All Fall Down. Erica Spindler

      “A joke? I don’t know what you mean.”

      “You told Nancy this was an official call.”

      “Not at all.” She turned apologetically toward the receptionist. “I’m sorry if we gave you that impression.”

      The woman looked upset and Boyd smiled reassuringly at her. “Nancy, this is my sister-in-law. She’s quite the little comedian.” He turned to Melanie. “I really don’t have time for a family visit right now. Call my secretary and make an appointment.”

      His attitude didn’t surprise Melanie. Their relationship had always been adversarial. She had set the tone right off the bat by begging her sister not to marry him. He had followed her lead by doing his best to keep her and Mia apart after they were married, going so far as to tell his new bride that her twin was not welcome in his home.

      He started to turn away. She stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Make time. Now.”

      He glanced pointedly at her hand. “Excuse me?”

      “It’s about Mia.”

      He hesitated, glanced at his watch, then made a sound of annoyance. “Fine.” He motioned toward a quiet corner of the lobby. “But you’ll have to make it quick. I’m due in surgery in forty minutes.”

      Melanie held on to her temper only until the three of them were in place. Then she let it rip. “Your concern for my sister’s health is touching, Boyd. Truly awe-inspiring.”

      “I see nothing to be concerned about. I saw her this morning, she was fine. If she’d been in an accident or was ill, you would have told me up front. Am I wrong?”

      He arched his eyebrows, the picture of arrogance, and Melanie’s blood boiled. “You son-of-a-bitch.” She took a step toward him. “I know about you, Dr. Donaldson. I know what you’re doing and it had better stop.”

      His expression didn’t change, though Melanie thought she saw a flicker of panic in his eyes.

      She took another step closer. “If you hit my sister again,” she said, not bothering to keep her voice low, “I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

      Several people glanced their way and Boyd flushed. “If you’re talking about that ridiculous black eye, Mia has no one to blame but herself. The woman has two left feet. In fact, because of her clumsiness, I was forced to attend the hospital’s annual patrons’ party alone. I didn’t appreciate that.”

      As if sensing that she was about to blow, Bobby laid a hand on her arm in silent warning. She heeded the warning, taking a moment to calm herself before speaking. “That story,” she began softly, “might work for your golf mates and scalpel buddies, but not for me. I know about you and I promise if you touch my sister again—”

      One of the hospital’s security guards rushed over. “Everything okay, Dr. Donaldson?”

      “Fine.” Boyd smiled easily. “My sister-in-law’s a bit confused about something. But she was just leaving. Weren’t you, Melanie?”

      She ignored the out. Leaning toward him, she lowered her voice. “If you hurt my sister again, I won’t be held accountable for my actions. Do you understand?”

      A small, smug smile tipped the corners of her brother-in-law’s mouth. “That sounded like a threat.” He looked at the security guard, then at Bobby. “You both heard her, you’re my witnesses.” He returned his gaze to hers. “I’d advise you to learn to control that temper of yours, sister dear. I have the feeling it’s going to get you into trouble one day.”

      13

      Boyd watched Melanie walk away, his lips curved into a small, amused smile. He thanked the security guard, apologized for his sister-in-law’s behavior, then excused himself—the very image of calm, control and self-confidence.

      Save for the telltale twitch above his right eye.

      He cursed the twitch and breathed deeply through his nose. Damn his sister-in-law. Sanctimonious, nosy bitch. How dare she confront him? How dare she come to his hospital and challenge him? Here, he was God. He called the shots—others bent to his will, deferred to his opinion.

      She knew nothing about him. Nothing.

      On his way past the information desk, he glanced over and found the receptionist studying him, her gaze speculative. The twitch became a spasm. That was how it started. A speculative gaze. A murmured question. A whisper, a rumor, an accusation.

      He sent the woman a curt smile, and she ducked her head, obviously embarrassed at having been caught staring at one of the most important people at Queen’s City Medical Center. She should be, he thought. He could have her fired. Today. One call and she would be out.

      For a moment, he considered doing just that, then discarded the notion. That would have the opposite effect he desired—singling out the woman in any way would draw attention to him and set tongues wagging. No, his smartest move would be to pretend the woman didn’t exist and today’s episode had never happened.

      He made his way to his office, nodding to colleagues he passed, enjoying the way they looked at him. The way they looked up to him.

      He intended to keep it that way.

      Boyd unlocked his office door and stepped inside, closing it behind him. Melanie had accused him of striking his wife. Big deal. Nobody ever went to jail for that. If Melanie May even suspected the truth about him, he wouldn’t be standing here now, let alone be the chief of thoracic surgery at one of the most respected medical centers in the Southeast.

      No, Boyd decided. She was just blowing hot air, up in arms over his and Mia’s disintegrating marriage.

      Leave it to Mia to run crying to her sister. Spoiled, sniveling little twit.

      He shook his head. When he’d married Mia, he thought her the perfect choice. As a nurse, she had been familiar with hospital politics and had possessed the social skills necessary to further his position within the hospital hierarchy. She’d looked good on his arm and most importantly, been docile, easily intimidated and absolutely enamored with him and the life-style that marriage to him would afford her.

      He hadn’t factored into his decision that her hellcat twin sister was a cop.

      A cop. A sensation akin to panic settled in the pit of his gut. He had been so careful—about the women he chose, where he found them.

       Not about all the women he chose. He had made mistakes.

      He crossed to his desk and sank into his chair, only then allowing his guard to slip. Cops had a way of sniffing things out. What if his sister-in-law started snooping around asking questions of his previous colleagues and employer? Charleston was a lot smaller than Charlotte, people talked. What might she be able to dig up? Who might she be able to dig up?

      Boyd fought the panic off. Melanie May was a two-bit cop from a municipality the size of the average shopping mall. How much harm could she do?

      He snorted with disgust. None. Melanie May was no more dangerous to him than a mall cop.

      14

      Fate was a fickle creature. Sometimes it smiled on those least worthy, protected those deserving punishment, while turning its back on the good and the meek.

      Not so Death. Death was just. Evenhanded. Death relied not on whimsy or chance but on forethought and planning. On righteousness.

      The time had come. For this man, like the others, to pay. For crimes unpunished. For sins against the weak. Against those for whom justice was an empty promise.

      Death emerged from the shadow cast by the restaurant and crossed the parking lot, heading toward the row of fruit trees that lined the lot’s back edge. The trees were in full bloom, the blossoms a delicate white, fragrant. There, parked under a canopy created by their branches,