Lisa Jackson - Born To Die

All an illusion, she reminded herself.

“Judd’s here today,” he was saying. “And Robert, right?”

“I’m not sure,” Clarissa demurred. “I just got back from meeting with the accountants, but Robert was in the lab this morning…. Both Cameron and Colt are out. Cam was in Spokane, in a meeting with a distributor there, and Colt. .” She glanced at her watch. “He should have landed by now. He was in Seattle earlier, talking to the head of cardiology at the medical school.”

Kacey’s heart nearly stopped when she thought of the city where she’d been attacked and the hospital where she’d learned her practice, the place where JC held a position in the cardiology department. How ironic that the man who had spawned her had been a heart surgeon as well.

Just a coincidence, right? Seattle was a big city.

Still, a ripple of unease swept through her.

Clarissa never missed a beat. “As for Thane, who knows?” She glanced out the window and added, “Who ever knows?”

“Tell everyone you can to meet in the boardroom. Leave a message for Colt on his cell, tell him to get here when he lands, and see if Cam can link up through Skype.”

“And Thane?”

“Call him, too. See if he can make it or Skype in.”

“Thane doesn’t Skype,” Clarissa reminded, and Kacey had the distinct impression that this brother, third in the birth order and the second-born legitimate son, didn’t play by the old man’s rules. The rogue or black sheep. Except he hadn’t strayed too far away from the old man’s company. “What about Mom?”

“Let’s keep her out of this for now.” Gerald thought for a second, then said, “Let me handle her my way.”

“Good idea,” Clarissa said sarcastically. “It’s always worked so well before. If Lance ever did to me what you’ve done to Mom, I wouldn’t be satisfied by publicly humiliating him on Jerry Springer or Montel or some other let-all-your-dirty-laundry-hang-out TV show. I’d have to eviscerate him. Maybe with a butter knife.”

“Compassion has never been your strong suit,” her father said dryly.

Clarissa lifted a shoulder. “It’s just how I feel, and since someone stole my gun this week, I guess I’ll have to stick with disemboweling. Would a spoon be better?”

“Stop it,” her father warned.

“I’m just saying I don’t let anyone walk all over me, and neither do you. If Mom would have cheated on you or had a gaggle of bastards, you would never have stood for it.”

“Your mother would never!”

“You’re right. She wouldn’t. She’s at least got a modicum of class.” To Kacey, Clarissa added, “Congratulations. It takes a lot to stir up this particular hornet’s nest, and it looks like you’ve done that and more.” She marched out of the room as fiercely as a mother bear whose cubs had just been threatened.

Gerald gave a last cursory glance at the photographs of the dead women. “Clarissa’s right, you know. I’m afraid you’ve started something you’re going to regret.”

Kacey wasn’t going to let anyone deter her, not when she’d come this far. “I’m not afraid at all.” But that was a lie, and they both knew it.

Gerald Johnson and Clarissa seemed to half forget Kacey was there as they began planning the family meeting. “Excuse me,” Kacey said, sweeping up her coat.

“The boardroom is straight down the north hall. We’re convening now, ” Clarissa warned her.

“I’m not leaving,” Kacey said. Yet. “I just need to make a phone call.”

They both gave her a hard look as she left the room. And she thought she was paranoid. Maybe she came by it naturally!

She walked in the direction of the boardroom, tried the doors, realized they were locked, so she punched in the number for the sheriff’s department, which she’d added onto her cell phone list.

“Detective Alvarez, please,” she said when the call was answered by the front desk. “I’m Dr. Lambert, returning an earlier call.”

She was put through immediately, and Detective Alvarez answered, “Alvarez.”

“This is Kacey Lambert. I know you’ve talked to Trace O’Halleran, who found the microphones.”

“Yes. We would like to come and see for ourselves. This afternoon?”

“Late afternoon?” Kacey asked. “I’m at an out-of-town appointment that may take a little more time. But I would really like to have those microphones out.”

“Call us when you’re on your way home.”

“Thank you,” she said, meaning it.

Next, she phoned Trace, who answered as if he’d had his ear to the phone.

“Kacey,” he said, and just the way he said her name flooded her with good feelings.

“Hey, there. I’m meeting the police at my house later today, and they’re going to take out the microphones, I guess. Look at them, anyway. I want them out.”

“Good. Are you at work?”

“I’m not at the clinic. I’m at an appointment,” she said, not wanting to go into the whole thing with him just yet. She didn’t know how she felt about anything to do with the Johnsons. “I told the police I’d call them when I was on my way home.”

“Call me, too.”

“You got it.”

“Kacey. .”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful,” he said, clearly reading more between the lines than she’d thought she’d revealed.

“I’ll see you this evening,” she said, then put back her phone in its slot inside her purse and watched with a certain amount of trepidation as Gerald and Clarissa came out of his office and strode down the hall toward her.

“Go check on your kids,” Alvarez told Pescoli. “There’s nothing happening here till we meet at Dr. Lambert’s.”

“I’m going home to shoo Chris out of the house, if he’s there, but I’ll be right back.”

Alvarez waved her off. They were in a waiting game. Waiting for the lab results. Waiting for someone to call back. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

She sat down at her desk, and her gaze flew over the notes she’d made, bits and pieces of information burned on her brain that needed some kind of connection. The missing link that would make sense of it all. Flipping through the pages of thoughts, ideas, and doodles, and then the files filled with reports, she decided there was nothing to do but what she’d already done: make phone calls. Push. Hope somebody somewhere was willing to exchange information.

She saw the number for Elle Alexander’s parents in Boise. She’d called it twice already and left messages, but no one had phoned back. They were grieving. She understood. Maybe they felt the authorities speaking with Elle’s husband, Tom, should have sufficed. Lots of people abhorred police intruding in their affairs, even when it was a necessary evil.

Placing the call, she readied herself for what she was going to say. After a number of rings, she knew she was facing voice mail again; then there was a click, and a woman’s voice said cautiously, “Hello?”

“Mrs. Morris?” Alvarez said, glancing down at her notes. Elle’s parents were Brenda and Keane Morris, both retired. He was a pilot, and she was a grade school teacher.

“I can tell you’re calling from Montana. Caller ID says you’re with the Pinewood County Sheriff’s Department. You’ve called before. This is about Elle, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am. We are investigating your daughter’s death.”

“You don’t think it was just a terrible accident?” Her voice grew very small.

“We don’t know. We just want to be sure.”

She started crying softly, and Alvarez’s heart went out to her. This was the hardest part of the job.

“Can I ask you a few questions?”