Chapter 8 #2
“After forty years as a nurse, I developed quite a sixth sense for these things,” she said matter-of-factly, her gaze lingering on me with professional assessment. Her smile widened as she looked at Dominic. “You must be the proud papa?.”
Dominic’s grin radiated pride. “Yes, ma’am. That would be me.”
“Congratulations to you both.” Margie’s expression was genuinely warm. “Now, tell me about this baby. When are you due?”
“June.”
I glanced at Dominic, then back at Margie. “Mrs. Patterson… actually, the reason we’re here—we wanted to ask you about someone that may have been a patient of Dr. James’. Thomas Wong.”
Margie was quiet for a long moment, her fingers worrying at the edge of her blanket.
“Ah,” she finally said, her voice heavier. “So that’s why you’ve come. I wondered if anyone would, after they identified those remains.”
“You worked with Dr. James,” Dominic said gently. “You helped take care of Thomas?”
“I did.” Margie’s voice had lost its cheerful tone, turning heavy with memory. “That sweet boy.”
Margie reached for another chocolate, taking her time. “In spite of the social revolution, society still branded pregnant and unmarried omegas with a scarlet letter.”
“Did he tell you who the father was?” Dominic’s question was careful, neutral.
“No.” Margie shook her head firmly. “He never told me a name.” She paused. “In those last few weeks, he asked about having the baby somewhere else. I gave him pamphlets for omega support services in other cities.”
“He planned to leave Millcrest?” I asked.
“Yes.” Margie’s voice cracked slightly. “I told him there were places that would help him.”
Dominic leaned forward slightly. “Did something happen that made him want to leave?”
Margie’s expression grew troubled. “He was nervous around certain people in those last weeks. Judge Whitmore, for one.”
I blinked, surprised. “Harold Whitmore?”
“The same.” Margie’s mouth tightened with distaste. “He thought every omega was there for the taking.”
“Judge Whitmore was a philanderer?”
“Oh yes. Harold Whitmore was a pig.”
The bluntness startled me.
“What did he do?” Dominic asked, his voice carefully controlled.
“As far as I could gather, he made advances on Thomas. Inappropriate advances.” Margie’s hands tightened on her blanket. “Thomas came to the clinic shaken one day. Wouldn’t say exactly what happened at the construction site, but I could read between the lines.”
“Did Thomas tell anyone else?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not that I know of. Whitmore was a judge. Thomas was an omega—a pretty successful one, but still, just an omega. Who would anyone have believed?”
Dread settled in my stomach. If Judge Whitmore had assaulted Thomas…
“Was there anyone else?” Dominic asked carefully. “Anyone else who took an interest in Thomas?”
“Several. Construction sites had lots of different people working together—lots of alphas. And Thomas was as pretty as they came.” Margie’s eyes were sharp, assessing us.
“But love and…” she paused delicately, “…conception don’t always come from the same source. Especially not when alphas don’t understand what ‘no’ means.”
The implication was clear and horrible. Thomas could have been assaulted by one person while in love with another.
“That last time I saw him, he seemed depressed and worried,” Margie said sadly.
“Then, about a week before he disappeared,” Margie’s expression darkened. “Constance Whitmore came to Dr. James’s office.”
The air seemed to still.
“The judge’s wife?” I asked, my heart pounding. “What did she want?”
“She came under the pretense of picking up a prescription. Waited until Dr. James had stepped out.” Margie’s hands tightened on her blanket.
“Then she cornered me. Asked if Thomas had been coming to see Dr. James. When I said I wouldn’t discuss patient information with her, she dropped the pretense. ”
“What happened?” I leaned forward.
“She got right in my face. Said she knew her husband had been ‘carrying on’ with Thomas. Then she asked point-blank—‘Is that omega pregnant? Is it my husband’s?’” Margie’s eyes met mine. “She was furious. Not loud—too controlled for that. But her eyes… I’ve never seen such cold rage.”
Margie continued. “She said if Thomas was trying to trap her husband, if he thought he could destroy her family with some bastard child, he was wrong. Dead wrong.”
Icy fingers traced my spine.
“Dead wrong,” I repeated quietly. “Those were her exact words?”
“I’ll never forget them.” Margie’s hands shook slightly. “Because a week later, Thomas was gone. And I knew in my bones that something terrible had happened.”
“Did you tell the police?” I asked.
“Of course I did!” Margie’s frustration was palpable.
“When he didn’t show for his next appointment, I went to the police station.
Told them about Constance, her threats, the timing.
You know what they said? That she was understandably upset about her husband’s indiscretion.
That she had every right to be angry. That there was no evidence she’d done anything wrong. ”
Margie’s voice shook with old anger. “They didn’t investigate her. Didn’t question her. Didn’t even consider her a suspect.”
“They didn’t bother to find out why he’d disappeared?” My own anger bubbled up in my chest, hands clenching into fists as I mirrored Margie’s outrage.
She shook her head, lines deepening around her mouth. “They said the preservation project was coming to an end, so he probably moved to a new city.” Her lips curled with disgust as she gave a harsh, bitter laugh. “I should have never mentioned giving him those pamphlets!”
“Do you think Constance Whitmore had something to do with it?” Dominic asked.
“I don’t know, but she tried to find out if Thomas was pregnant before he vanished.” Margie’s voice was steel. “I think she threatened him.”
We sat in heavy silence.
“She left Millcrest in the 80s, if I’m not mistaken,” I said. “I wonder if she’s still alive?”
“All I know is she took half of Harold’s money in the divorce and never looked back.” Margie’s smile was bitter. “Last I heard, she was living in some retirement community in Connecticut. Hartford area, I think.”
“Mrs. Patterson,” I said carefully, “do you have any idea who Thomas was actually in love with? The person he was trying to protect?”
“I have my suspicions. But he never told me.” Margie was quiet for a long moment, her eyes sad. “Some secrets die with the people who keep them.”
“What do you remember about Thomas’ relationship with Richard Fairfax, Vicente Antonelli, or Robert Winslow?” I asked.
“All three were around Thomas quite often…” Margie paused, thinking. “But none quite as much as Richard, the way I heard it. He and Thomas worked closely together.”
“How closely?” Dominic asked.
“Close enough that people noticed—and talked.” Margie met his gaze steadily. “But what people notice and what they can prove are two different things.”
She hesitated, then added quietly, “Though I will say this—Richard wasn’t the only Fairfax involved in those projects. His father controlled the family business interests back then.”
“From what I have heard of him…” I said carefully. “He was very concerned with the family’s reputation and social standing.”
“Henry Fairfax was… a formidable man.” Margie’s expression grew darker.
“Henry handpicked Caroline Pemberton as Richard’s fiancée.
She was an only child with a silver spoon in her mouth, courtesy of her family’s shipping empire.
The engagement was announced in the winter of 1973… ” She trailed off meaningfully.
“You think Henry knew about Thomas and Richard?” Dominic’s voice was sharp.
“I think Henry Fairfax didn’t become one of the most powerful men in Millcrest and surrounding cities by letting obstacles stand in his way.
He was the kind of man who inspired fear in everyone.
” Margie’s voice carried an edge. “I think if something threatened his business interests, he would have handled it. Permanently.”
Ice slid down my spine.
Through our bond, I felt Dominic’s protective instincts sharpen. His hand found mine, squeezing tight.
“Henry died in the late nineties,” I said, reassuring Dominic.”
“Heart attack at the country club. Richard inherited everything.” Her voice softened slightly. “That old goat won’t be a threat to your omega.”
We talked for a while longer, Margie sharing other memories. The last time she’d seen Thomas, before he disappeared.
“I gave him those pamphlets about omega support services,” Margie said again. “Told him to be safe, to take care of himself and the baby. That was the last time I saw him.”
“You tried to help him,” I said gently, taking her frail hand. “You did everything you could.”
“But it wasn’t enough.” Her grip tightened on my hand. “That sweet boy and his baby died anyway.”
She sighed. “I hope the sheriff finds the one who hurt him. I trust Hawkins to do a better job.”
“I believe he will,” I murmured.
“And you—” Margie patted my hand gently, but her gaze was focused on Dominic. “You protect this omega here and your little one.
“I promise,” Dominic said, his hand finding my shoulder.
The drive back to Blake’s apartment was quiet at first, both of us processing everything Margie had told us.
We had stayed a while longer after questioning Margie about Thomas, letting her share happier memories. By the time we left, darkness had fallen completely.
Downtown Millcrest streaked past my window, a kaleidoscope of neon lights and shadowed silhouettes.
Finally, Dominic broke the silence, his voice tight. “Vicente Antonelli.”
“What about him?” I asked, turning away from the window to look at Dominic.
Dominic’s hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “I’ve done business with him.”
I turned to stare at him. “What?”
“The Vertex takeover—the one that led to the pharmacy demolition.” Dominic’s jaw was clenched.
“Vicente owned several properties in the district back then. When Blake and I orchestrated the Vertex acquisition, we essentially gutted his local business interests. Forced him to sell at a significant loss.”
Ice formed in my stomach. “You knowingly did business with a mob boss?”
“His legitimate business front, yes.” Dominic’s voice was carefully controlled. “At the time, I knew Vicente had a reputation for mob connections, but there was never any proof. He was just a local businessman who was willing to negotiate.”
I watched a muscle in his jaw twitch as his steel-gray eyes remained fixed on the asphalt stretching before us. “I wanted you to know,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the hum of the engine. “No more secrets.”
My hand went to my stomach. “Are you and Blake mobsters?”
Dominic barked a sharp laugh. His steel-gray eyes flicked toward me, crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. “We’ve rubbed elbows with them. It’s common in our line of work. But no, I’m not a made man.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks at his reaction. “Hey! It was a valid question, all things considered.”
“Touché, baby.” The corner of his mouth quirked upward.
I turned away, staring out at the passing streetlights, my reflection ghosting against the window.
“Do you think Vicente killed Thomas?” My voice finally broke the silence.
“Vicente was the general contractor for multiple construction sites in the seventies. That’s how he built his initial wealth before transitioning into restaurants.
” Dominic pulled into the parking garage beneath Blake’s building.
“He would have had access to every site, including the pharmacy. He would have known when concrete was being poured. And if he needed to bury a body…”
The implications were horrifying.
“And you ruined his business with the Vertex deal.”
Dominic parked and turned to face me. I could feel his need to sooth and protect me radiating through our bond. “I did. And Vicente is not the kind of man who forgives people who cost him money or power.”
His silver gaze dropped to my midsection. “And you’re pregnant with my child.”
“That’s why you want to stay somewhere more secure than my shop…” I said quietly.
“It is.” His hand found mine, fingers intertwining. “And I want to let the sheriff deal with him from now on—not us.”