Kane, Andrea (50 page)

"... the head of Pruet's New York division," Sabrina
finished for him. "And since there's no money involved, I'm guessing the
payoff is sex. Boy, this just keeps getting better and better."

"Stan's crazy about Karen," Carson stated flatly.
"On the mornings after he's spent the night at her place, he still acts
like a teenager who just had his first lay. Both his marriages broke up because
of Karen, whether or not his ex-wives figured it out."

"He told you all this?"

"No." Carson shook his head. "A couple of years
after the affair began, I started getting some bad vibes about Stan's frenzy to
stay on top of things, his erratic behavior, and his periodic disappearances. I
kept an eye on him, and put together a few pieces. Then, I hired a PI. He got
me the information I needed about Stan's ties to Karen."

"Yeah," Dylan added dryly. "For obvious reasons,
Stan's kept the relationship a secret."

"For twenty years?" Sabrina asked in amazement.

"Yup."

"Great secret. Who else knows about it?"

"The three of us, my PI, and, most recently, Roland
Ferguson," Carson replied.

"Wait." Sabrina held up her palm. "How did Roland
get into this equation?"

"I'm not sure exactly how he found out." Carson
shrugged. "I sure as hell wasn't about to march into his office and ask.
But he's head of human resources. For all I know accounting gave him copies of
phone records and Karen's number showed up repeatedly. It doesn't matter. However
it happened, he knows. Stan's been keeping him in check since then, which has
been about the last year or so."

"Keeping him in check—does that mean paying him off?"

Carson averted his gaze. It was obvious he was loath to answer.

"I'll take that to be a yes," Sabrina presumed aloud.
"Carson, this is serious."

"It's not serious. But, yeah, it's snowballing," he
admitted.

"Did Stan use company funds to bribe Ferguson?"

"No." Carson wasn't happy with her using the word bribe.
But he didn't call her on it. "Like I said, Stan never crossed the line.
That includes stealing. He paid Ferguson with money from his personal
account."

Grimly, Sabrina turned to Dylan. "When did you get included
in this juicy secret?"

"About ten years ago. Not long after I passed the bar
exam."

"I needed Dylan's legal guidance as to how I should handle
things." Carson scowled. "It was a lousy dilemma. I didn't want to
hurt Stan, but I sure as hell wasn't going to ignore behavior that could end up
screwing over Ruisseau. Dylan and I made sure to isolate Stan from making
decisions for Ruisseau that utilized information he had on Pruet, whether
properly attained or not. That way, we minimized our risk. Ruisseau was
protected, and Stan was protected."

"Wow." Sabrina felt a wave of compassion for Dylan. "What
a great quandary to step into as a new lawyer. Talk about walking a legal
tightrope. You must have felt like you were caught between a rock and a hard
place."

"I did." Dylan shifted in the wheelchair—and winced a
bit.

"Is it your head?" Sabrina asked at once.

"No, my head's better, thanks to the painkiller. It's just
the bandage on my chest. It's pulling. I'll be happy to get rid of it." He
shifted again, easing the discomfort. "I'm fine. Anyway, to answer your
question, yeah, I wasn't happy with our iffy legal footing. Carson and Ruisseau
were my primary concern, even though I knew how protective Carson was of Stan.
Frankly, if the information exchange between Stan and Karen had been a little
more formal, or if Stan had used what he found out to benefit Ruisseau in any
way, I would have been on him like a hawk. But the fact is, nothing concrete
took place. Nothing in this entire mess is black and white. It's all gray. Stan
was, and still is, nuts about Karen. They spend two or three nights a week together.
How do you differentiate pillow talk from industrial espionage when nothing's
been used to benefit Ruisseau?"

"I see your point." Sabrina's nose and throat were
beginning to burn badly, and she could see that Carson was starting to fade.
This conversation was taking its toll on everyone. "I also see why this is
coming to a head now. Whitman and Barton view Stan as a key suspect. You can
clear that up by explaining what's really going on with him."

"We can also give him an alibi," Dylan told her.
"Dollars to doughnuts he was at Karen's apartment when Carson was shot. It
was a holiday weekend. Since Stan's last divorce, he's spent every one of those
at Karen's place—day and night. And one small correction—it's not that we
can
explain. We
have
to explain. I told Whitman and Barton they were
barking up the wrong tree. Not just to protect Stan, either. I don't want them
wasting time drilling someone who's innocent. Not when the real murderer's
still out there somewhere. Whitman got my drift. She gave me a day to get
Carson's okay to forgo attorney-client privilege."

Carson frowned again, clearly fighting to keep his eyes open.
"If you tell them the truth, will they have anything on Stan?"

"Not unless there's more going on here than we know.
Remember, Stan has no idea you're aware of his twenty-year fling with Karen.
Once you tell him, we can spin the explanation we give Whitman and Barton to
his advantage. We'll describe it as a hot-and-heavy love affair that Stan kept
under wraps because he was afraid of how it would look. You'll assure the
detectives that Stan's just being his insecure self. Tell them you knew about
the affair, and that no aspect of it has compromised the business ethics of
either fragrance company. Since nothing illegal was done, that interpretation
will work just fine." Dylan gave a humorless laugh. "Occasionally,
spin works to our advantage."

He eyed Carson, wrapping up quickly as he saw how exhausted his
friend was. "If you're asking if Whitman and Barton could go after Stan
for small stuff, like giving Roland shut-up money—sure, if they want to,
although there's no proof that was a payoff. By the same token, they could also
go after Stan, and me, for getting hold of Gloria Radcliffe's confidential
medical records. But I doubt they will, not when they have bigger fish to fry.
They're not interested in bringing Stan up on charges. They have more important
crimes to deal with. Crimes like murder and attempted murder." A shrug.
"Even if I'm wrong, it's a chance we'll have to take. There's no choice.
We have to give them the facts."

"And
you
have to rest," Sabrina informed Carson,
placing her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not tired."

"Then let's say we are. Dylan and I need to get him released
and moved into my apartment. And you need to regain your strength for a
conversation with Stan."

"Yeah." Carson nodded, stretching out his arm.
"Before you go, hand me the phone. Punch up Stan's number."

Dylan glanced at his watch. Seven forty-five. Stan would be at the
office.

He pressed the appropriate buttons and handed Carson the receiver.

Carson held it to his ear and waited until he heard the click that
signified a connection, followed by Stan's preoccupied voice.

"Stan Hager." There was a whirring sound in the
background.

"It's me," Carson replied.

"Carson. I just got in and heard the news. Are...?"

"Yeah, Sabrina and Dylan are fine. They're about to leave the
hospital. Listen, I need to see you. But first I need to get some sleep. It's
been a rough morning. So wait a couple of hours. Then get yourself over here.
That'll give me time to rest and you time to finish whatever the hell it is
you're shredding."

A taut pause,

"Okay," Stan said finally. "I'll be there. What do
you need me to bring?"

"Yourself." Carson hung up. "Damn fool," he
muttered, already drifting off. "He must have kept notes or something...
and now he's shredding them...." One heavy eyelid lifted. "By the
way... you're getting that bodyguard, like it or not...."

"Okay," Sabrina conceded quietly.

The eyelid slid shut. Carson was asleep.

Sabrina and Dylan exchanged glances.

"Shredding papers?" Sabrina murmured. "This is
getting dicey."

"Yeah," Dylan agreed. "But let's keep two things in
mind. One, this is Stan. He's paranoid enough to be shredding love notes. And,
two, this is Stan. He's Carson's oldest friend. So let's do what we can—for
Carson's sake."

Nodding, Sabrina stood, walking around to grab hold of the back of
the wheelchair. "Let's get going. I'll stop at the nurses' station and
tell them to hold Carson's calls. He needs to sleep."

No sooner had she spoken than the phone rang. Sabrina made a dive
for it, so it wouldn't disturb Carson.

"Hello?" she said hoarsely.

A tiny hesitation. "Sabrina? Is that you?"

"Yes. Who's this?"

"Susan." She sounded totally freaked-out. "I heard
the news. Thank God you're all right. What about Dylan—is he okay, too?"

"We're both fine. Very lucky, very grateful, and very much
alive," Sabrina assured her.

"Why didn't someone call me? I'm beside myself." Susan's
voice quavered, and she gave a hard swallow. "I saw the news. I didn't
know what to do. I wanted to call Carson right away, but I was terrified that
I'd upset him if for some reason he was still asleep and didn't know about the
break-in. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to know if you were all right."

Sabrina felt a pang of guilt. "Susan, I'm so sorry. We should
have called you. Things were just so hectic. We were in the emergency room
until a little while ago and then we came up here to calm Carson down because
he'd just seen the clip on TV. I'm sure he would have called you afterward, but
he just drifted off. I think the emotional upheaval really wore him out."

"The poor man." Susan sniffled, and Sabrina realized she
was weeping. "He must have been berserk."

"He was. But he's calm now." Sabrina glanced at the bed,
saw that Carson's breathing was deep and even. "He's sleeping
peacefully."

Another pause, followed by the sound of running water and a gulp.
"I'm here. I just had to take something to help me calm down. I'm not big
on tranquilizers, but in this case—" Susan broke off, taking another gulp
of water. "This whole nightmare is really beginning to get to me. One
thing after another. My nerves are shot. I don't know how much more I can take
before I crack." Abruptly, she stopped herself, as if realizing how
unglued she sounded. "Forgive me, Sabrina. You sound terrible. You must
feel worse. You just went through hell, and I'm going on and on about how upset
I am. I'll hang up now and give you a chance to go home and rest. I was going
to visit Carson this morning, but under the circumstances, I think I'll wait.
He's exhausted and I'm a wreck. I won't be any good for him. I'll head into
YouthOp, get some work done. Maybe that'll help me get myself together. I'll
drop by the hospital later this afternoon."

"Good idea." Sabrina's wheels were spinning. It
was
a
good idea, and not only because of Susan's frame of mind. But because when
Carson woke up, he had an unpleasant confrontation to face. His meeting with
Stan would, no doubt, drain the hell out of him. The last thing he needed was a
social visit, even from Susan, and especially if she was as overwrought as she
sounded now. By later today, he'd be restored and, hopefully, so would she.

"Susan, we really are fine," Sabrina reiterated, trying
to soothe her in the interim. "Again, I apologize for not calling
you."

"I understand. And I'm sorry for overreacting. We'll talk
later today. In the meantime, you take care."

A click signified she'd hung up.

Sabrina frowned as she replaced the receiver.

"What was that all about?" Dylan asked.

"Susan was checking up on us. She was practically hysterical.
It's like she's coming apart at the seams."

"Yeah, she does that. Without much regard for the people it
affects."

"Dylan." Sabrina shot him a quick look. "That's the
second time you've reacted that way about Susan. She really bugs you, doesn't
she?"

He glanced over at the bed. "Let's take this conversation
elsewhere, okay?"

"Good idea."

They left Carson's room, headed for the elevator to go back to ER
and get Dylan discharged.

The elevator doors slid open, and Sabrina pushed the wheelchair
inside, maneuvered herself in behind Dylan.

The doors shut behind them.

There was no one inside but the two of them..

Dylan angled his head, gazed up at Sabrina. "You asked if Susan
bugs me. The answer is yes."

Dylan got a clean bill of health, along with a warning not to
overdo from the staff in ER. With that, he and Sabrina were on their way.

They left the hospital, and were surprised to see Sabrina's limo
waiting outside the emergency room exit. Surprised or not, they were thrilled
to take advantage of climbing in, once they saw the line of news correspondents
waiting to interrogate them about their close call.