Death's Door (31 page)

He gently placed her on the bed and pulled the dress, now half-off, down over her hips. All she wore beneath was a lacy black thong. He left it in place and climbed over her, putting one knee on either side of her body.

She reached up and put her arm around his neck, bringing his head down to hers for a kiss. He allowed her to kiss him, but pulled away. He kissed her neck, tasting and sucking a little as he inched downward to the swell of her breasts with soft seeking kisses. He laved each nipple while he caressed the surrounding flesh with his fingers, stroking lightly.

Her hips lifted off the bed, anxious to press against him, but he was kneeling over her and busy with her breasts. His hand glided over her mound, dipped lower. He teased the nubbin with one finger until she was whimpering with pleasure.

“No fair,” she managed to whisper. “You’re still in your clothes.”

“We’ll fix that.”

He pulled away, stood and quickly shucked his polo shirt and pulled off his pants and briefs at the same time. He hopped on one foot to get rid of first one sock, then the other. Aspen nosed the pile of clothes and Madison couldn’t help giggling. A lab dog had probably never seen the likes of what had been going on in this room lately.

She gazed up at Paul. Lordy, he was the epitome of masculinity. Broad shoulders and a whorl of dark chest hair that
arrowed downward to a thicket of dark hair. His erect penis jutted toward her. Huge.

His smoldering gaze was as close to a caress as you could get without touching. Her heart beat lawlessly. She wanted him—now.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” she managed to ask in a breathy voice she didn’t recognize.

He reached down to his trousers and pulled something from a pocket. “I have condoms.”

They’d agreed after the first night, when they’d been too gripped by lust to think about consequences, to use condoms until Madison saw a doctor and went back on the pill. He ripped open the foil wrapper and pulled out the condom. With mounting anticipation, she watched him quickly work it over his erection.

Paul climbed back onto the bed with a hint of mischief in his smile. He started with her breasts again. Kissing. Tasting. Drawing each nipple deep into his mouth, so deep she felt it in her womb. The quivery heat was almost unbearable now.

“Hurry, hurry,” she cried.

He didn’t pay any attention to her. A half inch at a time, he worked his way downward. The rasp of his emerging beard was erotic against her soft skin, arousing her more than she’d thought possible. By the time he reached her navel, Madison realized she was on the verge of a climax. And he wasn’t even inside her yet.

She steeled herself, clutching the bedcovers with both hands. He worked his way lower and lower until he reached her mound. His tongue found the aching nub and stroked it, played with it until something inside Madison cracked. Her orgasm shot through her like a jolt of lightning.

“Yes! Yes!” she screamed.

He hovered over her, a satisfied smile on his face. She reached up for him and he lowered himself into her arms and
turned her on her side. She clung to him, experiencing an emotion that was intangible and frighteningly elusive. It was almost like a mystical experience of some kind.

“I think
wow
covers this,” he whispered.

How had she gotten so lucky? Madison asked herself. A great lover with a sense of humor. “
Wow
works for me.”

P
AUL WAITED
inside one of the examining rooms for Rob Matthews. He’d flashed his badge and told the receptionist it was “official business.” Actually, it was more of a hunch than anything else. He wasn’t supposed to be interviewing anyone, but this morning he’d gotten up—two hours after falling asleep just before dawn—and had sent the report on his interview with Wyatt Holbrook to Captain Callahan, Burgess and Williams.

Madison had still been asleep; making love so many times had wiped her out. He’d taken Aspen for a walk and fed him. While he was taking care of the dog, he decided to investigate as much of this case on his own as he could. He didn’t trust anyone else to save Madison.

Save her from what? Paul wished he knew. This whole mess was so perplexing. Nothing seemed to fit together in any way he could see. Yet he felt there was a connection. And it involved Wyatt Holbrook and Madison.

“Hello, Mr. Tanner.” Robert Matthews strode into the room. He looked for a pet. Evidently, the receptionist hadn’t alerted the vet. “Where’s your—”

“I’m here about Erin Wycoff.” Paul flashed his badge and studied the man. Tall, dark hair and eyes. Women would probably find him attractive, and he couldn’t fault the guy for being interested in Madison. She was a keeper; he wasn’t letting anything happen to her.

“I’ve already been interviewed,” Rob protested.

“This is follow-up,” Paul said. “Explain to me why exactly you broke off your relationship with Erin.”

Rob leaned back against the counter where he would have taken out dressings or medications to treat animals. He appeared to be totally relaxed. Too relaxed, Paul decided.

“Erin was involved in projects the Everglades Animal Defense League endorsed. Sometimes it included breaking and entering. I couldn’t risk having my license revoked. It would have been the end of my career. I explained this to Erin, but she wouldn’t give up the league.”

“When did you tell her the relationship was over?”

Rob shrugged. “Last year. Early spring.”

“Were there other reasons?”

Rob remained silent for a long moment. “Well, I was more attracted to a friend of Erin’s than I was to Erin.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t in love with her.”

“What friend?” Paul persisted.

Again Rob hesitated, then finally said, “Madison Connelly. She was getting a divorce. I thought the timing was right, but I was mistaken. She was still in love with her husband even though he dumped her for another woman.”

“Where were you on the night Erin died?” Paul asked. He knew the answer from the murder notebook, but he wanted to hear what Matthews would say.

“I received a call from Erin at my home about one o’clock.”

“Wasn’t that unusual? So late.”

Matthews paused half a beat before answering, “Not really. Erin was a night owl and so am I. I take the late shift at the clinic most of the time.”

“What did Erin want?”

“She claimed to have found a dog with eye problems. I told her to bring it in at noon the next day.”

“Why?”

“I knew Erin’s history. I figured she’d ‘liberated’ some dog. If I treated it during the lunch break, it wouldn’t appear on our books. I could do a good deed but remain in the clear.”

Made sense, Paul decided, but something was missing. “Are you sure that’s all that happened?”

“What? I didn’t kill Erin.” Rob walked backward toward the door. “Do I need a lawyer?”

“No.” Paul opened the door for him. “Thanks for your help.” He didn’t need any trouble. Paul shouldn’t even be here. If the captain found out, Paul could get busted down to street patrol in Calle Ocho, the worst of assignments.

T
WO HOURS LATER
Paul was at Trey Williams’s side as they walked into the condo Greta Swensen had leased. “Any priors on Swensen?” Paul asked.

“Nothing. She’s clean. For the last eleven years Greta has worked at a dental lab, making implants.”

It was a long drop down, Paul thought. Greta had once been in the research department at Holbrook Pharmaceuticals. She had been working on a bone implant that might help patients with spine abnormalities. Holbrook had rushed the technology to market and it had been a success.

Trey rang the condo’s bell. A few minutes later a woman with dark hair and challenging dark eyes opened the door. “What are you selling?”

Trey showed his badge. “Official business, ma’am.”

“About what?” Greta asked. She was younger than Paul expected, probably about forty. She was short, with the trim, athletic build Paul associated with competitive swimmers.

“Wyatt Holbrook,” Trey said, and the woman stepped back quickly as if she’d been zapped with a stun gun.

“What about him?” she asked in a low voice.

Trey flipped open a small notebook from his suit pocket. There wasn’t anything written on the pages but Greta couldn’t
see that. “You had a dispute with Holbrook Pharmaceuticals regarding implant material.”

“That’s right. That bastard stole my idea.” Greta motioned for them to come inside her condo. Thank God; it was sweltering outside. “I was just a kid. What did I know about big business? Wyatt took my idea and had it on the market within the year.”

“Doesn’t sound fair,” Paul commented. “Did he credit you or give you money?”

“Are you kidding?” Greta motioned toward a worn beige sofa, meaning they should sit. Paul and Trey dropped to the sagging cushions.

“You didn’t get any compensation at all?” Paul asked.

“No. My position was eliminated, but I knew the truth. Wyatt wanted me out of the way.” Greta plopped down onto a chair opposite them. “I’ve never quite recovered.”

“Are you still angry with Wyatt Holbrook?” Trey asked.

“Of course, wouldn’t you be?”

Half an hour later they were back in Trey’s car, driving away from the complex where Greta lived.

“You don’t like her for this one,” Trey said.

“No. Greta’s bitter and she’d cheer if Wyatt keeled over, but I don’t sense the depth of anger it would take to kill innocent people.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong. Check Greta’s credit card records. See if she was in Boston recently. I could be too close to this one to call it properly.”

“You’re involved with the Connelly woman,” Trey speculated.

“Are you kidding? Involved with a suspect?” He checked his cell phone. It was vibrating. “I’ve got a return call from someone I know who used to be in the FBI’s profiling unit. I faxed her all the pictures I had of Erin Wycoff’s murder scene. Let’s see if she has anything for us.” He punched in his code, then returned the call. He spoke with the field agent for several minutes, then hung up.

“Well, what’s the haps?” Trey asked.

“From the crime scene photos they peg this as a level ten. That’s on a one-to-twenty-two scale formulated by a forensic psychiatrist at Columbia University. Level ten is an egocentric killer of persons in his way.”

“Shit! That’s just how you saw this, right?”

“Absolutely. I just don’t know who stands to benefit from Wyatt Holbrook’s death. Not his children. Then who? We’ve got to cast a wider net.” Paul told Trey about the way Wyatt had run off with his son’s idea for surgical glue. “It’s a pattern of behavior.”

“We need to keep checking other people Holbrook pissed off,” Williams said. “It’s our best bet.”

M
ADISON ANSWERED
the knock on the bungalow’s door, Aspen at her side. Before she unlocked the door, she saw that it was Garrison Holbrook. No doubt the security guard had noted his appearance on the property. No one except Madison, Paul and Mike Tanner knew they suspected the killer had targeted Madison.

“Hey,” Garrison said with a smile. “I heard you were working at home today.”

“Right.” She managed a smile. Paul had insisted she remain in the bungalow while he interviewed suspects. She’d agreed because she didn’t want to be around Chloe more than necessary.

“Is it okay if I interrupt for a few minutes?”

“Sure.” She opened the door wider and Aspen poked his head out. “Come in. Want coffee? I just made a pot.”

“Great,” Garrison said as he sidestepped the retriever and followed Madison into the small alcove that served as a kitchen.

Madison poured him a mug of coffee, which he took black. She tossed a small dog treat to Aspen, who was standing at attention near her.

“I hear my father got a little out of hand last night,” Garrison said after the first sip of coffee.

Madison wasn’t sure what to say. “I think Savannah expected more of a celebration. They’re getting married. It’s an important event.”

“True. If my mother were alive, it would be a memorable occasion. The society pages would be full of it. An engagement bash. Showers. Bridal luncheons.” Garrison took another sip of coffee, leaned against the counter, then said, “My father is a different person. He’s…” Garrison seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Doesn’t he want grandchildren? That seemed to be what Savannah was offering.”

“I guess.” Garrison shrugged. “My sister has spent her whole life trying to please my father. Where has it gotten her? Nowhere.”

“How do you feel about your father?” Madison asked. “Didn’t he steal your idea for surgical glue?”

“Heard about that, did you? I wasn’t upset. My father didn’t steal anything from me. The product was already in trial stages with several scientists. Dad took it to market and made a fortune. At least four other scientists would have brought the glue to market before I did. It was an experience. I learned to keep quiet about discoveries.”

“Savannah said you were working on a cure for a certain type of lung cancer.”

“What a blabbermouth.” Garrison poured the remains of his coffee into the sink. “I am working on a project that will take science to a new level. As you can probably guess, it’s all about using elements in the ocean to help us.”

“Good,” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I just wanted to tell you that my father is a great guy. He was upset last night and lost it because Savannah was acting like my mother.”

“Meaning what?”

“Mother was an alcoholic. She turned out for every fund-raiser imaginable and society events. But she wasn’t too interested in parenting. My childhood was a parade of nannies and a father who worked nonstop. Savannah was my mother’s favorite because she was a girl. Beautiful and smart. I was a big zero until I got to college.”

Madison remembered her father and mother with a fondness she hadn’t recognized until now. They both had loved her in a way that the Holbrooks hadn’t loved their own children. It must have been terrible to be on their own during those formative years, she decided. She’d always been loved. Where was her mother now? Why hadn’t Madison heard from her?

“What about Savannah?”

“She’s smart and forward-thinking. She’s exploring new methods for all kinds of skin-care products. She’s been very successful.” Garrison was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with concern. “My father let Savannah have it last night because he’s worried she’ll turn out like Mother. Heredity is a huge factor in alcoholism. He’s just trying to protect the baby.”

“I see,” Madison said, but she didn’t. Her father would have taken her aside and discussed the situation in private. He would never have embarrassed her in front of other people.

“You’re working from here today?” Garrison asked, looking at her laptop and papers on the kitchen table.

“Yes. I review questions that go up on the Web site. Right now I’m looking at where tipping is an insult.”

“Really? Leaving a tip is an insult? Where?”

“Iceland. But I’m wondering if my programmers looked closely at South America and the Pacific islands, including Christmas Island. It might be insulting somewhere else, as well. That’s when we get into trouble.”

“Interesting,” he said, but he didn’t sound too enthusiastic.
“I understand your test results were misinterpreted. What made you get another test? I mean, I’m glad you did, but many people wouldn’t have bothered.”

“It was Paul’s idea. Chagas is an unusual disease. Mike Tanner runs drug tests all the time for companies he represents. It was just a matter of a simple retest.”

“Then you’re ready for the next set of tests. That’s great.” Garrison gazed across the room, lost in thought for a moment. “I’m praying you can help my father.”

Madison didn’t want to say anything discouraging when the Holbrooks had been great about helping her. “How is Dr. Miller’s son?”

“The kid pulled through. Dr. Miller will be back at the end of the week.”

“That’s great. He seems like a nice man. It would be terrible to lose your child.”

“Right. It’ll also be a huge loss if we can’t save my father. A huge loss.” Garrison ran his fingers though his hair. “He may have been abrupt with Savannah, but he’s a great guy. He’s helped a lot of people.”

“Do you think he has any enemies?”

“Probably. He’s made a fortune. He’s bound to have stepped on a few people to get where he is.”

Madison wanted to ask more, but she didn’t want to arouse Garrison’s suspicions.
Let Paul handle this,
she told herself.