Fatal Hearts Page 21

  He led her to the kitchen. When she saw the rows of chafing dishes and the fruit and yogurt, she groaned.

  “Omigod, this looks just as good as I remembered. I can’t believe you get to eat this every day.”

  “I know,” he said. “I’m not sure what Josh was paying to stay here, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t enough.”

  She picked up a plate. Behind her, he picked up a much smaller one.

  She looked from hers to his. “You’re making me feel like a real glutton, McBride.”

  “I’ve already eaten,” he said. “This is dessert.”

  She helped herself to the scrambled free-range eggs and baked tomato and went with the fish instead of the sausage.

  He took some sliced fruit and another sausage. When Hayden raised an eyebrow, he said, “What? They’re locally sourced and nitrate-free. And it’s the first time I’ve had proper breakfast meat since I came here. Don’t begrudge me. Tomorrow it’ll be gone.”

  “A special treat for you, I take it?” At his nod, her eyes narrowed. “Well, isn’t Dr. Stratton being accommodating.”

  “Actually, she’s been very accommodating.” Plates filled, they went back to the table. He sat down at his usual spot, placing the saucer on top of his dirty plate. She took a seat to his right. “Coffee?”

  At her nod, he got up and poured the last of the coffee in a clean mug and plunked it down beside her plate.

  Between bites, she asked, “How else has Sylvia been accommodating?”

  “I asked her to share what she’d told Josh when he came calling all those months ago.”

  She swallowed the forkful of eggs she’d been chewing before speaking. “What did she tell you?”

  “She pointed out it would take a lot of money to make a pair of babies disappear so thoroughly and neatly. She thinks our mother came from a wealthy family who could afford to pull that off.”

  “So, what do you do with that information? Go knocking on the doors of the rich?”

  He shook his head. “That’d get me run out of town in a hurry. Or at least shut out of the investigation.” He picked up the glass of orange juice he’d refilled. “Dr. Stratton suggested I start by talking to some docs who would have catered to those rich families back in the day. Said she’d produce a list for me. The same one she gave to Josh.”

  She picked up a spoon, poured a little cream in her coffee, and stirred it. And stirred it some more.

  “What?”

  “I was just thinking . . . maybe it was the father’s family who had all the money, not the mother’s family. In which case maybe the young mother wasn’t seeing the crème de la crème of doctors. Maybe she was just seeing her regular nonglamorous doctor.”

  He started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “That’s just what I said to Sylvia.”

  “You did?”

  “Yep. Great minds, huh?”

  “Did you also ask her about the feasibility of a GP being involved instead of an ob-gyn, given that we’re talking twins and a probable primipara?”

  “Uh . . . I’m not sure.”

  She blinked. “You’re not sure?”

  “Because I don’t have a clue what a primipara is.”

  “Sorry. That’s medical speak for a woman who hasn’t given birth before.”

  “Then yeah, we talked about that too.” He put his coffee down and leaned back in the chair. “She maintains that in quiet backwaters like this, things weren’t always done the way they’d be done in big cities.”

  “So GPs might have been delivering twins?”

  “She seemed to suggest it was possible. And that it might have been a doctor-supervised home birth. She felt pretty strongly that we should look at her doctors-to-the-rich list. I kinda take her point. She pointed out that if the father had lots of money, but abandoned the ‘young lady’ to substandard care, the babies might have suffered for it. No way he’d want that to happen. If she decided to take it out on his family, it could spawn a whole new level of scandal.”

  “I suppose,” she conceded. “But if that doctors-to-the-rich tip was such a hot one, you’d have thought Josh would’ve uncovered something a lot sooner.”

  “I know, but I didn’t have the heart to say it. I just thanked her.” Boyd rubbed a hand under his chin. “Okay, so we’re looking at all the family docs who were practicing here at the time?”

  “Well, the ones who are still alive or for whom we can find contact information.”

  “If I’m looking for a doctor, I’d usually check with the College of Physicians and Surgeons. Would they keep records from year to year about who was practicing here?”

  “Got it right here.” She drew her cell phone out of her pocket and waggled it, looking pleased with herself. “I called Marta, the secretary from the ER, when I got up this morning to ask the best way to find that information. She confirmed that the College publishes an annual directory that identifies all doctors, what their specialty is, and where in New Brunswick they practice. She requested that information for the year of your birth, and they shot it right back at her. And now I have it.”

  “Great work. So now we isolate all the general practitioners who were practicing in Fredericton at the time, then compare those names against the telephone directory.”

  “Or against a current list from the College, which I happen to have.” She reached for her messenger-bag-type purse and pulled out a small booklet. “It’s last year’s, actually, but that’s plenty current enough. It’ll show us which of those guys are or were recently still in practice.”

  “It’s a great place to start,” he said. “If we make our way through that list without hitting pay dirt, then I’ll have to look at docs who’ve died, retired, or relocated their practices.”

  She grimaced. “That sounds a lot harder. No convenient telephone number or office address in the annual directory.”

  “Harder but not impossible,” he said.

  “The College could probably tell us which ones among them have died, for instance. But I’m not sure how to approach the relocation issue.”

  “Well, we’ll worry about that if and when we have to,” he said. “Let’s get this other list whipped up, shall we?”

  “Your room?”

  “Might as well. Dr. Stratton should be away for half the day, at least.”

  She got up and started to pick up her dirty dishes.

  “Leave them,” Boyd said. “Dr. Stratton always insists they be left for Mrs. Garner to deal with.”

  “How does Mrs. Garner feel about that?”

  “What’s this?” The old housekeeper bustled into the room. “Did I hear my name?”

  Hayden blushed, which Boyd thought was hilarious. “Hayden was about to tell me what a lazy SOB I am for not cleaning up after myself, and I was just explaining that Dr. Stratton prefers the dishes be left for you.”

  “I should think so! That’s my job.”

  “Are you sure?” Hayden said. “It would be no trouble to load this stuff in the dishwasher.”

  “I’m very sure. That’s just not how things are done here.” Her features softened. “But thank you. I appreciate the sentiment. Now off with you.” She made a shooing motion with her hands.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Boyd said.

  When they got up to the room, Hayden turned to him. “Omigod, do you think she was listening?”

  Boyd shrugged. “So what if she was?”

  “We were poking holes in Sylvia’s theory about your mother being from a rich family.”

  “Seeing as I pretty much said that to Sylvia, I don’t see a problem.” He peered closer at her. “Does it really bother you?”

  She shrugged. “Not really. Not much anyway. It’s just that Josh said she was very loyal to Dr. Stratton. Very devoted. Protective, almost.”

 
He snorted. “Protective? I wouldn’t have thought Sylvia Stratton needed protecting from anything.”

  “Everyone needs protecting from something, Boyd. Even if it’s just from ourselves or our obsessions.”

  She looked so sad, and he knew she was thinking about Josh. Damn him for being an insensitive jerk.

  “You’re right.” He pulled her into his arms. “We all could use that.”

  Her arms came around him and they just stood there for a few moments, fused together by their shared grief. And God, it was good to hold her. The feeling it gave him was so incredibly peaceful. As his hands stroked her thick mass of hair where it lay against her back, he felt his sorrow ease and another need start to build. He moved his hands to her upper arms, letting his thumbs rub the soft flesh there.

  She pulled away and cleared her throat. “We should get at that list,” she said, her eyes downcast.

  Dammit. He was an asshole twice over, turning that moment of grief and comfort into something sexual.

  “You’re right. Let’s get to it.” He moved to the kitchenette, grabbed his notepad, and went and sat on the sofa. “Why don’t you give me that booklet? You read off the names and I’ll check the current directory. If we get a match, their name goes on this list.”

  “Sounds perfect.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and went to sit beside him. After finding the document, she started scrolling through.

  The first few names she called were not on his list. The fourth one was. “Got him. But wait. It says he’s an anesthetist. Should I toss him out?”

  She shook her head. “Write it down. If it’s the same guy, he probably started out as a GP, then specialized. That was a lot more common back then. We can’t discount him.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Of the next flurry of names, three were in the newer directory, and Boyd carefully noted them on his pad.

  “Angus Gunn,” she said.

  “Got him. Still here and still listed as a GP.”

  “Dr. Gunn . . .” she repeated. “Angus Gunn.”

  “Same one or different one?” He looked up from the booklet. “I’ve only got the one.”

  “Same one. It’s just that the name is ringing a bell.”

  He zeroed in on her face. “How so? Did Josh mention him?”

  “I think he phoned Josh in the days before Josh died.”

  Holy shit! “Gunn? Are you sure?”

  “I will be in a minute. We were out for dinner when Josh got the call. He didn’t have his notebook with him and needed something to write on, so I pulled out my checkbook. He used my pen to write something on the edge of the check register. I see it every month when I write a check to my hairdresser, the one merchant left in the world who doesn’t take debit or credit.”

  “Do you have it with you?”

  She was already reaching for her purse. Drawing out her wallet, she flipped the checkbook compartment open. “There.” She handed it to him. “Dr. Angus Gunn. And it has a phone number.”

  His heart raced. This was important. He knew it. He looked down at the entry for Dr. Angus Gunn in the directory. The number didn’t match the one on the directory, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t valid. It could have been a cell phone versus a home or office line.

  He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in the number.

  CHAPTER 20

  Hayden held her breath while Boyd waited for Dr. Gunn to answer.

  “Dr. Gunn?” His eyes went to Hayden’s. “This is Boyd McBride. Sorry to be disturbing you. Am I dragging you away from anything? Good. Look, I believe you talked to my twin brother, Josh McBride, not long ago.”

  There was a pause. Hayden could hear the buzz of the doctor’s voice, but she couldn’t make out any words.

  “Yes, thank you. It was a horrible shock for all of us.”

  Another pause.

  “Good. I had hoped he had spoken to you about his investigation to find my birth parents. I never was much of a fan of the search for our parents, but after what happened to Josh, I’m sure you can appreciate the incentive I now have for finding them. The whole medical history thing.”

  His gaze had drifted away as he talked, but it came back to meet Hayden’s again.

  “Well, I appreciate that so much, Dr. Gunn. That’s the best news I’ve had in weeks. Thank you.”

  Hayden’s stomach fluttered. Did this mean Dr. Gunn had the information Boyd needed? Had he been involved in the birth?

  “How’s right now?” Boyd said.

  Hayden’s eyes widened. Could they really be this close? Could it really be this easy?

  “I see. So when do you think your guest will be gone?” A pause. “Eleven o’clock is great,” Boyd was saying. “What’s the address?”

  He reached for the pen and pad he’d been using earlier, which caused him to swing away from her. When he started jotting something down, Hayden craned her neck to read it. Mitchell Street. She knew the area, off York Street, she thought. Definitely residential. And from what she remembered, there were some huge expensive houses. The neighborhood was very well established. Not historic like Dr. Stratton’s property, but not a new development either. Just about what she’d expect for a senior physician.

  “You’re doing the right thing. Yes. Absolutely. Thank you.”

  He hung up the phone and turned to face her. The expression on his face was starkly frightening.

  “Boyd?”

  “He knows.” His nostrils flared. “He was there when we were born. He can tell me—no, he’s going to tell me who our birth mother is.” He looked at his watch. “In two hours, I’ll have that information. Oh, Hayden, this is going to make all the difference in the world. Once I know our mother’s identity, this whole thing is going to unravel. I know it.”

  “I can hardly believe it,” she breathed.

  “Me either. We were looking at a significant job, contacting all those people and trying to squeeze out of them anything they might have told Josh. Now, because Josh left his journal behind when you went for dinner and wrote Dr. Gunn’s name on your checkbook, we just sidestepped all that . . . whoa.”

  He seemed to lurch sideways, then reached for the back of a chair to steady himself.

  “Boyd? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” He pulled the chair out from the small table and sat on it. “Okay, actually I’m feeling a little shaky,” he confessed. “It’s the shock, I’m sure. That phone call knocked me on my ass, but I feel fine now.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Very sure.” He took her hand and hauled her onto his lap. She squeaked in alarm.

  “Boyd!”

  He met her with a fierce kiss. His hands gripped her head, fingers tunneling into her hair. Her own hands roamed his chest, delighting in the way his muscles contracted under her touch.

  Before she knew what was happening, he’d stood them both up and backed her to the bed. They went down together, fully clothed, side by side. She tried to kiss him again, but he pushed her onto her back and urged her arms over her head. With one hand pinning both of hers, he lay beside her, his gaze fastened on her uptilted breasts.

  “Your breasts are so beautiful.”

  “Are you just going to look at them?”

  His golden eyes darkened, and a smile curved his lips. “Patience, sweetheart. All in good time.”

  He proceeded to touch her through her clothes—her midriff, her belly, the curve of her hip, the outside of her upturned arm, her unprotected sides. Everything but her breasts. When he finally closed a hand around one of them, she arched up off the bed.

  Between the two of them, they made short work of her jacket and shirt. But instead of removing her bra, Boyd slid down her body to open the fastener on her pants. She helped by lifting her butt off the mattress while he worked them down. She’d alread
y kicked off her shoes when they’d entered the room, but the jeans were so skinny legged that they were tricky to get off. In the end, he peeled them off so they were inside out.

  He sat back on his heels to look at her. She’d worn her sexiest bra today. This one was black and lacy and made the best of her assets, which was exactly why she rarely wore it. Much as she enjoyed how it made her feel, she had a tough enough time fending off dinner invitations as it was. But she was glad she’d worn it this morning. From the look on Boyd’s face, so was he. Her excitement kicked up a notch.

  He splayed a big hand on her chest above her breasts, and she practically purred. But instead of exploring her breasts, that hand slid down between them, pausing to trace the tiny black bow decorating the center of her bra. Then, without touching her breasts, that hand slid right on down her belly. Her abdominal muscles contracted and quivered. Then he bent and put his mouth on her skin.

  She gasped.

  He looked up at her. “I wanted to do this so bad last night, kiss every inch of you, but I didn’t want to hurt your soft skin with my beard. The first thing I did this morning when I got up was shave.” He rubbed his now clean-shaven face across her belly, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her.

  She put her hands on his head, delighting in the feel of his sleek, shiny hair beneath her hands.

  “Uh-uh,” he said, removing her hands and kissing the inside of one arm. He rose up and pushed her hands above her head again. “No touching,” he commanded. “If I have to tie those hands, I will.”

  A thrill arrowed through her at the idea of being tied up, at his mercy. But not here at Sylvia Stratton’s house.

  “I’ll comply,” she said. “Now that I know the rules. As long as you’ll do the same for me another time.”

  “Deal.”

  He kissed his way down her upturned arms before turning his attention to her face. Forehead, cheek, mouth. Every new area he explored brought new delights. The warmth of his breath on her neck, the tickle of it in her ear, the nip of his teeth when she was least expecting it. Even the feeling of his fully clothed body brushing against her naked skin. Again, he skirted her breasts, touching just close enough to make them ache for more. She was dying to sink her hands in his hair and direct his mouth where she wanted it, but she’d promised not to touch him back.