Dark Whispers by Debra Webb Page B

incapacitated?”
    She laughed, it was the first real laugh he’d heard from her. He liked it. The sound came from deep inside, making it rich and sweet.
    “Well, that’s easy.” She lifted her arms wide apart. “This lovely old home that costs a mint to maintain. Fair market value is somewhere in the two-to three-million-dollar range. Since both my siblings have assets worth far more than the value of this estate, I highly doubt they’re in any hurry to take it from me.”
    “Life insurance?”
    She deliberated on her answer for a moment. “I have a healthy policy. Five million. Half of which goes to my siblings as long as I remain unmarried and the other half goes to my chosen charities.”
    Clint still wasn’t convinced. “Are you protecting any family secrets?”
    Natalie looked away. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
    So, she was covering up something. He leaned forward, braced his forearms on the table. “Do you have knowledge that could create problems for either of your siblings?”
    “I do not.” She grabbed another of the folders. “I thought we were going to discuss the Thompson case.”
    He would come back to this because the lady was definitely hiding something. “Walk me through the case.”
    “Walter Thompson entered the Rison Medical Center for a fairly routine procedure,” Natalie began. “The complaint alleged that after his procedure the next morning, a nurse, Imogen Stuart, wheeled him back to his room and helped him to the bathroom, where he fell and hit his head. According to Stuart, Mr. Thompson did not fall until after she had settled him into his bed. Stuart claimed that as she was leaving the room he attempted to climb out of the bed to look for his wife and that was when he fell. The wife returned to the room as Stuart was helping him back into bed. So there were no witnesses to what actually happened. However it occured, the fall fractured his skull, causing an acute subdural hematoma that went undiagnosed until the onset of symptoms. He was rushed to surgery, but they were unable to save him. The wife insisted that her husband told her repeatedly that he’d fallen in the bathroom and that the nurse had been on her cell phone in the corridor instead of helping him.”
    “The nurse,” Clint said, recalling the rumors he’d heard about the case, “stuck to her story that she never left Mr. Thompson’s side until he was in the bed with the rails raised. Still, Rison offered to settle quietly but Thompson’s wife insisted on a public admission of liability.”
    Natalie nodded. “She requested a jury trial. Except for her testimony, there was no evidence to support her allegations. An eleventh hour search of Mr. Thompson’s health records—which had already been submitted as evidence—found a single incident of him falling down the garage steps when he knew better than to try going outside the house without assistance suggested a pattern that seemed to confirm Stuart’s story and won the case.”
    “No one had noticed this incident before,” Clint countered. Very convenient, in his opinion.
    “It happens. You read files a hundred times and you miss a little something here or there. We were working night and day. It goes with the territory in a big case.”
    “There were rumors about a witness who confirmed the wife’s allegations,” Clint reminded her.
    “Yes.” Natalie reached for another folder in one of the boxes and took a moment to review it. “Just before trial Stuart claimed that her original statement was a mistake, but later she recanted that allegation.” Natalie shook her head. “I don’t remember any rumors about actual evidence.”
    “The timing of the rumors was around the same time you were recovering from your own fall.”
    “So that’s why you asked about Vince.” Natalie shrugged. “I can’t see him going that far for a case—especially one that wasn’t even his. You’re thinking that if I hadn’t fallen, I would have come forward