The Silence That Speaks (10 page)

12

NANCY LEXINGTON OPENED
the door and greeted Casey. “Ms. Woods. Come in.”

“Please, call me Casey.” Stepping into the foyer, Casey shrugged out of her coat.

Strains of a violin bathed the apartment in acoustical warmth. As Casey moved farther inside, the music got richer and more embracing.

“I’ve never heard the
Pachelbel Canon
sound so vibrant,” she said. “It feels as if there’s a live orchestra playing here.”

“Ronald was an audiophile,” Nancy replied. “He was constantly buying new equipment and tinkering with it to get the best sound possible. This version of the
Pachelbel
was his favorite.” Her eyes misted. “Listening to it makes me feel closer to my husband.”

“I understand.” Casey felt a twinge of pity, despite the reason for her being here.

“I doubt that, but thank you.”

The twinge of pity was rapidly extinguished. This woman certainly didn’t inspire compassion.

Casey glanced around. The Lexington apartment was much as she’d imagined—tasteful but not over the top. The polished oak floors matched the furnishings, which were carved oak with burgundy and gold accents. The floor plan was open, and there were expansive bay windows in the living room and dining room. Down the hall, there appeared to be a bathroom and two bedrooms, while the master bedroom was off the foyer.

Lovely, cozy, definitely not inexpensive, but not a multimillion-dollar penthouse, either. Ronald had made an excellent salary as the hospital administrator, but he wasn’t rolling in money, the way an eminent specialty surgeon like Conrad was.

“I appreciate your seeing me on such short notice,” Casey said, following Nancy into the living room. There was a tray of tea sandwiches and a steaming carafe set up on the coffee table. China, silver and burgundy cloth napkins were laid out beside their lunch. And in the matching wingback chairs sat Felicia and Ron like two sentries guarding their mother.

Nancy picked up a remote control and lowered the music. “You remember my children,” she said more than asked.

“Of course—Felicia, Ron, nice to see you again.”

Felicia’s smile was polite. “You, too.”

Ron said nothing. He merely studied Casey as if assessing whether she was friend or foe. Clearly the connection to Madeline in conjunction with the “Forensic Instincts factor” was still resounding with him. Not a stupid guy. Also, not a problem. Casey would be speaking directly to his questions.

Nancy’s children ate in silence, while Casey and their mother discussed a substantial contribution to the hospital in Ronald’s name.

“I’m very grateful,” Nancy said, sipping at her coffee. “But I have to ask, why are you doing this? I know you said that you had a positive experience at Manhattan Memorial, and I’m pleased to hear that, but there are hundreds of organizations you could be donating to. Why the hospital? And why in Ronald’s name?”

“Honestly? Two reasons—one altruistic and one not. You have no idea what a bad state I was in when I was admitted to the hospital. The details are very personal, and I’d prefer not to discuss them, but I was badly in need of the services I was offered—and they were offered with compassion and delivered with excellence. Your husband was running the hospital at that time. I feel a kinship and the need to give back.”

“That’s a lovely altruistic reason.” Nancy set down her cup. “And the not-so-lovely reason?”

Casey met her gaze head-on. “The hospital merger is a fait accompli. I believe it will result in medical care second to none. Meanwhile, news of it is dominating the media. Linking Forensic Instincts’ name with it is a wise idea.”

“Ah, good press for your company.”

“Exactly.”

Nancy leaned forward, her fingers linked tightly in her lap. “You know, of course, that Ronald was adamantly against the merger?”

Casey brows rose in feigned surprise. “I thought that had changed. Jacob Casper said—”

“I don’t give a damn what Jacob said.” Nancy’s eyes flashed. “Ronald would never have changed his mind. He cared about his employees and the quality of his hospital’s medical care, not creating a medical empire.”

“I see.” Casey fell silent for an instant. “Would you prefer I not make the donation? I wanted to honor your husband’s name, not to offend you. Madeline Westfield spoke so highly of him. She never mentioned—”

“Madeline Westfield?”
Nancy spoke her name with venom. “She’s hardly a reliable source.”

“I’m sorry.” Casey spread her hands wide in apparent confusion. “I was under the impression that you and your husband were close friends of the Westfields.”

“According to whom?” Nancy was visibly fighting to keep her anger in check.

“Madeline. The hospital staff. Everyone I spoke to.”

“They were wrong.” There was a heartbeat of a pause before Nancy blurted out, “Conrad is the reason Ronald is dead. And Madeline’s reputed magical nursing skills did nothing to save my husband. They
were
our friends. Now they’re my enemies.”

“Mother,” Ron spoke up, a meaningful note in his voice. “Don’t.”

“Ron’s right,” Felicia added quickly. “You’ll only upset yourself.”

Nancy’s children were obviously protecting her. But from what? Saying something that might upset her or that might incriminate her? And how the hell did Madeline factor into Ronald’s death?

“I’m fine.” Nancy waved off her children. “I just want Ms. Woods to know with whom she’s dealing.”

“I barely know Madeline,” Casey admitted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I heard that Conrad Westfield was your husband’s surgeon and that he couldn’t save him. That’s all I know.”

“Conrad was brilliant. He didn’t make mistakes. But suddenly, with a merger in the works that would have made Conrad everything he always wanted to be, he lets his closest friend bleed out—a friend who might get in the way of his promotion? That was no accident. And his dear wife failed to do the job she always excelled at and save my husband—a coincidence? Not in this lifetime.”

Baffled, Casey shook her head. “You think Conrad
intentionally
let Ronald die?”

“Mother.” This time Ron’s tone was firm. “Stop this.”

Nancy nodded, getting herself in check. “I can’t know what was in Conrad’s mind,” she said. “Or Madeline’s.”

“How does Madeline factor into this?” Casey asked. “She’s an E.R. nurse, isn’t she? How would that relate to your husband’s surgery?”

“Because Madeline was on call that day. She was part of the code team.”

“Code team?”

“I’m not surprised she didn’t mention it. She can’t be proud of her failure.” Nancy’s lip thinned. “Each day the hospital assigns a different team to respond to codes. The team consists of an anesthesiologist—who’s usually a resident—a respiratory therapist and three nurses, all of whom carry pagers.”

Tears filled Nancy’s eyes. “I was in the waiting room. Conrad came out to talk to me after the surgery. He was reassuring me that all was well when the Code Blue alert blasted over the PA system. It was Conrad’s name and operating room they were saying, summoning him back in and paging the code team.”

“Madeline was part of the team that day?” This time Casey didn’t have to feign her surprise.

“Indeed she was. Once she heard the announcement, she knew exactly who and where the Code Blue was. She and the others rushed down a minute after Conrad flew back into the O.R.”

“I don’t understand. What was happening? What does the code team do?”

“Ronald started bleeding out after Conrad had closed him up. That’s the point where the code team does its job. CPR, intubation, arrhythmia treatment—whatever. Once the patient is reopened, their job is done and they all leave. Only Madeline didn’t leave. She stayed on and watched while my husband died. She did nothing. And Conrad didn’t do enough. That’s why I loathe them both. I’ll never forgive them. They deserve—”

“Mother!” Felicia was on her feet, going over to stand beside Nancy and squeezing her arm. “I don’t want you reliving this again.” She turned to Casey. “I don’t mean to be impolite, but I think it’s best that you leave. This is a very difficult subject for my mother. I want her to take a sedative and lie down.”

“Of course.” Casey rose, setting down her plate of uneaten tea sandwiches. “I’m terribly sorry if I upset her.”

“You had no way of knowing.”

“I apologize, Ms. Woods.” At Felicia’s urging, Nancy stood up shakily. “I didn’t mean to draw you into my grief and anger. I appreciate your donation. Ronald would have, too. Now please excuse me.”

She left the room with Felicia’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“I’ll show you out.” Ron got up and gestured toward the foyer. “I’m sorry for the family drama,” he said as he led Casey to the front door. “Our father’s death hit us very hard. My mother is still reeling from the shock.”

“I understand.” Casey shook Ron’s hand. “Thank you for having me.”

Casey did nothing until she was heading out of the elevator on the ground floor. Then she whipped out her iPhone and called Madeline.

“I need to see you now. I’m on my way.”

* * *

Joseph Buzak, another of Patrick’s security team, opened the door for Casey.

“Hi, Joe,” she greeted him. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too.” He was a tall, husky man who’d retired from the Secret Service a few years back, and who’d known Patrick for ages.

“Casey.” Madeline appeared almost instantly, her brow furrowed with concern. “You sounded urgent. What’s wrong?”

“You tell me.” Casey didn’t even take off her coat. She just strode into the living room and sat down, pointedly waiting for Madeline to join her.

Madeline complied, walking into the room and perching nervously at the edge of a chair. “You’re clearly angry at me. What did I do?”

“You failed to mention to me that you were in the O.R. when Ronald Lexington died.”

Madeline still looked blank. “I was part of the code team that day. I frequently am, as are anesthesiologists, respiratory therapists and most of the nursing staff. It’s routine. So yes, I was there along with the others. But we didn’t—couldn’t—do anything. Conrad had already opened Ronald up again and was trying to stop the bleeding. Once the patient has been reopened, the code team leaves. I stayed behind because I was praying that the expression on Conrad’s face didn’t mean what I thought it meant. Unfortunately, it did.” She made a wide gesture, using both hands. “I’m still not sure why that makes you so angry.”

“Because it goes to motive.” The tension eased a bit from Casey’s body. Okay, so Madeline’s omission had been based on foolishness, not deception. That, Casey could handle.

“Someone is trying to kill you,” she said. “They’re also now trying to kill Conrad. The FI team is searching for any common link. That’s a big one, especially given the meeting I just had with Nancy Lexington.”

“You met with Nancy?” Madeline’s eyes widened, more in curiosity than discomfort. “What happened?”

“She spewed a lot of pertinent rage.”

“I told you that Nancy blames me, in some misguided way, for Ronald’s death.”

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me why.”

“It’s because I was in the O.R.?” Genuine surprise laced Madeline’s tone. “Are you serious?”

“You bet. You have no idea how deep Nancy’s hatred runs. It would have helped if I hadn’t been blindsided by what she told me. She laid out the whole Code Blue scenario, with you as the villainess who did nothing to keep her husband from dying.”

“I’m so sorry,” Madeline responded, visibly shocked by what she was hearing. “I knew that Nancy tied me to Conrad and, as a result, to Ronald’s death. But I’m an E.R. nurse, not a surgical one. I wasn’t part of the operation. The code team never had the opportunity to lay a hand on Ronald. Nancy knew that.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s rational about it.”

With that, Casey rose and began pacing around, thinking aloud. “It’s the intensity of her anger and blame that concerns me. Also, her children concern me. They were
very
present at the luncheon. They sat by their mother’s side like two guard dogs.”

“And said what?” Madeline asked.

“Almost nothing—except when Nancy’s anger started spiraling out of control. Then they quickly interceded and calmed her down, finally cutting the luncheon short and leading her away to ‘rest.’ It seemed as if they knew she might say something incriminating, and they were trying to protect her. Or maybe it’s not just her they’re trying to protect. Maybe themselves, as well. If Nancy is guilty, I wouldn’t be surprised if her kids were in on this with her.”

Madeline gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

Casey continued relaying the necessary information to her client. “I saw the distaste in Felicia’s and Ron’s eyes, both at the ceremony when they looked at you and in their mother’s home when we talked about you. And Nancy’s loathing of you is over the top. That living room was so rife with anger and resentment it was suffocating.”

Madeline was visibly struggling to deal with the implications of what Casey was saying. “What are you going to do next?”

“Have my team dig. Find out the whereabouts of all the Lexingtons on the night that SUV almost killed you and on the night your place was trashed. We’ll be checking out Conrad’s place, too. I want to know if it was also ransacked. If it was—and I suspect it was—I want to know what was disturbed and what was taken.”

“I told you, Conrad had a security service....”

“A security service that, according to our findings, was canceled by ‘a representative of Dr. Westfield’s’ over a month ago,” Casey finished for her.

“Oh, my God. But there was never a report of a break-in.” Madeline paused. “Then again, why would there be? Conrad hasn’t lived there in three months.”

“Exactly.”

Abruptly Madeline gripped the edges of her chair, and looked at Casey. “You’re not involving the police. So that means you’re sending Marc in.”

“There’s no one better. Clearly you know that.”

“Will he be safe?” Madeline dismissed her own question. “Forget I asked that. Marc can handle himself.”

“He certainly can.” Casey paused, then threw caution to the wind and spoke her mind. “When Marc heard about the attempt on Conrad’s life, you’re the first one he asked about, too. Madeline, I never get personally involved in my client’s lives, but I’m going to make an exception—for your sake and for Marc’s.”