At Close Range Page 15

  “Slow down,” she said, rubbing her head as she assimilated the information. Brian? In jail? “Tell me what happened.”

  “They came to the office, arrested me, booked me and here I am. I need a lawyer, Hannah. Get me the best. And do it fast.”

  His plea sounded forced. She could hardly believe it was Brian talking. This wasn’t the man she knew.

  “What are the charges?”

  “Murder.”

  “What? Murder? Who? Oh my God, Brian, what’s going on?”

  “One of my patients died today. They say I did it. I don’t have a lot of time, Hannah. Just get me an attorney. Okay?”

  The last word sounded more like her friend. It was enough to fire up Hannah’s determination.

  “Consider it done.”

  After finding out which of Maricopa County’s six facilities they’d taken Brian to and promising she’d have him out that night, Hannah said, “Don’t answer any questions until you’ve got a lawyer there.” She was dialing from her home phone even before she’d hung up the cell.

  “Thanks, Hannah,” he said as the other line started to ring through. “And can you please call Cynthia?”

  Agreeing to do so, Hannah ended the call just as the woman who was slated to be Arizona’s second woman governor picked up. Tanya Clarion might be the most expensive defense attorney in the state, but she was also the best.

  If anyone could have Brian home in his own bed by midnight, it would be her.

  Sitting in the cell he had to himself, Bobby Donahue watched as the prominent-looking, clean-cut man was escorted down the hallway to another vacant cell, complete with bare cot and…nothing.

  Only moments before, God had brought Bobby word via an earthly angel that the doctor was in the house.

  He’d lived an easy life, this Dr. Hampton. Drove a Jag. Lived behind a gate on a hill. He was the worst kind of white man, as far as Bobby was concerned. He shoveled out money instead of taking action. Paid people off, and then turned around and served the other side. He kept up appearances, gave the impression of being a light worker, and then hid in his mansion and left God’s real work to men like Bobby and his loyal brothers.

  Brothers who didn’t play both sides.

  They’d see how Hampton liked living behind another gate for a while. A gate with no remote controls, no codes to type. Only a key hanging on a ring held by a man who didn’t like pretty white boys who showed loyalty to the cause and then ignored their duty to keep God’s earth pure. Hampton used his God-given talents on children of the lesser race. Dirty children. Keeping them alive. Healthy. Raising them to shed the blood of God’s chosen.

  And now this…

  If he thought killing six babies and then pretending he hadn’t was suddenly going to endear him to God, to the brotherhood, he was grossly mistaken. Killing infants didn’t serve the cause anymore than preserving their lives did. Babies of all races caught at the hearts of men. Dirty baby prevention was the key. Untreated natural health issues was the key. Not baby murders.

  Many used their medical skills as Hampton did—caring for nonwhites. Most were ignorant. Hampton wasn’t. He’d lost his wife to one of them. He supported the cause. He was a traitor.

  If he thought he could get away with taking care of the dirty races and then keep himself in God’s good graces by wiping out a few Hispanic babies, while continuing to care for those who made them, he was far more stupid than Bobby had thought.

  The man should be killed.

  But Bobby wasn’t sure if the victory would be worth the risk. Now wasn’t the time to draw attention.

  God would tell him what to do. He’d just wait and see what the Good Lord had in mind for him. And for the sinner doctor.

  In the meantime, what a pleasant pastime—at the end of a day that had bored him to hell—to imagine pleasing God.

  In whatever fashion his Heavenly Father required.

  15

  H annah tried to stay out of it, to let Tanya do her job, trusting that she’d do it well. She tried to stay home. Wait for the phone call to pick Brian up when he was released. Her presence at a local precinct would be topic for conversation.

  She avoided conversation at all costs.

  Bobby Donahue was in prison because of her. At least indirectly. She had to watch her back. Not drive on the streets of downtown Phoenix alone after dark.

  Or walk them, either, she added to her silent narrative as she pulled into a parking space much farther away than she’d have liked, thanks to the Suns game in high gear a few blocks away.

  Walking briskly with her head high and her hand on the mace in her pocket, Hannah breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the door of the Fourth Avenue jail.

  “Judge! I didn’t expect to see you here.” Tanya, looking fresh in her dark slacks, blouse and jacket, greeted Hannah as she exited a conference room. It was after nine.

  “What’s going on?” Hannah asked, nodding toward the hallway Tanya had left.

  “They’re planning to go to the grand jury for a first-degree murder indictment on up to as many as six counts.”

  Openmouthed, Hannah stared. There was just no way…

  And because there was no way it could be true, no way this could be real, no way she could ever believe Brian was a murderer, she focused on practical matters.

  “Planning to go. He hasn’t been formally charged?”

  Tanya shook her head. “True to form Angelo was a bit too aggressive. He hasn’t said, but it’s pretty clear that he had Brian pegged as one he could intimidate into a confession. While he probably has enough to get the state to indict, he’s not nearly solid enough for a capital case. Too much is circumstantial. He put Brian through all the hoopla to scare him into baring his soul.”

  Angelo. Hannah knew the name. And the detective was good. While too rash, too fond of following his own rules instead of city or county code, he generally came through in the end. As detectives went he was smart, dedicated and had an instinct that could compete with that of any fictional detective.

  “Has Brian said anything?”

  “Yeah. He didn’t do it.”

  Frowning, her arms wrapped around her middle, Hannah asked, “So what’s Angelo’s beef?”

  “He says Brian killed at least six babies.”

  “How? Brian wouldn’t do that.”

  “By putting HGH into their vaccinations. Brian has had seventy-five percent more patients die of SIDS this year than any other doctor in Phoenix. All boys. And all had just been vaccinated.”

  A vision of an empty nursery flashed before her mind’s eye. A door in her home that couldn’t be opened.

  Oh, God, Carlos was one of those vaccinated babies. But…

  “They do autopsies of SIDS babies. They’d have known if…”

  Tanya shook her head. “Because HGH is a natural hormone produced by the pituitary gland, it doesn’t show up with normal testing. They’d have had to look for it specifically to have found it.”

  “So they have no proof that that’s how these…babies…died.” Six of them. It was beyond comprehension. And too painful to accept.

  Five other mothers, suffering as she had. As she still did.

  “Angelo has been investigating Brian since the Sun News article.” Tanya’s next words were a complete surprise to Hannah.

  Poor Brian. He must have been shocked when he heard about Angelo’s activities. He’d dismissed that article, certain nothing would come of it.

  “Investigating him how?” she asked. “Interviewing those who knew him? Or families of victims?” Then why hadn’t Angelo talked to her?

  Surely, if this were legitimate…

  “He subpoenaed Brian’s medical records.”

  Her son’s records? Brian would have told her about that.

  “How’d he get them without Brian knowing?”

  “Brian knew. He handed them over. Angelo has questioned him a couple of times over the past few weeks.”

  Gray. All Hannah could see w
as gray. Gray walls. Gray floors. Even the defense attorney’s face had turned gray.

  “But those records wouldn’t prove anything,” she said, hanging on in the midst of the cacophony in her mind. Brian knew? He’d been interrogated? More than once?

  Why hadn’t he told her?

  Especially since it concerned Carlos.

  He would have told her.

  Unless…

  “No, but when Angelo noticed that all six infants had been inoculated just before their deaths he started checking into possible added substances that wouldn’t show up on a normal autopsy. HGH was the most obvious. Yesterday, another baby boy died. Crispin Garza. He was a patient of Brian’s. He’d been in for a shot on Tuesday. Angelo got an order for HGH testing in the autopsy and it was positive. In lethal amounts.”

  No!

  Shaking her head, Hannah stepped back.

  “That doesn’t mean Brian did it.”

  “No, and this is where the evidence is too circumstantial for capital charges—and, I’m certain, why Angelo acted so brashly today. Brian administered all of the shots himself.”

  He always did. That was no crime.

  “And he’s the only one with a motive,” Tanya continued.

  “Which is?”

  “Revenge for his wife’s death.”

  “What does Cara have to do with this? And why, after ten years, would he suddenly be avenging her? That doesn’t even make sense. He has a real girlfriend for the first time since Cara died.”

  “His quest for revenge isn’t new.” Tanya’s look was sympathetic.

  The attorney pitied her?

  “Tell me what you’ve heard,” Hannah said, a lifetime of emotional walls sliding into place.

  “I’m assuming you know about the rallies he attended….”

  “Of course.” The Sun News had mentioned them, too. Surely Tanya wasn’t buying into that old crap. “That was a long time ago. His wife was killed by an illegal immigrant who hadn’t been able to take a driver’s test or get a license. He wanted stricter border laws. But it’s not like he’s done anything since.”

  “He’s almost broke, Hannah. He just applied for a second mortgage on his home.”

  “Brian? What are you talking about?”

  “He’s been supporting any and every political move in the past ten years aimed at strengthening the border and deporting illegals. I have a long list of campaigns he’s contributed to.”

  He’d never said a word.

  Brian was in financial trouble? She’d never have guessed. A man would have to be at least a little bit emotionally unbalanced to give away his financial security in support of a cause, wouldn’t he? Donating was normal—but surely not this much.

  “Most recently, he gave more than a quarter million dollars to help elect Senator George Moss.”

  A quarter of a million dollars? To Bobby Donahue’s senator?

  Cold to the bone, Hannah didn’t react. Didn’t betray that the name meant anything to her.

  “It doesn’t look good,” Tanya said. “Except for Carlos…I’m, sorry, Hannah, I know this has to be hard for you….”

  “No…go on. Brian’s my friend. I need to know.”

  After a pause, Tanya said, “All of the other babies were illegals. And Brian brought all five of them to his office from the free clinic. He treated all of them free of charge.”

  Sick, head pounding, Hannah couldn’t think.

  “However, they’ve found no trace of HGH in Brian’s office, no record of it in any of his paperwork, nor in his suppliers’ invoices. There’s nothing to link the drug to him. The deaths were all ruled SIDS except for today’s and it’s not illegal to have given a vaccine to a child that died of HGH overdose.”

  “Then it sounds as though they don’t have enough to hold him, if the state isn’t ready to press charges.”

  “That’s what I said. I’m waiting to hear, but I think he’ll be released within the hour.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  She was standing. Breathing. Carrying on. While her mind silently screamed two questions over and over. Louder and louder.

  Was Carlos murdered?

  Was Brian in with the Ivory Nation?

  The questions reverberated until she was going crazy with the sound.

  Nothing had ever looked more beautiful to Brian than Hannah Montgomery did when she walked down the hall of the Fourth Avenue jail just before eleven Wednesday night. She was tired and wrinkled. Her hair had lost its bounce and her makeup had long since worn off.

  She wasn’t smiling.

  “You ready?” she said, stopping a couple of feet in front of him when he’d expected to feel her arms around him, returning a sense of rightness to the world.

  “Yes.” The single word stood in for all of the thoughts pounding at his brain. The questions he had to ask.

  First, what was wrong with her? Followed quickly by what was in store for him? What were the cops going to do and how could he protect himself? How did he prove his innocence?

  Falling into step beside her, Brian had to resist the urge to hold on to her arm—ostensibly to assist her, protect her as they walked out into the rough downtown neighborhood. And also to hold himself upright.

  It hadn’t been an easy night.

  One thing he knew for sure. He couldn’t wait around for the state to be unable to prove his guilt. His life would be in shambles. Not to mention what might become of his body if he’d stayed much longer in the godforsaken place he was leaving behind.

  The looks he’d received, the catcalls as he’d been escorted out of his cell only moments after being locked up—shown to the interrogation room he’d expected to see when he arrived—had left him no doubt that he looked like dinner to someone. And breakfast and lunch, too.

  It was an image he wasn’t going to get over soon. If ever.

  “You shouldn’t have come down here alone. Not at night.”

  “I couldn’t sit at home. And if things hadn’t gone smoothly I might’ve been able to throw my weight around. If nothing else, I’d know who to call and have the clout to get the calls made.”

  There was no sound of braggadocio in her voice. No inkling that she was impressed by herself.

  It was simply fact.

  “Still, I hate to think of you walking by yourself—”

  “Unless I was followed, no one would expect to find me here, which made me anonymous. And if I was being followed, it wouldn’t matter where I’d gone. They’d get me at some point. As you see, I made it just fine.”

  As she always did. Why that irritated Brian, he had no idea. Perhaps because he was the man, she was doing the rescuing and at the moment, he felt so damned weak.

  Needy.

  “Any woman down here alone isn’t safe,” he insisted when he should have shut his mouth and let her lead his grateful ass. “But at least your godforsaken trial’s over. And that you gave them what they wanted.”

  “I upheld justice,” she said, staring straight ahead. She hadn’t looked at him since he’d come down the hall toward her. “And that’s all old news anyway. I drew the Bobby Donahue case.”

  Stumbling, Brian hoped he hadn’t heard her correctly, and knew by the resolute set of her chin that he had.

  She tried to stay closed to him. To remember what she’d heard about him, not who she knew him to be.

  “Looks like the Suns game got out.” Groups of casually dressed people were slowly filtering into the area.

  Distracting herself from the man at her side, Hannah scanned the pedestrians for William. Or for any father and son walking alone together.

  “You didn’t just say you’re doing Bobby Donahue’s trial.”

  “If it goes to trial.”

  “Which it will.”

  His usual astuteness where her job was concerned no longer disarmed her as much. If he was in with Donahue, he’d know the intricacies as well as she did.

  They’d reached the Lexus, parked under the streetlamp where she’d
left it. Pushing the remote opener, Hannah let him in, while climbing in on her side. She started the engine, which automatically locked the doors. Then dropped her hands into her lap.

  “Tell me what’s going on, Brian.”

  “I wish to God I knew.”

  She turned, peering at him with help from the light coming in through the window, trying hard not to feel betrayed. Had her son been murdered?

  Had her friend known?

  Did he know Bobby Donahue, too?

  She couldn’t even consider that Brian had murdered her son. And more. At the behest of a madman.

  That would make Brian a madman, too.

  She tried not to feel anything as she searched for the magic words that would make this all go away.

  “Tell me everything. For real.”

  Frowning, he stared back at her. “What does that mean?”

  “What have you done?” Had he been so blinded by grief that he’d lost sight of reality enough to get himself into financial trouble? If that was all, she could listen to his explanation. If that was all, she could help him.

  “I’ve done nothing.”

  The Minnie Mouse tie he was wearing brought tears to her eyes.

  “Were those vaccinations tainted?”

  “If they were, it wasn’t by me. I was on the phone with Bruce Browning last week and…” His words faded away. He was watching her still, but more warily, defensively, than openly. “You think I did it.”

  “I can’t believe that,” she admitted, tears in her eyes. “Over the past hour, I’ve tried to step back and look at the facts as though I was hearing them in court, but I can’t see beyond the man I know you to be.”

  To see a man that might exist, but behind her back?

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were financially supporting illegal-alien legislation? Or that five of those babies were illegals? Or that you brought all of them to your office from the free clinic? Why didn’t you tell me Angelo has been investigating you for weeks? Why didn’t you tell me you’re an Ivory Nation supporter?” Every time she thought of that her heart missed a beat. “My God, Brian, I’m your best friend! You know how scared I’ve been and all along you—”