Death's Door. Meryl SawyerЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Do they have any clues about Erin’s killer or am I the only suspect?” she asked Paul.
Two beats of silence. “I don’t know. I’m on leave—”
“You said you were in the office this morning. What did you hear?”
He shrugged his powerful shoulders and for a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. “Not much. Your prints are everywhere.”
She gestured for him to sit in the seat the detective had vacated. “That’s not surprising. I was at Erin’s on Friday night.”
“What about the bottles in the medicine cabinet?” A sardonic note underscored the question.
“I helped Erin move in. I unpacked half of everything in the house. My fingerprints are going to be everywhere.”
His blue eyes seared hers and she shifted in her seat, realizing this man exuded masculinity like musk from every pore. Although he wasn’t handsome in a conventional way, Paul Tanner had that elusive something that made women respond to him.
What she must look like to him hit her again. Madison had rushed out of the house this morning after taking Aspen for a walk. As usual, she was dressed in well-worn jeans, paired today with a blue T-shirt. Her hair had always been sensitive to Florida’s humidity.
Enough temptation must come Paul Tanner’s way that he would never look twice at a nerd with frizzy hair. Like Aiden, this man would drool at the sight of Chloe and her low-cut tops and straight, sleek hair that fell over one eye. God! What was she thinking? She was in real trouble here.
“Do I need a lawyer?” she asked, to steer her mind back to the problem at hand.
“Wouldn’t hurt.”
Suddenly all the air in the room went still. Her brain managed to process the information and come up with the gravity of her situation. When she’d asked the question, she’d expected him to say no. “Earlier I realized I might need an attorney, but I don’t know any criminal defense lawyers.”
“I could give you a few names. Being in homicide, I’ve run into my share.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled, and jotted down the names he rattled off. Madison wondered if she could possibly afford to retain an attorney. She would be forced to use the money she’d been saving for a new house. She’d reinvested the rest of her divorce settlement in expanding Total Trivia and hiring new programmers to keep up with the competition from other Web sites.
Her anxiety mounted as she considered her options. What would she do? The Russerts would return in a little over two weeks. She would have to find another place to live with Aspen.
Paul’s measuring eyes continued to study her in a way that gave her the urge to cover herself. It was ridiculous, of course, but she felt he could see right through her and knew all about Aspen. Her fibs about the dog might make him believe she was being untruthful about everything else.
“Did you want to see me about something?” Madison asked as if she hadn’t a clue what had brought him here.
He opened the manila folder he’d brought with him. “I know you needed proof that your mother used the services at New Horizons.” He handed a sheaf of papers to her. “This is a transcript of her screening interview. It’s all there. Just read it.”
She took the papers. “Transcription? You mean the interview was taped.”
“Yes. The tapes were destroyed but the files still contain transcripts of the screening sessions.”
Her mind reeled. A lawyer. A new place to live. How could she deal with this, too? She felt like the slowest fish in the ocean—the sea horse. Bigger, more powerful fish were creating such turbulence in the water around her that she couldn’t get anywhere.
She forced herself to scan the first section, which established her mother, Jessica Connelly, was married and living in the small apartment complex that Madison knew had been their home until she was six months old. She glanced over additional information anyone could have discovered about her parents, then told herself to concentrate and read more slowly.
Nurse Avery: How long have you been trying to conceive?
Jessica Connelly: Nearly three years. We’ve been to fertility specialists and tried everything. That’s why I’m here. I want to be artificially inseminated.
Nurse Avery: I’ve looked over the doctors’ records. It seems your husband has a low sperm count. You may become pregnant but it could take more time than you’ve given it.
Jessica Connelly: We want a baby now. If I conceive again, we’ll have two children. If not, we’ll be happy with one.
Madison was convinced this so-called interview was bogus. She was an only child, but her parents had assured her that it was by choice. Still, she couldn’t help asking herself why a man like Paul Tanner would go to all the trouble to convince her that she had been the result of a sperm donation by a man needing a new liver unless Paul actually believed it was true.
She concentrated on the document before her while covertly studying him. He had a certain rugged appeal most other men lacked. Most assuredly, he was light-years away from Aiden Larsen. But then, Aiden had been a con artist in his own right. Looking back—as she had countless times since he asked for a divorce—Madison could see Aiden’s attraction to her had revolved around her ability to construct an online game. Once that had been accomplished, Aiden had become less interested.
What was Paul Tanner’s angle? What did he want? She’d done a search online and discovered what little he’d told her about himself seemed to be true. He was a homicide investigator who’d been shot in the line of duty. A Mike Tanner did have a private security agency. He must be Paul’s father, but what was in this for them?
Madison knew enough about the psychology of scam artists to know they hooked their “marks” by presenting some facts that could easily be verified. It still didn’t make his outrageous allegations true. She was her father’s daughter. It was possible that her mother had been to the fertility clinic but hadn’t gone through with the procedure.
She’d searched Google further for New Horizons, then used Lexis Nexis to take an in-depth look at the now-defunct clinic. They’d falsified data, claiming donors had Mensa credentials, and they’d charged for procedures patients hadn’t received. An avalanche of lawsuits had been filed and the clinic’s owners had left the country. There was no telling why her mother had a file at the clinic or why it had been altered to show she’d undergone the procedure.
She flipped through the pages, not really reading them. Zeke. The name exploded off the page with a boom that echoed in her brain. She backtracked and read the entire response, which had supposedly been transcribed from her mother’s exact words.
Jessica Connelly: Zeke really wants a son. He says he doesn’t care about the sex but I know how much he wants a boy. Zeke had asthma as a child. His mother refused to allow him to participate in sports and his father went along with her decision. Zeke always felt he missed out on the father-son bond other boys enjoyed. He wants a son to share ball games and fishing. You know, guy stuff.
Madison sucked in a stabilizing breath. Zeke. No one called Zachary Connelly anything but Zach or Zachary except her mother. When they were dating, she nicknamed him Zeke. She didn’t do it in public for some reason, but at home, especially when she was joking, Jessica Connelly called him Zeke.
This transcript might possibly be authentic. How else would they have come up with the unique nickname? This reinforced an earlier assumption. Her mother had consulted doctors at the clinic. It still didn’t prove Jessica Connelly had been inseminated there.
She glanced up and met Paul’s eyes. Her doubts didn’t show, did they? Her instincts told her this man would exploit any weakness. “How much did the inseminations cost?”
“They ranged from five to seven thousand