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Too late, she realized she should have called her father when her mother had suddenly died. Bakersfield was only a couple of hours north of here. He easily could have driven down. She hadn’t called because she’d assumed he didn’t care. Now she saw the situation from a different perspective. She knew her parents loved each other, but her mother had been obsessed with Ashley winning a beauty title. Her father had understood what a pipe dream it was and how little Ashley would gain from the title should she win.

She considered talking to Ryan tonight, but they were going out with Walter Nance and his wife. Ryan was determined to impress the head surgeon in his new practice. He’d told her to look spectacular. If things went well, Ryan might be in the mood to have a serious discussion afterward. She stopped herself. Why did so much of their life together have to depend on his moods?

“If only I could help Ryan in some way. You know, offer up a solution to the money problems when we talk.”

“The solution is getting that woman-Whitney-out of your lives.”

Preston was right, and she knew it. Ashley felt for Whitney. She’d lost Ryan, nearly lost her dog, then a fire destroyed everything. But that was no excuse for ruining Ashley’s life.

On the spot, Ashley made a decision she hoped she wouldn’t regret. Ryan had enough on his mind. She could take care of this on her own.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

ADAM PARKED HIS car in the visitors’ section of the lot behind the coroner’s office. He looked around to see if anyone had followed him. When he’d left the house this morning, he’d carefully surveyed the street to see if any strange vehicles were parked close to the house.

Nothing.

Not that he expected anyone to be tailing him, but he couldn’t stop worrying about Whitney. There wasn’t any reason for concern, he assured himself. Whoever had thrown the pipe bomb had been after Miranda. Still, Whitney was constantly in his thoughts.

Since the night of the pipe bombing, he’d been worried someone might mistake Whitney for her cousin. He was even more troubled now, but he didn’t know why. Okay, maybe he did. Making love to her had triggered a very masculine instinct. Protectiveness. When you cared about a woman, you wanted to protect her.

Whitney had come to mean a lot to him in a short period of time. Once he would have questioned this, but after facing death-and surviving-he knew how quickly life could change. Falling for a woman this soon no longer surprised him.

He walked into the building and down the stairs to the level where Samantha Waterson had her office. He’d received a text message this morning that the assistant coroner wanted to see him.

“Hey,” Samantha greeted him when he appeared at her office door.

“Hey, yourself.” Adam walked in with a smile for the redhead. “I received your message.”

She waved him into the chair next to her desk. “I received the advanced tox report on your uncle. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Adam stared blankly at her for a moment. He couldn’t believe this. He’d been so sure a toxicology screen would turn up something. “Nothing?”

“Nope. Traces of ibuprofen. That’s all. Aspirin or Tylenol turns up in ninety-eight percent of all tox screens. It’s the most common drug in America.”

Adam recalled Quinten Foley’s visit. They were dealing with sophisticated people who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. He didn’t know of any reason they would want to kill his uncle, but then, he didn’t have all of the facts.

“Is there anything that wouldn’t show up on a tox screen?” he asked.

“Sure. Lots of things. Rohypnol, for starters.”

“The date-rape drug?”

“Yes. It’s out of your system in twenty-four hours. If a victim isn’t tested immediately, it’s almost impossible to prove in court that a defendant slipped a woman the drug.”

“How would Rohypnol figure in my uncle’s death?”

“Victims go into a blackout state and don’t remember anything. He could have been given the drug, then forced to exercise so vigorously that his heart gave out.”

“I’m not sure…someone would have to have known heart trouble ran in the family. Even if they did, there’s no guarantee it would work.” He shook his head. “Anything else?”

“There are lots of designer drugs around. Remember the steroid substitutes invented to get around baseball’s steroid ban?” she asked, and he nodded. “Like those designer steroids, there are a number of drugs that can elude toxicology panels. The one that comes to mind in this case is curare.”

“That stuff that Indians in the Amazon used on their arrow tips?”

“Exactly. It’s sold under a variety of names by drug companies. It’s most commonly administered when a doctor is operating on someone’s lungs. The drug causes paralysis so the lungs don’t move during the operation. If your uncle was given an overdose, all his internal organs would have shut down. The process could have mimicked a heart attack.”

Calvin Hunter had been involved in dangerous arms transactions. Considering those deals, the men wouldn’t have wanted to find themselves involved in an investigation. They would have used something untraceable.

“I guess this is a dead end,” he said with heartfelt regret in his voice.

“There’s one other possibility,” Samantha told him.

He refused to get his hopes up. “What’s that?”

“Dr. Alfonse Taggart at Stanford is working on new tests specifically designed to detect drugs that current tox panels don’t show. In this case, I would send him slides of the liver. Curare in any form impacts the liver. I didn’t notice any inflammation and it didn’t come up on the tox panel either, but maybe Dr. Taggart can find something. It’s a long shot.”

“Thanks. I owe you,” he told her.

IT WAS NEARLY NOON BY the time Whitney arrived back at the house. She punched in the alarm code and entered the home followed by the dogs. During her rounds, she’d stopped in at Dog Diva. Daniel, the owner, had given her the names of two women who also worked as pet concierges in the area.

She’d spoken with one of them. Lyleen Foster sounded promising. She lived nearby and had an excellent reputation. She could take on several dogs, but not all of them. It was going to be necessary to split up Miranda’s clients.

“Okay, guys, settle down,” she told Lexi and Da Vinci. Maddie’s owner, Debbie Sutton, had picked her up. Whitney was down to three dogs. Jasper came scampering into the kitchen at the sound of her voice. She assumed he’d been in his favorite hiding spot under the coffee table.

She went back into the maid’s room and took a closer look at the clothes someone had left for her. Was there anything she could wear to Vladimir’s exhibition tonight?

“You’re queen of the clueless,” she said under her breath. She had no idea what anyone wore to an opening. If she couldn’t find something, she would have to spend money she didn’t have on a dress.

Sorting through the clothing, she relived last night. Lord have mercy. Not only was Adam a hunk, he was an exceptional lover. She cautioned herself to keep this physical and not allow herself to fall for him.

She found a raspberry-colored sundress of sheer gauze. The fabric was held up on one shoulder by a lime-green butterfly while the other shoulder was bare. She smoothed out the dress and inspected it more closely. It wasn’t very dressy, but it would work, she decided.

She tried to imagine what Adam would think. She’d tried so hard to be pretty for Ryan. He always found fault. She knew Adam wouldn’t be hypercritical. He’d like whatever she wore. Still, she was determined to look her best.

Whitney hoped Trish’s friend wouldn’t need a house-sitter. She would just as soon live here with Adam. That might not be such a good idea, she reflected. Would she be able to study with him around? Wouldn’t she just be jumping into another relationship too soon?