Patrick’s forehead creased in thought. “If that’s the case, then whoever’s behind these attacks is convinced that you not only have something, but that you know something,” he said. “Otherwise, they’d just be going after your possessions, not you.”
“So you believe me?” Madeline’s voice was weak with relief.
“We have no reason not to,” Casey replied. “You make a solid argument.”
“But the police...”
“The police have to operate by a certain set of criteria that we don’t have to.” Casey kept it short and sweet. “So let’s move on to the obvious questions. What’s changed in your life recently? New relationships? New job? New routine?”
“None of the above.”
“Then let’s start close to home. Tell us about your husband.”
“Ex-husband,” Madeline corrected. Almost inadvertently, she darted a quick glance at Marc, then looked away. “Conrad’s and my divorce was final last month. But we were separated for six months before that. It’s hardly new.”
“Tell us about him, anyway,” Claire asked.
Madeline sighed, not a sigh of anger, but one of weariness and resignation.
“Conrad is a brilliant cardiothoracic surgeon—one of the top three in the country. He was...is...the head of the cardio unit at Manhattan Memorial Hospital. He’s also a very complex man.”
“How so?”
“He’s bigger than life. Always striving for perfection. He not only needs to excel and to surpass others, but to surpass himself. And when all the pieces fall into place, he’s unstoppable. But when they don’t...” A helpless shake of her head. “He’s his own worst enemy.”
“Did you say he was or he is the head of the cardiothoracic surgical unit?” Casey asked, having not missed Madeline’s hesitation over the past or present tense.
“Is. He’s just taken a leave of absence.”
Something about the way Madeline said that gave Casey pause. “When you say ‘a leave of absence,’ do you mean an extended vacation, or a sabbatical to go abroad and study some new aspect of his craft?”
“Neither.” Madeline looked down at the floor for a moment, then met Casey’s gaze. “This isn’t common knowledge, but Conrad has been staying at Crest Haven Residential Treatment Center. It’s a private facility in Connecticut.”
“I’ve heard of it. It’s a top-notch mental health facility.”
Madeline nodded. “This has been a devastating time for Conrad. Three months ago, he lost a dear friend who he’d just operated on. He’s never forgiven himself. I doubt he ever will.”
“Why did he operate on a close friend?” Casey asked. “As I understand it, that’s ill-advised.”
“It is. But the friend was Ronald Lexington, the hospital administrator. The surgery was a delicate one, and Ron wouldn’t allow anyone but Conrad to perform it.”
“Wow.” Ryan let out a low whistle. “Talk about pressure. That’s a tough one to live with.”
“It must have taken a huge toll on whatever was left of your marriage,” Casey said tactfully.
“Our marriage was already over.” Madeline’s reply was straightforward, but she was fiddling with the pleat of her pants leg. “We’d been talking on and off for a year and a half about separation. The divorce process was already well under way when this happened. But no, our relationship wouldn’t have been strong enough to hold up—not given the severity of Conrad’s reaction or his resistance to share his pain with me.”
“Was he sharing his pain with anyone else?” Ryan asked.
Claire winced. There was brilliant but blunt Ryan. “Anyone that you know of—like a colleague or a clergyman?” she asked, trying to soften the glaring implications of Ryan’s question.
A small smile curved Madeline’s lips. “I’m not offended. I doubt Conrad was having an affair. That’s not where his head was. I also doubt he did much sharing with anyone—that’s just not his nature. So, for the record, I doubt I’m being hunted down by a jealous lover. The gossip mill runs wild in the circles we traveled in. The fact that our marriage was ending was common knowledge. As was the fact that it was an amicable divorce. We wished each other well. We still do.”
“What circles did you travel in?” Patrick asked.
“Oh, we had a real-life soap opera going on.” Madeline grimaced. “An elite social crowd of high-profile doctors and their spouses. It was compounded by the fact that I work in the same hospital as Conrad. I’m an emergency room nurse. So I was in the middle of the drama both professionally and personally. It was exhausting. I’m a private person, so I’m struggling to extricate myself from it as quickly as possible. But after five years, it’s not easy, despite the divorce.”
That opened the door to a whole separate cluster of questions and suspects. But Casey was studying Madeline’s body language. She was no longer sitting up straight and tall. She looked drawn, exhausted, pale. And every time she shifted in her seat, she flinched. The woman was clearly in a fair amount of physical pain. And the only motivator that had gotten her here today was fear.
This interview had barely gotten started. But it was about to end.
“You’re a nurse,” Casey said. “Why do I get the feeling you used your clout to check yourself out of the hospital sooner than the doctors would have advised?”
Another pained smile. “Probably because you’re perceptive—which is one of the reasons I want to hire you. Although I am on extended leave, pending my doctor’s permission to return. That, I couldn’t wiggle my way out of.” Her smile faded. “I’m terrified. I know someone wants me dead—and I have no idea why. Or when the next attempt on my life is going to be. I don’t feel safe anywhere—not at home, not doing errands, not even at the hospital. Please. I need your help.”
Casey glanced around the room, reading her team’s expressions. Their usual procedure was to meet privately and make a group decision as to whether or not to take on a case. But Casey was reluctant to make Madeline wait when she was clearly in pain.
Plus, Casey knew her team. She knew what their reactions would be.
Except for Marc. This time, he was a huge question mark. So she saved him for last.
First, Patrick. He gave her an indiscernible nod. Ditto for Ryan. Claire’s lips mouthed the word yes.
Everyone accounted for. Casey angled her head in Marc’s direction. He was still writing—although Casey suspected that was more to keep himself occupied than it was to jot down notes about what was being said. Marc had a steel-trap mind, plus Yoda was taping the interview.
Well aware that Casey was looking at him, he raised his head and met her gaze. With an expression that was totally nondescript, he blinked his assent.
That settled that.
“If money is the issue, just name your fee,” Madeline interrupted the silence to offer. “Conrad gave me a generous settlement. I’m sure we can come to terms.”
“I’m sure we can.” Casey rose, extended her hand. “Consider yourself our client. We still have a lot to go over with you, but not today. You need to be in bed, recuperating. How did you get here this morning?”
“I took a