“Casper would keep it completely quiet,” Ryan said. “Trust me, no one’s heard a word about this but him, Roger and the hospital’s attorney. Plus, nothing’s changed. There’s still no one who knows where the video recording is.”
“Except maybe Madeline.”
“We’ll find that out soon enough,” Casey said. “Patrick’s stationed outside the hospital. I’ll have him hunt Madeline down and ask her.” She studied Marc’s anxious expression. “Patrick won’t let anything happen to her, Marc.”
She took out her cell phone to call him.
“Yes, Casey,” he answered immediately.
“Is Madeline in the hospital?”
“Yes. She’s been on duty for two and a half hours.”
“Where is she?”
“Dave checked on her about ten minutes ago. She’s in the E.R. patching up a car accident victim. Why?”
“I need you to find the first inconspicuous moment to pull her aside. Don’t make a big deal out of it, and make sure no one gives it a second glance. Ask her if she knows where Conrad’s videos of his surgeries are. Give me a call with the answer while you’re still with her.”
“Video recordings. That’s what the intruder was looking for when they ransacked her place and Conrad’s.” Patrick made the connection in a heartbeat. “What’s on there that you’re looking for?”
“Ronald Lexington’s surgery.”
“Of course.” Patrick’s wheels were turning. “That makes total sense. There’s something on that video that’s going to burn someone’s ass, bad enough to kill for it.”
“That’s where our thoughts were headed, as well,” Casey said.
“Conrad doesn’t know where they are?”
“Nope. Between the material possessions that were divided during the divorce and the trashing of his apartment, he has no clue of anything other than the fact that the video exists and that he watched it repeatedly before he went to Crest Haven.”
“Do the hospital attorneys know about all this?”
“Yes. So I’m sure they’ll be checking with Madeline next. And if she should know...”
“Then her safety is even more compromised. Got it. I’ll catch her the minute she steps out of the E.R.”
* * *
It took a lot longer than Patrick had hoped. But clearly the car accident victim required more than just a patch-up.
Patrick walked down to the closest Au Bon Pain, bought himself a cup of coffee and sat down at a table, waiting.
A steady flow of people moved up and down the corridors, and the E.R. waiting room itself was overflowing. Patrick had to admire Madeline and all the E.R. personnel for their ability to handle pressure and multitask. They’d do well in the FBI.
An attractive middle-aged woman with a large handbag rushed by him, clearly on her way to some vital destination. As she passed, her handbag swung out, knocked over Patrick’s cup of coffee and then dropped to the floor.
The coffee and the contents of the handbag spilled out everywhere, brown liquid splashing over leather and all the other items that landed on the floor.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the woman gasped, nervous and flustered. She squatted down and started to collect her dripping personal items. “Dammit.” She sat back on her heels, clearly having changed her mind.
She adjusted her glasses and looked up at Patrick. “I’m going inside to get a bunch of napkins.” She rose to her feet. “I’m also buying you another cup of coffee. How do you take it?”
“Please, that’s not necessary.” Patrick politely declined her offer. “I was just finishing up, anyway.”
“Obviously that’s not the case. You had three-quarters of a cup of coffee left.” She flashed a self-deprecating smile. “I should know. It’s all over everything, thanks to me.”
“Still...”