Courting Death - Carol Stephenson [52]
Sophie opened the door and smiled. “You’re home early.”
Light flooded the porch. Underneath the box was a dark stain. The young woman glanced down. “Oh, I didn’t hear anyone ring the bell.” She knelt to pick up the box.
“Sophie, don’t touch that.” I raced up and grabbed her arm. “Please get my mother and take her out through the back over to your place for now.”
“Why?” Confusion flashed across her face, but she obeyed and stepped back into the house. “Is it a bomb?”
“I don’t think so, but we’re not taking any chances.”
I pulled out my phone and punched my by now favorite speed dial number. He answered on the first ring. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Sam, I need you to get to my house like yesterday.”
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s a box on my porch and it’s bleeding.”
Chapter Thirteen
“It’s an animal not a human heart,” Sam said as he sat next to me on the living room sofa. He braced his elbows on his legs and loosely clasped his hands.
A wave of relief swept over me, taking off the sharp edge of tension. The house was quiet now. Only the occasional click of Mom’s old clock on the wall had been my companion as I’d been forced to observe the investigation as a victim, not as someone who served the law. When Melissa had arrived home from the office, I had sent her protesting over to Sophie’s house.
Outside, the law enforcement activity was dissipating. Through the window I’d been watching people pack up their equipment. The throng of onlookers was thinner now. For the hundredth time I studied the face of any stranger. Tucked away in my pocket was a slim digital camera. While the crime scene photographer had taken pictures, I’d stood to the side snapping my own. Not of the package but of the crowd.
“Run me through your day. Who did you see and what did you do?”
I shrugged. “Spent the morning meeting with clients. Then I visited a possible expert and killed off the rest of the day at the courthouse.”
Sam’s mouth tightened. “Names and places, Nicole.”
“Are you going to contact them about this?”
He rolled his eyes up. “No, I’m going to sell them cookies. Of course I’m going to contact them.” He pulled out a notepad and pen.
“I’ll need to call them first but I will furnish you a list of names.” Idly, I wondered how many would drop me as their attorney. Police scrutiny was something most of my clientele wanted to avoid like the plague.
“What time did you leave the office?”
“Around noon. I drove out to the new medical complex off State Road 7.”
“Who did you see?”
I bit my lip. Chang’s name would be a clear arrow pointing to the Whitman case, but someone sinister had come on to my property. I shrugged. “Dr. Lee Chang, a neonatal expert.”
“For the Whitman case?”
I nodded and then thought about the only unusual thing I’d done that day. “When I was leaving I noticed the complex housed a company by the name of OraGen. The name’s come up with Dr. Hassenfeld’s…”
Disbelief flickered in Sam’s eyes before his cop’s immutable mask slammed down over his face.
“You know the company’s name,” I said slowly. “Is it part of the organ transplantation investigation?”
He reached over and snagged my wrist. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. The buildings bordered a square and are connected by walkways. I simply walked over to the one housing OraGen. When I spotted all the security cameras, I kept on moving. No one was around, except for a few cars in the back.”
The tension flowing from Sam’s fingers eased, but he thrust his face close to mine. “Listen to me. Your job is to defend the Whitmans,