Sin And Bone. Debra Webb
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did you come to learn that Sutter suspected you killed your wife?” A good deal of time passed before the two ended their partnership. If Sutter truly believed such a thing, why wouldn’t he have brought it up sooner? Weeks or months after Cara Pierce died? Particularly if there was a possibility he had been in love with her.
“Perhaps he thought if he stayed close to me that I would eventually confess to him or that he would find some sort of evidence.” He stared at the glass as if weighing the prospect of having a second drink. “I really have no idea what he was thinking. Or why he thought it.”
“Did he know you were aware of your wife’s affair?”
“I assume he did. He would likely see that as a motive for me wanting her dead. Frankly, there is nothing else his message could have meant.”
“But your wife died in a hospital after a car crash. What’s his theory about how you murdered her under the circumstances?”
Bella had read the reports. The accident was caused by a horrendous snowstorm. As he said before, the nearest hospital was not adequately equipped. There was no one to do the surgery his wife needed. There was only Devon Pierce and he’d had a broken collarbone, a gash in his head requiring twenty stitches, a broken nose and a fractured jaw. He’d refused to allow them to see to his injuries until his wife was stabilized. When no one could help her, he’d tried. He’d just completed the repair to her ruptured spleen when the bleeding in her brain sent the situation spiraling out of control. According to their statements, the medical staff at the hospital had all agreed: there was nothing else Dr. Pierce or anyone on-site could have done.
Nothing to indicate foul play.
Pierce stood again. “I have no answer for that question. I can only presume Sutter has lost his mind. If you have no other questions, I have work to do.”
His sixteen-to twenty-hour-a-day work schedule was something else she’d read about the man. “I’ll meet you at your office first thing in the morning,” she said as she pushed to her feet.
“I’m usually there by seven.”
“I’ll be there as well,” she fired back without hesitation.
They didn’t speak as they walked side by side to the front door. Bella’s mind kept going back to the seemingly unfounded idea that anyone could think he murdered his wife. Nothing she had read suggested outbursts or trouble handling his temper. She’d investigated her share of domestic violence cases and he didn’t fit the profile. The wife, on the other hand, fit the profile of spoiled rich wife perfectly. Not that Bella had discovered anything overly negative about her, but she had a penchant for spending and self-indulgence.
At the door, she couldn’t leave without asking again. “This makes no sense. The person coordinating this threat to you, whether Sutter or someone else, is smart.” She waited until he met her gaze. “He must have some reason to believe there was foul play on your part.” And some reason to think resurrecting Devon Pierce’s dead wife would somehow drive him to drastic measures.
There had been an investigation into his conduct as a physician in the situation. Standard procedure. But the extenuating circumstances warranted the steps he had taken that night.
The eyes that had scrutinized her so intently before abruptly looked away. “We made the trip to see her family once a year, so I had been there numerous times. I was aware of the meager health-care services available in the area.” He shrugged. “Perhaps he believes I chose a sedan at the rental car agency rather than an SUV equipped with four-wheel drive and then took that particular road in the storm for the very purpose of ensuring an accident. It was the most treacherous, curvy and hilly. But it was also the shortest route. It felt like the right decision at the time.”
“Did you choose the sedan?”
He stared at her now. “There were no SUVs available. They’d all been taken. It was either the car or wait for an SUV to be returned. Which, given the weather, could have been hours or days. I’m not a patient man, Ms. Lytle.”
She sensed that he wanted to shake her with his seemingly blunt self-incrimination. “Were the two of you arguing when the accident occurred?”
“Yes.” His face tightened. “She wanted me to turn around. I refused. We were almost there. Going back wasn’t an option. The road behind us was worse than what lay ahead of us.”
Bella still couldn’t see it. “Causing an accident is too risky. You couldn’t have known her injuries would be any more life-threatening than your own.”
“Unless I gave her head a couple of extra bashes against the window to ensure there was sufficient damage and then waited.” His gaze narrowed as if he were remembering. “I seem to recall at least two different accounts of what time our car was noticed. The police pressured me for a bit about the timing of my call for help.”
Her heart beat faster with his every word. She wanted to argue that he was only trying to make her uncertain of her own conclusions, but there was something in his eyes as he looked at her now...something that dared her to ignore his words.
He shrugged. “In retrospect, I suppose it was the perfect plan for getting away with murder. No murder weapon to prove I planned the act. No evidence at all to suggest anything but an accident. And the coup de grâce—half a dozen witnesses watched my frantic efforts to save my wife in that operating room.”
Bella adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Pierce. Good night.”
She walked out without looking back. He closed the door behind her without saying more.
Whatever he was hiding, it wasn’t murder. She would bet her career on that assessment.
Dr. Devon Pierce was a man of contradictions. Warm to his patients. Cold to the outside world. Pretentious and direct...and yet Bella saw an undercurrent of vulnerability and grief.
It was the latter that pulled at her defenses.
She needed to solve this case quickly...or risk falling under Devon Pierce’s enigmatic spell.
If she hadn’t already.
The Edge, Tuesday, June 5, 9:00 a.m.
Ms. Lytle had been waiting at his office door when he arrived at seven that morning.
Devon had warned her that he had work to do before they proceeded with the investigation. He refused to allow this diversion to distract him. The medical world was watching, scrutinizing every aspect of this facility’s performance. The slightest slip could create a major setback. The Edge and all it represented for the future of emergency medicine were far too important to allow anything to get in the way of forward progress.
He had provided Ms. Lytle with the assistant administrator’s office. The position was as yet unfilled, so the office was vacant. He was here sixteen or more hours most days and never far away the rest of the time. Perhaps at a later time, he would view the need for an assistant differently. For now, Patricia represented the only assistant he required. In fact, he’d already discussed with her the possibility of upgrading her position from secretary to personal assistant. She had been with him for ten years, first as his secretary at Rush and then during the development stage of the Edge. Patricia had never once let him down.
She had been most unhappy with Ms. Lytle’s request for an interview with her this morning. Now, forty-five minutes later, the private investigator had returned to her desk and so far hadn’t said a single word to Devon. He stared at the woman seated across from him now. “Patricia Ezell is above reproach. If you insulted her in some way, I would require that you apologize immediately.”
A smile lifted Isabella Lytle’s inordinately lush lips. At their initial meeting last night, he’d at first thought she wore lipstick but he recognized now that she didn’t. Her lips were naturally a deep crimson,