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Claire nodded in agreement, sinking into the pet lovers’ settee. “How do we handle it if his next clients show up early?”
“We’ll approach the desk and make our presence and our purpose known. Believe me, Gabe will talk. He just needs the proper motivation.”
Claire looked a tad bit alarmed. “You’re not going to get physical, are you? I think that would be a mistake.”
“So do I—unless it becomes necessary. But something tells me it won’t. I suspect he’ll cave with just a few words. And he’ll clear his schedule on the spot.” Marc settled himself beside Claire, glancing down at the upholstery. “A pet parade,” he muttered. “Abby would love this.”
Abby was Marc’s niece, the daughter of his older brother, Aidan. She was a four-year-old hellion, and she had both of the implacable Devereaux men wrapped around her little finger.
“I’m sure she would.” Claire smiled. “I’m also sure she’d grab some crayons and draw some dog houses and cat beds on the upholstery as accoutrements.”
A deep chuckle. “That—or worse.”
The humming sound halted, and a conversation between Gabe and the young woman commenced.
“The laser therapy and ultrasound should ease the joint pain,” he said. “And she did beautifully on the treadmill today. The limp is much better. Keep her quiet for the rest of the day and off that leg as much as possible.”
“Thank you, Gabe,” was the reply. “Trixie thanks you, too. Her recovery has sped up rapidly since she started seeing you.”
“I’m glad.” Gabe shuffled around. “Here. Towel her dry. Then use the blow-dryer to finish the job.” The sound of something—presumably an oversized blow-dryer—rolled into the room.
“No problem.” The woman was clearly used to the procedure. “While I’m doing that, could you put us in your schedule for Friday? And bill us for today, of course. Just put it on the usual credit card.”
“Sure.”
The blow-dryer whirred to life just as a lanky, wavy-haired guy with strain written all over his face entered the waiting room.
“That’s Gabe,” Claire said quietly, stating the obvious but confirming it for Marc.
He nodded, rising to his feet as Gabe glanced quizzically in their direction. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“We need to talk.”
The combination of Marc’s tone and his formidable presence made Gabe shift nervously. So did the appearance of Claire, who came to stand beside Marc. “Did you want to make an appointment for your pet?”
Marc jerked his thumb in the direction of the room with t
he treadmill. “I want you to do what that lady just asked you to do. Don’t bother setting up her next appointment, just charge her credit card for today. Then I want you to cancel whoever’s due in next. You won’t be seeing them. In fact, you should cancel all your appointments for the rest of the day, as well as the next several days. Go for the family emergency excuse. It’s very effective, wouldn’t you say?”
By this time, Gabe had turned sheet white. “Who are you?”
Marc slapped a business card on the desk and stared Gabe down. “Marc Devereaux. And this is Claire Hedgleigh. From Forensic Instincts, which I’m sure you’ve thoroughly researched. Enough said.” A pause as Gabe stared at the card, looking ill. “But just to refresh your memory, our investigative firm represents Danielle Murano. And isn’t that reason enough to cancel your appointments?”
“I’ll take care of it right away.” Sweat trickled down Gabe’s face, and his hands were shaking as he made the list of necessary calls.
By that time, the blow-dryer had stopped, and the young woman inside had walked into the waiting room with a beautiful golden retriever who had the slightest limp. She glanced quickly at Marc and Claire, giving them a tentative smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I’d run over on time.” She turned to Gabe. “Why don’t I give you a call to book our next appointment?”
“I think that would be best.” Gabe’s tone all but ushered her out, and she took the hint, leading her dog out the door and letting it swing shut behind her.
Claire walked over and flipped the lock, turning the sign that read OPEN to CLOSED. Then she rejoined Marc at the desk, facing Gabe with all of the anger Marc felt, but with a tad of sadness. The guy had looked like hell to begin with. Now he looked like he was going to vomit and wet his pants simultaneously.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he managed, collapsing in his chair. “I just can’t.”
“Then don’t,” Marc replied. “Let’s skip the preliminaries and any denials you plan on issuing. We traced the spyware back to your IP address. We know it’s you who’s been keeping tabs on Dani. Now you’re going to tell us the why, along with the who. Who hired you? What’s his agenda? And why is he going after Dani and Gia?”
Gabe slumped farther down in his chair, obviously caught between two terrifying alternatives. “He’ll kill me,” he whispered.
“Not if you talk to us, he won’t. We’ll protect you.”
