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  Covering all his bases.

  Even if that meant pushing her buttons.

  “So, is it safe to assume you were who she was angry with when you left? You did say she was angry,” the detective said.

  “She deflected her anger on me, which is common. However, in my professional opinion, she wasn’t in a psychotic state when I left.” Shannon couldn’t imagine what could have happened to send Gretchen off the deep end. Not even Dr. Franklin’s condescending attitude should have been enough to push the young woman into a murdering frenzy.

  “Anything else you think we should know?”

  Shannon shook her head.

  “We’re going to need her patient files.”

  “They are in my office across the street.” Shannon pulled out one of her business cards. “I’ll need the proper paperwork before I hand them over.”

  “Not a problem,” the detective said. “We’ll call before we stop by. Probably early afternoon.” The detective walked toward his partner, who was still talking with the morgue personnel.

  It was nearly five in the morning, and Shannon wanted to check on Dr. Franklin. She called the desk, and they informed her that he’d survived the surgery but was still in critical condition. They couldn’t let her in to see him. While driving home would only take her about twenty minutes or so considering there was no traffic, by the time she got there, she’d only have maybe an hour, then it would be time to head back to the office. There was no point in doing that.

  For a brief moment, she thought about canceling her appointments for the day, but the thought of not being busy made her skin crawl. Her patients needed her. And right now, she needed them.

  Sitting in the corner of the waiting room, she pulled out her phone and texted Jackson.

  Shannon: I will be at my office all day. Can you send me what you know regarding Belinda?

  Jackson: So far, all I have is they confirmed it’s Belinda and are investigating as if it’s a murder. That means the police will be tight-lipped. Is everything okay? I’m worried about you.

  She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered by his sweetness…

  Concerned he was getting way too close…

  Or both.

  Shannon: I had another client die today. So, no, I’m not okay.

  Jackson: Shit. Sorry. Where are you?

  Shannon: Saratoga Hospital, but headed to my office.

  Thank goodness she had a clean set of clothes and a shower thanks to the fact that her office building used to be a home. She couldn’t wait to stand under the hot water until it ran winter cold.

  Jackson: I’ll be by in an hour with some coffee and a breakfast sandwich. I have to do one thing first but hang tight.

  Shannon: Okay. Thanks.

  Who was she to argue? It wasn’t like she needed the man to feel safe. No. It was just because he was working a case that involved her patient.

  Besides, she was hungry.

  At least, that was the excuse she gave herself.

  “Dr. Brendel?” Detective Rizzoli stepped into the waiting room. “Mind if I ask you a couple of additional questions?”

  “Not at all.” She stood, smoothing down her untamed hair.

  “Do you agree with the medication the doctor on call prescribed?”

  She nodded. “But I’m not a prescribing doctor. It’s not my specialty.”

  “But it’s what you would have suggested, correct?”

  “Again, I can’t make that call. When any of my patients take medication, it’s always through a medical doctor. I discuss my therapy findings with the practitioner so they can make an informed decision about my recommendation.”

  “So, you do make a suggestion, and you play a large role in finding the right dosage.”

  She nodded, not understanding why any of this was important.

  “You and Dr. Franklin don’t get along, do you?” the detective asked as he flipped open his notebook.

  “We’ve had our differences, but we always come together to do what’s right for the patient.” That wasn’t a lie. Dr. Franklin might have had an issue with the fact that she was a PhD and not an MD, but he wasn’t reckless with patients.

  “You had an altercation with him earlier. What was it about?”

  “I wouldn’t call it that. I generally prefer a non-medication regimen. He’s more likely to prescribe, which is always a discussion when it comes to my patients. In this case, the meds were necessary due to Miss Carson’s mental illness and narcotic withdrawal, so I didn’t disgaree with him at all. My only issue was in future treatment, which would have been left up to the patient,” she said, hoping that would end the questions.

  “Let me make sure I have this right. Dr. Franklin wanted to recommend a different strategy regarding therapy? Did he tell you what his plan was? Did he tell the patient?” Rizzoli licked the tip of his pen before pressing it against the notepad.

  “He wanted to, but nothing was discussed with me. I don’t know about the patient.” Shannon blinked. It could be possible that Dr. Franklin had said something to Gretchen that triggered rage, but she’d always been the type to lash out verbally, not physically.

  “What about Miss Carson’s visitors?”

  “I don’t know of any visitors other than me,” Shannon said.

  “The nurse mentioned that a gentleman showed up earlier. Said he didn’t stay very long, just dropped something off for you.”

  “That’s impossible,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t send anyone over. Did the nurse get a name?”

  “She wasn’t given one. Because of the nature of the crime, and the condition of your patient, we’ll be requesting an autopsy.”

  “I think that’s a good idea. Do you think something else happened other than her stabbing the doctor and herself?”

  “I honestly don’t know what to think. I’ll be by your office a little later today with all the proper documentation for Miss Carson’s medical records.” Rizzoli stuffed his notepad into his coat pocket.

  “I’ll have them ready.” She waited until the detective met up with his partner and sauntered out of the hospital before making a beeline to Kent.

  “Hey, doc. Did you forget something?” Kent asked.

  “What do you know about a man coming to see my patient?”

  Kent rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. At least six people came through tonight. I don’t know who was here to see whom. They were all to check in at the nurses’ station.”

  “Did anyone stand out as being out of place? Or someone you were concerned about?”

  He shook his head. “I tried to give the cops decent descriptions, but we do have people in and out of here all the time. This isn’t a locked-down area.”

  She squeezed his arm. “Not to worry. Call me if you hear anything about Dr. Franklin.”

  Shannon brushed her bangs out of her face and headed toward the exit. She needed a shower before Jackson came with breakfast.

  She also needed a few moments to check the news to see what was being reported about Belinda.

  It was going to be a long day, to say the least.

  Chapter Seven

  “This has nothing to do with an adoption case.”

  Jackson punched the gas, pulling out onto the highway, heading south toward Saratoga. It wasn’t the worst commute, but he did wonder why the sexy doctor hadn’t moved her practice to Lake George since she had decided to live in the village.

  Especially when she didn’t seem too interested in boating or even being on the water. She’d moved in next door at the beginning of October, so it wasn’t like they’d had much time to enjoy water activities, but something told him that her father had ruined sailing for her, and that got under his skin.

  Worse, he wanted to know why, and it wasn’t because of his profession.

  He just wanted to know.

  “Her uncle has been sitting at the top of our shared driveway for days. He’s tried reaching out to her, and she’s blown hi
m off. She doesn’t want me to mention her when contacting him, so I figured it’s best if you do it.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Katie voice screeched through his Bluetooth.

  “Everything I don’t know.”

  “Since when don’t you speak your suspicions to me?” Katie asked.

  “Just call him and follow my script, then tell me what happens. We’ll touch base later, and I’ll fill you in.”

  “You’re getting personal with this chick, aren’t you?”

  Jackson had a hard time lying to Katie about anything. Besides having trust issues and hating liars in general, he always told Katie that their partnership had to be based on honesty, even when it was uncomfortable.

  “I might be, but I need to respect her privacy on this. She’s holding back, and while I suspect the reasons why, I made a promise to her, and I intend to keep it.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “Hey. I trust you, and if I need to know, you’ll tell me,” Katie said. “Gotta run. Talk to you later.” The phone clicked dead just as he pulled into Shannon’s place of work.

  It was a renovated house a few blocks from the hospital. A sign in the front yard had her name on it, as well as the name for a dentist.

  That was interesting for a shared business, but whatever worked.

  He pulled into a spot next to her vehicle, snagged the bag of bagels and coffee, and made his way to the entrance. He didn’t know if he should knock or just walk in. He stood and stared at the door for a long moment before twisting the knob and letting himself into a nice but scantly decorated waiting area.

  She had a couch on the north wall and two chairs on the south side with a table between them. But the door to what he believed was her office held a stand with a coffee pot.

  He knocked three times, noting the impressive paintings. The woman had good taste—or her decorator did.

  “Door’s open,” Shannon called.

  “I brought food.” He stepped into her office, holding up the bag and a fresh mug of bitter brew.

  “You are the best.” She stepped from behind her desk, tucking damp hair behind her ears and adjusting her bangs.

  He set everything down and rested his hands on her hips. He knew she shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist the pull she had over him. Or the desire. “How are you holding up?”

  “Not well, honestly.” She placed her hands on his shoulders. “I can’t thank you enough for bringing me food. You didn’t have to drive all this way.”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “To talk about Be—”

  He pressed his mouth against her plump lips. She tasted like wintergreen on a cool summer’s night. He pulled her closer, feeling her full breasts against his chest.

  Shannon was different than his ex-wife, Jasmine. Besides not being independently wealthy, Shannon had heart. She cared deeply about those around her, even if she obviously had some serious daddy issues. He’d told himself when he left Jasmine that he wouldn’t get involved with another woman who had issues with men.

  Except here he was, in a lip-lock with a lady he didn’t know or understand, and yet he felt like he’d known her forever.

  He took a step back. “I did—I do want to talk to you about your client, but I also wanted to see you and make sure you were okay.”

  “I will be, and food and more caffeine will certainly help.” She snagged a bagel and hopped up onto the corner of her desk. “I spoke to your friend, Westerfield.”

  “He’s a good cop.”

  “He seems to think Belinda was murdered and that her new boyfriend, Clayton, who is now missing, did it.”

  “They think he’s at the bottom of the lake.”

  Shannon took a big bite of her bagel and nodded. “Murder-suicide?”

  “Is that what Westefield told you?” Jackson asked.

  “He was tight-lipped about a lot of things,” Shannon admitted. “I asked them about her roommate, Janice, as well, but they refused to comment.”

  “My partner, Katie, and I are going to pay her a visit later today.” The only reason he was going to follow up was because of Shannon. Otherwise, there was no reason. His case was over. “Whatever I find out, I’ll pass on to you.”

  “I appreciate that.” She swung her legs back and forth. “I’ve lost patients before, though not many. But two in twenty-four hours…it’s too much.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” He grabbed his coffee and made himself comfortable on the sofa, glancing around. She displayed nothing personal, and yet she managed to make the space feel homey and comfortable.

  “Not much to say. My patient relapsed and then had a bad reaction to withdrawal or managed to get drugs while in the hospital. She ended up killing herself and harming others.”

  Jackson pulled off the top of the paper mug and set it aside. He blew into the dark liquid. “There’s something Westerfield probably didn’t tell you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “There’s no way it was murder-suicide with Belinda because he believes the body was moved to Long Island.”

  “Then why did he tell me that?”

  Jackson shrugged. “Knowing Westerfield, he was probably trying to gain more insight, or he’s making sure the press and the public don’t have the details because he’s sure the killer is still out there, watching and waiting.”

  Shannon set her bagel down and wiped her mouth. “I can’t imagine who would want to kill Belinda.”

  “She had a past, and it wasn’t pleasant. And from what Westerfield told me, the new boyfriend wasn’t much better. He was involved in some underground sex club and—”

  Shannon knocked her coffee to the floor. “Fuck.”

  Jackson quickly set his cup on the table and snagged a few napkins, racing to clean up the mess. “In the six months or so I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that word.”

  “There is a time and place for everything, and that was some damn good coffee.”

  “You can finish mine.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” She jumped from the desk, just as Jackson’s cell rang out.

  She stumbled forward. Her arms flapped wildly, and she landed right on top of him, shoving him onto his back.

  “We really have to stop meeting like this.” He wrapped his arms around her and planted a quick kiss on her rosy lips before helping her to her feet and finding his phone. “It’s my partner, I need to answer it.” He tapped the green button. “Hello.”

  “I spoke to your girlfriend’s uncle.”

  Jackson’s heart fluttered.

  “And?” He turned as his cheeks flushed. He faced the bookshelf and folded his arm across his middle.

  “Well, he didn’t have a good relationship with his brother the last few years before Dwight died, but he recently moved back to town, and he’s trying to reconnect with family.”

  “Are you buying that?”

  “Yes, and no,” Katie said.

  “Why?”

  “Because he moved from Vermont to Lake George, so really not a big move, and the only reaching out he’s done has been to Shannon via sitting at the top of your driveway and a few phone calls. But I did find out that he was busted when he was in his thirties. Something about giving some dude a blowjob in the parking lot of a park.”

  “That’s interesting.” Jackson glanced over his shoulder. Shannon sat on the sofa with her feet tucked up under her butt as she pulled at the last few bites of her raisin cinnamon bagel. “How is this important?”

  “I take it you’re not alone.”

  “Correct.”

  “Well, to my knowledge, he’s not gay. Or at least he’s not out of the closet. He’s divorced with a couple of kids and currently in a relationship with a chick he works with.”

  “What else do I need to know?”

  “After I talked to him, I took it upon myself to do a little research, and the arresting officer was someone
Jacob knows, so I gave him a call. It turns out that arrest was the reason Ned and his brother Dwight had a falling out.”

  “Interesting. Why?”

  “Jacob’s friend, now retired, stated that Dwight let his brother spend the weekend in jail. When he picked him up, he made a comment about getting caught, and Ned’s response was something to the effect of being out. That he was done, and he never wanted to see Dwight again. Dwight mentioned that could be arranged.”

  “Even more interesting.”

  “I’m not done yet.”

  Jackson held up his hand and stepped into the waiting room. “I’m listening.” He rolled his neck.

  “Jacob’s buddy, actually more like a friend of his dad’s, Jeromy Rimes, was working on some sort of sex club ring back in the day. Guess who was on the long list of suspects.”

  “Shit. Both of them?”

  “Neither was until this incident, but they were more concerned about underage sex trafficking intel that was coming their way. They tailed Ned and Dwight for a good couple of months and found nothing.”

  “Did they ever close that sex ring?”

  “Not really,” Katie said. “They’ve busted different married men parties that have orgies. It’s an ongoing battle. They focus on the ones that deal in underage girls and boys and often ignore swingers and such.”

  “Makes sense.” Jackson paced in the waiting room, rubbing his temple as a picture formed in his brain. “What kind of similarities are there between what Clayton was involved in and what Shannon’s uncle was?” he asked as quietly as possible.

  “I didn’t do much poking around on that. Yet. I take it you want me to keep working this, even though it has nothing to do with our little adoption case.”

  “Actually, I think it does.”

  “That’s a bold statement. Care to elaborate?”

  “It’s pretty complicated,” Jackson said. “For now, can you start a file on Shannon’s father and start digging?”

  “Truth be told, I already did.”

  “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure. I’ll touch base with you in a couple of hours.”

  He tucked his cell into his back pocket and stepped back into Shannon’s office.