Chapter Twenty-Eight
CJ paced the pavement between her rental car and the clinic’s rear entrance. Where the hell was Cost?
She’d called him half an hour ago. How long did it take to get from the Ledges to here? Ten, fifteen minutes, tops.
The entire day had passed with her combing the city for Celeste Martin. CJ had started with a door-to-door search in the village. No one admitted to knowing the woman, much less having any idea where she might be.
Jenkins or one of his colleagues had followed her every step of the way. She’d gotten worried that no one would talk to her with him around, so she’d given him the slip.
It hadn’t been easy. She’d had to park down a narrow little road that only longtime residents of the village knew about. It paralleled the train tracks off the west side of Holmes. She’d waited a good twenty minutes and then she’d taken a back way through Huntsville Park to get back to the village.
It infuriated CJ that no one would open up to her.
Every damned one she asked pretended not to know Celeste.
That was bull. The girl had been working the streets around here for months.
Sex workers were like actors or secretaries or any other group of professionals: They chatted among themselves about the job.
She’d questioned folks at the supermarket parking lot. Then she’d moved to the store lot across the street. She hadn’t bothered with the mall across the Parkway—too much security for any of Celeste’s friends to mark that territory.
How could the girl have simply disappeared?
It wasn’t possible.
Unless . . .
Guilt congealed in CJ’s gut.
That girl was missing or in trouble because of CJ’s meddling.
Ricky Banks was dead. CJ had pushed him for answers about Shelley’s murder. Celeste Martin was missing and CJ had questioned her extensively. The girl had been too trusting or naive or maybe just desperate for someone to care not to realize her mistake until well after she’d made it.
Dammit.
CJ folded her arms over her middle and fought to contain her emotions. Her sister was dead. The police had no idea who had killed her. CJ’s efforts to solve the mystery were only causing more trouble.
Braddock had begged off the briefing he’d promised her. He and his partner were busy with this latest homicide. CJ understood. She’d decided to try to locate Celeste.
Celeste wouldn’t be missing if it weren’t for her . . . would Ricky be dead?
CJ had no idea what she was doing.
Edward’s words echoed amid the whirling thoughts.
This is clearly further indication that you should go back to Baltimore. There’s nothing more that would prove constructive you can do here.
He was right about one thing. This morning had been a warning. She hadn’t told him about the cat blood message left on the wall her first day back here. It was bad enough she’d had to explain about the rabid addict at the clinic. He’d noticed the bandage on her throat.
But last night had been about her work at the clinic yesterday. She was certain. Tyrone wanted CJ to know that her digging around in this investigation was not appreciated.
Next time she might be the one to bleed.
Celeste had told her that the first transgression wasn’t so bad, but the second was far worse, and the third time Tyrone was disobeyed . . . someone got dead.
Maybe she should just bury her sister and walk away.
Seeing that the killer was brought to justice wouldn’t change the fact that Shelley was dead. Wouldn’t resurrect Ricky—even if he deserved a second chance. And it wouldn’t find Celeste.
CJ had almost convinced herself to get back into the rental and drive away when Cost’s BMW rolled into the lot.
Renewed anticipation rallied her determination. She couldn’t go back to her life in Baltimore and pretend none of this mattered.
That was the bottom line.
A realization hit CJ—an obvious fact she was more than aware of but one she hadn’t seen in exactly that light before.
She and everyone in this village had been doing that for decades: pretending the things they thought they couldn’t change didn’t really matter, turning their heads and backs, walking away, moving on. It was all the same.
And it had to stop.
It might as well start with her.
“What’s so important it wouldn’t wait until the clinic opened tomorrow?” Carter asked as he emerged from his luxury automobile. The BMW’s headlights flashed and a distinct tone confirmed that the security system had been activated.
“There’s something I have to check on a patient I saw yesterday.
” No reason to tell him what she was really up to.
Required too much explanation. She wouldn’t have had to call him at all if Juanita had gotten that key back to her.
She’d picked it up yesterday since she needed to get a duplicate made.
CJ figured by now that if she got it back she’d have to come to the clinic tomorrow while Juanita was in and remind her.
Carter grinned as he fished through a ring of keys. “You always were dedicated.”
A compliment? Maybe. Sometimes it was difficult to read what Carter Cost meant by his words or his actions.
There was an arrogance about him. Probably seeded by his family’s money and a lifetime of being the only son.
Not to mention being the only male of his generation in the whole Cost family.
His settling down and producing heirs, male ones in particular, was essential.
It didn’t take a lot of imagination to comprehend that he’d been given anything he ever wanted by all who entered his world, however briefly.
Including any number of college girls like herself and Juanita Lusk, who’d been charmed by his handsome looks and fancy car.
“I appreciate you coming, Carter.” He’d done her a favor. No matter that part of her understood perfectly what he was—a rich, self-centered playboy—she was grateful for his effort.
He opened the clinic’s back door, reached inside, and flipped the switch. Fluorescent bulbs flickered, then glowed, lighting the corridor inside. “Not a problem.” He flashed her that sexy grin that had likely lured many women to his bed. “Besides, I have an ulterior motive.”
Of course he did. “Oh yeah?” Feigning surprise was better than telling him she’d expected as much. After all, she wasn’t inside the clinic yet.
“Dinner?” He held the door open while she passed through.
“I’m sure your calendar has been booked for weeks.” Don’t tell him no yet! CJ hurried toward the office and the filing cabinets waiting there. “How could you possibly have time to fit me in?” She smiled sheepishly and waited for him to unlock the office door.
“CJ.” He slid the key into the lock but hesitated before making the turn. “We haven’t seen each other in years.”
Ten, to be precise.
“I cleared my schedule just for you.” He turned the key, opened the door.
She didn’t wait for him to move aside; she slid sideways past him. “That was thoughtful of you.”
She went straight to the stack of charts on the desk.
Staying late last night to chart her notes had paid off.
She’d stacked the charts in alphabetical order for Juanita’s convenience.
CJ would have filed them, but she’d been concerned Juanita or the preceptor, the kindly Dr. Cost, might need to review them first. Besides, the neat, alphabetized stack she’d left was a major step above the disorganized piles of paperwork lying about the office.
“Huntsville has a number of new excellent restaurants.” He settled a hip onto the edge of the desk. “Unless you’d prefer a more intimate setting without all the social expectations.”
CJ pulled Celeste’s chart from the stack, scanned for the patient’s home address.
Got it. She returned the chart to the proper place, then smiled at Cost. “You’re too sweet, Carter.
But I’ll need a rain check.” She posted a sad face.
“Tomorrow’s the autopsy and I’m not really feeling social. Is that okay?”
He sighed, adopted his own sad expression. “You’re breaking my heart, Patterson.”
She gave him a punch to the arm. “Come on. I’ll bet you’ve got a whole list of ready ladies lining up for their chance at dinner with you.
You’re one of the most eligible bachelors in Huntsville.
Any young, single woman alive would jump at the chance to become Mrs. Carter Cost and mother to your heirs. ”
The faux sadness vanished with one downward sweep of his thick dark lashes. He stood. “A rain check is fine.” He glanced around the untidy office. “If you’re done here, I should get going.”
The change was more than just his eyes. His face, his posture, all of it shifted. Gone was the flirtatious doctor of charm. Had she hit a sensitive spot?
It didn’t matter. She had what she’d come here for. She should just go. Dr. Womanizer would be fine. It would take a lot more than CJ’s snub or anything else she said to injure his massive ego.
At the door, she hesitated. “Seriously, Carter. Thanks for coming.”
He suddenly noticed the healing cut on her throat. She’d ditched the bandage today. “What happened to you?” One corner of his mouth lifted in a half-hearted smile. “That looks like something I would do trying to shave with a massive hangover.”
“Only I wasn’t the one wielding the blade.” She told him about the incident and how he would find a report in that pile of files.
He complained about how the lack of needed security at the free clinics continued to be ignored by the powers that be, then seemed to get distracted by the piles of files.
“Thanks again,” she said, moving toward the door.
He gave a nod. “Good night, CJ.”
She walked to her rental, got in. The clinic door closed with him still inside. Maybe since he was here he’d decided to do a little catching up. Judging by what CJ had seen so far, the clinic’s paperwork was seriously behind.
Still, she couldn’t shake the notion that she’d said something that hit a nerve.