The Conspiracy Club

51

Jeremy knew what he’d find when he located the building. An even better address than Dirgrove’s cream-colored high-rise.

Graves, the ultimate taker.

Now, Jeremy was certain Dirgrove had been interested in Jocelyn. Perhaps it had ended at flirtation. Or Jocelyn had enjoyed a fling with the surgeon before meeting Jeremy.

Nearly everything else he’d imputed to Dirgrove was wrong. The man was an adulterer and an insecure skirt-chaser, but no more than that.

Nothing nefarious about the consult on Merilee Saunders. Either Dirgrove had been genuinely concerned about his patient’s reaction to surgery, or he’d been trying to impress Angela with his sensitivity.

Either way, nothing untoward about Merilee’s death. Before leaving the hospital, Jeremy had rushed back to the main building, entered the medical library, and located the M and M sheet on the young woman. Cerebral aneurysm. A hidden little blood vessel in her brain had burst.

As Dirgrove had said, one of those things that happens.

But he had taunted Jeremy… sins of the father on a subtler level?

But that was of no concern, now. Augusto Graves was an heir of a different sort. Bought into the complete paternal endowment.

Made things happen.

Growing up in Brazil, Graves had been well aware of his father’s crimes, the circumstances surrounding his death.

Jailhouse visit. Watching his father treated like a celebrity.

After Degraav’s suicide, Graves’s mother had taken the boy to the States.

Where Graves thrived. And twisted further.

A man who lusted and schemed and exulted in the capture of what belonged to others.

Jocelyn had been chosen because Dirgrove wanted her, and Graves had found out.

Graves came on to Gwynn Hauser as well. She’d blown him off. Not her type. Thinking she was in control. How little she understood.

Angela. Dirgrove had concocted a smooth scheme to seduce her.

Did Graves know about that?

If so…

Jeremy needed to let Angela know. His warnings about Dirgrove had irritated her.

Sorry, he’s not the threat. But…

How to do it so she didn’t think him mad? It sounded nothing but mad.

Jeremy came up with no answer. He paged Angela, anyway. The words would come, they always did.

She didn’t answer.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Maybe she was caught up in a procedure. He’d go up to Endocrinology, the ostensible reason letting her know he’d be busy tonight. Then, somehow, he’d work in the terrible truth.

When he got there, an ill-tempered nurse told him, “You tell me where she is.”

“What do you mean?”

“She flaked on us. Disappeared. Poof. A whole ward of patients, and she just walks off without informing anyone. Talk about unprofessional. I’ve informed the chief.”

She was still griping when Jeremy turned his back and ran back to the elevators.