“It’s okay, boy,” Casey reassured him. “I’m just making a cup of coffee and getting some files. I’ll be back in a minute. You rest.”
Hero gave her one of his astute brown-eyed stares. Then he put his head down between his front paws. He didn’t shut his eyes, though, and Casey knew he wouldn’t—not until she was back in the room.
Five minutes later, she walked back in, smiling as Hero spotted her, after which he closed his eyes and settled into his doggy sofa for more sleep. Casey envied him.
Accepting that her own restless night’s sleep was over, she placed her coffee cup on the nightstand, and plopped the file folders near her pillow. She picked up her backrest and positioned it at the head of the bed. Then she switched on her lamp, and crawled into the bed, settling herself to do some work.
She reviewed everything she had, and the frustration she felt kept growing. Even the empty file folder labeled “Conrad, Personal” that Hero had sniffed out for Patrick had been a dead end. No prints other than Madeline’s. And to the best of Madeline’s recollection, there had been nothing inside the folder but the scorecard from Conrad’s best round of golf, World Series ticket stubs and a photo of him, Ronald and Doug Wilton looking like the Three Musketeers. Memorable but meaningless to FI’s investigation.
Claire had sensed lots of negative energy on the folder, but none that translated into a name or a person.
Tons of theories, no resolutions.
Opening the Ronald Lexington file, Casey reread the facts she already knew. Well-liked and well-respected hospital administrator. Family consists of blah, blah, blah. Charismatic and charming, with a reputation for liking the ladies—maybe a bit too much.
Rereading those facts again, two thoughts popped into Casey’s head. One, did Nancy know about her husband’s philandering? Two, why was there no information in this file about Ronald’s surgery?
The answer to the first question was obvious in Casey’s mind now that she’d spent time with Nancy Lexington. The woman was smart. Casey doubted there was anything about Ronald she didn’t know. If he was cheating on her, she knew it, and she’d know with whom and how many paramours there were.
How she reacted to that knowledge was another story entirely. It was definitely worth finding out once Ryan’s tools were in place. And definitely worth the FI team finding out who those ladies were and if any of them had a grudge against Conrad.
The first question led directly into the second. The reason the FI team hadn’t gathered more information on Ronald’s surgery or his personal life was because his death had never been a focus in this investigation. Now that Conrad had become a target and Madeline was not only his ex-wife, but a member of the code team who’d been present in the O.R. when Ronald died, everything had changed. Conrad’s credibility as a surgeon and his motives regarding Ronald’s survival were all of a sudden in question.
The first person to shed light on this new investigative angle was Conrad himself.
Casey knew he’d been released from Danbury Hospital. She had to get Conrad’s consent to interview him at Crest Haven without having his psychiatrist perched by his side.
That shouldn’t be a problem. When she and Marc had visited him at Crest Haven last time, he’d indicated that he was amenable to talking to them without Dr. Oberlin present. Casey doubted he’d changed his mind, especially now that his own life was also at stake.
But Dr. Oberlin wasn’t the only obstacle. The facility believed Conrad had tried to commit suicide, which meant that the Crest Haven staff would be watching his every move.
Conrad had given Casey his direct number. She’d call him first and get him on board. After that, she’d need Madeline to make the official phone call to initiate the process, and hopefully get past the suicide patrol.
Taking a sip of coffee, Casey drew up her knees, holding the mug with one hand and drumming her fingers on it with the other. She’d shower, get dressed and grab something quick to eat. Then she’d take Hero for a long walk.
By that time it would be late enough to make her phone calls.
* * *
Emma had only been candy-striping for a few days, but already she was bored and restless. That was her problem. Casey had been hard as nails when she’d reiterated her expectations. And the truth was, Emma was kind of loving her job at Forensic Instincts, sans Yoda, whom she wished she could smack. But in spite of his pain-in-the-ass lectures on the proper roles and responsibilities of candy-striping, she didn’t want to screw up this job. Soon a month of her probation period would be over. Two more months and she’d be official. She’d get a Forensic Instincts employee ID card, the pass code to the Hirsch pad and maybe even some cool business cards to show off.
So she’d put up with Yoda, stick around this antiseptic place that had all the excitement of a high school library and give Casey the information and t
he access she needed. To do that, she’d keep her eyes and ears open. Most important, she’d flirt with that IT loser, Roger, until she’d gotten what she needed from him.
That part would be like old times, only easier, since Roger spent most of his time gawking at her face and body, making his awareness of anything else zero. Casey had given her free rein to pick the right opportunity to go for it. Piece of cake. Once she’d finished her job, the team would act, deciding where to concentrate their efforts in the hospital’s internal data system before kicking their plan into motion. Emma couldn’t wait. How awesome was that going to be? Not to mention that she could get the hell out of here and rejoin the team.
With that motivation, she headed over to a chattering group of candy stripers to see if there was any new gossip she’d missed.
* * *
Ryan almost collided with Casey and Hero in the doorway of the brownstone.
His head came up, and his brows rose in surprise. “Hey. You guys are out walking early. Something up?”
Casey arched a brow. “An interesting choice of words. It’s the reason Marc talked me out of calling you last night. Have fun?”
A corner of Ryan’s mouth lifted, and he leaned over to scratch Hero’s ears. “Is nothing sacred anymore?”