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 cab. I live on the Upper East Side.”
“I’ll drive you home,” Patrick said at once. “I’d like to check out your apartment.”
Once again, Madeline reached into her purse. “I have a copy of the police report, if that helps. It lists the items that were stolen.”
“Great.” Patrick took the sheet of paper she unfolded. “That eliminates our having to contact the precinct. But actually, I’m more interested in seeing what specific areas of the apartment were ransacked. It might give me a clue as to what the intruders were looking for.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Also, while we’re driving, I’ll contact my security team and arrange to have a guard assigned to you immediately.” Over the years, Patrick had compiled a number of retired FBI agents and police officers to make up his expert security team. “That way, you’ll be safe and you’ll have peace of mind.”
“Thank you.” Slowly, Madeline stood up. “I truly appreciate it.”
“We’ll be in touch tomorrow,” Casey said. “If you’re up to it, maybe I can stop by your apartment and talk to you there. I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable in your own home.”
A nod. “I’m sure I would. I’ll wait for your call, then.” She paused, for the first time turning to look directly at Marc. “It was good to see you again, Marc,” she said softly, gripping her purse as if for moral support.
Marc met her gaze. “Good to see you, too.”
Patrick escorted Madeline from the room.
The rest of the team chatted briefly, and then disbanded, already divvying up assignments.
“Marc.” Casey stopped him before he could leave the room. “I need your input for a minute. Could you hang around?”
“Sure.” He stopped in his tracks, not looking the least bit surprised by Casey’s request. He knew her. And he knew what she wanted.
He remained silent, waiting for her to initiate the conversation.
Casey crossed over and shut the door, turning around to face him. She folded her arms across her chest. “Want to tell me what that was all about?”
“Not really.”
“Fair enough. I’ll ask only what I need to. You answer only what you want to.”
“Shoot.”
“What was the nature of your relationship
