Cole couldn’t tell if the young man was new on the job, nervous about working with a patient of Jericho’s reputation, or just plain intimidated by Cole’s imposing size and demeanor. Whatever the cause might be, his rabbitlike movements only heightened Cole’s suspicions about the place. He took note of the attendant’s name tag. Joe Barton. Yeah, right. Not with that accent. Cole planned to run a few tests of his own while Dr. Kramer evaluated Jericho.
All the doors along the corridor stood open, and the rooms were apparently empty. Strike that, Cole amended, as a chin-high stainless-steel cart, packed with fresh, folded linens, rolled through a doorway just before they reached it. Instinctively on guard, he pushed Jericho’s wheelchair and the attendant against the wall and positioned himself between their entourage and the cart. His hand was inside his jacket on the butt of his gun when the cart swung around and he got his first look at the man on the other side.
“Whoa. Sorry, pal.” Stooped over in green scrubs and a white lab jacket, the orderly barely made eye contact before pushing the cart on past.
Cole’s breath eased out between tightly compressed lips. He nodded to the attendant to keep moving, but remained behind to cool an edgy pulse that was still firing jets of adrenaline through his system. He breathed in deeply, a new plan forming in his head before he followed Jericho into an exam room. The green clothes and shuffling walk were different, but the orderly’s scraggly brown mustache and beady black eyes behind the glasses were the same.
Lee Cameron.
His contact with the DA’s office.
Something was up.
TEN MINUTES LATER, Jericho was secure in the exam room with Dr. Kramer, a nurse and Paulie. The driver had parked the car and returned to stand watch at the door. The nervous attendant had been sent back to the main foyer and Cole was plugging change into a vending machine and waiting for a can of soda to fall through.
Lee Cameron leaned against the wall beside the vending machine, facing Cole’s direction without actually looking at him. He looked for all the world like a worn-out clinic worker who needed every bite of the candy bar he was munching on to sustain him to the end of his shift.
“You’re not looking nearly as dapper as when we met in the bank last week.” Cole’s words teased his fellow investigator, though he pretended a rapt fascination with the ingredients on his can of soda.
“Budget cuts hit me in the fashion department.” Lee chewed a mouthful of chocolate and peanuts. “You might give me fair warning next time you change plans. I could have scrounged a tie and posed as a doctor instead of borrowing these from the laundry.”
“Meade usually sees a doctor named Lyddon, east of the Plaza.” Cole popped open the soda. “I didn’t know we were coming here until this morning. If Powers is pressing for something new, I haven’t got it.”
Assistant District Attorney Dwight Powers could be a real hard-ass when it came to an investigation. But what the man lacked in personality he made up for in courtroom performance. Powers got convictions that were rarely overturned. When he sent felons to Jeff City or Potosi, they served their time.
But it was up to men like Cole and Lee to find the ammunition to make Powers’s big legal guns work.
Lee scanned the break-room area and ran through the usual questions. “We’re ready to serve the warrants on the drug trafficking tip you gave us. Nothing on the new money laundering scheme?”
Cole moved to the candy machine and studied his choices. “I haven’t gotten anything on the new accountant. Except that Chad Meade hired him, not Jericho.” He dug some change out of his pocket and made a selection.
“Chad’s the nephew, right?”
“Heir apparent.” Cole pulled the candy bar from the bottom bin. “He doesn’t have the brains Jericho or even Daniel had, so if he’s up to something, you can bet he’s not in it alone. I’ll keep digging.”
“No news on who ordered the hit on Powers’s family?”
That was the ADA’s one suspicion he’d found no evidence to corroborate. Powers’s obsession for the truth bordered on vengeance.
“Nothing I can prove yet. The timeline fits. Powers was gearing up to prosecute Jericho’s son. Two large sums of money were withdrawn from the Meade accounts that same week. But I’ve got no phone record, no eye witness to place Jericho with the hit man.”
“And we’ve got no hit man,” Lee added.
Cole nodded. “I’m still waiting for someone in the Meade camp to let something slip. But I haven’t heard anything concrete yet.”
Lee wadded up his empty wrapper and shot a basket in the trash can. “I’ll pass the word along, but you know Powers wants every loose end wrapped up before we pull you in.”
Cole shrugged his shoulders and took a drink. The few minutes they’d been conversing would start to draw attention soon. Lee Cameron was his one link to the DA’s office, Cole’s only safe channel of information in or out of the game. Lee wouldn’t risk making contact with the UC operative just to shoot the breeze. “So I’ve got nothing new, you’ve got nothing new. Why are you here?”
Lee shifted position. The subtle tensing of his posture was enough to make Cole glance his way. “It’s personal,” said Lee.
“Me or you?”
“Your mom.”
Cole’s fingers dented the can in his grip. “Yeah?”
“Yesterday morning she was assaulted in a grocery store parking lot. Had her purse stolen.”
Forget anonymity. Cole stared right into Lee’s intense black eyes. “Is Ma okay?”
Lee gestured with his hand at his side, warning Cole to look away. “She’s fine. Scrapes and bruises. But your nephew Alex—I guess he tried to defend her—he got some stitches at the E.R. and was released.”
Cole let the anger surge through him, then forced it to dissipate into mere frustration. His mother had been attacked. Not only had he not been there to help, he hadn’t even known she’d been hurt.
“He’s a good kid from what I’ve seen. Probably did some damage himself. They catch the guy?”
“Not yet. But they got a plate number. Stolen vehicle. No surprise there. But we’re trying to track it. And she called in your cousin Mitch.”
A police captain on a routine purse snatching? His concern ratcheted up a notch.
“The captain doesn’t believe it was random. He seems to think they were attacked because they were Taylors. He wanted me to remind you to watch your back.”
If laughter wouldn’t have drawn attention, Cole would have given in to the irony of the situation. Warning an undercover cop to watch his back? “Every damn day.”
“I think Powers would understand if you wanted to come in off the job.”
“The hell he would. I’m right where he needs me, and my work’s not finished yet.” Cole tossed the untouched candy into the trash. Worrying about his mother wasn’t a distraction he could afford right now. Jericho’s examination would be over soon and he didn’t want his absence questioned. Still, the guilt wouldn’t go away. “Keep me posted?”
Lee grinned behind his glasses. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
Though he couldn’t say he knew Lee well enough to claim him as a friend, Cole appreciated his go-between’s efforts to keep him connected to the real world. “Use it to buy some new clothes. I’ll contact you the usual way when I find out something on the new accountant or where the money’s going. Tell Ma I love her. And if there’s anything I can do to help…” But there wasn’t. They both knew there wasn’t.