He walked to the door, then turned and gave her a stern look. But Im serious about the stress. Dont get all worked up about these calls. Unplug your phone at night if you have to. Give it a few days, and whoever this joker is, hell get tired of his little pranks and move on to something else.
Move on to something else.
That was exactly what Anna was afraid of.
SORRY YOU HAD TO WAIT so long, she told Laurel a little while later as her stepmother carefully navigated her Lexus through the massive Texas Medical Center parking garage.
Laurel smiled. Dont be sorry. I know it sounds strange, but I always enjoy coming to the institute. The place is so amazing. Have you seen the Celebration of Hearts exhibit in the museum?
The Denton A. Cooley Building, which housed the Texas Heart Institute, was indeed a marvel of twenty-first century technology, a state-of-the-art research, education and patient care facility named for one of the pioneers in heart transplant surgery. But Annas familiarity with the hospital was limited primarily to the eighth floor. I never made it down to the museum.
Well, you should make a point to. They have a very impressive art collection, and a lot of Dr. Cooleys personal mementos are on display, as well. Laurel turned to Anna, her green eyes sparkling with exuberance. I find something new and fascinating every time I go down there.
Im glad you werent bored. Her stepmothers zest for life, for even the mundane, never failed to take Anna by surprise, but she supposed that was one of the things that had attracted her father to the petite blonde in the first place. After all this time, Anna could finally admit that Laurel was a lot like her mother. She wondered how different her life might have been if shed come to that conclusion years ago.
Shed cut herself off so needlessly from the people who loved her, and it was only in looking back, only with the angel of death knocking at her door, that Anna had come to realize it was fear that drove her. Not ambition, not greed, not even her dislike and resentment of Laurel. Fear that if she cared too much, she might end up losing someone else.
Her mothers death had affected Anna far more than shed ever been willing to acknowledge, and her fatherso much like Annahad kept his own grief bottled inside. Hed refused to talk about her mothers death, refused to allow Anna to talk about it. Theyd both become very good at pretending and hiding their grief from one another. That was why when hed brought Laurel home, without any warning, Anna had thought it the worst kind of betrayal.
She hadnt been able to forgive him, hadnt wanted any part of their happiness, because by then, shed found something far more reliable and far less complicated than love. Success. Her professional life was something she had complete control overor so shed thought.
Deep in her reverie, Anna stared out the window as they pulled out of the parking garage and merged with traffic on the street. It was raining, and the rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers made her a little drowsy. It was a good thing Laurel was behind the wheel, she decided, resting her head against the back of the seat. Michael had given her the green light to resume driving six weeks after she left the hospital, but on biopsy days, she still had to rely on her stepmother.
Laurel had a few errands to run while they were out, including a stop at the pharmacy to replenish some of Annas meds, and by the time they finally left the medical center, it was after three and traffic was already congested. As they headed north on Main Street through downtown, Anna impulsively gestured to a parking garage on the left. Pull in there.
Laurel did as she was told, then flashed Anna a quick frown. Youre not going into the office, I hope.
Matthews, Conley and Hart occupied several floors of the J. P. Morgan Chase Tower, the tallest building in downtown Houston. Annas office was on the eighty-fifth floor, and on a clear day, she could glimpse the Gulf of Mexico. But Houston was a city at the mercy of a subtropical climate and the belching smokestacks from its dozens of oil refineries. A clear day in the downtown area was something of a rare occurrence.
Anna, Laurel admonished. You really should go home and rest.
This wont take long. Just drop me near the lobby, and then you go on home without me. Youve waited enough for one day.
How will you get home? Laurel worried.
Ill walk. Im up to four miles a day, she said when her stepmother tried to protest. I think I can handle a few city blocks.
But its still raining.
Anna held up her umbrella. Ive got my rain gear, and if it starts coming down harder, Ill take a cab.
Laurel found a place to park, then turned to Anna. Im worried about you, Anna. Ive noticed how restless and preoccupied youve been lately, and Im afraid youre going to do something to jeopardize your health.
Anna opened the door. I have something I need to take care of, but its nothing for you to worry about. I promise.
She got out of the car before Laurel could argue further and waved her on. Her stepmother hesitated for a moment, her brows drawn together in a deep frown, and then she reluctantly drove off.
From the lobby in the parking garage, Anna took the escalator down into the tunnels, a six-mile subterranean network that connected most of the major buildings in downtown Houston. The tunnels were air-conditioned and well lighted and contained everything from chiropractic clinics to offbeat boutiques, but somehow Anna could never quite conquer the oppressive feeling of being underground.
Hurrying underneath Travis Street, she rode another escalator up to the sleek glass-and-granite lobby of the Chase Tower, and then waited for an elevator to take her to the sixty-seventh floor where the offices of BMI Global Investigations were located.
The bell pinged and the doors slid open. As Anna stood back for the half dozen or so well-dressed professionals to disembark, she noticed a man at the rear of the elevator. He was taller than the other passengers, which might explain why her gaze was drawn to him. But Anna suspected it had more to do with the long, thin scar that ran from the top of his cheekbone to the curve of his chin. Shed finally gotten used to her own scar so the sight didnt put her off, but she couldnt help wondering what had happened to him.
He wasnt dressed in a business suit as all the others were, but wore instead a dark-colored shirt and pants that seemed out of place in Houston on a muggy, rainy afternoon in July. The humidity outside was killer, but the man seemed oblivious to the weather, his fellow passengers and especially to Anna. He barely glanced at her even when they accidentally brushed shoulders as he got off the elevator.
Excuse me, he murmured.
A chill shot up Annas backbone. She could feel gooseflesh prickling along her bare arms as she was shuffled to the back of the car. Through the crowd, she caught a glimpse of the man moving quickly away.
But just before the doors slid closed, he stopped suddenly and glanced back, his gaze searching the elevator as he lifted a hand to the back of his neck.
BMI WAS A LARGE private investigation firm founded by two former H.P.D. homicide detectives and an ex-FBI special agent whod worked out of the field office in Houston for over a decade. They now employed over a dozen certified investigators and a specialized support staff that included computer experts and forensic accountants who were masters at ferreting out hidden assets and undisclosed bank accounts, a service Anna had found invaluable over the years.
Matthews, Conley and Hart used the P.I. firm exclusively, and Anna had worked with all three of the principle investigators at one time or another. They each had their talents and areas of expertise, but she felt a little more comfortable with Tom Bellows. He was the oldest of the three, and hed always secretly reminded her of her father.
The receptionist did a double take when she first saw Anna step through the doorway, and then she gave her a wary greeting. Hello, Ms. Sebastian. We havent seen you in quite a while. Do you have an appointment?
No inquiry as to her health, Anna noticed, but she could hardly blame the girl. Before Anna got sick, she would breeze into the office for a quick consultation with one of the investigators, barely giving whoever was behind the desk the time of day. She was ashamed now to admit that shed never taken the time to learn the receptionists name. Nor had she ever noticed how pretty the girl was, with her long, silky hair and crystalline green eyes.
Anna glanced at the brass plate on the corner of the desk and committed the name to memory. Hello, Juliette. I dont have an appointment, but I really need to see Tom Bellows. Is he in?
Hold on and Ill check.
Thanks. Anna smiled her appreciation, and the receptionist was clearly stunned by her new, cordial demeanor.
When Juliette hung up the phone, she said in a careful voice, You can go on back. Mr. Bellows has a few minutes before his next appointment. She glanced at Anna, and then quickly looked away, as if she wasnt quite sure how to respond to her.
Anna thanked her again, and then started down the hall to Tom Bellowss office. He was standing in the doorway waiting for her. At fifty-five, he was still a fit and handsome man with silver hair, piercing blue eyes and a tanned, weathered complexion that attested to his passion for deep-sea fishing.
I thought Juliette had to be mistaken, he said in a serious tone. But it really is you. Welcome back to the land of the living.
Thanks. A very apt way of putting it, Anna thought as she followed him into his office. He motioned her to a chair across from his desk and she sat down, draping her raincoat across the arm and placing her red umbrella on the floor beside her.
Tom sat down behind his desk and gave her a long, frank appraisal. Last time I saw you, I wasnt sure you were going to make it.
She gave him a wry smile. A lots happened since then.
He nodded. I heard you got the transplant.
Yes, thanks for the card you sent. Toms had been one of the few cards that had been waiting for her when shed gone home from the hospital. It had meant a lot.
He was still studying her with undisguised curiosity. I may be crazy, but I swear you look different. I cant quite put my finger on what it is.
I lost quite a bit of weight, she said with a shrug.
You were always thin. Thats not it. He tilted his head. Its the eyes. He stared at her for a moment longer, and then glanced away suddenly, as if disturbed by something hed seen. Youve been through a lot. I can see that.
She nodded, suddenly very uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. She cleared her throat. Youre probably wondering why Im here.
I assumed you were back at work.
No. And to be quite honest, Im not even sure Im going back.
He lifted a brow in surprise. They know that upstairs?
I havent handed in my formal resignation, but I suspect they have a pretty good idea. Its been almost a year, after all.
He rubbed his chin. Theyd probably give you another year if you wanted it. An attorney with your abilities and instincts doesnt come along every day.
Abilities as in ambition. Instincts as in sheer, cutthroat ruthlessness. She drew a deep breath. That was the old Anna.
He smiled. Ill admit you do seem different, but Ive never seen a leopard yet who can change its spots overnight.
Maybe you havent seen one whose life depended on it, she countered.
Tom seemed to consider the possibility for a moment. He shuffled some papers on his desk. Why dont you tell me why youre here?
I have a job for you.
But I thought you said
Its personal.
All right, Im listening. But a frown already played between his brows as if he were anticipating something unpleasant.
I want to find out the identity of my donor.
He glanced up, his frown deepening. Then why not go through the proper channels? I read somewhere that transplant recipients write an anonymous letter to their donors family, and its delivered through the hospital. The family has the choice to either respond or ignore the letter. Eventually, if both sides agree, they can meet face-to-face.
Anna impatiently drummed her fingers on the chair arms. What if the family decides they dont want to meet me?
Then that might be for the best. Tom sat forward, gazing at her intently. He was clearly disturbed by her suggestion. Look, Anna, I think youre only looking at this thing from one side, but the safeguards are in place for your protection as well as the donors family. Let me give you an example. What if a bereaved mother finds out you have her sons heart? What if shes had a hard time accepting her sons death? What if she starts calling you in the middle of the night or showing up on your doorstep unexpectedly? Im not saying anything like that would happen, but it could.
Apprehension tingled along Annas nerve endings as she thought about the phone calls. I see your point, and I appreciate your concern, Tom. But I think its possible someone in the donors family may already know who I am.
She told him then about the phone calls, and when she finished, he drew the same conclusion as Michael. I agree thats pretty strange, but it doesnt mean the calls are coming from someone in the donors family. A lot of peopleknow about your transplant.
She had a feeling what hed meant to say was that a lot of people had it in for her.
Your transplant was even mentioned in the paper, Tom pointed out. So its hardly a secret.
Anna nodded. My stepmother showed me the article. Her name and medical condition had been included in a follow-up piece to a highly publicized trial shed litigated for the firm. She supposed it was possible that someone shed crossed swords with in the courtroom, or even in the office, had seen that article as well and had, as Michael said, decided to get under her skin a little. I know what youre getting at, she told Tom. And, yes, Ive made a few enemies. But I honestly dont think thats it. The phone calls are more
Mind sick? he supplied.
A shiver crawled up Annas backbone, not unlike the one shed experienced earlier in the elevator. She thought about the man with the scar, wondering again who had sliced open his face. And why.
She glanced at Tom. I was going to say personal. It might even be that someone is trying to reach out to me.
Which is exactly my earlier point, he reminded her grimly.
Look, even if I knew who was responsible for the calls, it wouldnt change my mind. Anna leaned toward him. I dont expect you to understand, but this is something I have to do. I know my donor was a thirty-nine-year-old woman, but I need to know what kind of person she was, the kind of life she led. Dont ask me to explain it, but I feel as if I owe her that much.