Run for Your Life

  "I understand that. I even support it—to a degree. You have to tread carefully. Otherwise, you could blow the FBI's whole investigation to bits."

  Something about the matter-of-fact way Zach said that struck Victoria as odd. Abruptly, she knew what it was—and it shed a whole new light on his agenda for being here tonight.

  She reacted with anger, not forethought. "You knew our conversation would turn out this way, didn't you? That after I heard what you said, I'd be hell-bent on taking on my lather. Of course you did. It was exactly the reaction you were hoping, for. After all, it would further your cause. I would further your cause. Tell me, am I being given the designated status of outside consultant or mole? Or simply an informant snitching on my own father?"

  Those furious glints reappeared in Zach's eyes again. "You've become very cynical, do you know that, Victoria? You never used to jump to such ugly conclusions, certainly not when it came to me. Yes, I knew you'd want to go to your father after we spoke. Yes, I hoped you'd be able to dig up some new information. But, I assure you, my motives were hardly Machiavellian. The more your father reveals, the closer we are, not only to solving the FBI's case, but to finding Audrey. I thought you and I could help each other—and I would have said so, if you'd given me the chance. Which you didn't. But now that you've heard what I have in mind, is there anything unprincipled or self-serving about my approach? Because if there is, say so. I'll be the first to agree with your unflattering assessment of me."

  Internally, Victoria winced, not from Zach's barbed comeback, but from the fact that it was justified. What in God's name was the matter with her? Zachary Hamilton was the most ethical human being she'd ever met. And here she was, accusing him,' for the second time today, of using her. She was attacking him without giving the slightest thought to whether or not her allegations had merit.

  Was she losing all sense of reason?

  "I'm sorry, Zach," she said, searching for answers even as she offered them. "I don't know what's come over me. Maybe this whole situation is taking a greater toll on me than I realized. When it comes to Audrey, I feel a little like a mother lioness protecting her cub. It's my responsibility to make sure she's safe, and I'm doing a lousy job. Now my father is suspected of being criminally involved with a drug syndicate. Not to mention that someone's following me." She swallowed, forcing herself to give Zach the honesty he deserved. "Also, seeing you again has hit me a lot harder than I expected. All those things combined—I guess my nerves are shot and I'm lashing out. And you seem to be the unfortunate target."

  He listened to her explanation, then nodded slowly, a kind of wary comprehension coming over him. "Just as long as you know I'm not the enemy."

  "I do know that."

  A reflective pause. "As for feeling like a mother lioness, it always was that way when it came to Audrey or your mother. As I said, some things don't change."

  "I guess not." Victoria's gut clenched, and she digressed in a less unsettling direction. "Getting back to the situation with my father, I'll make a deal with you."

  "Go on."

  "I'll go to him. I would have anyway, for Audrey's sake. I won't mention the FBI, or anything you've told me about their case. I'll stick to Audrey's message and my own visit to the Hope Institute—all the things Father already knows about or orchestrated. I'll see what kind of answers he gives me. I'll try to finesse him so I walk away with a better idea of just how deeply he's involved."

  "And in return?"

  "Two conditions. First, you leave Audrey's bulimia out of this. Tell the FBI about my seeing her in Central Park, about my suspicions that she's at the Hope Institute—all that's a matter of public record anyway, after the fuss I made at the police precinct. Tell them whatever facts you need to so they'll understand why I went to the clinic. But don't get into the personal details of Audrey's life. Protect her privacy. That's all I ask."

  "And second?"

  "We investigate my father independent of the FBI. If he's guilty, I'll turn over the evidence I've negotiated in exchange for leniency."

  Zach didn't hesitate. "Consider it done." He leaned forward, extended his hand. "It looks like we have a deal, Ms. Kensington."

  She hesitated for a long moment, then wrapped her fingers around his in a firm, businesslike handshake. "Yes. It looks like we do."

  * * *

  12

  "Well, Victoria, this is a surprise." Walter Kensington joined his daughter at her window table, nodding at the maitre d' and lowering himself to his chair. "When Miss Hatterman told me you'd called and said it was imperative that you see me, I was intrigued—and optimistic. I canceled my original luncheon appointment so we could meet."

  "I appreciate that, Father." Victoria kept her features schooled as she counted silently to ten. "Although I'd better tell you up front that this lunch is not about the partnership." And you damned well know that, she added silently.

  "I see." Her father's poker face was as good as hers, maybe better. He'd had more years to perfect it. "Then what is it about?"

  "Audrey."

  "Audrey." He repeated his younger daughter's name icily, his expression unchanged. "You're still pursuing that subject?"

  "You know I am." Victoria folded her hands on the table, feeling as if she were facing off with the enemy. "I won't be put off again, Father," she said in a tone she rarely used with him. "Not this time."

  "So I see—and hear. Remember I'm your father, not opposing counsel. Watch your tone of voice." He picked up the menu, scanning it briefly before making his decision and signaling to the waiter. "Let's order. Then we'll have this unpleasant conversation and put the issue of your sister to bed once and for all."

  The last thing Victoria felt like doing was eating. In fact, she wondered how she was going to choke down a bite. But this was supposed to be a lunch. So she ordered a lobster Caesar salad and a glass of sparkling water with lime. If nothing else, she'd sip at the water and play with the salad. It would give her time to ask questions. Lots of questions.

  From beneath her lashes, she studied her father as he ordered. If he was nervous about this meeting, he gave no sign. The man was the ultimate pro at concealing his thoughts. As for his emotions, Victoria sometimes wondered if he had any.

  "Now then." Having ordered his customary swordfish and a glass of sauvignon blanc, Walter dismissed the waiter with a wave of his hand and fixed his hard stare on Victoria. "What is it you want to say about Audrey that hasn't already been said?"

  He was playing this very cool, letting her lead the way and, as a result, letting her snow him how much she knew.

  Fine. She'd expected as much.

  "Please stop pretending," she requested quietly. "I'm aware you know where Audrey is. She called me last night."

  "Did she?"

  "Yes. She didn't want me to worry about her—which you evidently told her I was doing. So she called to say she was all right."

  "Good." Walter's nod said he approved of Audrey's action. "And what did you two discuss?"

  Victoria didn't blink or look away. "Nothing. Then again, I can't imagine that surprises you. That was the idea, wasn't it—to have her call while I was at my regular Tuesday dinner meeting? That way, she could just leave a message and hang up."

  Walter's eyes narrowed. "Is that an accusation?"

  Ah. The counterattack. Direct and effective. Reveal nothing but fire a question that would squeeze her, force her to clarify her position.

  Time to shift the momentum.

  "Not an accusation. A mystery," Victoria supplied, feeling adrenaline pump through her veins. "It does seem strange that you wouldn't mention to Audrey when I'd be home—unless you didn't want me to speak with her directly. I know you're aware of my weekly Tuesday dinners with Meg and Paul, just as I'm aware of how thorough you are. Bearing that in mind, it's odd you'd forget to fill Audrey in on something as basic as my schedule—when you finally decided I was frantic enough to warrant a call from her, that is."

  A frosty stare. "
I'm going to excuse your sarcasm as a symptom of your concern over Audrey," Walter informed her in that deceptively low tone that meant he was getting angry. "But I'm not going to remind you again that it's me you're speaking to."

  Instantly, Victoria checked herself. Time to put a lid on her offensive tactics. If she didn't watch her tongue, she'd risk provoking her father—which would be a big mistake. She'd wind up leaving here with nothing but hostility.

  "I apologize if I've been disrespectful." The words—a show of restraint rather than sincerity—came easily enough. She'd been saying them for years. And they'd always done the trick, since it was the appearance, not the essence, of respect that her father required.

  This time was no exception.

  "Fine," he acknowledged tersely. "In answer to your question, I finally got Audrey's doctor to agree to let her call you—briefly. He asked when you'd be at home. I told him. I assumed she'd be calling during one of those times. Obviously, he decided she shouldn't make direct contact with you. If you're asking if his decision surprises me—no, it doesn't. Not under the circumstances."

  What circumstances? Victoria wanted to scream.

  She bit back the long list of aggressive questions she was dying to hurl at her father, instead making it appear that she'd accepted his explanation. "Audrey did say something about not being able to talk to anyone—that it was part of her treatment. But you were both right. I was out of my mind with worry. So, let's forget when she called. Let's talk about Audrey herself, and why you've misled me since Saturday. Why didn't you tell me where she really was, and why?"

  "Because I signed papers that specifically forbid me from doing so."

  "From telling her sister where she was?"

  "From telling anyone where she was."

  "And with whom did you sign these papers—the Hope Institute?"

  "Yes," Walter replied calmly. "With the Hope Institute."

  Victoria opened her mouth to respond, and was relieved when their meal chose that moment to arrive. She felt like a boxer who needed time between rounds. Her father was a worthy opponent. She had to find new ways to come out fighting.

  Staring at her glass as the waiter filled it, she reminded herself why she was here. First and foremost, for Audrey. And then, for her and Zach's investigation. Her job was to find out as much as she could. But she had to do it as believ-ably as possible. She had to continue playing her role as her father would expect—appearing worried and relentless, but only probing into the secrecy surrounding the Hope Institute as it would affect Audrey. She had to keep the focus of this meeting entirely personal, never alluding to the fact that her father was under suspicion of committing a felony.

  He was shrewd. Too shrewd to miss anything. If she pressed too hard on something unrelated to Audrey, or glossed over something she'd normally hammer to bits, he'd know.

  She had to tread carefully. But she had to tread. It was the only way she'd get answers—both the ones her father intended to provide and those he didn't.

  "Can I get you anything else?" the waiter asked politely.

  "No. I'm fine, thanks," Victoria assured him. She watched her father's standard shake of his head and curt wave of dismissal.

  Pausing only until the waiter had gone, she leaned forward, forcing herself to appear very troubled, but not accusing. "You're telling me that the Hope Institute prohibits you from advising Audrey's family of her whereabouts and why she was admitted?"

  "Precisely." Walter smoothed his napkin onto his lap. "They also prohibit my discussing the details of her physical and mental condition, or the specifics of her treatment. So I can give you only the bare-bones facts. Nothing more."

  "I'm not asking you to compromise yourself, Father." Victoria groped in her pocketbook for a pad and pen. "Give me the name of Audrey's doctor. I'll call him myself."

  "I'm the only one allowed to speak with him."

  "In other words, you're not going to tell me who he is."

  "Right. Frankly, I don't trust you to respect the Institute's policy. If you try to contact Audrey's physician, I'll be liable for breach of contract."

  Victoria's pad and pen struck the table with a thud. "Let me get this straight. I'm Audrey's sister. Yet I can't know who's treating her, what treatments he's employing, and for what illness. In fact, I'm not even supposed to know where she is."

  "That about sums it up."

  "What kind of place is this Hope Institute?"

  "The finest private clinic in Manhattan." Walter turned his attention to his swordfish. "With doctors who specialize in acute cases such as Audrey's."

  "Acute." Victoria's protective instincts won out. She had to know how sick her sister was and why. "Father, please tell me—what caused this relapse? How bad is it?"

  "Bad." The situation didn't seem to affect Walter's appetite. He reported the critical nature of his younger daughter's health only after several bites of his lunch and an appreciative sip of wine. "She got involved with some two-bit artist in Florence. I don't know the sordid details, nor do I care to, but apparently he used her, left her, and stole whatever cash she had in the process. She fell apart, as she always does. She went on one of her binges. This one aggravated her entire gastrointestinal system, and severely inflamed her esophagus. She stopped eating altogether. Suffice it to say, the damage was extensive. She ended up hospitalized. The hospital got in touch with me. In turn, I got in touch with the Hope Institute and arranged to have her flown home immediately. She's been improving daily since then. End of story." He returned to his swordfish.

  End of story?

  Victoria felt an almost painful need to see her sister, to hug her and tell her everything would be all right—and then to make sure it was.

  "How did you hear of the Hope Institute?" she pressed. "And if it's so wonderful, why hasn't anyone else heard of it? I had to go to great lengths to find the place at all. Also, why did Audrey run away? How do you know they're treating her well? When was the last time you saw her?"

  Walter took another calm sip of wine. "Shall I take those in order, Counselor? I learned of the Hope Institute through several clients of mine who placed relatives there. It's highly acclaimed—to those wealthy and influential enough to avail themselves of the Institute's services. It's also extremely private. Superior care is their number-one priority, followed by confidentiality. I should think the reasons for that would be obvious. As for Audrey, she had a temporary setback this past weekend—an unfortunate reaction to her new medication. She panicked. Rather than buzzing for help, she ran away. Knowing you were nearby and would undoubtedly shelter her—as you always do—she went looking for you. The staff found her. It took them a half-hour to bring her around and stabilize her. She's fine now. I saw her yesterday. When I dropped by, she was calm, her color was good, and her reaction to the medication had subsided. She was eating a normal meal, and she was in much better spirits. She scarcely remembers the whole episode. But she felt terrible about causing you such distress."

  The underlying story was true. Victoria knew her father was far too smart to fabricate the entirety. It was up to her to find the variations and embellishments.

  "So you see her often?"

  "As often as I can get there, yes. Let's see . .. she's been there for ten days. I've been there four times."

  Four times? That was too specific for him to be lying. Interesting. Victoria wondered how he got in and out of the building, since the FBI's surveillance tape had picked up no sign of him at the front door. Probably in one of the limousines that drove directly into the underground garage. Not . that that surprised her. Her father would never allow himself to be seen walking into the Hope Institute—just in case a passerby knew of the clinic's existence. And not only to protect his precious reputation. In this case, he'd be more worried about protecting himself. He must know the FBI had been questioning Miss Evans. After all, she'd named him as their attorney of record. It followed suit she'd keep him apprised. So he'd be doubly committed to distancing himself
from a clinic that was under investigation.

  She had to dig up more.

  "What about that phone number?" she demanded. "The one Audrey muttered before she collapsed? And why did she gasp out 'danger'?"

  Walter dabbed at his mouth with the edge of his napkin. "The telephone number is a private line to the Hope Institute. Every patient receives it, along with a four-digit password, to use in emergencies like the one Audrey found herself in Saturday morning. As for this danger she supposedly mumbled about, my only guess is that she realized she was jeopardizing her health by running away. Her body was telling her so. And she was telling you so—or trying to—in the hopes that you'd bring her back. Thankfully, the clinic's attendants tracked her down before it was too late."

  Victoria drew a slow breath. "This sounds very cloak and dagger, Father. I feel as if Audrey is locked away in a fortress—no visitors, no contact with anyone. Are you sure you have enough faith in this clinic to leave her there?"

  "As opposed to where, Victoria? Lenox Hill Hospital? They're not equipped to handle your sister's needs, believe me."

  "Is it Audrey's needs you're worrying about? Or is it your own?"

  You could have heard a pin drop at their table.

  Slowly, Walter lowered his fork, his eyes as frigid as glaciers. "Are you suggesting I'd sacrifice my daughter's health to save face?"

  "I'm saying your reputation means the world to you."

  "I'm not denying that. I worked hard to become who and what I am today. And I'd do a great deat to protect myself, including go out of my way to keep Audrey's damaging setbacks and indiscretions quiet. So, yes, I wanted her at a private facility. But" I found the most outstanding clinic Manhattan has to offer, one of the finest any city has to offer. Audrey has twenty-four-hour care and attention— physical and psychological."

  Psychological. That introduced another interesting point.

  "You didn't discuss any of this with Uncle Jim. Why? You've always kept him in the loop on Audrey's bulimia. And what about Dr. Osborne? He treated Audrey in the past. Why isn't he treating her now?"