“Me, too. We’ll take them on the road. This way we can talk and think without starving to death.”
Casey and Marc covered a lot of verbal territory by the time they pulled into Crest Haven’s gated entranceway. They were ready for their direct approach with Conrad, and Casey had jotted down a long list of leading questions to steer Janet in the direction she wanted when they had lunch.
They went through the tedious security process, parked the van and headed inside.
Their visit this time was completely different. They were welcomed as guests, given visitors’ tags and were cordially escorted upstairs to Conrad’s room.
Casey glanced at Marc as they walked down the hallway, several steps ahead of the nurse. “They really are worried about the fallout from this,” she said quietly.
“Um-hum.” He nodded. “Whether it’s a lawsuit or just bad press that hurts their reputation, they want this to go away.”
There were two guys standing outside Conrad’s door. One, Casey recognized as Hank McCloud, one of Patrick’s men, and the other, who was dressed in a blue uniform, was obviously a Crest Haven aide or orderly or someone posted there to ensure that Conrad didn’t pull a repeat performance.
“Hey, Hank,” Casey greeted the security guard as they reached the door.
“Hey, Casey, Marc,” he replied. He shot a quick sideways glance at the orderly beside him and rolled his eyes.
Casey stifled a grin, waiting as the nurse knocked on the door and poked her head in. “Dr. Westfield? Your guests are here. Shall I show them in?”
“Yes.” Conrad’s voice sounded strong. Good. The better shape he was in, the more effective this meeting would go.
The nurse opened the door wide, and gestured for Casey and Marc to go in. “Please don’t tire him,” was all she said before leaving, shutting the door behind her.
“Ms. Woods, Mr. Devereaux, it’s good to see you.” Conrad was up and dressed in jeans and a navy polo fleece shirt. He was a little pale, but steady on his feet, and with no signs of upset at their visit.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the security you’re providing,” he said, shaking their hands. “I’m still pretty thrown by what happened. First Madeline, now me...this is a nightmare.”
“We’re as relieved as you are that Crest Haven agreed to our guards being outside your room,” Casey replied. “We want you and Madeline kept safe. And by the way, it’s Casey and Marc. We’re not big on formalities.”
He acknowledged that with a nod. “Nor am I. Please call me Conrad.” A shadow crossed his face. “The term doctor sounds somehow disingenuous these past months.”
“That’s something we need to talk about.” Marc gestured toward the sitting area. “Can we sit while we talk?”
“Of course. Would you like anything—coffee? Tea? I can request either or both.”
“Nothing, thanks.”
Casey took a seat in the same chair she’d used last time. Marc followed suit, settling himself in the matching chair. Conrad sank down on the sofa, leaning forward so he could meet their gazes.
“You said on the phone that there were several things you wanted to discuss in person. Shoot.”
“Your apartment was trashed.” Casey didn’t mince any words.
Conrad blinked. “What?”
“It occurred to us that if someone was targeting you the way they’re targeting Madeline, they might have broken into your place, as well. So we took a look.”
“But I have a service that—”
“It was canceled, supposedly on your authority,” Casey told him.
“Someone wanted to get in. And they did.” Conrad ran his fingers through his hair. He d
idn’t ask how Forensic Instincts had managed to “take a look,” nor did he seem to care. He just looked as though he was trying to process this.
“What did they take? How bad is the apartment?”
“It’s wrecked,” Marc responded, going on to elaborate everything he’d found. “As for what they took, it’s hard to tell. The one thing that was definitely missing was a USB drive that should have been attached to your Mac Pro. Do you have it?”