Isabel’s swelling had gone down somewhat. Her face was no longer so distorted that she was unrecognizable. But with the oxygen mask, puffy cheeks and swollen eyes, she looked fragile, wounded, not quite like herself.
The doctor estimated that six bees had stung her, on her feet, legs, arms and chest. Every spot was surrounded by inflamed skin and punctuated with an angry red mark.
According to the doctor, if she hadn’t had an EpiPen in her bag, she would’ve died.
Dutch sat in a chair next to her bed, holding her hand. He’d never been so terrified in his life when she crashed her car and came crawling out, barely able to breathe, her face blown up worse than a prize fighter’s.
His fear had nothing to do with his job, though it should’ve, considering how many people were counting on him. His only concern had been Isabel’s well-being and safety.
There’d been so many bees in her car when he went to find her EpiPen. Not enough to constitute a hive, but more than two couldn’t be discounted as a fluke or some bad stroke of luck.
“Hi,” Isabel said, her voice faint and brittle, eyes finally open.
“Hey, beautiful. I was so worried about you.”
“Liar.”
Dutch was taken aback. “Honey, the only other time I’ve been more worried about someone was when a battle brother was bleeding out in my arms.”
“Not that. I know I don’t look beautiful right now.”
He kissed the back of her hand. “The most beautiful part about you is on the inside. It’s your heart. Your spirit. To me, you’ll always be gorgeous.” A tear slipped from her eye, and he brushed it away. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I went to war and lost.”
He gave a rueful laugh. “I used your fingerprint to unlock your phone and called Brenda. She’s on the way. I hope you don’t mind.”
“She’ll make a fuss.”
“You need to be fussed over. Believe me. Do you want me to call your uncle, too?”
That would be one way to meet him. An unfortunate incident where Dutch had helped would ingratiate him, but it wasn’t one he preferred. Dutch wouldn’t be able to look at himself in the mirror if he played a card that low.
Whether or not her uncle was called had to be Isabel’s decision.
“No.” She shook her head. “He’ll take over, hire a nurse. Maybe have me brought to San Diego by helicopter. I’d rather be at home.”
“Whatever you want.”
The door opened and Brenda rushed into the room. “I came as soon as I could.” Her friend went to the opposite side of the bed and gasped. “Oh, sweetie. You look awful. How did this happen? You’re usually so careful.”
“I think...” Isabel touched her throat like it hurt to swallow. “I think Chad did this to me,” she said, and Brenda recoiled. “I have no idea how he would’ve done it. Known where I was. Gotten into my car.” Isabel’s eyes found his. “It sounds crazy, far-fetched, I know, but please believe me. This was him.”
Dutch ran through the possibility in his head and it didn’t seem far-fetched at all. “Maybe he’s having you followed. I mean, he had to know you were at the grill somehow when he showed up like that. Did he ever have access to your car keys?”
“Plenty of times.”
“It’s possible to clone a key fob. But I can’t make sense of the bees. He would’ve had to have direct access to a hive and equipment to contain the bees without getting stung himself, which would mean this was planned. Well thought out. Not some impulsive act of jealousy.”
“Do you think he was trying to kill you?” Brenda asked.
Isabel shook her head. “He knows I carry an EpiPen with me everywhere. I never leave the house without one.”
Brenda took her other hand. “Then why would he do this?”
Chad went through all this trouble for what? To hurt her? To put so much fear in her that she never looked at another man?
“If he did this,” Dutch said, “then that means he’s dyed-in-the-wool nuts, Isabel. A bona fide psychopath.”
“That’s Chad Ellis,” Brenda said. “You can’t begin to imagine the depths of depravity in his dark soul.”
But Dutch didn’t have to imagine. He knew. He’d read the file.
“We need to have your car checked,” Dutch said. “Dusted for prints.”
“You won’t find anything,” Isabel said. “He’s too careful.”
That wasn’t going to stop Dutch from trying. Everyone made mistakes. Sooner or later Chad would slip up and Dutch would be ready to dole out retribution.
Dr. Kiser came in and stopped at the foot of the bed. “You’re looking better.” She flashed a curt smile. “The meds are working.”
“I’m tired,” Isabel said, “and I hurt all over.”
“That’s natural, but you’re out of danger. I’m going to send you home with a prescription for prednisone. It’s a corticosteroid that will help with the inflammation and itching, and two days’ worth of hydrocodone for the pain. Apply a topical analgesic to the spots where you were stung, calamine lotion or Benadryl gel. Get plenty of rest, drink lots of fluids and you’ll be fine. Due to the severity of your reaction, I’d recommend immunotherapy. Otherwise, if you were to get stung by a bee again, your immune system could have a more severe response even faster. Do you have any questions?”
“Can I take off this mask?”
“Yes, of course.” The doctor stepped around the bed and helped Isabel remove it. “I’ll get your discharge paperwork started. It should take about an hour or so.”
“Thank you,” Isabel said before the doctor left.
“Let me run home and change.” Dutch gestured to his T-shirt and swim trunks. “I’ll come right back, take you home and stick around until you and McQueen are good for the night.”
“I don’t want to impose on you,” Isabel said. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”
Dutch gave her hand a light squeeze. “You’re not an imposition. I’ve been looking for an excuse to spend more time with you and now I’ve got it.” He looked at Brenda. “Will you stay with her until I get back?”
He didn’t want to risk leaving her alone on the off chance that Ellis decided to show up. It was highly unlikely he’d try anything with Brenda in the room as a witness.
“I’ll be right here, glued to her side.”
He kissed the back of Isabel’s hand and stood. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He went to the door.
“He wants to take care of you and your dog,” Brenda whispered, but he heard it.
Didn’t occur to him that making sure McQueen was fed and walked was something special. It was necessary.
In the hall, he took out his cell phone. He called Allison, not having the tolerance to deal with Draper, and gave her the rundown on the way to his truck.
“It’s good that Isabel is going to be okay and the dinner on Wednesday with her uncle is fortuitous. But do you really think that Ellis is responsible for the bees in her car?”
“I think it’s possible. Underestimating him would be a mistake. We need to have her car searched and dusted for prints. And she needs a different RFID chip in a new key fob.”
“That’ll take a couple of days.”
“Fine. She’s got the time. I’ll be with her to make sure Ellis doesn’t hurt her again.”
“Dutch, no matter what, you can’t go after this guy like a vigilante. There’s a process and we have to follow it.”
“I hear you.” But he wasn’t making any promises.
His patience was threadbare where Ellis was concerned. If they found a shred of evidence connecting him to this bee-stinging incident, even circumstantial, Dutch was going to unleash holy hell on that man.
STROLLING HIS BROTHER’S YARD, eight acres in an exclusive gated enclave in Calabasas, Chad passed the beehive he’d had set up four months ago. The story for his sister-in-law had been that he wanted them to have fresh honey. Nothing tasted better and the kids loved the novelty of the idea although they never ventured to the far side of the property. As for Chad’s brother, it didn’t matter to Brett and no questions had been asked.
That was the type of courtesy between the Ellis brothers. The less one knew, the less one was complicit.
His cell phone rang. Chad checked the caller ID, hoping it was Isabel needing him after her ordeal. He longed to hear her voice, begging for his help.
Olga. His gut tightened.
With a sigh, he released his disappointment. “Yes,” he said into the phone.
“I emailed you the video.”
“Will I be entertained?”
Olga muttered a string of curses. That was out of character for her, Chad thought.
“I’m following the guy home,” she said, her voice sharp and agitated. “If you want his address and full name, send my payment for the rest of the week now. Then I’m done, after what you did to her.”
He didn’t care for Olga’s tone. Or the implication, no matter how spot-on.
“I didn’t do anything. I’ve been at my brother’s place all day.” Other than the one hour he’d snuck out and used the gardener’s car while Brett covered, telling his family they were in the office discussing business and not to be disturbed.
“Whatever,” Olga snapped. “If you didn’t do it personally, then you hired someone to do it. Either way, you’re responsible. She almost died. I won’t be an accessory to that. Understand?”
“But you already are, and you know it.” Leaving the garden, he walked across the patio adjacent to the pool, where his niece and nephew were frolicking in the water. “That’s why you’re charging me such an exorbitant rate.”
Some restraining orders stated “neither you nor your agent may” blah, blah, but not his. He was within his legal boundaries to hire a private investigator. But Olga knew this wasn’t a situation where he was looking for proof that his girlfriend was cheating or gathering evidence regarding parenting or employability.
Olga spoon-fed his fixation on Isabel every day with updates and pictures and now a video. All the while in the loop that there was a restraining order against him. Chad hadn’t even told Brett about the injunction, but he wanted a PI with loose morals who was willing to turn a blind eye for the right price.
The nerve of her to grow a conscience and get sanctimonious after pocketing his cash for the past six months.
“Send the money or I won’t give you any more information about her new boyfriend,” Olga said, deliberately taunting him. “For the record, Mr. Ellis. You disgust me.”
The line went dead.
Clenching his jaw, Chad sat and reclined back in a chaise beside his brother, facing the pool. He accessed his banking app and wired the final payment to Olga.
Mindy, his sister-in-law, waltzed out of the house and handed him and Brett each a Tom Collins. Then she pranced away in her heels and bikini, flaunting her flawless figure that some cosmetic surgeon had given her.
Why couldn’t Isabel be more like Mindy. Not the plastic body with implants. He liked Isabel all natural, preferred her a bit heavier before she’d started working out. Now she could wear anything she wanted. But Isabel needed to fall in line and meet expectations. Not give him a hard time. It’d only taken Brett two months to break in Mindy and within less than a year they were married and settled in wedded...contentment.
Bliss would be a bit of a stretch. Mindy either didn’t know or simply didn’t say anything about Brett’s philandering and she’d learned to handle his temper, squirreling the children away in their rooms while she took her punishment if she dared violate one of Brett’s rules.
They balanced everything, made it work for their family because they loved each other. For better or worse. Until death do them part.
That’s all he wanted with Isabel. Why couldn’t she see that?
He brought up the message Olga had sent him earlier and played the video.
Watching it, he sipped his drink. The low-class man with garish tattoos had his arms around Isabel, standing next to her car, as they spoke and kissed. Too bad there wasn’t audio on their conversation.
It made little difference. From the lovey-dovey looks of them, Isabel deserved what she was about to get.
She climbed into her car, pulled out of the spot and rolled her window down. The angle and distance was lousy. He couldn’t see the horror on her face, the panic in her eyes that she surely must’ve felt.
Damn it.
Then her car crashed into a telephone pole.
That was pleasantly unexpected. As Isabel was crawling from her Maserati, debilitated, face grotesquely swollen, Olga was on the move, drawing closer. The man left Isabel and ran toward her car. To fetch her EpiPen no doubt.
Honestly, Chad was a little shocked by the speed of her reaction to the bee venom. She’d been stung once when she was a child. After doing research, he’d learned that allergic reactions could be more severe in adults and in subsequent exposures.
On the screen, Olga lowered beside Isabel, the frame of the video zooming in on her face that had turned into a hideous mask. Not only was her face painfully swollen but her cheeks were drooping at the same time and her eyes were a glassy mix of agony and fear.
Holy—That was the money shot.
Chad chuckled at Isabel’s monstrous image, the sound of her wheezing sending a thrill through him.
You brought this on yourself, babe.
Never should’ve gone out with that man. Chad bet lover boy would stay away from her until she was looking her best, which should take a day or two.
“Do I want to know what you’re watching?” Brett asked.
“No.”
“I should fire up the grill. Mindy has everything prepped and ready to go.” He stood, grabbing his drink. “Burgers and chicken kabobs for the kids. Steaks and baked potatoes for us. I think Mindy is skipping lunch since I spoke to her about her weight. You’re staying, right?”
The video ended and Chad muttered a curse under his breath over how short it’d been. “Steak sounds perfect.”
“Hey, when are you and Isabel getting back together? Mindy misses her.”
Of course she did. Isabel was the only friend Brett allowed Mindy to have at the house.
Starting the video over again from the beginning, Chad said, “I’m working on it.”