The Silence That Speaks. Andrea Kane
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But I double-checked, anyway, just in case. I know my filing system, right down to my old recipes. Sure enough, the files were all out of order, as were the papers inside them. Somebody definitely went through the drawers and tried to make it look like they hadn’t. I have no idea if they found something or what that something was. Nothing jumped out at me as being missing.”
“Either they didn’t find what they were looking for, or they found it and it made getting rid of you that much more urgent.” Patrick scowled. “Besides recipes, what kinds of files do you keep?”
“My utility bills. My health records, lab results—that kind of thing. My receipts for items purchased. My medical insurance. The common charges for my condo.”
“You’re one organized lady. Although I can’t imagine any of those things being of interest to our offender. Still, you never know. One restaurant receipt, one item purchased...” Patrick loosened his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Time for me to get started. Let’s see if we can figure out what you have that’s worth killing for.”
* * *
Marc gave Hero more exercise than the bloodhound was used to.
During the extralong walk around Tribeca, Hero’s ears were flapping in the crisp breeze, his paws crunching in piles of leaves, as Marc strode along at a speedier pace than usual.
All was forgiven, however, when Hero saw where Marc was finishing up their jaunt—at the dog park, which was alive with bright autumn colors and some fellow canines. Marc closed the gate and removed Hero’s leash, letting him run off and have some playtime with his peers.
Walk or no walk, Marc hadn’t worked one drop of tension out of his body, nor had he unwound even the slightest bit. He sank down on a park bench, keeping an eye on Hero and wishing he could spend the entire afternoon at the gym, rather than going back to the brownstone. He needed to expend some serious energy.
“Hi.” A pretty blonde woman, about thirty years old with a black Labrador retriever tugging at his leash, stopped next to Marc. “Which dog is yours?” she asked, giving Marc a flirtatious smile as she tucked a strand of blowing hair behind her ear.
Marc had been hunched over, elbows on his knees, gaze fixed on Hero. Now he sat up, giving the woman a cordial but reserved smile and folding his arms across his chest. He knew his body language was less than welcoming. In fact, it was closing him off. Normally he’d enjoy passing the time here with an attractive woman. But not today. Today he needed to be alone.
“The bloodhound.” He pointed, simultaneously pulling out his iPhone as if he was about to start some major project. “And between watching him and getting my work done, I’m going crazy.”
The woman’s face fell. “I guess that means you’re not in the mood for a conversation break.”
Marc’s expression softened a bit. After all, it wasn’t this woman’s fault that his head was messed up today. “Oh, I’m in the mood for one. Unfortunately, I can’t do it. Not today. My boss would kill me. I should have done this research on my office laptop, but I opted for a walk instead. So I’m stuck looking at a tiny screen, reading detailed legal documents.”
“Say no more. I understand.” The blonde, who looked like a professional herself, extended her hand. “I’m Robin.”
“Marc.” He shook her hand, fully aware of the intentionally warm grasp of her fingers. “Can I take a rain check?”
“No problem.” Her tone perked up. “Dash and I stop by the park every day at lunchtime. He gets a walk and I get a break. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you here before.”
“I usually take Hero’s evening shift. My colleague takes the one midday. I’m beginning to understand why.” Marc mustered a grin. “Maybe I can make some schedule changes. I’ll certainly try.”
“Hero?” Awareness dawned in Robin’s eyes. “Then Ryan is your colleague. I should have guessed. Why is it that all the hot guys band together?”
Marc had to laugh at that one. “I’ll duck that question and just say thanks for the compliment.”
Robin fumbled in her purse and pulled out a piece of paper, scribbling down her phone number. “Call me—Marc.” She stuffed the piece of paper in his hand. “Maybe we can coordinate dog park visits.”
“Maybe we can.” Marc pocketed the slip of paper and lifted his hand in a wave as Robin strolled off to join some of the women across the way. Judging from her friendly demeanor, she knew them. Dog park buddies. A nice way to pass the lunch hour.
Marc continued to stare at his iPhone, not even seeing it.
All he could see was Maddy.
How long had it been? Nine years? No, ten.
A lifetime. And a heartbeat.
They’d met in the hospital cafeteria. Maddy’s eight-hour nursing shift had just ended, and she was grabbing a cup of coffee and a crumb bun to tide her over until she could get a decent meal. Marc had recently gotten back from an overseas mission to the Middle East, and he was at Bethesda for a routine physical, which he’d just passed with flying colors.
They’d bumped into each other on the cafeteria line—literally.
As she’d juggled to balance her tray, Maddy had pivoted, walked smack into Marc and knocked the cup of hot coffee he’d been holding all over him.
She’d been totally mortified. He’d been totally amused. Yeah, the hot liquid stung, but he’d gotten a kick out of the way she took care of the problem, folding and applying napkins to his shirt as if she was dressing a wound.
Chewing her lip, deep in concentration, she’d been so serious about the task at hand that it had taken a good five minutes before she spotted the twinkle in Marc’s eyes.
Then she’d risen to her feet, tossed down the napkins and, without a single word, went over and bought Marc another cup of coffee.
“Here you go.” She’d handed it to him. “I’d say we’re even.”
His grin had turned into a deep-throated chuckle, and his gaze had scrutinized her from head to toe. “Not unless you sit down and share a cup with me. Then we’ll be even.”
She had. And that’s when and where it had begun.
Marc didn’t open up easily. He was reserved by nature—a trait which had been accentuated by his covert role as a navy SEAL. Yet with Maddy, he was relaxed, comfortable. She was easy to talk to. She didn’t pry and she didn’t pursue any subject he chose to avoid. She was open about her own life—a small-town girl who’d read six biographies on Florence Nightingale and had always wanted to be a nurse. ROTC had paid her scholarship to college, and she’d gone on to be a navy nurse, stationed here in Bethesda Medical Center. From the additional info Marc had made sure to dig up, Maddy had completely undersold herself. It was no wonder she’d become an E.R. nurse. She had an incredible gift. There were military guys in the hospital who, by all rights, should have died from their injuries, but hadn’t—thanks to Madeline. She wasn’t beautiful, but there was something incredibly sexy and stunning about her. Dark hair, big brown eyes, delicate features and a body to kill for, she possessed a certain warmth and style that was impossible to miss.
The sexual pull between them had been instant and overwhelming. Even that first evening, when Marc had done nothing more than walk her to her door and kiss her good-night, they’d both felt the burn. It had taken all Marc’s self-control not to back her into the apartment, tear off her clothes and bury himself inside her until neither of them could breathe.
Maddy had felt the same. He saw it in her eyes when his lips left hers—the wonder, the astonishment, the desire. And her heart had been racing; he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
All from one kiss.
One kiss that had led to another date, and then another.
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