The Bodyguard (4 page)

The doctor waved to the bruises on her wrists.

For once, the detective wasn’t smiling. He hadn’t seen the bruises earlier, as Luke had. The sight of them now had his mouth pressing into a hard, thin line.

“I won’t disturb her to show you the other bruises,” the doctor said, keeping his voice low. “But I can tell you, there are plenty of them, across her abdomen, her back, her side, in places typically covered by clothing. Unless she was in several violent car wrecks recently, there’s only one obvious explanation. Someone beat her, viciously, repeatedly, over a period of several days, based on the coloration of the bruises. But that’s not half the story.”

He crossed the small space to a computer monitor on a rolling cart. After typing a few commands, he turned the screen around to reveal an X-ray.

“This,” he said, pointing to the screen, “is a healed hairline fracture on her right forearm. It was probably broken a few years ago.” He punched another button to reveal a new picture. “And this is another fracture, on her other forearm. Again, it’s healed, a relatively old injury, probably within the past eight or nine months.” He turned the monitor back around. “I could show you more scans, but they all show the same thing—a history of injuries. None of them were compound fractures, meaning they weren’t bad enough breaks to cause lasting damage or require setting. Which is probably why whoever did this to her was never forced to take her to a hospital. But those injuries should have been stabilized with a cast to aid in healing and to reduce her pain.”

Luke flinched and looked down at the bed. How could someone do that to another person? Especially a woman. And especially a woman as small and delicate as this one.

“How do you know no one took her to a hospital?” Cornell asked.

“Because as soon as I saw the scans, I had my assistant call the Ashton house and talk to the staff. None of them were aware of any trips to the hospital and never saw her in a cast. We also verified that none of the hospitals in Savannah ever listed Mrs. Ashton as a patient. Either she wasn’t treated for these injuries at all, or she was treated out of town, or possibly seen in a private office by a doctor who didn’t know her history of other injuries. If a doctor only saw her once, for one fracture, he might not have had any reason to suspect domestic violence. But this last time, her abuser went too far, ruptured her spleen, nearly killed her. But that’s still not the worst of it.”

Luke’s head whipped up. “What could possibly be worse?”

“Mrs. Ashton is septic. She’s on IV antibiotics and will be moved from Recovery to Intensive Care soon.”

“Why is she septic?” Luke asked.

“Because she was recently pregnant. I suspect she lost the baby during a beating, and she never had medical treatment. I performed a D & C to scrape out her uterus. If she’s lucky, she’ll respond to the antibiotics.”

“And if she isn’t lucky?” Cornell asked, his notebook out again.

“She could die.”

A nurse came into the room and whispered something to the doctor.

“I have to check on another patient, gentlemen,” the doctor said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

After the doctor left, Cornell flipped his notebook closed.

“I’m keeping Mrs. Ashton at the top of my persons-of-interest list.”

Luke stared at him incredulously. “After what the doctor just said? You’d pursue her as a suspect?”

“Regardless of what her husband did to her, she didn’t have the right to kill him. She should have reported the abuse.”

“It’s not that easy and you know it. I’ve seen enough domestic-violence cases to know people feel trapped, with nowhere to turn. Or they kid themselves into thinking the abuser is sorry, that he’ll change his ways. Or worse, they blame themselves. Getting out isn’t as easy as you would think from the outside looking in.”

“Regardless, she’s a billionaire’s wife,” Cornell said. “She wasn’t exactly hurting for money. She could have left him. She
did
leave him. She wasn’t trapped.”

Luke ground his teeth together and reached for Caroline’s hand. Her skin was burning up, pale, almost translucent. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain she’d suffered. Did she even know she was pregnant? Did she know she’d lost a baby?

“In the waiting room,” Luke said, “you agreed she couldn’t have killed him.”

Cornell’s gaze flicked to where Luke held Caroline’s hand. “I agreed she couldn’t have shot him. But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t know who did. Her husband was a billionaire. That gives me a billion reasons she might be involved in his death somehow. And the evidence the doctor just showed us is pretty convincing. What better motive to kill her husband than because he’d abused her and caused her to miscarry?”

His argument was sound. But Caroline had come to Luke asking for his help, and here she was in a hospital bed fighting for her life. She needed someone else to fight for her now. Since no one else was volunteering for the job, that someone might as well be him.

“Do you even know if she’ll inherit?” he asked. “If not, that blows your billion-reason theory away.”

“Not yet. I called the husband’s law firm. His lawyer is going to send me a copy of the will.” The detective looked at Luke’s hand on Caroline’s again. “Tell me, Mr. Dawson. With her resources, how hard do you think it would be for Mrs. Ashton to hire someone to kill her husband?”

Luke wanted to deny the possibility but couldn’t. What Cornell said made sense. If Caroline had finally decided enough was enough, she had all the resources to make it happen.

Chapter Four

Luke shifted in his chair, bracing his forearms on his knees as he watched the doctor and nurses on the other side of Caroline’s hospital room. She’d responded well to the antibiotics and was already out of the Intensive Care Unit. Now the doctor was lightening her sedation to bring her out of her deep, healing sleep. For the first time since the discovery of Richard Ashton’s body, Luke was going to be able to talk to Caroline. He looked forward to seeing her open her eyes, but he also dreaded the pain she might suffer if she hadn’t known about the baby.

All but one of the nurses left the room. The remaining nurse sat in a chair beside the bed. The doctor spoke to her in low tones before approaching Luke.

“It won’t be long now,” he said. “Nurse Kennery will stay and monitor Mrs. Ashton until she wakes up, but I don’t expect any problems.”

Luke rose and shook his hand. “Thank you, Doctor.”

He nodded and left the room.

Luke started toward the bed to check on Caroline, when the door opened again.

A rail-thin woman in a coal-black suit jacket and skirt hurried inside, her high heels clicking against the hard floor. She stopped when she saw Luke, her brows rising.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

He positioned himself between her and the bed. “Who are
you?
” he countered.

If anything, her brows arched even higher. “Leslie Harrison, Mrs. Ashton’s attorney and friend. I know you aren’t family, so again, who are you and what are you doing in her room?”

“I’m a friend,” he said, not seeing any reason to tell her otherwise.

She snorted. “Caroline doesn’t have any friends.”

“I thought you were her friend.”

Her lips compressed.

“Interesting friend,” he continued. “She’s been in the hospital for several days and this is the first time I’ve seen you here.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but a moan from the bed stopped her.

The nurse rose from her chair to check on the patient.

Caroline’s face tightened as if she was in pain, but her eyes remained closed.

Deciding the game of one-upmanship wasn’t worth playing, Luke introduced himself. “I’m Luke Dawson. Mrs. Ashton hired me as her bodyguard. I was with her when we discovered her husband’s body.”

A look of surprise flashed across the lawyer’s face. “She hired a bodyguard?”

“Yes. Apparently, she realized she was in danger. But apparently...you didn’t? Did you know about the abuse?”

The only change in her expression was a subtle tightening of the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes.

She did know.

“How long?” he demanded.

“How long what?”

“How long did you know she was being beaten by her husband? And why didn’t you report him to the police?”

“None of this is any of your business,” she snapped. “Get out, Mr. Dawson. I’m the closest thing in this town to family that Caroline has, and I assure you if I have to call Security, they’ll take my side—someone who has known her for years—over the side of a man she hired a few days ago. I’m her attorney and the executor of the late Mr. Ashton’s estate. I have every right to be here. You have none. I repeat, get out.”

The nurse looked back and forth between them. Behind her, Caroline’s brow furrowed again, and her lips whitened. She was obviously in pain. The tug-of-war between Luke and the lawyer was distracting the nurse from taking care of her.

“All right,” Luke said. “I’ll go. For now. Just make sure that when you speak to Mrs. Ashton you warn her not to talk to the police without a criminal attorney present—not a civil attorney like yourself. The police are investigating her as a suspect and could misconstrue anything she says.”

“I assure you, I don’t need your advice about how to take care of my client.” Leslie swept past him to the nurse and peppered her with questions.

Luke reluctantly left the room. He might have lost this battle, but he wasn’t leaving Caroline alone for long. He’d never met Leslie Harrison before, but he didn’t get good vibes from her. And her lack of concern for her alleged friend showed in the fact that she hadn’t visited or called since Caroline had been brought into the emergency room. She didn’t strike him as the kind of friend Caroline needed right now.

He took the elevator to the first floor and went outside to use his cell phone. The man he needed to talk to wasn’t someone he spoke to very often. In fact, it had been years since the last time their paths had crossed, so he had to call a few friends to ferret out the unlisted number. Finally, he programmed it into his phone and pressed the call button.

The phone rang twice. Then, “Alex Buchanan.”

“Alex, this is Luke Dawson.”

“Luke.” His voice mirrored his surprise. “Tell me you’re not calling me to bail one of your clients out of jail again. I hung my hat up on that kind of work years ago.”

“Not this time. I’m at Memorial University Medical Center visiting a friend. Are you still a practicing attorney, or are you retired?”

“I keep my license active, but I only take cases for family or friends.”

“How about friends
of
friends?”

“Depends on who they are and what kind of trouble they’re in. Who’s your friend?”

“Caroline Ashton.”

The phone went silent.

“Alex? You still there?”

“I’m here.”

“Well? Will you help or not?”

A deep sigh sounded through the phone. “Bring me up to speed while I dust off a suit.”

* * *

T
HE
NURSE
HELPED
Caroline hobble from the bathroom to the bed. The pain in Caroline’s belly was much better than before, so she wasn’t about to complain at the sharp jolt that shot through her when the nurse helped her swing her feet up onto the bed. She drew several shallow breaths until the twinge passed, then collapsed against the pillows.

“Are you sure you’re ready for your friend to come back inside?” the nurse asked, patting Caroline’s hand and looking at her with concern. “The doctor’s visit really seemed to wear you out. If you want to rest a bit, I can make sure no one bothers you.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m okay. Please tell Leslie she can come back in now.”

“Very well. She’s in the waiting room. I’ll tell her. But if she overtires you, or if the pain gets worse, press the call button.”

“I will. Thank you.”

The nurse left. A few minutes later the
tap-tap
of Leslie’s heels sounded outside the room. The door opened and she burst inside, with three men following her.

Caroline clutched the sheets as Leslie and a stranger she’d never met moved to her left side, while the remaining two men—Daniel and Grant, her husband’s brothers—caged her in on the other side of the bed.

“Leslie, I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why are Daniel and Grant here?”

“Our brother is dead,” Grant sneered. “We have a right to find out what happened.”

Leslie’s lip curled with distaste. “Unfortunately, they were in the waiting room, demanding to see you. When Detective Cornell and I headed here, they followed like lapdogs.”

Grant looked as if he wanted to leap across the bed and take a swing at Leslie. Daniel’s face turned a light shade of pink, as if he was embarrassed at his brother’s behavior.

The man beside Leslie held up his hand. “Quiet, everyone. Mrs. Ashton, I’m Detective Cornell with Chatham County Metro P.D. If you’re feeling up to it, I have some questions for you.” He glanced at the others, the look on his face showing displeasure. “Your family insisted on coming in with me, but I can ask them to step outside. Or, if you prefer,” he said, his voice sounding grudging, “I can wait in the hall until you speak to them privately.”

“No.” She winced at how loud her voice sounded in the small room. “That is, I’d prefer not to have these other men here, if that’s okay.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Grant said.

“Yes. You are.” Luke Dawson’s deep voice rang out from the open doorway. He strode inside and stopped at the foot of Caroline’s bed, frowning at Cornell and Leslie before looking at the other two men. “You heard her. Out.”

Grant drew himself up, but even so, he was still an inch shorter than Luke and not nearly as broad. “Our brother was murdered,” he snapped, aiming a glare at Caroline. “And we have the right to hear what
she
has to say about it.”

Luke moved so fast it stole Caroline’s breath. One minute he was standing there, calmly eyeing Grant. The next minute he had Grant’s arm wedged up between his shoulder blades. Grant’s face was bright red, but he didn’t seem to be able to move.

“Let me go, you stupid rent-a-cop,” he gasped.

“I’ll let you go—outside.” Luke raised a challenging brow at Daniel, daring him to intervene.

Daniel glared at Luke before heading to the door. Luke followed, pushing Grant ahead of him. The door softly closed behind them.

Cornell pulled a plastic chair to the side of the bed and sat. “I take it you aren’t close to your brothers-in-law?”

Caroline shook her head. “No. I definitely don’t consider them...family. And I assure you, the feeling is mutual.”

The door clicked back open and Luke hurried inside, stopping at the foot of the bed again.

“Mrs. Ashton, if you don’t want me here, I’ll wait in the hallway.” He looked pointedly at the detective and Leslie. “But I thought you might want one ally in your corner, something you seem to have little of at the moment. I also strongly urge you not to say anything to Detective Cornell without a lawyer. A
criminal
lawyer, not a civil one.”

Leslie pursed her lips but didn’t say anything.

“Cornell isn’t here with your best interests at heart,” Luke continued. “He considers you a suspect in your husband’s murder.”

Caroline blinked at the detective. His face reddened, telling her Luke’s words were true.

“I’m not your enemy,” Cornell explained. “I simply want to know what happened. But first, I’d like to offer you my condolences on the death of your husband.”

She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Even though she knew Richard was dead, hearing it out loud didn’t make it seem real. She kept expecting him to pounce at her from behind the curtains, or stride out of the bathroom and laugh at her for thinking she could ever escape him.

“Thank you, Detective.”

“Have you had a chance to speak to your doctor yet?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “He was here a few moments ago.”

“Then you know he suspects your husband abused you, that he’s the reason for your fractures, bruises, your ruptured spleen...your miscarriage?”

She winced and automatically moved her hand to her belly. “Yes. He told me.”

“Is it true? Did your husband beat you?”

She blanched, her face growing hot. She’d never wanted anyone else to know about her shame. Until a few days ago, no one did. No one but Leslie.

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“It’s the elephant in the room,” Cornell continued. “It can’t be avoided. You hired a bodyguard, Mr. Dawson here. Why did you hire him?”

She glanced at Luke. “I knew my husband would be angry that I’d left him. And I didn’t want to have to deal with an argument. I wanted someone who could confront him, if necessary, and save me from the ugliness.”

“Are you denying your husband hurt you?” the detective asked.

She twisted her fingers in the sheets. “I don’t—”

“Don’t say another word,” Luke said. “You need a criminal defense attorney before you speak to the police.”

Leslie patted Caroline’s hand. “The sooner she answers the questions, the sooner this will all be over and she can put it behind her. Perhaps it would be best if you waited outside, Mr. Dawson.”

“Not a chance.”

“No,” Caroline said at the same time. She pulled her hand back from Leslie’s. “I’m sorry, but I feel...better with Mr. Dawson here. Detective Cornell, all I can tell you is that I didn’t kill my husband. I don’t own a gun. I don’t even think Richard owned one. There was no need, not with a security firm watching over the house. And regardless of what Richard did or didn’t do, I never wanted him dead.”

“I agree it appears you couldn’t have killed him yourself, based on the timeline of events and the witnesses to your whereabouts. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t hire someone else to kill him.”

Her mouth fell open. “Why would I do that?”

“Your husband was quite wealthy. Maybe you figured you wouldn’t get much if you divorced him.” He cocked his head and studied her. “Was there a prenuptial agreement limiting how much you would get in a divorce?”

“Yes. There was. But I didn’t care. I was leaving my husband, regardless of the money.”

Cornell didn’t look impressed by her statement. He scribbled something in his notepad. “I think when you decided to leave your husband, you didn’t want to lose the money. You called a friend, maybe a lover, offered him a portion of the estate if he’d help you stage your husband’s murder to make it look like you had nothing to do with it. Who helped you?”

She laughed bitterly. “A friend? A lover? My husband made sure I had no one, Detective. I didn’t make a move that he didn’t know about. I couldn’t even leave the house without him.”

“Obviously that’s not true. You left without him Thursday morning.”

She rolled her head on the pillow. “The one thing my husband allowed me to do on my own, the
only
thing he let me do, was run two weekly errands—taking our clothes to the dry cleaner’s and bringing his papers to his lawyer’s office, to Leslie’s office. That’s what I was doing. That’s how I left without him knowing I was taking off.”

“‘Let’ you?” the detective asked. “Are you saying you were a prisoner in your own home? Did you resent your husband for controlling you that way?”

“That’s enough.” Luke said. “Mrs. Ashton, again, I strongly urge you not to say another word without adequate legal representation.”

The door flew open. A tall man in a business suit stepped into the room. His coal-black hair had tiny streaks of silver, but that was the only thing that hinted at his age. His blue eyes were still vivid, piercing, as they swept the room and landed on her.