"Maybe one of them went to him to get a face-lift and they bonded over a Cub Scout calendar," Lily said, shaking with disgust. "Gotta look youthful and handsome if you want to try to hide the fact that you're a monster."

The other woman nodded. "Judging by the number of names on that list, they could have kept Underwood's office busy all on their own for a year."

"Maybe that's why the practice is open on Saturday mornings."

That had surprised her, realizing the plastic surgery office was open today, and Wyatt wouldn't be confronting Underwood's widow at her home.

"Just as well," Jackie said. "By showing up unannounced, during business hours, when patients might be around to see and hear, Underwood's family might be more quick to usher Wyatt in for a private talk."

Lily wasn't holding her breath. "Until the very moment they realize he's there to confront them about their lies. Then they'll lawyer up and invite him to come back when he has a warrant."

Though she could be wrong. Wyatt had a way of making women want to talk to him. Maybe it was his calmness, the sense that you could tell him absolutely anything and he would remain understanding, sympathetic, and controlled while coming up with a solution to any problem. It was a rare talent, one she found incredibly appealing. Though Lily had to acknowledge she also liked it when he lost a little of that control. Especially when he lost it with her, in his bed.

Hoping Jackie didn't correctly interpret the satisfied smile she couldn't contain, she turned her head away and said, "I think I'll go get some coffee. Want some?"

"Sure."

Lily started to walk toward the kitchen, but got only a few steps when Jackie stopped her.

"Wait!"

"What is it?"

Jackie was reading over a document on her laptop screen, her eyes narrowed, a frown line between them. "I was just going over this family history and something struck me. A name that looks really familiar."

Lily walked over to stand behind her, staring down at the screen. Jackie moved the cursor to the name in question, highlighting it.

"What does it mean?" she asked, equally surprised.

"I don't know."

"We should probably let Wyatt know " Lily said. She reached into the pocket of her shorts for her cell phone. "I'll try to reach him-"

A squeal of tires from outside interrupted her. A door slammed; someone yelled.

Jackie leapt up and hurried to the front window. "Oh, my God," she whispered, staring out at the street.

"What is it?"

"You've gotta get out of here." The woman spun around, putting her hands in the middle of Lily's back and physically pushing her so hard the phone flew out of Lily's hands. "Out the back door. Fast."

"What?"

"It's Anspaugh," the woman said. "It looks like he brought a whole posse, and I suspect he's gunning for you."

As expected, Judith Underwood hadn't been pleased to hear he was waiting to see her.

Wyatt didn't let that stop him. After informing the receptionist that he'd wait, despite the woman's claims that Dr. Underwood couldn't possibly squeeze in a meeting, he'd taken a seat in the waiting room. It had taken one conversation-just one-and he'd gotten the meeting he wanted. Apparently the grieving widow didn't like hearing that he was talking to the patients about being here to question one of the doctors about a crime.

He was whistling as he followed the receptionist down the familiar back hallway. But he found it hard to maintain the cheery facade when he reached that T in the corridor and came face-to-face with Dr. Roger Underwood's portrait. Wyatt had to pause, stare at the man, search for any glimmer of insanity in his eyes or utter evil in his half smile.

There was nothing. No hint that the man was the kind of depraved monster who would abuse young children. No malice in the smile to show he would gladly slaughter anyone who got in his way.

"It was so sad. A real tragedy," the receptionist said. "Dr. Roger being so young and all."

"Had he had a history of problems with his heart?"

Wyatt asked, wondering so much more about Roger's death now that he knew just what a fiend he had been in life.

"Never," she said. "It really was a mystery. He played tennis all the time, ate right, had regular physicals. Never sick a day."

Very unusual.

The receptionist, who was not the same one he'd seen on his last visit, meaning she might have been around long enough to know something, inched a tiny bit closer. Wyatt knew the move signaled a desire to spill a little more information. With the right prodding she'd do just that.

"Did they do an autopsy?" he asked, trying to sound only mildly interested.

"Uh-uh," said the woman-girl really, who was pretty in a vacant way. "They probably would have if the family hadn't been who they are. But I guess since there wasn't a mark on him, other than the tiny cut where he fell on the wine opener, they didn't suspect anything." She lowered her voice a notch. "There were some whispers, though."

"Oh?"

When she didn't elaborate immediately, Wyatt intentionally pulled his gaze off the portrait and stared down at the young woman, offering her a smile of encouragement. She lifted a hand to her throat, her cheeks turning a soft pink as she stared up at him. She wasn't the first woman to look into his blue eyes and see something she wanted to see there, and she almost certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Well…" The girl looked quickly over her shoulder, then peeked past Wyatt down the other short hallway.

Confirming they were not being observed, she continued. "I'm not one to speak ill of the dead."

Everyone spoke ill of the dead. It just took them an hour or two.

"Dr. Roger was a little hard to work for." She swallowed visibly. "And I don't imagine he was much easier to live with. Dr. Alfred loved him to bits, but other than that, he wasn't really well liked around here."

"Not even by his wife and sister, or his stepbrother?"

She frowned, shaking her head. "Sometimes it seemed like all three of them were united in hating him, others like they were fighting over a boyfriend they were crazy about. It was really weird. Dr. Judith and Dr. Angela sometimes act the same way now about Dr. Kean."

Dr. Kean. Angela Kean's angry husband? What must it be like for him, working down the hall from his domineering wife, across from his overbearing father-in-law?

And right beside his stunning, widowed sister-in-law?

Somewhere nearby, a door closed, and the young woman stepped back, guilty and nervous. "I think I've said enough."

Wyatt moved forward, staying close, maintaining that intimate air that silently told her she could trust him. "Dr. Roger's death… do you suspect someone did something to him?"

She pulled her lips into her mouth, as if clamping down on them to keep herself from saying something she shouldn't.

He persisted. "You don't think he had a heart attack?"

After a brief hesitation, she shook her head once, keeping those lips sealed. As if as long as she didn't say the words aloud, she wasn't really talking about her employers.

"His sister?" Jealous of their father's attention, perhaps?

No response.

Wyatt zoomed in on his own favorite suspect. "His wife?"

The eyes flared briefly, confirming it. The receptionist believed Roger Underwood's wife had done something to him. Having met the woman, he thought it highly possible. She was beautiful, brilliant. How difficult would it be for a woman with so much to offer to find out her own husband had such vile preferences? A blow like that could drive any woman to a sudden rage. No doubt about that.

Had she found out about her husband on that very night-perhaps figuring out Roger had stolen the car and was involved in the planned attack on two young children? What possible excuse had he given her for disappearing for those couple of nights? Might he actually have admitted what he'd done?