“What’s it to you, mister no involvement?”

“Because without my knowledge, you made me an accomplice in your scheme. Whatever the hell it is. God only knows. I sure as hell don’t. But I’m going to find out. From you.

“So either you and I go have a private little talk about your mountain escapade, or we go up and have a three-way with the colleague that you wanted to cheat out of his miracle cure. You decide, Brynn. You’ve got one second.”

5:34 p.m.

Delores shrugged the mink jacket off her shoulders and asked the chauffeur to turn down the heater. “It feels like the tropics in here.”

The driver apologized and made an adjustment on the limo’s thermostat. Delores thanked him and raised the partition. Privacy now secured, she smiled over at Richard. “Well?”

“It was brilliant, Del.”

“I thought so.”

She deserved to gloat over the success of their afternoon project. Richard reached across the car seat and stroked her cheek. “It was an inspired idea. One I wish I could take credit for.”

She kissed the back of his hand. “I hope it didn’t exhaust you.”

“I’m tired. But it was worth the effort.” He took his phone from his breast pocket and turned it on. “Nate has called me four times.”

She reactivated her own phone. “And me three. That must mean he has it.”

“He does.” Richard gave her a campaign poster smile. “Goliad texted that Dr. O’Neal and the goods were delivered into Nate’s hands about an hour ago.”

“Thank God.”

“Call Nate. He’s probably apoplectic.”

She made the call and put the phone on speaker. Nate answered immediately. “Delores, where in God’s name—”

“Before lecturing me, wait until you hear why we were temporarily out of touch.”

She gave him the lowdown. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. The only person we notified beforehand was Richard’s assistant. She’d been a little miffed at us for not doing something publicly in observance of Thanksgiving, so she jumped on the idea, scrambled, and got media there. We were seen, photographed, recorded. Richard gave a sound bite. It will be on tonight’s news.”

“Good play!” Nate said.

“We thought so.” She cast Richard a smug smile. “Meanwhile, you took delivery on a package for us?”

“It’s right here. Where are you now?”

“In the car on the way home.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Nate?” Richard said. “Is there any special preparation I should make?”

“Yes, pour Delores a stiff drink.”

They all laughed.

Nate continued. “Really nothing. Get comfy. Brynn and I will put in an IV. Basically that’s all there is to it.”

Delores said, “We don’t know how to thank you for this, Nate.”

“Oh, I have lots of ideas for that. Maybe you could arrange for a wing of the hospital to be named after me.”

“You think large, Nate,” Richard said.

“If I didn’t, Delores would soon be a widow. See you in a bit.”

Delores clicked off. Richard frowned. “With what we’ve paid him, he could buy his own hospital wing. Cocky bastard.”

She unbuckled her seat belt and scooted across the back seat to snuggle against him. “He is. But he’s our cocky bastard, and it’s always beneficial to have one indebted.”

Chapter 17

5:43 p.m.

After ending his conversation with the Hunts, Nate went into the bathroom in his office. He took the box with him. He was not letting it out of his sight again.

He washed his hands and brushed his teeth. He checked his head and reasoned he had time to shave it. He took off his tie and shirt and went about the ritual proficiently.

He was buffing his sleek head with a towel when he realized that Brynn was taking an awfully long time in the garage. He called her to alert her that they would be leaving promptly for the Hunts’ estate.

She didn’t answer. She was probably in the elevator.

He selected a fresh shirt and tie that were understated but should show up well on camera. With the stipulation that it would be for private viewing only, the Hunts had granted him permission to make a video, with his narration, as Richard was getting the infusion.

Although after Richard became a first in medical history, they might change their minds about keeping it from the public. Nate surmised that they would want to milk it for all it was worth. In which case, he would have documentation.

After checking his reflection in the mirror one last time, he went back into his office. He set the black box on his desk and was pulling on his suit jacket when he heard carpet-muffled footsteps approaching the door.

Brynn. He pulled open the door and was about to say, It’s about time, but the words died on his lips. He blinked several times in bafflement.

One of the two uniformed men said, “Dr. Nathan Lambert?”

“Yes. Who are you? What do you want?”

“I’m Deputy Wilson. Rawlins,” he said of his companion. “We spoke to you on the phone in the wee hours this morning.” He then aimed his finger beyond Nate’s shoulder toward the desk. “What we want is to take a second look inside that box.”