cap off and gulped down half the bottle. When he set it on the table, he stared directly into Liam’s eyes. “What do you want?”
“To exhume your wife’s body. Apparently, the toxicology report disappeared. If someone made a mistake in that ER, a new autopsy might prove you were right about the hospital’s wrongdoing.”
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his skinny throat as he swallowed. “I thought the lawyers already looked at that.”
“True. But the original files were destroyed in the fire. And paperwork can be doctored.” If he had the original, he’d have it analyzed for false documentation. Without the original though, it would be impossible to prove it had been tampered with. “I understand exhumation is not a pleasant idea but reexamining her remains could help clear your name. I can proceed without your permission, of course, but having your consent will expedite the process.” He leaned forward. “So, if you’ve nothing to hide, and you want justice, another autopsy would be beneficial.”
Inman took another long gulp of water, then set the bottle down. “All right. Then do it.”
Inman’s cooperation might mean he was telling the truth. Or...if he or Sondra had killed Gloria, they’d used a drug they didn’t think could be detected in a tox report.
He made a mental note to ask the ME to search for drugs that weren’t typically checked for in a routine autopsy.
Jacob stood. “I’ll handle petitioning for the license and approval.”
Liam nodded. Hopefully this would bring them one step closer to the truth.
He excused himself, then left the room to see why Peyton had called. Outside in the hall, he checked his messages.
“Agent Maverick, it’s Peyton Weiss.” Her voice sounded shaky, broken. “I...need to talk to you. Please call me.”
Liam’s pulse jumped. If Peyton was ready to talk, something must have happened.
He quickly pressed Call Back, then paced the hall. Tense seconds passed before she answered.
“You want to talk?” he asked gruffly. “I’m listening.”
Another second passed. She was hesitating. Because she was frightened?
* * *
PEYTON TOOK A deep breath. “Not over the phone. Can you meet me?”
“Of course. Your apartment?”
Whoever had sent her that message had been at her place. He might be watching. “No,” she said quickly. “Meet me at the Grapevine in River’s Edge.” It was a funky little wine bar with dim lighting. If she was being watched, it would appear she was on a date, not meeting the agent.
“All right. What time?”
“Half an hour.”
She ended the call, then phoned Joanna and asked her to sit with her mother. There was no way she’d leave her alone, not knowing that bastard had almost killed her.
Joanna agreed to come right away, and Peyton hurried to check on her mother. She was resting and stable although still hadn’t opened her eyes yet.
“We have a room for her on the second floor and are admitting her,” one of the nurses told her. “They’ll be moving her soon.”
Peyton thanked them, then ducked into the restroom, pulled her compact from her purse and tried to repair her face. Her eyes still looked red and slightly swollen and that bruise made her look downright scary.
For the briefest of seconds, she saw herself as Agent Maverick must. A scared and emotionally drained woman in trouble.
Fighting humiliation at the thought, she reminded herself that it didn’t matter. She didn’t care what he thought about her looks, only that he could help her.
She washed away the remnants of her mascara, applied concealer, then dabbed powder over her face and applied a soft pale pink lip gloss. She couldn’t show up at the Grapevine looking like she’d been in a bar fight.
The door to her mother’s room opened and she peeked from the bathroom door. Joanna poked her head into the room. “Peyton?”
Peyton jammed her compact back into her purse, threw it over her shoulder and stepped into the room. Joanna’s worried expression indicated she knew how close Peyton had come to losing her mother.
“I’m sorry to ask—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Joanna said as she pulled Peyton into a hug. “You know you can call me for anything you need. Anytime.”
Joanna had been a true friend the past few years, ever since she’d come to Golden Gardens. Her compassion for the senior patients was touching.
“They’re admitting her,” Peyton explained. “If they move her to a room before I return, stay with her. Okay?”
“Of course. I’ll text you the room number.”
“Please make sure you verify any medication she’s given.”
Joanna’s brows pinched together. “Is something going on