Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Hannah's heart raced with anticipation as she made her way down to the lobby. Would she catch a glimpse of Luke, or was he busy making rounds?
The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped from the small compartment, already scanning the large open area. Disappointment settled in her stomach when she realized the room was empty.
She had just reached the front door when footsteps echoed in the hallway to the left, and Luke rounded the corner. His steps hitched, and she froze with one hand on the door. Their eyes locked across the room, tethered by some invisible connection that seemed to go soul-deep.
Her hand dropped from the door, and she took a step toward him just as Raúl called Luke’s name from the security office.
His eyes darted to the left, then flicked immediately back to her.
He held her gaze for another moment before nodding, and she released a sigh as he turned away and strode toward the building manager.
Maybe there was hope, after all. He hadn’t looked upset or angry—he’d just been his normal, intense self.
Nearly half an hour later, she found herself glancing around the bustling police department downtown. The harried-looking officer waved her over to the enclosed desk and spoke through the glass. “What can I help with, ma’am?”
“Hello.” She shifted uncomfortably on her feet as she introduced herself. “I’m looking for Mister, um, Detective Sanchez.”
The officer nodded and pressed a button to unlock the door. “Come on in, he’s expecting you. Have a seat, and he’ll be out in just a minute.”
“Thank you.” Pulling open the steel door, she entered the room and took a seat in one of the hard, blue plastic chairs lining the hallway.
She hugged her purse as she glanced around the busy space.
The incessant ringing of phones and sounds of shuffling papers filled the air, countered by the din of low voices.
Several long moments later, a short, dark-skinned man with graying hair rounded the corner, and she recognized him from their previous interactions.
“Dr. Whitmore, how are you today?” He held out a hand as he approached, and she slipped her palm into his for a quick shake.
“Fine, thank you. How are you?”
His eyes looked tired. “Just a normal day here. Come on back.”
She followed the man to a small office off the large bullpen area.
The office was crowded, most of the free space taken up by the wide, scarred desk and two tall, beige filing cabinets, both dented and beginning to rust in places.
She took a seat in another of the standard issue chairs and leaned forward, eager to get the interview over with.
Navigating his way through the narrow space, Detective Sanchez settled into the chair behind his desk and picked up a pen and yellow legal pad.
“Dr. Whitmore, could you please walk me through the events of last night?”
She took a deep breath and relayed the events, Detective Sanchez intermittently asking questions. “I’m not sure why,” she began slowly, “but it felt like I knew him.”
“Why do you say that?” The detective tipped his head to one side, his eyes boring into hers.
“I just got this… feeling. I kind of wonder if that’s why he didn’t come after me. Maybe he didn’t want me to recognize him.”
“You’re sure the suspect was male?”
“Absolutely.” There was no question in her mind.
“And do you have any idea who might want to harm Dr. Stanton?”
She paused. “I’ll be honest, the first person who came to mind was her husband Scott.”
“And why is that?”
“Isn’t that the way it always works?” Her mouth quirked into a tiny smile. “It’s usually someone close to the victim: the husband, the boyfriend.”
Sanchez’s expression didn’t change. “Occasionally, that’s correct.”
“Well,” she continued, “I can tell you this—Audrey and her husband, Dr. Scott Gerber, are in the middle of a divorce right now, and I know he harbors some animosity about the proceedings.”
Detective Sanchez nodded as if the logic behind that was perfectly understandable.
“As of now, they are still sharing the office at the health center, but I know they’re working to determine who gets to keep the practice. They did have an argument in the lobby a couple days ago.” She paused as Sanchez jotted down notes. “But I don’t think Scott was responsible for this.”
The detective’s features remained bland. “And why is that?”
“I just… I know it sounds strange, but I saw him at the hospital. He looked… ravaged.” The detective lifted a brow, and she held up a hand.
“I know what you’re going to say. But I deal with people on a daily basis, most of whom are dealing with serious emotional issues.
In my personal, and professional, opinion, I believe his reaction was sincere. ”
Sanchez studied her for a moment before heaving a deep sigh and leaning back in his chair. “We’ll have to follow up with him as a precaution anyway. Is there anyone else you can think of? No lovers?”
She shook her head. “No, not that I’m aware of. I can’t be one hundred percent certain, of course, but Audrey was really hurt by Scott’s infidelity. I don’t think she’s been seeing anyone, but you’ll have to ask her for sure.”
“Alright. Well, I think that’s everything we need, unless you can think of anything else?”
She hesitated, twisting the straps of her purse between her fingers.
She released a deep breath and met the detective’s eyes.
“I don’t know if this is in any way related, but a few weeks ago I released a patient from my care.
I caught him antagonizing another patient of mine, Rachel Dawes, who took her own life shortly after. ”
Pity and anger flashed across Sanchez’s face in quick succession, and he held the pen poised in midair. “Name?”
“Steve Iverson.” She watched as he scribbled the name on the legal pad. “He obviously wasn’t happy with me at the time. I referred him to a colleague of mine, Dr. Andrew Chandler, but apparently Mr. Iverson never reached out to him.”
“Have you had any contact with Mr. Iverson since the altercation in your office?”
“Last weekend.” She nodded. “I was at the mall when he approached me. He asked to come back as a patient, but he got angry when I refused. He made some nasty remark and stormed off.”
“Nothing since then?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Think it could possibly have been him?”
“I just don’t know. The men’s builds are similar, but with the mask and everything…” She lifted her hands. “I can’t be certain.”
“Thanks for coming in. We’ll contact you if we have any additional questions.”
“Of course, anything to help.” She paused, and Detective Sanchez lifted his eyebrows in silent question. “I, um… I was just wondering if you had any news on Monique Henderson’s murder.”
He regarded her shrewdly before responding. “We’re following some leads, but we don’t have anything concrete yet. Have you been contacted since that night?”
“No. I just worry.” She met his eyes and bit her lip. “I don’t want there to be a second victim.”
He let out a commiserating sigh and laced his fingers together over his stomach. “I don’t either. Until we catch this guy, just be aware of your surroundings and let us know if anything happens.”
“Thank you.” She rose from the chair and shook his outstretched hand.
She left the station and headed to the hospital. She stopped at the front desk to get Audrey’s room number and followed the attendant’s directions to the sixth floor. Peeking her head around the doorway, she saw Audrey lying in the stark white hospital bed, Scott in a chair by her side.
His head lifted and he waved her in. Climbing to his feet, he pulled her into a hug. “Hey,” she said, pitching her voice low so they wouldn’t wake Audrey.
Scott gestured to the chair he’d recently vacated. “Here, have a seat.”
“How has she been today?” She sank into the uncomfortable chair and glanced at Audrey before returning her gaze to him.
“Good, just really tired. No internal bleeding and her brain scan showed normal activity, so they don’t believe there’s any permanent damage. She’ll be weak for a bit, but she should be out of here tomorrow.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Audrey shifted on the bed and her eyes fluttered open. A small smile crossed her face. “Hey.”
Hannah stood and leaned over the bed to pull Audrey into a gentle embrace. “How are you feeling, honey?”
Audrey lifted a hand to her head and laughed low in her throat. “Like I got hit by a train.”
Sympathy zinged through her. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Bits and pieces. I remember finishing up with Mr. DeLuca and going back to my office to get my things, but it’s a little fuzzy after that.”
“Someone attacked you in your office. I don’t know exactly what they used, but he hit you pretty hard. You lost quite a bit of blood.”
Audrey nodded. “That makes sense. I remember hearing your voice, but it sounded really far away, almost like a dream.”
Scott laid a hand on her shoulder, his eyes fixed on his wife. “Hannah saved your life.”
“I just wish I’d checked on you sooner.”
Audrey shook her head. “Don’t blame yourself. Thank God you were there at all.”
“I’m going to go down and get some coffee, let you two talk for a few.” Scott stepped forward and kissed Audrey on the cheek. “Hannah, do you want anything?”
“No, thank you.” She smiled at Scott as he left the room, then turned to Audrey. “He’s playing the doting husband pretty well.”
Audrey rolled her eyes, immediately picking up on the underlying question. “Amazing how almost losing something can make you realize how badly you’ve messed up.”
“Are you going to try to work things out?”
“No.” Audrey closed her eyes for a moment. “I don’t think I can ever forgive him. And, even so, I don’t think last night changed anything for him, either. He’s been nice, but I’m pretty sure his plans are still the same.”
Hannah nodded. “Maybe he feels like he owes her. He did get her pregnant.”
Audrey’s gaze dropped to the sheet. “I heard him take a call a little while ago. He thought I was asleep, but I overheard him talking to her. He told her he loved her.”
“I’m sorry.” Hannah didn’t know what else to say. “Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to, I’m sure of it.”
“Speaking of…” Audrey arched one eyebrow playfully. “You owe me some gossip.”
She knew Audrey was trying to push away the sadness, so she allowed the change of subject. She dropped her head to the bed. “Oh, Audrey. I think I messed up.”
She told her all about Andrew insisting she go home with him, and Audrey’s lips pressed into a firm line as she continued. “As if herding me out of there last night wasn’t bad enough, we left my car there so he had to take me back to work this morning. And naturally…”
“Luke saw you show up with Andrew,” Audrey finished. The corners of her mouth turned down. “I know he’s your friend, but… I think this will just get worse unless you do something about it.”
She dropped her gaze, knowing Audrey was right. “I know. But I think he truly does have my best interest at heart.”
Audrey looked like she wanted to say more, so she eagerly changed the subject. “Do you think you’ll get released tomorrow, then?”
Audrey shrugged. “I feel fine, so as long as everything looks good, I don’t see why not. I’m ready to get out of here and sleep in my own bed.”
She laughed. “You’ve only been here one night.”
“One night too many.” Audrey grimaced. “Hospital beds suck. I have a whole new appreciation for long-term care patients.”
“You can come stay with me.”
“No way.” Audrey shook her head. “I wouldn’t impose on you like that.”
“Don’t be silly, of course you can. You’re my best friend.” She crossed her arms over her midsection. “You really should have someone around, just in case. I don’t know who the creep was or what he wanted, but he came after you for a reason.”
“I’m not too worried about it. My condo’s in a pretty safe area.” She shrugged. “Plus, I haven’t had a chance to update anything, so my old address is listed on almost everything. Unless someone would try to follow me home, they’d have a hard time trying to find me.”
She opened her mouth to say more, but motion outside the door caught her eye as Scott entered the room. She turned to Audrey. “Listen, I’ll let you get some rest, but I’ll stop by tomorrow to see you. We’ll talk then.”
With another quick hug, she said goodbye and headed home.
She disengaged the alarm and kicked her shoes off with a little sigh of relief.
All she wanted to do was drink a glass of wine and unwind on the couch, maybe get caught up on a couple of shows.
Dropping her purse and keys on the side table, she walked down the hallway toward the kitchen.
A strange tension hung in the air, and her steps slowed as she glanced around. Something felt… off.
She peered through the archway of the living room, her gaze flitting around the room. Nothing appeared to be missing, but she couldn’t help the prickle of unease that slithered down her spine. Her eyes landed on the coffee table, and she examined the cluttered surface.
Her fingers trailed over the magazines and books stacked haphazardly in one corner. They looked slightly out of place, like someone had riffled through them then tried to put them back just the way they’d found them.
She turned slowly in place. Something was wrong here. Backing toward the door, she snatched up her purse and strode from the house, digging her phone out as she went. After everything that had transpired over the past couple of weeks, it was all too much.
Standing outside on the lawn, phone in hand, she hesitated. The police wouldn’t be able to do anything. There was no evidence of a break-in, nothing missing that she’d seen. She tapped her nails against the screen and bit her lip. There was only one person she could call.