed her coat on the way out, and walked into the brilliant sunshine. It wasn't officially winter, at least not according to the calendar. But you couldn't tell it by looking around. The road was still bare, shiny and wet. The base coat of snow hadn't formed on its sur
face yet. It would be safer when it did; black ice was a killer this time of year. Still, there were salt pellets scattered around. No giant snowbanks along the sides, as there would be later in the season. Just a little slush, and it was rapidly melting. Bits of snow clung here and there, to rooftops, to trees, in the corners of some of the shop windows. But it was melting rapidly. It must be in the midforties, Jax thought, and would probably hit fifty before the afternoon was out.

She crossed the street and walked under the green-and-white-striped awning into Jeffrey's. The place was small, and included a long gray granite counter always stocked with the latest edition of the
Blackberry Gazette
for the customers to peruse. The booths lining the opposite wall were made of the same material, their seats padded in coffee-shop red vinyl. In between there were a handful of round wrought-iron tables with matching chairs, two apiece.

She chose a booth, slid into the side that faced the door, and ordered a glass of water to counteract the coffee she'd been slugging all morning.

Dawn and Beth came through the door before the water was even delivered to the table, and Dawn stared at her for a moment—no, not at her. Past her. So intently that Jax found herself looking over her shoulder to see who was standing there. But there was no one, and when she looked back again, Dawn jerked her gaze on target, smiled brightly and hurried across the room. Nineteen, and getting more beautiful all the time, Jax thought as she got up for a hug hello.

The kid had eyes that wouldn't quit. Deep blue and thickly fringed with dark lashes, despite her naturally butterscotch-blond hair that hung halfway down to her—

Dawn tugged off her knitted hat, and Jax gaped. “You cut your hair!”

“Yep. You like it?” Dawn finger combed the sleek locks, parted on the side and cut short.

“I love it. But God, you look like a grown-up now.”

“I am a grown-up now,” she said.

Beth smoothed Dawn's hair herself. “I love it, too,” she said. “But it does make me feel kind of old.” Dawn made a face at her, and Beth made one right back, then turned to Jax. “So how's your day going?”

“I thought small-town life would be quiet to the point of boredom. It's not proving true.”

“So there's some excitement going on. I thought as much. Can you talk about it, Jax?” Dawn asked.

She shook her head, but the look in Beth's eyes told her she, too, suspected something was up. No doubt Josh had filled her in on his late night mission on Jax's behalf. She was probably worrying. Unlike Jax, Beth
was
a nurturer.

“It's no big deal, really.”

Dawn frowned, looked troubled.

“What's wrong, Dawn?” Jax asked, not liking the dark look that came and went in her young friend's eyes.

“Nothing.” Dawn plastered her bright smile back in place as they all sat down, and turned to the waitress when she came to their booth. “Diet Coke and hot cocoa. And a house salad, dressing on the side.”

“Don't tell me you're worried about your weight,” Jax said. “You should pig out while you're still young enough to enjoy it.”

“I'm actively dodging the freshman ten,” Dawn said. “So far, so good. But I won't be dodging too hard tonight. Beth's making fried chicken for dinner.” She tipped her head to one side. “You should come.”

“I wish I could, but I made plans.”

“Really?” Beth leaned over the table. “Sounds juicy.”

The waitress cleared her throat, and Beth looked up. “Oh, sorry. Uh—I'll have a burger. No fries or potato chips or anything on the side. And a hot cocoa sounds great.”

Jax rolled her eyes. “God, not you, too?” Then she looked at the waitress. “Make it three hot cocoas. I'll have a turkey sandwich with provolone. Extra mayo. And you don't need to hold my potato chips. In fact, I'll eat hers, too.”

“Rebel,” Beth accused as the waitress hurried away. “So tell me about these other plans. What's up?”

“Nothing big. I'm having dinner with your guest. Ethan Melrose.”

Dawn jerked so suddenly that her hand hit Jax's water glass and tipped it over. The water spilled, ice cubes sliding everywhere. They all jumped to their feet at once, grabbed their napkins and started wiping.

“God, I'm such a klutz sometimes,” Dawn said.

Jax stopped wiping and looked at the girl's face. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yeah. I don't know what that was. A twitch.” She grinned. “Maybe it's something new. The freshman twitch.”

The waitress came with a towel and finished cleaning up the water. They sat back down. Beth said, “So you're dating the doctor, huh?”

“Hardly. It's business.”

“That patient of his who escaped from the mental hospital?” Beth asked.

Dawn gaped at her. “You didn't tell me we had a mental patient on the loose. Is he in town?”

“Who knows?” Beth asked. “I heard he burned his house down with his wife inside. Killed her, and she was pregnant at the time.”

Dawn went so utterly white that Jax thought the girl was going to pass out cold.

“Dawn?” Jax asked.

“It was
your
house, wasn't it? The one where you're staying.” The way she said it, it wasn't really a question.

“Yeah,” Jax told her. “How did you know?”

“I…don't know.” She made a visible effort to compose herself, gave her head a shake. “It's just so sad, is all.” Dawn averted her eyes as if the subject were closed, and turned her attention to the jukebox mounted to the booth's wall.

Beth focused on Jax again, but she was sending worried looks Dawn's way every few seconds. “I don't know about your plans with the doc, though, Jax. He got a call this morning and said he had to head back to Burlington. Said he didn't know for sure if he'd be back tonight.” She lifted a brow. “You know what that was about?”

“Yeah, there was a break-in at his office. No big deal.”

“Well, if he cancels your dinner, the invitation is open,” Beth said.

The waitress brought their food, and the conversation turned to more comfortable topics. Dawn talked about her classes, her dorm room, her teachers. But she seemed to be forcing it, and Jax got the feeling her mind was on something else. Something to do with the dead woman in Beth's story. And she didn't mention Bryan the entire time.

Jax wondered how things were between them. They'd been getting pretty close last she knew—so much so they'd decided to attend the same college this fall. Jax had thought they were too young to be getting serious, but she had no idea just how far things had gone. Or whether they were still going.

She'd have to ask Beth about it when they were alone. Jax was certain something was bothering Dawn, but she wasn't sure if it was Bryan, or something else.

Then she rolled her eyes. The girl had two mothers watching over her. She didn't need a third. And Jax had enough to worry about without adding imaginary problems to the mix.

She was worried about River. Much as she hated to admit it, she was.

When lunch was over she waved goodbye to Dawn and
Beth, headed back to the department and told Frankie she'd like to go home for the afternoon, if that was all right.

The older woman looked at her oddly, but didn't ask any questions. She just nodded, and quipped, “You're not on the payroll yet, Jax. You can pretty well come and go as you please.”

Jax nodded, told Frankie to call if she needed her, and asked Bill to give her a lift home.

When she got there, her car was sitting in the driveway, and she almost went limp in relief. She thanked Bill and went to the door, waited for him to leave before she walked in.

River was there, standing near a window in the living room, his body hidden by a curtain. She was certain he'd watched her get out of the car, ready to duck out of sight if Bill decided to come in with her.