than anything else that’s been going on.”
He nodded. “I wonder how this guy got a job at the clinic? You’d think they’d do background checks there, wouldn’t you? I’ll bet this guy has a record.”
“Like I said, everyone else thought he was wonderful. And Mom…I mean, after he came into her life….”
“What?”
“Nothing. She just changed.”
“Changed how?”
“I can’t put my finger on it. It’s just a feeling I had. Things were different.”
“That’s so enlightening, Christie,” he said, throwing his hands in the air in obvious frustration. “With that kind of vivid recall, we’ll track him down by the end of the day.”
“You can cut the sarcasm, Sam. If you’re going to lose your temper, then I don’t want your help.”
“I’m real sorry, Christie, but like it or not, there’s a lunatic out there who, for whatever reason, is after you. I can’t help it if that upsets me just a little.”
“And you think I like it? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No! No, that’s not what I’m saying, for chrissake. I’m saying there’s got to be a reason for this guy to be after you and I want you to quit being so secretive about everything.”
She took a deep breath. “All right, all right. What do you want to know?”
“Back to the house,” Sam said, leaning forward.
“What about it?”
“Is there something in it—”
“You’re getting carried away, Columbo. You’ve been inside. There’s nothing.”
“Maybe it’s hidden.”
“Maybe it’s not.”
His angry look smoldered. “There you go again. Why are you so unwilling to cooperate?”
“I’m not. I just don’t appreciate the way you’re grilling me. Making accusations about my mother—”
“What accusations?”
“Didn’t they do a background check?’ My mother would not have been with him if she’d thought he was a criminal.”
“I wasn’t implying she would have. I’m just trying to help you, Christie.” He stared at her closed expression, then sighed. “Okay. Enough about your mother. Is there anything else you can think of that I should know about this guy?”
“No!” she answered too quickly.
His skeptical look said more than any words.
“Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. “Yes, there’s more. But don’t ask me to talk about it now. I need to think. I need to get myself together first.”
He looked like he would press her, then managed a grudging nod. He reached for the duffel bag on the table. “Let’s see what’s here,” he said, pulling out a stack of manila folders. Each folder had a colored, typed, last-name-first label. They both took one and opened it.
A business card fluttered across the table. Christie picked it up, recognizing the familiar logo of the soaring ball and 18th hole flag. Shock penetrated the numbing husk surrounding her.
“Sam, this is your card.”
“ What?”
She handed it to him, feeling as powerless as one of the red-and-white buoys buffeted by the waves.
A black cloud of anger darkened Sam’s features. “Where the hell’d he get this? And what’s it doing in that locker?”
“I don’t know. What are these files?”
“They look like medical records,” he said, frowning. “They’re somebody’s medical records. This DC guy isn’t a doctor, is he?”
“No way. I told you, he was working as a custodian at my mother’s clinic.”
They stared at the files as if expecting them to speak.
“Should we put them back?” Christie asked.
Sam shook his head. “Hell, no. He’s been making the rules until now. I don’t know why he’s got these files, but it’s a good bet they’re not his. Let’s jerk his chain for a change and make him wonder what the hell’s going on. Besides, he doesn’t even have a key anymore.”
Christie nodded, rubbing her temples.
DC Porter. He was like a nightmare that refused to fade, even after the sun came up. From the first time Christie had looked into his gritty blue eyes, she’d instinctively
He nodded. “I wonder how this guy got a job at the clinic? You’d think they’d do background checks there, wouldn’t you? I’ll bet this guy has a record.”
“Like I said, everyone else thought he was wonderful. And Mom…I mean, after he came into her life….”
“What?”
“Nothing. She just changed.”
“Changed how?”
“I can’t put my finger on it. It’s just a feeling I had. Things were different.”
“That’s so enlightening, Christie,” he said, throwing his hands in the air in obvious frustration. “With that kind of vivid recall, we’ll track him down by the end of the day.”
“You can cut the sarcasm, Sam. If you’re going to lose your temper, then I don’t want your help.”
“I’m real sorry, Christie, but like it or not, there’s a lunatic out there who, for whatever reason, is after you. I can’t help it if that upsets me just a little.”
“And you think I like it? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No! No, that’s not what I’m saying, for chrissake. I’m saying there’s got to be a reason for this guy to be after you and I want you to quit being so secretive about everything.”
She took a deep breath. “All right, all right. What do you want to know?”
“Back to the house,” Sam said, leaning forward.
“What about it?”
“Is there something in it—”
“You’re getting carried away, Columbo. You’ve been inside. There’s nothing.”
“Maybe it’s hidden.”
“Maybe it’s not.”
His angry look smoldered. “There you go again. Why are you so unwilling to cooperate?”
“I’m not. I just don’t appreciate the way you’re grilling me. Making accusations about my mother—”
“What accusations?”
“Didn’t they do a background check?’ My mother would not have been with him if she’d thought he was a criminal.”
“I wasn’t implying she would have. I’m just trying to help you, Christie.” He stared at her closed expression, then sighed. “Okay. Enough about your mother. Is there anything else you can think of that I should know about this guy?”
“No!” she answered too quickly.
His skeptical look said more than any words.
“Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. “Yes, there’s more. But don’t ask me to talk about it now. I need to think. I need to get myself together first.”
He looked like he would press her, then managed a grudging nod. He reached for the duffel bag on the table. “Let’s see what’s here,” he said, pulling out a stack of manila folders. Each folder had a colored, typed, last-name-first label. They both took one and opened it.
A business card fluttered across the table. Christie picked it up, recognizing the familiar logo of the soaring ball and 18th hole flag. Shock penetrated the numbing husk surrounding her.
“Sam, this is your card.”
“ What?”
She handed it to him, feeling as powerless as one of the red-and-white buoys buffeted by the waves.
A black cloud of anger darkened Sam’s features. “Where the hell’d he get this? And what’s it doing in that locker?”
“I don’t know. What are these files?”
“They look like medical records,” he said, frowning. “They’re somebody’s medical records. This DC guy isn’t a doctor, is he?”
“No way. I told you, he was working as a custodian at my mother’s clinic.”
They stared at the files as if expecting them to speak.
“Should we put them back?” Christie asked.
Sam shook his head. “Hell, no. He’s been making the rules until now. I don’t know why he’s got these files, but it’s a good bet they’re not his. Let’s jerk his chain for a change and make him wonder what the hell’s going on. Besides, he doesn’t even have a key anymore.”
Christie nodded, rubbing her temples.
DC Porter. He was like a nightmare that refused to fade, even after the sun came up. From the first time Christie had looked into his gritty blue eyes, she’d instinctively
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