Читать книгу When Shadows Fall - J.T. Ellison, J.T. Ellison - Страница 24

Chapter

15

SAM RAN TO the door and carefully ducked her head outside, but all she saw was an expanse of green lawn and a curving asphalt drive. Whoever had just been in the autopsy suite was gone.

Fast as a greyhound was an understatement.

She used a tissue from her pocket to relock the door, careful not to wipe away any possible fingerprints, then hurried back to Regina, who was collecting herself up off the floor. Her eyes weren’t totally focused on Sam.

“Are you okay?”

“I think I hit my head. Sorry. Did he get away?”

“He’s gone. Let me see.” Sam expertly ran her hands through Regina’s hair, feeling for the lump. She found it in the front, near her temple. She gave the girl a quick neurological exam, but she was focusing better.

“You’re going to have a headache, and you’ve got a little concussion. You might even sport a black eye tomorrow. Keep a close watch on yourself for the rest of the day. If your headache gets worse, go to the hospital immediately, okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just went down awkwardly. Hit my head on the edge of the cooler, of all things.”

“We’d best check the body. Whoever that was wanted something from Savage.”

They got Regina back to standing and entered the autopsy suite. The body was undisturbed.

Sam looked around the room but saw nothing out of place. “Regina, before he ran out of here, did you hear crying?”

“I thought I did. That is so weird. I’ve seen some odd things, but we’ve never had a break-in like this. Nothing taken, nothing disturbed. No harm, no foul. Oh, shoot. I better go check on Roy. He was supposed to be working on Mrs. Edmunds this afternoon.”

Sam collected the cooler, which had been knocked over when Regina fell on it, and checked inside. Everything was still in its place. Regina led them down the opposite hallway to the embalming room.

Roy was inside, earbuds in, studiously brushing a dead woman’s long silver hair. He didn’t hear them come in. Regina smiled, then signaled to Sam to back away.

Once in the hallway, she said, “If he’d been disturbed, he wouldn’t be so calm. He’s a nervous sort, my brother. Scared of his own shadow. But so good at his job. You need someone caring at this stage, and he’s a love. Come on. Let’s get back upstairs.” The girl’s natural exuberance showed itself. “I’m sure you want to call your cop friend, let him know we had a visitor.”

Sam called Fletch’s phone, but he didn’t answer. Moments later, they heard the doorbell ring.

“Ah, there they are,” Sam said.

They went to the foyer and Regina unlocked the front door. The men came in, both breathing heavily and sweating.

Regina took Davidson to the autopsy suite to show him what happened, leaving Sam and Fletcher alone. She handed him a bottle of water from her bag. He gulped greedily while she explained what had transpired, and Fletcher’s brows drew closer together.

“What happened earlier?” Sam asked.

“June caught a flash of the baseball cap, called out for him to stop, but he took off at a sprint. We got after him, but he ducked into the woods and disappeared. Poof, gone. He must have circled back and come in through the garage doors. Nothing’s missing?”

Sam shook her head. “Not that we can see. Fletch, he was standing over the body, and it sounded like he was crying. Do you think this could be the son, Henry Matcliff? The glimpse I had, he looked young.”

“Maybe. Xander checked in—he’s going into the woods to see if he can spot the man for us. Keep that under your hat for now.” His voice dropped, and she had to lean forward to hear him. “I don’t trust Davidson, not yet. I don’t think he’s told us everything about Savage. Something odd’s going on here.”

“No kidding.”

Before they could analyze things further, Davidson returned with Regina.

“We better get over to the law firm. I’ll send an officer out here to keep an eye on things until we get Savage’s wishes cleared up. Regina will keep watch, won’t you, honey?”

Regina rolled her eyes at the endearment, clearly offended, but nodded. She pointedly ignored Davidson, but shook Sam’s hand, and Fletcher’s. “Thanks for everything, Dr. Owens. I’ll see you around. You need anything, just call.”

She waited for them to leave, and Sam clearly heard the bolt thrown on the front door. Good. At least someone wasn’t going to take any chances.

* * *

The law offices of Benedict, Picker, Green and Thompson were on Rivermont Avenue, only a ten-minute drive from Hoyle’s. They were in a redbrick two-story Victorian dollhouse, complete with white trim and turrets, which, they soon found out, housed the firm’s library of law books.

They were met in the reception area by an older gentleman with white hair and a rotund stomach. He wore a gray summer-weight wool suit, his tie a florid green slash across his belly.

“Good, you’re here at last.” He turned to Sam and Fletcher. “I’m McKendry Picker. You can call me Mac. We’re all just sick about Rolph. What more can you tell us about his death? I need to let his wife know the details, and his kids, they’re flying in from around the country to be with their mother, and this is all just so heartbreaking. We knew he wasn’t going to last long with the disease and all, but to die like this, murdered, so far away from home, it’s just—” He burst into tears.

Sam’s first instinct was to comfort him, but Fletcher cleared his throat and imperceptibly shook his head at her, so she stood her ground.

Davidson was the one who laid a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Mac, shh, it’s okay, man. I know how hard this is for everyone. Where are Tony and Stacey?”

Picker got himself together, sniffling and wiping his eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. “They’re in Las Vegas. A deposition for a client. They’ll fly back as soon as they’re finished, should be in this evening.” He turned to Sam and Fletcher and cleared his throat, the tears still sparkling on his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry to lose control like that. Saying it aloud made it so real. Rolph and I have been friends for forty years. I’m going to miss him dreadfully.”

Fletch bowed his head and said softly, “We understand, sir. Is there someplace we can sit and chat for a bit?”

“Of course. We have pastries and coffee waiting in the conference room. Follow me, please.”

Sam noticed the man’s stride was slightly off, as if he were wearing a knee brace, or had twisted his ankle. When they got into the conference room, which was gorgeous—dark wood and gleaming floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking an extravagant all-white flower garden—Sam asked him about it as they settled around the table.

“Korea, I’m afraid. Lost the leg. I was shipped over toward the end, when I was only seventeen, though Uncle Sam didn’t know that. I was green as a sapling, and stepped on a mine the first day I was there. Blew it right off. I was lucky, they saved my knee, and prosthetics have come so far since I first began wearing them. And I’m blessed with excellent insurance.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said. “You seem to manage beautifully.”

“Years of practice. And don’t be sorry. Government paid for everything, from my leg through to my schooling. I wouldn’t have gotten into law without the push. Everything happens for a reason, Dr. Owens. Even losing a leg in a stupid accident, or the untimely death of a friend. Now please, tell me what’s happening. Why was my best friend murdered?”