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“One of my investigators overheard a conversation that Devin had with Nolan last week at a café. Dr. Kolsby was the one who informed me about Devin not being your biological son, but you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“I still don’t know why David would…” Dr. Cranston let his voice fade as realization set in. “Son of a bitch. He’s setting me up. Or my son.”
“We don’t know that, but I do believe that Dr. Kolsby doesn’t want Nolan to be the focus of the investigation.” Brook tried not to inhale too deeply. Fresh coffee was being made across the foyer, and this place clearly didn’t skimp on their food or beverages. The display being set up was quite grand. “Devin also spoke to Nolan about something taking place the night of the charity event. Can you enlighten me? Help me look beyond what’s being served up to the authorities as the facts?”
“I didn’t know about Andrea until last week when Devin called me,” Dr. Cranston revealed as he finally leaned back in the chair. He still wasn’t completely comfortable in her presence, but at least she had been able to get him talking instead of trying to communicate through his lawyer. “Apparently, Devin and Nolan attended this charity event that you’re referring to in order to buy some pills from Andrea. She showed up, demanding that one of them help get her job back. She knew who their fathers were, and she thought that she’d use that knowledge to blackmail them. They got into a fight—mostly verbal, I might add, but it got out of hand enough that the police were called. She left the event prior to the police arriving, and they never saw her again.”
Brook mulled over Dr. Cranston’s words, attempting to find holes in his story. There could technically be many, but she didn’t get the sense that he was pushing the issue. If anything, he still seemed concerned with Devin potentially discovering that he had a different biological father.
Devin and Nolan didn’t have day-to-day contact with the hospital. During the investigation into Andrea’s disappearance, she’d already been fired from the hospital. The detective in charge of her case had spoken to her previous employers, but he also hadn’t spent a lot of time on them once he’d learned the reason for her termination. Her friends and family had insisted that she wouldn’t just up and leave, but seeing as no vehicle had ever been located, the detective had been leaning toward Andrea pulling up stakes and leaving town after losing her job.
“You said that you’re not working with the police,” Dr. Cranston said as he misconstrued her words. She didn’t correct him. She didn’t see a need to at the moment. “Do they know about Devin not being my biological son?”
“Yes,” Brook replied truthfully. “I can speak with them, though. I’ll ask that they use discretion when the time comes, although I’m sure you saw to it that Devon has legal representation. Tell me about this call that you received that had you driving miles out of your way outside of the city.”
Dr. Cranston hesitated, which told her that there was more to the story.
Brook could feel the vibrations of her phone through the leather of her purse. She made no move to answer the call. She was afraid that if she interrupted Dr. Cranston, he wouldn’t divulge the much-needed information to move forward on this part of the investigation.
“My lawyers have advised me—“
“I’m sure they have given you sound advice, but I’m not a lawyer. I’m an investigator, and there are four skeletal remains of young women whose families only want answers. If you didn’t kill them, then it was the person who called you and asked you to meet them in that location. The unsub set you up, hoping that the police would look no farther than what was served up to them on a silver platter with you visiting the grave site right in front of them. Again, I’m not the police. I want to look beyond how you were obviously being manipulated, Dr. Cranston. Help me do that. Help me clear you and your son.”
Dr. Cranston became slightly agitated at the situation that he’d found himself in, and he started to jostle his right knee. He was wearing a pair of jogging pants, and she assumed that he had on the matching sweatshirt. She couldn’t tell, because he was still wearing his winter jacket. It bunched up in the middle as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
“I didn’t receive a call. It was a text message, and from a number that I didn’t recognize. It stated that they had information regarding a past incident with…a young woman. Should those allegations become public, it would ruin my career. They wanted a hundred thousand dollars, and then they gave me the name of a road. Said that I should drive a quarter of mile and park in the small pull-off on the righthand side of the road. I did that and then waited for at least a half hour. No one came, so I left. I still have the money in cash, but I haven’t received another text.”
“I take it this so-called incident actually took place?”
“It was an allegation, not an incident. And I decline to answer that question.” Dr. Cranston seemed to think better of such an evasive response. “Wait. You should know that this allegation has nothing to do with those murders. Again, I took an oath. I would never harm another human being.”
“Do you still have the text message?”
“I deleted it once the meeting fell through.”
Brook made a mental note to have Bit locate the number from the service provider. They would have a list of numbers listed for incoming messages. She had to assume that the text had been sent via a burner phone.
“Who knew of this allegation from your past?”
“No one.”
Brook arched an eyebrow. While most everyone had skeletons in their closet, very few had all the bones in one place.
“My first wife and D—“
Dr. Cranston had been going to name David as the other individual.
“I need to call my lawyer.” Dr. Cranston’s voice left no room for argument. “I’m sure you’ll receive a call from him at some point today. He won’t be happy that I spoke with you, but our conversation has been very enlightening.”
“I appreciate your time, Dr. Cranston.” Brook reached for her purse. She stood before securing the strap over the shoulder of her dress coat. “I do have one more question, if you don’t mind.”
“Look, I—“
“Why did you stop by the ICU and speak with Brett Kolsby the day that his father was brought out of the induced coma?”
“Because that is what concerned friends do, Ms. Sloane.”
The anguish and remorse that laced his words was palpable.
