by Shayla Black
“About?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t say nothing, but sometimes I think this place is just an expensive babysitting service. It certainly was a few years ago. Before they opened the addiction wing, this was where rich men sent their inconvenient women. Now, I’m not saying anything loads of others haven’t. It was a well-known fact all through the country in polite circles that if a man was tired of his wife, he could send her to Homewood.”
“So you don’t think the patients had real mental health issues?”
“Mental health issues can be defined in lots of ways. That’s the trouble, isn’t it? No definitive test for lunacy like there is for cancer. What one person calls a quirk another calls a mental disorder. If you look back a hundred years or so, you’ll see plenty of men used that excuse to shed troublesome wives. Back then they didn’t divorce, you know. So they said lots of things made to make their woman a candidate for the asylum. Novel reading. Yeah, that was one. How ridiculous is that?”
“In the Victorian era, and even the early twentieth century, any woman with a high spirit and half an opinion could be considered crazy,” he agreed. Gus would likely have been tossed into an asylum back then if she’d married the wrong man. She definitely would have been on the front lines of the suffrage movement. “But surely we’ve improved as a society. That sort of groundless institutionalization hasn’t happened much in the last fifty years, right?”
She laughed, the sound reverberating through the quiet lobby. “It still goes on all the time. It’s just done a lot quieter than before. And sometimes the ones that come in for drugs and alcohol stay for other things. Standard treatment is twenty-eight days, but if the husbands don’t want them out, they don’t leave. Looks real good in a custody battle to say your wife is loony, if you know what I mean.”
He did, though when Zack’s mother had been committed, custody hadn’t been an issue. He’d already been well over eighteen. “See any politicians in here?”
“Sure, but they’re mostly from other countries. Don’t want their dirty laundry aired near home,” she said breezily. She stopped and her eyes narrowed. “You were asking about a pol’s wife, right? You’re a lawyer for the family or something like that.”
Yolanda probably didn’t follow U.S. politics. And it worked to Roman’s advantage that he didn’t grant many interviews these days. When he did, he gave them almost exclusively to news outlets in the States. Liz handled all the overseas requests. “Yes, I’m a lawyer for a powerful man whose mother spent time here. My client wants to know more about this period in his mother’s life, but his elderly father now has dementia. So I’m looking into this matter on his behalf so he can write his memoirs someday.”
“Of course. Memoirs. Sounds fancy and all,” she said with a grin. “Well, the good doc worked here during the time you mentioned when we spoke earlier. I wasn’t, of course. I’m far too young, still a schoolgirl back then, you know.”
She hadn’t been, but he liked her charm. “Naturally.”
Her phone rang and she answered, giving him a smile. “Sorry, duty calls. The director should be with you in a moment.”
* * * *
Roman paced the too-quiet waiting room. The hospital was privately owned, and he didn’t doubt its patients were all überwealthy. The lobby and waiting room were decorated in calm colors, everything elegant and plush. Actual paintings graced the walls, all artfully done, and nothing so common as prints. These were originals. Yet for all the trappings of wealth and serenity, an air of desperation clung.
Zack’s father had sat in this exact room as he’d committed Constance. How hard had it been to leave his wife here? Or had it? Frank Hayes had always been an ambitious man who strove to present the best optics to the public. Their marriage had been a prearranged partnership, much like Zack and Joy’s. Despite Frank’s lofty aspirations, he never climbed higher than an ambassadorship. Was that why they’d splintered and she’d become a babbling alcoholic? Had the unfulfilled promise of success rotted their marriage from within?
He bet Frank and Constance had rarely fought. Likely any arguments between the two had been cool and civil—until the day Frank had his wife committed. If Joy had fallen apart, Roman knew Zack would have handled the situation with more compassion and humanity than his dad. Roman tried to imagine himself institutionalizing Gus the way Frank had Constance and he cringed. Of course, she would only laugh in his face before she beat him with her stiletto and told him to go to hell.
That image spread a smile across Roman’s face. He loved that his girl didn’t put up with shit.
Feeling antsy, he sat to wait. Quiet smothered this place. Of course Homewood had patients, but it felt empty, as if bodies lived here but their souls had checked out long ago.
The silence gnawed at Roman. And he knew Joy would have appreciated the complete sense of calm.
If he’d ever truly started his own relationship with her, how would that have worked? Would she have ever adjusted to his organized chaos…or would her placid façade finally have grated on him? For years, she’d seemed like his ideal, but now he wondered. No woman turned him on like Gus, and no one would ever accuse that woman of being quiet or inspiring peace.
The only time he’d ever seen a hint of assertiveness from Joy was on the final leg of the Midwest campaign bus tour. Roman had wanted to shore up a couple of states that might slip away, but she’d insisted on pushing through a handful of others they were almost sure to lose. She’d been so upset, so adamant. Roman had given in.
And gotten her killed.
Maybe the shooter would have turned up in Virginia. Or Colorado. Maybe her political death had merely been inevitable, but Roman felt as if he’d done something terrible.
And he hated that Gus had to hear about his flirtation with her friend right after they’d made love for the first time in a dozen years.
I’m not his type. Never have been. Never will be.
He’d overheard her say that to Liz the night before. How could she feel that way? He couldn’t seem to stay away from her, keep his hands off her…
Maybe because you told her that over and over in the past. Yes, he’d likely spewed that litany so many times the words were burned into her brain. Roman frowned. What the hell did he know about his own damn type? He realized now that he’d given into Joy’s pleading about the final stretch in the campaign not because he’d wanted to make her happy, but because he’d liked that assertive side of her and wanted to encourage it more.
His cell phone trilled, saving him from troubling thoughts. He glanced down at the screen and cursed softly. Not Gus. Darcy Hildebrandt. He thought about letting the call go to voicemail but if he didn’t answer, she might go looking for him. When she didn’t find him, she might run into Gus and ask why he wasn’t at Downing Street. Then he would be in hot water—the kind already boiling because Gus wouldn’t bother to slow roll him.
Roman reluctantly answered his phone. “Hello?”
A feminine sigh sounded in his ear. “Oh, there you are. I was a bit worried you were avoiding me today.”
He planned on avoiding her for the rest of their official visit. Maybe now that he and Gus were together, he could sic his girl on Darcy. It would be fun to watch Gus dish out an ass kicking. Maybe they’d even let him make popcorn and have a ringside seat.
“I’ve just been very busy. The president can be demanding.” That wasn’t entirely untrue.
“I haven’t seen you here in any of the meetings. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“I must have missed you.” The key to lying was to not commit to too many details. “I’ve been running all over the place. I’m currently dealing with background issues, so we’ve had to divide and conquer in order to handle everything. I won’t be around much today. Tomorrow, I should be with the president. I’m sure I’ll see you then.”
“Actually, I was hoping you would join me for lunch today. Or perhaps dinner tonight.”
Oh, god no. “Sorry. I won’t
have time. Shame… And my schedule is tight for the rest of the week. You know how intense these meetings can be. It’s almost as if the fate of the free world rests on our shoulders,” Roman tried to joke.
But he didn’t intend to be alone with Darcy again. The next time they were in public, he would use Gus like a shield. He would lay on the PDA, and his British counterpart would get the point.
Outward affection didn’t bother him the way it used to. As a kid, he’d hated when his parents kissed in front of him. It had never been a peck. They’d constantly made out. Friends and family always remarked how in love they were, but they had never seen his parents snarl like cats and dogs, watched them scratch and claw as they did their best to tear each other apart.
He’d decided that affection was a lie. They’d used it to convince everyone else their marriage didn’t have an ugly side. But last night had him rethinking that conclusion. Holding Gus’s hand had felt damn good—honest and necessary. With that gesture, he hadn’t been fooling anyone, least of all himself. His feelings for Gus were real and so damn complex.
But they were making progress. After pulling Gus away from Liz last night, Roman had expected a fight. Instead, she’d taken the news that Connor would be watching Kemp in stride, then curled up beside him in bed and given him comfort. Next to her feminine warmth, he’d slept better than he had in years.
“I think you can sneak away for a bit,” Darcy insisted with a flirty laugh. “I would hate for the week to end and you to go home before experiencing some true British hospitality. After all, it could be a long while before I travel to the States.”
Zack was right. He was going to have to make himself plain. “Darcy, I think you’re under the impression that I’m available for relations that extend beyond the office. The truth is, I’m involved with another woman and I don’t think she would appreciate me spending time with you that isn’t business related.”
Darcy fell silent. “You never mentioned a girlfriend. In fact, you told me before this visit that you had no significant woman in your life.”
“I don’t usually talk about my personal life with work colleagues. And frankly, it’s a complicated relationship. She’s been in my life since I was a kid. We’re very close. We’ve had our ups and downs over the years, but last night we decided to give us a real try. I’m sorry if you feel I’ve misled you.”
“Misled me? Taking me to the theater with the president and a supermodel, and not correcting me when I told the bloody press we’re dating is more than misleading.”
So she wasn’t always sunshine and light. That made things easier. “I never indicated that we’re dating. You assumed. The purpose of our outing was to accompany the president. He likes to have someone to talk to in public. Better photo ops. It’s awkward if I’m tagging along as the third wheel. I never considered our outing as anything more than one colleague helping another.”
“Well, then. Absolutely my fault.” She forced the sunshine back in her voice, as if she hadn’t just growled at him in a harpy tone he’d never heard her use before. “Please forgive me. We do have a few details to cover for the formal state dinner, but if you would prefer to work with someone else, I can arrange for another colleague to take my place.”
Why was he constantly surrounded by touchy women? He sighed and deliberately softened his voice. Other than her unwanted flirtation, she’d been extremely competent, and he didn’t want the tongue wagging that would accompany him asking for another liaison to affect her position. “Not at all. Let’s talk tomorrow. I’ll find you at Downing Street later so we can coordinate details.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Mr. Calder. I look forward to it, and thank you for the pleasant evening.”
Thank god they were back to being polite. “Thank you, Ms. Hildebrandt.” As he started to hang up, it occurred to him that Darcy might have information about the manor house the president and his entourage were using. Connor had spoken to the ambassador, but Darcy had helped with the legwork for this trip, including securing their accommodations since the usual digs were under reconstruction. “Wait. While I have you on the phone, can you tell me anything about a series of secret passages we’ve discovered in the manor?”
“Of course,” she replied readily. “That particular house was built nearly three centuries ago. Those passageways were quite common in homes of the wealthy in that period. The servants utilized those paths to come and go without disrupting the household or its guests. Some were even used to move rebels in and out of houses during the Jacobite rebellions and other social upheavals. But you don’t need to worry. A renovation about a decade ago closed off most of the entrances to those passages. They left one for historical purposes. We often give tours there.”
“Ah, that’s interesting. We stumbled onto the entrance and were quite surprised.”
“Really? No one has gotten lost in the passages, I hope.” Darcy sounded concerned. “We supplied the Secret Service with a complete map of the estate in part to avoid that possibility.”
“Not at all,” he assured. But it was interesting to know the Secret Service was well versed in those passages. They would also know what common areas of the house the security cameras captured and how to evade them. “One of the doors merely opened and it surprised a staffer. I was curious. Thank you for explaining. I’ll let them know it’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“Now if you want to see secret passageways, I could…” She sighed over the line. “Well, I could recommend several lovely tours for you. There are so many interesting things to see while you’re in London.”
“If I get back for a vacation, I will. Thank you. I’ll see you later, and we’ll settle our schedule for the rest of the week.”
She hung up, and Roman glanced at the device’s screen to check the time. He had a few hours yet before he absolutely had to get on the road. But he needed to wrap up his visit quickly if he wanted to visit the site of Constance’s accident. It wasn’t far, and he could also chat with the local police. If he really hurried, he might even be able to talk to some of the inhabitants of this sleepy village. Maybe someone remembered what happened the night she died.
“Mr. Calder?” A tall, thin man wearing a dark suit under his white lab coat emerged from the hallway.
“Dr. Billings?” He rose to shake the man’s hand.
“Yes, I’m sorry for the delay. I had an unexpected guest,” the doctor explained.
Roman had to smile. The doctor was a man in his sixties who didn’t look at all like the sort to eschew his normal schedule for a flirtation. The woman must have been spectacular. “So I heard.”
The doctor tossed a glance at Yolanda, who grinned. “The gossip mill is running perfectly, I see. I don’t get a lot of unscheduled appointments. We’re a business that thrives on privacy. Most of the public doesn’t even know we’re here. I had to know for certain if she was a reporter sniffing about for a story.”
Roman hadn’t even considered that. Usually he was much more paranoid, and if he’d been spotted that would have been a disaster. Gus was making his brain mushy. “So is she with the press? Because I definitely insist on keeping my visit private.”
The doctor waved off his worry. “Not according to her, and she didn’t mention your name. But just in case, I thought it smart to send her out the back so she doesn’t see you entering. I’m sure she’ll have cleared the building in just a moment. Surprisingly, she wanted to discuss the same patient you’ve inquired about. That certainly doesn’t happen often, especially in an old case where the patient is deceased. She didn’t have the proper paperwork from the family, so of course I couldn’t say much.”
Roman’s every sense went on high alert. “Someone else came today to ask you about Constance Hayes?”
The demand in his tone had the doctor’s eyes widening. “Um, yes. Another American, like you. As I said before, I suspected she was a reporter or perhaps a biographer working on a book. I explained to her that I couldn’t disclose any information withou
t a release from the family. And good luck with that.” His voice went low. “As you know, we’re talking about the mother of the president of the United States.”
“Could you describe this woman to me?” Roman had suspicions. Gus had been too bright this morning. Far too happy and more than willing to talk about anything except her investigation. He should have known her mood was far too good to be true. And his Augustine was precisely the type of woman to turn a scholarly man into a blushing teen with a smile. “Was she gorgeous, tall, have a ridiculous amount of pretty hair? Did she look a bit like a Valkyrie wearing designer clothes and a pair of Louboutins?”
The doctor’s expression turned loopy. “So you know her? She’s beautiful. And charming. I felt bad having to tell her that even if I were allowed to show her the files, they went missing ages ago.”
Roman forced a smile on his face and tamped down his scalding fury. “I see. Did she say where she was going?”
“No. She asked for the loo. I let her use my private toilet. The only other one is out here, and I wanted to avoid her spotting you in case she was a reporter. She didn’t say anything about where she’s headed next. If she hasn’t left yet, you might be able to catch her in the car park.”
“I assure you she’s still here. She’s searching your office even as we speak. And you’re quite right—she doesn’t have the proper clearance from the family to obtain Mrs. Hayes’s medical records. If you’ll lead me to your office, I’ll help you save the sanctity of your files because she’s smart. If she hadn’t been born into one of the wealthiest families in the States, she might have made an excellent con artist.” He withdrew his phone and touched the number that dialed Augustine’s cell. “Come to think of it, con-artistry is a hobby for her.”