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  “In the academy, she worked her ass off. She insisted on doing things on her own. I don’t think anyone other than her investigator knew about her wealth until after she graduated. She was seeing Stephanie by then—again, all cash. She also dealt with the anti-woman sentiment; she knew she had to be better just to be given a fair shake. She was fierce. Hell, she is fierce.” Christian wiped his eyes against his sleeve.

  The elevator door opened, and Eric stepped out, his forearm covered in thick bandages. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off her.”

  Rachel patted the chair beside her. “None of us expected that. You’re human, son. Are you all right?”

  “Fifteen stitches—I’ll be fine.”

  “How is she?” Ian asked.

  “We have her on high-flow oxygen, and we stopped the external bleeding. Hunt has her in the CT scanner, using contrast to examine her vessels, brain, and damage to her shoulder and chest. The scans should take another half hour.”

  “Thank you, Eric,” Ian said. “Please go up to the house and get some rest.”

  “I'd like to stay. I want to make sure Cassie's okay.”

  “Sure.” Ian returned his focus to the Paulsens. “Now you need to tell me about Garett Whitman, the attack, the end of the engagement and the pregnancy. Not the stuff in the police file—the stuff not in the file. Tell me about ‘soiled goods,’ ‘sullied womb,’ ‘whore.’”

  Frank tapped the table. “First, answer us. What did she mean by ‘interesting’ man?”

  “I didn’t just see her—I met her that night. A man attending the gala was upset because one of the paintings wasn’t available for view. He was drunk and grabbed her wrist, and I intervened. To say thank you, Cassie snuck me behind the scenes and showed me the art in question. I kissed her hand and bid her goodbye. It kills me this was hours before she was assaulted.” Ian's guilt was evident to all.

  “Growing up Sarah loved Cassie, but she was overprotective and made her wary of boys. Then, Cassie gets hurt and suffers a horrible loss. Again, no boys. After the accident, the doctors gave her the complete possibilities. All she heard was pain and lack of sensation. She refused to let it go.

  “When Cassie started college, she was healthy. Her doctors cleared her for everything. The scar from the fractured pelvis was quite small, but on the emotional side, she carried the worry. Sophie was her roommate and the best thing for her. She started to come out of her shell,” Rachel explained.

  “She met Garett Whitman her sophomore year and fell in love,” Luke started. Frank rolled his eyes, and the other sons stiffened. “Right after he graduated from law school, he proposed. The wedding was planned for two weeks after the attack.”

  “During the engagement, her worries grew more serious. She believed she wouldn’t be able to…” Rachel sighed.

  “Satisfy a man?” Eric filled in the blank.

  “Yes. Cassie is very private about herself, but she mentioned something in passing to Sophie, who was so worried she called me. Garett upset her. I always got the feeling their relationship wasn’t too physical. He—or his mother—had particular requirements for a woman. Adrienne was outright mean to Cassie.

  “Sophie told me Cassie was uneasy about the marriage before the attack, but she felt it was her duty to keep her promise. Shame on me for not insisting on more intense counseling.” Rachel dabbed her eyes.

  “Mom, you couldn’t force her. Besides, her troubles now are all that bastard’s fault,” Noah said.

  “It’s bad enough she isn’t here to hear this. We’re dissecting her. I hate this,” Sean chimed in.

  Noah wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Bro, you saw her tonight. The night she woke up, Jamie told us—no matter what—not to participate in lies. If we don’t know what the truth is, we can’t tell what she’s making up to fill in the blanks.”

  “Back to Whitman. What happened?” Kieran asked.

  Sean crossed his arms. “The morning of the attack, Cassie defended her dissertation. We were thrilled and had planned a surprise brunch for the next day. Mom let herself in when Cass didn’t answer the door. She found her in her bathtub—naked, bleeding, and covered in black rose petals. After she was discharged, she started having scattered visions and nightmares. I think she still does.”

  “Cassie didn’t end the engagement. Garett did.” Christian forced himself to sit up straighter in his chair. Luke and Rachel Paulsen seemed shocked.

  Christian looked down at his hands. “Remember when I flew in for the weekend after she was discharged? Cassie was so shut down. I went to see Garett. I wanted to let him know it wasn’t him, to hang in and to give it time. I was sympathetic. The little prick looked me right in the eye and said she was no longer marriage material. Said she was soiled goods, no longer a virgin. I was glad we met at a bar in Union Station. I think I would’ve murdered him on the spot if we were alone. He dared to complain she wouldn’t even give him a…”

  Christian took in a harsh breath. “He went on to explain, in rather vulgar terms, she was cold. Garett said he told her the truth, like pulling off a Band-Aid. She’d get over it, and that was that. When I got back to the house, she said Garett texted her that we spoke. She begged me to let it be. Cassie said he let her save face by allowing her to make it seem like she was the one who canceled the wedding. I told her she was better off without him.

  “And then the way he turned on her—those words destroyed any trust she ever had in a man. As a payoff, the bastard’s family made a big contribution to a domestic violence charity in her name. To her, the attack, the subsequent pregnancy, and the lost engagement were all her fault. They proved she was inadequate. She begged us not to tell Mom and Dad. She vowed not to disappoint anyone ever again. I don’t think she ever went out alone with a man until you, Ian.”

  “She insisted our date was just dinner.” Ian understood why Cassie wanted to push him away. If she was going to drive him away, it had to be about anything but this.

  “Does Cassie know Robert Bynum Jr.?” Kieran asked.

  Luke nodded. “There was a group of them—Garett, Robby, Burt Marshall, Kevin Tyler, and Phyllis Wilson. I can give you the rest of their names. All were in law school.”

  “No one from Cassie’s art program?” Ian asked.

  “Come to think of it, other than Sophie and her boyfriend at the time, she always was with Garett’s friends.”

  “So, he isolated her?” Martin asked.

  Luke hung his head in despair. “We let her down. Damn it! We didn’t protect her. We are the disappointments.”

  Ian knew how they felt.

  Hunter walked down the stairs and poured a mug of coffee. “She’s stable, on oxygen. She needs some blood. Martin, can you make arrangements to pick up two units of O negative at the blood service?”

  “No problem.” Martin excused himself to make the calls.

  “The scan of her brain was clear. The scan of her chest shows she broke two ribs on the left and one on the right. We bound them. Her sternum and skin graft held, which, I think, is pure luck. Now the shoulder. The CT scan showed major inflammation and a lot of blood. I called Aaron Simms, who concurs we need an MRI. And until we know more, there has to be someone with her all the time.” Hunter took his seat at the table.

  “Where’s the baby’s death certificate?” Kieran stayed on task.

  Christian rolled his head back. “Cassie has a book with a picture, a set of handprints and footprints, a lock of hair, the death certificate, and the burial plot deed. I have no idea where she kept it. Do you think the people who ransacked her place took it?”

  “We didn’t find a baby book, but we did find two boards disrupted in the floor of her closet. Where is the baby buried?” Martin asked.

  “Mount Hope in San Diego. Why?” Christian wondered.

  Ian bounced his forefinger off his top lip. “The baby has her rapist’s DNA. My guess is whoever found the book was as surprised as we were tonight.” He reached for h
is phone. “We need her permission to take a sample of the baby’s DNA.”

  “Ian, this will break her. We will sign the release,” Rachel cried.

  Ian ran a hand through his hair and looked at Hunter for advice. “I don’t think it will help her if we keep this a secret. Plus, the police will want it too. They are, for certain, going to ask her,” Hunter said.

  Ian texted Tony Olivetti, head of the San Diego office: Need immediate protection detail. Mount Hope Cemetery. Infant grave of William Thomas Ensworth. Will explain at 0900 EST.

  The response came quickly: Roger.

  Hunter pulled out his phone. “I need her therapist’s information. One more thing, was that gibberish or Russian she spoke earlier?”

  Ian looked like he’d rather stick pins in his eyes than repeat the words. “Nastoyashchiy muzhchina vnutri tebya, moya simpatichnaya malen’kaya shlyukha.”

  Noah closed his eyes and whispered, “A real man is inside you, my pretty little whore. Is that her mind, or did her attacker speak to her in Russian?”

  Ian grabbed a cup of coffee and settled into the recliner beside Cassie as Pete hung the first unit of blood. “Ian, I need to check her vitals every fifteen minutes. Hunt wants her out for the ride and tests. I’ll be back at two with more medication.” He threw a blanket across Ian.

  “Thanks, Pete.” Ian watched Cassie. "No one, including yourself, is going to hurt you again, sweetheart." Exhausted, even with the blast of caffeine, sleep pulled him under. An hour later, he was jolted awake by a shaky, cold hand.

  Cassie’s jungle green eyes pierced the darkness like a leopard in the moonlight. “Ian?”

  He sat up. “I’m here, Cassie.” When he moved closer, she grimaced. “Are you in pain?”

  She nodded. “I had such a bad dream. I stabbed Eric. I tried to run away but ripped everything out.”

  Ian rang the call bell and moved beside her. “Sweetheart.” Pete, Jamie, and Eric answered his call on the run.

  When Cassie saw Eric's arm, her left hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my god. It wasn’t a dream. I am a murderer.”

  Ian held her hand. “Sweetheart, you aren’t a murderer.”

  Eric moved to her other side. “I’m fine, Cassie, and not mad at you. Angel, I know you didn’t mean to do it.”

  Jamie smiled. “Luv, we will discuss all of this in the morning. Right now, we’re going to take you for an MRI of your chest and your shoulder. We’re going to give you some medicine to make you more comfortable. In your bit of feistiness, you broke three of your lovely ribs again.”

  “Nice and easy, honey.” Pete injected the Versed into her IV.

  “Ian?”

  “Yes, sweetheart.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.” Her voice was dreamy.

  “Me too, Cassie. Me too.” Ian watched her eyes drift closed, then his phone vibrated, and he headed downstairs.

  “Boss, Javier Ruiz just left. The Paulsen house was broken into. This was a methodical search, and whoever it was drugged our operators. They’re on the way to the hospital. They even drugged the dog. This wasn't random; they were looking for anything pointing to Cassie’s location. Luke said they got his personal phone book and also got into his safe. An Eagle’s Talon’s business card was inside.”

  Ian cursed under his breath. “Linc, call in our forensics team. Look for that shoe print. I’ll touch base with Blake in the morning. Have everyone pack bags and move them here. Bring the dog too. And check for bugs. If you find them, leave them. Tate just got here. I’ll have him send someone to the hospital. I want to know when they wake up.” Ending the call, Ian said, “The Paulsen house was broken into. Our guys were drugged.”

  “Are they okay?” Tate asked.

  “Get someone to the hospital. Find out what you can,” Ian said. Tate reached for his phone.

  “Saddle up,” Martin addressed the team waiting to transport Cassie.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Martin, in the lead vehicle, saw the headlights headed right for the convoy. “Abort! Abort!” Rather than evade the crash, he turned his Navigator to cut off the Hummer barreling at them. He tried to relax his body as glass and metal imploded around him. The airbags exploded, blasting pain across his head. Both his legs burned as the dashboard came down on them.

  Matteo put the ambulance into reverse and escaped. “Return to the estate. Move!” Kieran yelled. Ian dialed 911.

  “Tiny Tim, report,” Kieran demanded.

  The second vehicle stayed with Martin. “He’s alive, but he’s unresponsive and trapped. FD is en route.” Rich and Wesley “Alamo” Crockett climbed in to stabilize Martin’s neck and perform basic first aid.

  Entering the gates of the estate, Ian received two more alarming phone calls. Tony Olivetti said, “Whoever did it was either stupid—or there are other people out there interested in dead infant grave desecration. The grave below William’s was robbed three days ago.”

  “You know I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “Neither do I. My guy reported the markers are used as foot markers. The pertinent grave is above not below the marker.” Tony stood in the parking lot of the public cemetery. “We have it protected.”

  “Tony, we have a situation here. Be careful. I’ll call you back.”

  The second call was from Zach Wentworth, one of the men assigned to Sophie Garland. “Ian, I just woke up and called an ambulance. Troy and Ms. Garland are still unconscious.”

  Ian grimaced. “Backup is en route.”

  Whatever happened to Cassie six years ago was more significant than anyone thought. He wondered if Cassie’s comment about rules from the night before was a scrambled thought, or if the Whitmans were involved in her attack. These precision break-ins to secure homes and apartments without a trace, the grave robbery, the crash, and the drugging of Sophie and six experienced personnel upped the ante. There was big money involved in keeping Cassie quiet. Quiet about what? He needed William’s DNA, and he needed Cassie’s help. He hoped the light of day would make things clearer.

  Kieran pulled Tucker from bed and sent him to the hospital to check on Martin, Zach, Troy, Sophie, and the other security staff. As soon as it was safe, Ian wanted Martin transferred to the estate. Hunter assured him the personnel who were drugged would be fine and discharged soon.

  Fresh from a shower, Ian forced down a smoothie while Cassie remained asleep, unaware of anything that happened. His phone beeped with an urgent message from the gatehouse. Before he could send a reply text, the doorbell rang. He plastered a smile on his face and unlocked the door. It was six am.

  “Hi, Mom.” He leaned down to give her a kiss. “What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t you ‘hi, Mom’ me. I spoke to Kieran; he answers my calls. He told me everything. What do you think I’m doing here? And your father? I will adjust his perception of my expectations later. Why didn’t you ask for my help? Where is she?” Lillian Chase’s brow arched.

  Ian had no time to answer before his mother was heading down to the pool house. “Mom, stop.” Ian ran after her. He kept pace with her down the path, explaining as fast as possible what happened in the last ten hours.

  “Ian, you are a competent young man, but when it’s personal, you don’t think with any sense. It eats at you—here and here.” Lillian placed a hand on his heart and his belly. “I can hear it in your voice. Dad is in court. He will be here after twelve. I have a bag in the car, and I’m here to help you in any way I can. You’re going to need an extra pair of hands to take care of Martin.”

  In minutes, Lillian Chase, dressed in a fluorescent green scrub top decorated with tiny teddy bears and matching green pants, walked into Cassie’s room. The look in Lillian Chase’s eyes compelled Cassie’s brothers to jump to attention. “My word, look at this little girl surrounded by these big men. Everyone out. I need to meet my patient.”

  Jamie, Eric, and Pete were sitting in the corner discussing Cassie’s latest bloodwork. “That includes you three. Just leave
the chart.” She tilted her head at the physician assistants. “Out. And you must be Eric? Go to bed.” She pointed to his bandage.

  The three men filed out. Cassie smiled at how the huge men cowed to a feisty older woman.

  “Good morning, Cassie. My name is Lil, Ian and Kieran’s mom. I’m also your nurse. Let me get a look at you.”

  Lillian joined the family an hour later. “Aunt Rachel, you can go sit with your girl. She’s asleep. The rest of you gentlemen—and I use the term lightly with this motley crew—need to work out a schedule. You’re not going to overwhelm that young lady. Coma victims need a predictable schedule. Who are Tucker and Pete?”

  Pete identified himself. “Tucker is with Farmer…uh… Martin, ma’am.”

  “I’m Jamie, Mrs. Chase.”

  “From this moment on, it’s Lil. Mrs. Chase is my mother-in-law, and I haven’t been ‘ma’am’ since I left Pearl. I’m sure you know better than to allow all of them in there at once.

  “I bathed her and put her in a chair. Just so you know, there is an elopement alarm under her. If she tries to move, we will know. She was comfortable before she fell asleep. I reoriented her to time and place. She’s very upset about last night, but I’m sure you’re aware of that.

  “One of you should change the skin graft dressing. It’s oozing again, and her shoulder is very swollen and bruised. The pulse in the right wrist is faint; you will need to tap it. I hung another liter of her nutrition as she needs every calorie she can get. I have a recipe for Ellen. It is high in calories—but without the corn syrup. Cassie might tolerate it better. After reading a bit of her chart, you two and Tucker and Eric keep wonderful notes. I should steal you away to work for me.”