Hideaway At Hawk's Landing

“What is it? You know something,” Brayden said. “Were you working yesterday?”

She nodded, her eyes dark with emotions he couldn’t quite define. “I did, but Dr. Manchester asked me to clear out the waiting room and sent me home early. She said her daughter was sick and she had to leave.”

“Her daughter?” That was news. “I didn’t realize she had a child.”

The nurse’s expression softened. “Her name is Izzy. Dr. Manchester loves that little girl like crazy.”

“Did she seem upset? Afraid?”

Her brows furrowed. “Come to think of it, she did seem a little nervous. But I just thought she was worried about Izzy.”

“Did you see anyone else here? Maybe a car in the parking lot?”

“I didn’t really notice. There could have been, but I went out the front door.” Worry deepened the grooves beside her eyes. “Why? What’s going on?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Brayden said. “Sometime after you left work yesterday, the FBI discovered that DiSanti and his crew were here and stormed the clinic. Dr. Manchester was arrested.”

The nurse gasped. “My God, that’s not right. Mila would never—”

“She did,” Brayden said. “And I think she may have been threatened.”

The woman clamped her lips together, then fumbled with her keys. “I don’t know what to tell you. But I’m going to stop by her house and check on Izzy and the nanny.”

Brayden put his hand over hers. “No, I’ll go by and check on them.”

If something was wrong with Izzy and the nanny, it might be dangerous.

He thanked her, then phoned Dexter on his way to Dr. Manchester’s home address and filled him in. “She has a daughter?” Dex asked.

“According to her head nurse, yes. Her name is Izzy.”

“That’s odd. There’s no mention of them in anything I’ve found about her. Dr. Manchester must keep her personal life very private.”

He supposed he could understand that. But usually when people kept secrets, it meant they were hiding something.

“How about the father?” Dex asked.

“No information on him.” Brayden pulled a hand down his chin. “Is there any record that she was married?”

“I didn’t see one,” Dexter said.

So who was the little girl’s father? “I’m driving by her house to check on the child and nanny, then to the field office for the bond hearing.”

“I put calls in to the other staff. I’ll let you know if they add anything to what you’ve already learned.”

Brayden thanked him, then hung up and veered toward Dr. Manchester’s. She lived in a small neighborhood outside Austin, only a few miles from her clinic. He searched the area as he drove down the street. Most of the houses were renovated ranches and bungalows. Judging from the children’s bikes and toys dotting the yards, the neighborhood catered to young families. The yards were well kept, complete with fall decorations and pumpkins.

Dr. Manchester lived in a Craftsman-style house at the end of the street. Her backyard jutted up to woods and land that hadn’t yet been developed, offering privacy and a yard for her little girl to run and play.

Everything he’d learned indicated the plastic surgeon was the admirable selfless doctor that Charlotte, the nurse and the media claimed her to be.

But an uneasy feeling tightened his gut as he parked and walked up the drive. A dark green sedan sat in front of the garage, the only car on the premises. The nanny’s? Two drives down, he noted a white van, and across the street, a black Cadillac. The neighbors’?

He scanned the front porch and windows, but the blinds were closed, and he couldn’t see inside. Nothing outside looked amiss though. And he didn’t hear signs that anyone was inside.

He punched the doorbell and tapped his foot as he waited. A minute later, he raised his fist and knocked. If he didn’t get an answer, he was going to check around back, see if a window was open.

Footsteps shuffled inside. A low voice. Female?

He straightened and pasted on a smile as the door opened slightly. A short dark-haired woman peered up at him.

“My name is Brayden Hawk,” he said. “I’m a friend of Dr. Manchester’s. I stopped by the clinic to see her, but the clinic was closed today so I thought she might be home.”

“I’m afraid not. I can tell her you stopped by.” She started to close the door, but Brayden caught it with his hand.

He studied her, searching for signs she was upset or being coerced somehow. “The nurse said the doctor’s daughter was sick. Is she here?”

The woman’s eyes darted to the side, then she nodded. “In bed. She has a fever and needs rest.”

He slipped his business card into her hand. “I hope it’s nothing serious,” he said. “If you need anything, call me.”

The woman’s hand trembled as she jammed the business card in her apron pocket. “I’m sorry, mister. I need to go take care of her.” She didn’t wait for a response. She closed the door in his face.

* * *

MILA CLASPED HER clammy hands together as she waited on the lawyer to meet her before the bond hearing. Nerves bunched in her stomach, and her head throbbed from lack of sleep.

The door to the interrogation room creaked open, and Agent Hawk appeared with Polk. His beady eyes skated over her, threatening and unrelenting.

“You have five minutes,” Agent Hawk said as he glanced between the two of them. “Then it’s time to see the judge.”

“It will only take two,” Polk said curtly.

Fluorescent light accentuated Polk’s bald head. He strode toward her, then claimed the chair across from her, his lips set in a firm line.

“Is my daughter all right?” Mila asked in a low whisper.

His thick brows furrowed together into a unibrow. “As I said last night, she will be fine as long as you do what you’re told.”

“Please let me go home to her,” Mila said. “I promise not to tell anyone about yesterday. I’ve been here all night and I didn’t say a word.”

“He had a rough night,” Polk said, as if he didn’t intend to incriminate himself by saying DiSanti’s name aloud. “Once he’s on his way to recovery, you and your daughter will be reunited.”

Would she?

“How do I know you’re not lying, that you haven’t killed her already?” Mila crossed her arms. “I want proof that she’s safe, then I’ll do whatever you ask.”

Polk cursed, then pulled his phone from his pocket and accessed a photograph.