Chapter Sixteen
Zach stared at Raissa, unable to wrap his mind around everything she’d just told him, much less what any of it meant. “You’re sure?”
“Yep. Dr. Spencer is ex-military and did a part-time stint on the base when they were short on medical personnel. A lot of the boys had returned from the Gulf War and needed care. He flew up there two weeks a month for over a year.”
“And the military just gave you this information because you asked?”
“Not me, Maryse. She explained who she was and the project she’s working on—she has government funding, you know—and besides, the officer who worked in records is from New Orleans.”
“So he gave out information over the phone to a stranger because she has government funding and he used to live in New Orleans.”
Raissa nodded. “I was impressed with Maryse, too. She explained that she was considering him for work on her project, as he’s a cancer specialist, but wanted to make sure he was telling the truth about his work with the military, since she has the utmost respect for military personnel and didn’t want him sneaking in the door with a lie. She didn’t ask for details, more like job-reference sort of stuff—what he was there for and when.”
“You think Spencer knew the victims’ parents?”
“I can’t prove anything, but I think it’s far too big a thing to be a coincidence.”
Zach shook his head. “I agree, but what does it tell us?”
Raissa sighed. “I have absolutely no idea. That’s why you found me sitting in bed with stacks of paper—my back hurt from the chair. But I still haven’t made sense of it. It’s all fascinating and can’t possibly be irrelevant, but for the life of me, I can’t come up with anything that fits.”
“This case just keeps getting stranger.”
“And that’s not all.” Raissa told him about the conversation between Sonny and Rico.
“Do you know this Hank?”
“A little. More secondhand than anything else. Apparently he owed the Heberts money and did a few jobs to pay off his debt.”
“But you don’t think he’s involved with the kidnapping?”
“I don’t see how. He’s not the kind of guy you’d trust with delicate work.”
Zach nodded. “I don’t like the Hebert angle of this one bit. I don’t care what Sonny said to night. He could just as easily change his mind about you tomorrow morning and alert his guys by cell phone. You won’t have any idea he’s coming.”
Raissa waved a hand at the computers. “That’s why I’m always prepared.”
Zach ran one hand through his hair, his emotions warring inside of him. Finally, he said, “Maybe you should talk to Agent Fields. See what the FBI is offering.”
“No way.”
“But—”
“I’m not cutting out of here until this is over.”
Zach could have sworn his heart stopped beating for just a moment. Moron. You always knew she’d have to leave. But had he? Had he really given any thought to what would happen to Raissa when the case was over? And when had it become important? He was attracted to her, and he admired her, and worried about her, but that was all. Right?
“Zach?” Raissa’s voice broke him away from his thoughts.
“Huh.” He looked at Raissa. “Sorry, I was thinking.”
“Obviously. You didn’t hear the last two things I said. Well, did you figure anything out during all that thinking?”
“No,” Zach said, “not really.” Except that he’d complicated his personal life right along with his career, all with the same woman. It had to be some kind of record.
“Well, I say we call it a night and start on this again tomorrow when our brains aren’t fried.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Raissa gave him a sexy smile and started unbuttoning her shirt. “So let’s see what I can do about that ‘fewer clothes’ thing you mentioned earlier.”
“Raissa, what exactly are we doing here?”
Raissa stopped unbuttoning her blouse and looked directly at him. “I thought it was obvious.”
He stared at her—the black lace of her bra peeking out the top of her partially unbuttoned blouse—and his mind warred with other parts of his body that were far more powerful. “You’re right,” he said, and took over on the buttons where she’d left off. Raissa knew exactly what he was asking, but she’d intentionally avoided the question. For that matter, he’d allowed it. He opened her shirt and pushed it over her shoulders.
But they were going to have to talk about it sometime. Sooner would probably be better than later.
Bright and early Friday morning, Chuck and Lila stood in front of the clinic. Chuck punched in Hank’s cell-phone number for the fourth time in the last ten minutes, but Lila could hear the call go straight to voice mail.
“I’m sorry,” Chuck apologized. “I just don’t know what’s keeping Hank. He’s usually so punctual, and he always calls if anything comes up.”
Lila frowned, trying not to think of all the wrong reasons for Hank to be late for their meeting. She didn’t want to believe his change was temporary. Surely, something had delayed him, and he’d be there soon. “That’s okay. Maybe we should just start the walk-through without him. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
Chuck nodded and reached for the door. He stopped short when he realized it was already unlocked. “What the heck?” He turned the knob and pushed the door open. “Hank? You in here?” He looked back at Lila. “Let’s go check.”
They stepped inside and Chuck called out again, “Hank? Where are you?” Nothing. Chuck walked down the hallway of the clinic, checking in the rooms as he went. Lila followed behind.
“Chuck?” A voice yelled from the front doorway.
Chuck turned around and saw his assistant foreman, Jimmy, standing in the doorway. “Yeah, Jimmy, we’re back here. Looking for Hank. You seen him?”
Jimmy walked down the hallway to join them. “Nah, but I just got here. Had a flat on the truck this morning. Musta picked up a nail.” Jimmy pointed to the back of the clinic. “Hank was working on a set of cabinets in the last office when I left yesterday. He’s probably got his iPod playing and can’t hear you.”
“Maybe so,” Chuck agreed, and headed for the back office.
Lila hurried after him, hoping the explanation was that simple and that benign. Chuck stopped short in the doorway. Lila inched to the side of him and peered into the room. It was empty, but something was wrong. She took it all in—the tools left out on the floor, the table saw that was still plugged in. She started to take a step into the room and her foot brushed against something on the floor. She looked down and realized it was an open can of stain.
“This isn’t right,” Lila said.
“No. It feels all wrong,” Chuck agreed. He nudged the can of stain with his boot. “That stain has been open for a long time.” He pointed to the top of the ladder in the corner. Hank’s wallet and keys were perched on top where he always placed them. “Jimmy,” Chuck called out. “You see Hank’s truck out there?”
Jimmy opened the back door and looked outside. “Yeah, it’s here. Same exact place it was yesterday. Weird.”
Chuck backed out of the office and motioned for Lila to follow him. “We’re going outside, and I’m going to call the police. Don’t touch anything, okay?”
“Chuck, what in the world is going on?” Lila felt the blood drain from her face and she stumbled in the hallway. Chuck grabbed her arm and steadied her, guiding her out of the clinic and onto the front lawn. Lila took a deep breath, then looked at Chuck. “What is it? You know something.”
Chuck pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911. He told the dispatcher he wanted to report a break-in and possible missing person. “They said someone will be here shortly,” he said and closed the phone. “There was a guy parked across the street yesterday talking to Hank. It didn’t look like a friendly sort of conversation.”
“What did he want?”
“I don’t know. Hank tried to play it off that the guy wanted directions, but I didn’t buy it. And I didn’t like the look of the guy. Now this. There’s no way in hell Hank Henry left this clinic with power tools plugged in, stain uncovered, and his wallet and keys still on that ladder—not voluntarily, anyway.”
Lila covered her mouth with her hand, worry and fear washing over every square inch of her body. “Oh, no.”
Chuck looked Lila in the eye. “I know about all that doctor-patient-privilege stuff, but if you know what Hank was involved in before he went into rehab, I think I need to know. I think the police are gonna need to know.”
Lila nodded, not concerned in the least about the ethics of the situation. All she wanted was Hank, safe and sound and staining cabinets at her clinic. “He got into trouble gambling. Owed the wrong people money. He worked it off, but never gave me details as to how, exactly. He only said that work is what sent him to rehab.”
“What people?” Chuck asked, the fear in his eyes clear as day.
“The Hebert family.”
Chuck closed his eyes and blew out a breath. “Dear Lord,” he whispered.
Even though it was every bit of eighty degrees outside, Lila shivered.