Big Shot Page 6

  He forced himself to turn his back on the living room and stepped into Meghan’s bedroom. The familiarity of it was painful, but he kept the memories at bay. They would get him nowhere and he didn’t have time to waste reliving the past.

  He studied a few framed photographs that rested on top of Meghan’s chest. He chose two. One was of her and some of her sorority sisters when she’d attended Baylor. She’d told Durk all about them when they’d first started dating. He knew she was still close to all of them though none lived in the Dallas area.

  The other picture was a professional shot of her and Lucy on Lucy’s wedding day. Their arms were around each other’s shoulders and they were laughing. A moment as meaningful as that surely couldn’t have faded totally from Meghan’s mind.

  He walked over to the bedside table and picked up a silver-framed snapshot of Meghan, Lucy and their mother taken on the day Meghan had left for college. This was probably enough for a start, but he lingered a minute and then opened the drawer.

  There were a couple of paperback novels, a flashlight and two packaged condoms. He felt an instant irritation that even he couldn’t justify. He hadn’t expected Meghan’s sex life to end just because they’d broken up. But if there was a significant other in her life, where was he now?

  He was about to slam the drawer shut when he spotted what appeared to be another picture, this one barely poking out from beneath the bottom book.

  He fit his fingers around the corner and removed it from the drawer. The snapshot stared back at him mockingly. It was of him, asleep in her bed, his thick, dark hair mussed, his chest bared. He’d had no idea she’d taken it, even less idea why she’d kept it.

  He added it to the collection, though he wasn’t sure he should show it to her. It contradicted the story that they were just friends and might make her nervous to be around him.

  He turned to go and was almost home free when he heard footsteps outside the door. Keys clanged and then one turned in the lock. For a second he thought it might be the assailant returning and he looked for a weapon, his body gearing up for a fight.

  But when the door opened, it was Sam Smart’s consternation he faced.

  “Anyone ever tell you what the penalty is for ignoring Police Do Not Cross Tape?”

  “Can’t say that they have.”

  “Don’t get smart, Lambert. Your being a Dallas big shot doesn’t score you any points with me.”

  “I wouldn’t expect it to. Any luck with tracking down Meghan’s attacker?”

  “Nothing I’m at liberty to discuss.” Smart’s mouth twisted into a scowl. “What are you doing here?”

  “I just came by to pick up some snapshots that might help jog Meghan’s memory,” he answered truthfully. “No chance she can identify the man who sent her to the hospital unless she remembers him.”

  “So you’re just trying to help me do my job.” The detective stuck out his hand. “Let me see the pictures.”

  Durk wished he’d left the one of him sleeping tucked away in the drawer, but there was nothing he could do now but turn it over with the rest of the pictures.

  Smart sneered when he came to it. “I don’t even want to think about what memories you’re trying to revive with this one.”

  Durk swallowed the first comment that came to mind, figuring that pissing off Smart wouldn’t help him get this over with any sooner. “You know, I’d really like to get back to the hospital with these as soon as I can,” Durk said.

  Smart handed him back the photos. “Okay, Lambert. You can walk—for now. But cross this line again and you go straight to jail. Is that clear?”

  “Suppose Meghan wants something from here?” Durk asked. “It’s still her home.”

  “If Meghan needs anything from the apartment before we remove the barrier tape, I’ll get it for her,” Smart said.

  “Have it your way.” Either Smart didn’t like him on general principle or he thought Durk might not be totally innocent. For whatever reason, Smart was not going to make Durk’s involvement in this easy.

  No matter. Durk had no intention of backing out until someone was arrested and behind bars. He didn’t plan for that to be him.

  He took the pictures and left, thankful to get away from Smart and the memory-filled condo. Before he reached the hospital, his phone rang. This time it was his brother Tague.

  “You need to get back to the hospital, Durk. And make it fast. You’ve got big problems on your hands.”

  Chapter Six

  “What’s wrong?” Durk fought the rising panic. “Is it Meghan? Are there complications?”

  “The problem is not with Meghan,” Tague assured him. “At least not yet.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I was approaching the telemetry unit nurses’ station to see if I could find you when this woman showed up demanding to see Meghan.”

  Durk gave a low whistle. “Man, don’t scare me like that. The woman’s probably a friend of Meghan’s who just read or heard about the attack.”

  “She’s not sounding too friendly. She claims that Meghan killed her husband. I’d say she’s definitely here to make trouble.”

  “Did you call security?”

  “She was bordering on hysteria. I didn’t have the heart to have her thrown out or possibly arrested.”

  “You surely didn’t let her in to see Meghan?”

  “No. I persuaded her to come down to the hospital coffee shop with me and talk things through.”

  “What’s her story?”

  “She claims she’s Ben Conroe’s wife.”

  Damn. Durk had been so upset about Meghan that he hadn’t given any thought to Ben’s wife. He should have broken the news of her husband’s death to her instead of leaving it to the police. It might not have been nearly as cold coming from him.

  “Is she there by herself?” Durk asked.

  “Yeah. She told me her parents are driving over from Georgia, but they won’t be here until tonight.”

  “She must have friends or a pastor she can call to help her through this.”

  “She’s not too concerned about being here alone. All she wants to do is confront the woman she thinks is responsible for her husband’s death.”

  “She can’t go in and upset Meghan. That’s out of the question. Besides, at this point, Meghan won’t even know who she is.”

  “You’d better get back here and explain that to her. You know I’m allergic to hysterical women. They make me break out in hives.”

  “It’s strawberries that do that.”

  “Then Mary Nell Conroe must be wearing strawberry-scented perfume.”

  * * *

  DURK SPOTTED TAGUE, Mary Nell and his mother sitting together at a back table in the hospital coffee shop. He had no idea how Carolina had gotten dragged into the situation, but it was no doubt for the best.

  No one was better at providing a little TLC and understanding—or at forcing a person to deal with facts head-on—if that’s what she thought was needed.

  Mary Nell’s elbows were propped on the table and her hands were cradling her head. Durk quickly made his way to the table, pulled out a chair and joined them.

  “This is my son Durk,” Carolina said.

  Mary Nell lifted her head and stared at him warily, as if he were a wolf joining their group of nervous sheep. Her eyes were red and swollen and her hay-colored hair looked as if someone had twisted it into knots before loosening it to fly wild.

  “You’re the one who found Ben’s body,” she accused, her stare reproachful.

  “I went to Meghan’s office to tell Ben that Meghan was in the hospital,” Durk said. “I never expected to find him dead.”

  “You wouldn’t have gone there if you hadn’t suspected something was wrong. Meghan told you he was in danger. Don’t deny it. She probably sent you to warn him, but you didn’t get there in time.”

  Durk worked to keep his voice calm. “You have this all wrong, Mary Nell. Meghan had no idea I was going to look for Ben. S
he’d been assaulted and needed emergency care to save her own life.”

  “It’s still her fault. She should have realized the killer was on to her scheme.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. “What scheme is that?”

  “Whatever scheme Meghan had going. She was always putting herself and Ben in danger.”

  Durk could all but hear the thud when they hit nowhere again. “Look, I’m really sorry about Ben, Mary Nell,” Durk said, determined not to sound defensive. He’d done nothing that needed defending. “But his death was a criminal act. The only person to blame is the one who pulled the trigger.”

  Mary Nell pushed back from the table and jumped out of her chair. “Everybody always sides with Meghan, the same as Ben did. But I’m tired of staying silent. I won’t stop until I talk to every reporter in Dallas. And I’ll tell Meghan Sinclair exactly how I feel to her face.”

  Not today she wasn’t, not if Durk had to physically carry her out of the hospital and escort her home. “You have every right to be distressed, but I won’t let you upset Meghan. Unless you have something to tell me about the case Meghan and Ben were working on, you need to go home and call a friend to come and stay with you.”

  “I’ll tell you about the case. Ben was worried. I overheard him warn Meghan the night before to back off and let the police handle this one. She didn’t listen. She never listens.”

  “What else did you hear him say?”

  “I don’t remember. Something about the situation getting out of hand and it being too risky.”

  Durk had no trouble believing that. Meghan would do anything to solve one of her cases, even dangle herself out there like a worm on a fishhook. He felt the old frustrations building.

  “Try to remember if Ben said anything else about the case. It could help us find your husband’s killer.”

  Mary Nell shuddered and sat back down. “I don’t remember. But he was upset. He hardly slept that night after talking to Meghan.”

  Carolina put a hand over Mary Nell’s. “I know this is hard for you,” Carolina said, “but you need to stay strong and focused. We want to help you, but you have to tell us what Meghan was doing that was so dangerous.”

  Tears filled Mary Nell’s eyes and began to stream down her cheeks. Carolina handed her one of the paper napkins in lieu of a tissue.

  “I’ve begged Ben time and again to quit his job. He was going to be a father. He shouldn’t risk his life just because Meghan had a death wish.”

  “Are you expecting a baby?” Carolina asked.

  Mary Nell placed her hands on her stomach. “I’m almost four months pregnant,” she said through her tears and sobs. “Ben was so excited. Now he’ll never see his child.”

  Carolina wrapped her arms around Mary Nell’s shoulders.

  Durk’s heart went out to her, but he really needed Mary Nell to be coherent. “Did Ben mention a name? Please, think hard. Did he ever say the name of either the client who had hired him for this job or the person Meghan was tracking?”

  “No.”

  “Did he ever say what made this person particularly dangerous?”

  “No. He never told me names or any details about his work, not until a case was closed. He claimed he wanted to protect me from the sordid situations he dealt in. He should have been protecting himself.”

  Mary Nell dabbed her eyes with the napkin.

  “Did Ben have a home office?” Durk asked, still hoping for some clue that would lead to the killer.

  “No. He usually just worked on his laptop at the kitchen table when he had something to do for the detective agency. What work he had that wasn’t on the computer, he kept in his briefcase.”

  “Where are his computer and briefcase now?”

  “I don’t know. I would have thought they’d be at the office with Ben. Apparently they weren’t since Detective Smart questioned me about them, too.”

  “When did you talk to him?”

  “Last night, but I was so upset, I barely remember it. If I had Ben’s computer or laptop, I would have given it to Detective Smart. Police should be the ones to track down criminals.”

  “But they sometimes fail,” Tague said, finally breaking into the conversation. “They did with my wife, Alexis. That’s why I hired Meghan to help us keep her safe from a killer. Meghan is very good at what she does. I’m sure Ben was, too.”

  “He was good at everything,” Mary Nell said. “He was smart and kind and loving. And now he’s dead. But it should be Meghan waiting to be buried. I’ll tell her that. I swear I will.”

  There would be no reasoning with Mary Nell today, but she had said enough to convince Durk that this was connected to a current case. There had to be records of the investigation, and no doubt those were the records the man had been after when he’d shot and killed Ben. That would explain the files scattered all over the office floor.

  Carolina’s cell phone rang. She excused herself and took the call. When she returned she remained standing. “That was Sybil. The doctor has released her. Tague, why don’t you drive her home? Alexis, Emma and Grandma Pearl are all at the ranch. They can help take care of Sybil until I get home.”

  “Where will you be?” Durk asked, though he could easily guess the answer.

  “I’ll drive Mary Nell home and stay with her until her parents arrive.”

  “I’m not leaving the hospital,” Mary Nell declared through another round of sobs. “Not until I see Meghan.”

  “Then I’ll stay with you while you wait to see her,” Carolina said calmly. “Durk, you and Tague can go now. Mary Nell and I will be fine.”

  Durk was hesitant to leave her, but he’d seen his mother in action too many times to doubt that she would get through to Mary Nell.

  Carolina was a spiritual miracle worker. Even their pastor called her in when dealing with severely crushed spirits and broken hearts. Empathy was second nature to her.

  Carolina sat down beside Mary Nell.

  “I loved Ben so much,” Mary Nell said between sobs. “I don’t want to live without him.”

  “I know,” Carolina said. “I understand completely. I lost my beloved husband, too, just over a year ago. But you have your baby to think of and part of Ben will live on through your child.”

  “Mom’s amazing,” Tague said as he and Durk walked away.

  “You’re right,” Durk agreed. “I know she still grieves for Dad, but sometimes I forget how close they were.”

  “That’s love,” Tague said. “When it moves in, it claims your heart and soul.”

  “Then you guys can keep it. I like controlling my own destiny.”

  “You’ll change your tune when you get struck by Cupid—unless…”

  Durk knew exactly where Tague was going with that. “Meghan Sinclair is just a friend,” he said, attempting to set the record straight.

  “Keep telling yourself that, bro.”

  He planned to. At some point he might even start believing it.

  “I guess I better go get Aunt Sybil,” Tague said. “If I don’t, she’ll send someone to find me.”

  “Right. Thanks for coming in and for the timely arrival.”

  “You bet,” Tague said. “I’ll see you at the ranch whenever you get there or before if you need me.”

  But what Durk needed right now was a name, and that was locked away somewhere in Meghan’s trauma-fogged memory. Hopefully the snapshots would be the key to unlocking it.

  When he reached Meghan’s room, she was sound asleep. The nurse on the day shift sent him away, claiming that Meghan needed her rest.

  He killed the next hour going back to the penthouse to pick up his laptop and going over everything he’d heard over the last twelve hours. He tried to imagine the train of events that had led to the attack and the murder.

  Meghan was as daring and as indomitable as Mary Nell had said. He knew that as well as anybody. In most instances, it had paid off, but somehow she’d screwed up this time and allowed the killer to get the upper hand. />
  But why go after her with a stun gun and then go after Ben with a loaded pistol? The fact that he’d worn a mask would indicate that he’d never intended to kill her. Was the attack meant to be a threat?

  But if the man had actually planned to kill her, what was to stop him from trying again?

  * * *

  MEGHAN WOKE SLOWLY, pushed through the lingering miasma and looked around. The first thing she saw was the cowboy sitting near her bed, working on his laptop. Reality gained a foothold.

  “You’re back,” she murmured.

  “Yes. I’ve been here for over an hour.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “I was given an ultimatum by Patricia, the fire-breathing day nurse. Disturb you and I’m out of here.”

  “I’ve slept enough,” Meghan said. “I need to stop floating in the clouds and become grounded.”

  And to do that, she needed Durk. He was her only real bond with herself, the only person she’d communicated with since regaining consciousness who actually knew Meghan Sinclair.

  “Can I get you anything?” Durk asked.

  “A sip of water. My throat and my lips feel parched.”

  He stood and walked around the bed to get the water, but before he got the straw to her lips, the nurse came in and took over the task.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked as she returned the glass to the bed tray.

  “Stiff. Sore. And tired of this bed.”

  Patricia raised the head of her bed so that Meghan was in a sitting position. “The doctor left orders that you can take a short walk if you feel like it.”

  “That would be great.”

  “The key word is short,” Patricia said. “Just a few doors down the hall and back again. But you’ll need someone with you to steady you if you get dizzy.”

  “I can take care of that,” Durk offered.

  “Okay, but take it slow with her. I don’t want my patient to exert herself too much.” She leaned over and fluffed Meghan’s pillows. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Can you tell me when I’ll be released from the hospital?”

  “That, I have no control over.”

  “But she has control over everything else that happens in this room,” Meghan said once Patricia was out of earshot.