The Silence That Speaks
WHO WANTS MADELINE WESTFIELD DEAD? AND WHY?Forensic Instincts' first order of business is to find out who's targeting their client. Under the leadership of Casey Woods, the investigative team has the resources to do just that, working inside the law–and outside it. FI's strength is its members, among them Casey's associate Marc Devereaux, former navy SEAL and a man who's equal to any situation.Except maybe this one…Madeline's case hits too close to home for Marc. She's the only woman he ever loved, and she's his only weakness. Now a nurse at Manhattan Memorial, she's terrified because someone is trying to kill her. So she turns, reluctantly, to Marc and FI for help and protection.Meanwhile, Manhattan Memorial is in turmoil. With a merger in the works, the staff is still haunted by their hospital administrator's sudden death–during heart surgery performed by Madeline's ex-husband, Conrad. A surgery at which Madeline was present. The killer seems to blame both Madeline and Conrad…With a growing list of suspects–including the grieving widow and a string of scorned lovers–Forensic Instincts will have to figure out who has the greatest incentive to get rid of Madeline. And FI has to work fast to save her…before she's permanently silenced.
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WHO WANTS MADELINE WESTFIELD DEAD? AND WHY?
Forensic Instinctsâ first order of business is to find out whoâs targeting their client. Under the leadership of Casey Woods, the investigative team has the resources to do just that, working inside the lawâand outside it. FIâs strength is its members, among them Caseyâs associate Marc Devereaux, former navy SEAL and a man whoâs equal to any situation.
Except maybe this oneâ¦
Madelineâs case hits too close to home for Marc. Sheâs the only woman he ever loved, and sheâs his only weakness. Now a nurse at Manhattan Memorial, sheâs terrified because someone is trying to kill her. So she turns, reluctantly, to Marc and FI for help and protection.
Meanwhile, Manhattan Memorial is in turmoil. With a merger in the works, the staff is still haunted by their hospital administratorâs sudden deathâduring heart surgery performed by Madelineâs ex-husband, Conrad. A surgery at which Madeline was present. The killer seems to blame both Madeline and Conradâ¦
With a growing list of suspectsâincluding the grieving widow and a string of scorned loversâForensic Instincts will have to figure out who has the greatest incentive to get rid of Madeline. And FI has to work fast to save herâ¦before sheâs permanently silenced.
To our newlyweds, Wendi and Will, whose union adds a whole new and precious dimension to our lives. Wendi, youâve always been the joy in our hearts, an amazing friend, daughter and human being. And now we have Will, your wonderful husbandâa fine man weâre proud to call our son.
We love you both so much and wish you a lifetime of joy and the happily-ever-after you deserve.
Contents
MADELINE WESTFIELD NEVER saw the car coming.
It was late at night, and chilly for the beginning of November. Sheâd turned up her coat collar, and was waiting to cross Park Avenue at East Eighty-Eighth Street. Lost in thought, yes, and with more than enough reason these days. She was an emotional wreck. But navigating between pedestrians, taxicabs and speeding motorists was second nature to her. Sheâd been a Manhattan resident for most of her life.
Sheâd watched for the walk sign to flash from red to green. Even then, sheâd paused briefly to glance around.
The crosswalk was still.
She took her initial steps into the street.
The screech of tires was her first warning. Then came the flash of motion from her peripheral vision.
Her head snapped around, and she came to a dead stop, staring like a deer in the headlights. A black SUV was roaring in her direction. It veered sharply at her, leaving no doubt that its goal was to hit her head-on.
Self-preservation kicked in. She lunged away, hurling herself backward and crashing to the sidewalk, a pile of wet leaves doing nothing to cushion her fall.
The impact of her body slamming against the concrete rocketed through her. Her head struck the groundâhard. She cried out in pain, saw stars.
Somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind, she heard the screech of brakes and the sharp swerving of tires, and the terrifying thought occurred to her that the driver was going to try again.
âMiss, are you all right?â a gravelly male voice inquired as the man it belonged to rounded the corner.
Madeline had never felt such great relief at the sound of another human voice. She looked up to see an elderly gentleman, with a full head of white hair and a lined face, holding a leash. The Brussels griffon at the other end of the leash was eye level with her. He trotted over to take a sniff.
âNo, Max!â the man said. He was staring down at Madeline, his forehead creased in concern. âDid you trip? Can you move?â
He hadnât seen what happened. He wasnât a witness.
As Madeline opened her mouth to speak, she heard the SUVâs engine roar in the distance as it sped down Park Avenue.
âI...â She shifted her weight and winced. Her right side was killing her. Her head was throbbing violently. And âMaxâ looked like two dogs, not one. Double vision. A concussion. Not to mention some major bruisesâpossibly even some broken bones. As an RN, she recognized the signs.
Seeing the agony in her eyes, the man reacted.
âIâm going to call 9-1-1 and get you an ambulance.â He took out his cell phone.
Madeline nodded her thanks. She tried again to move, and was rewarded with jolts of pain. She inhaled sharply, causing shooting pain in her chest. So she lay there quietly and waited.
The ambulance seemed to take forever to arrive. Maybe it was the pain talking. Or maybe it was her nerves. But she finally saw the red whirring light and heard the siren. Lenox Hill Hospital was nearby. Thatâs where the EMTs would transport her. It wasnât the hospital she worked in, but she did know some people there.
Not that it mattered. She passed out as they arrived at the E.R.
