“I had my phone turned off.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at my grandfather’s, like I told you I would be. What’s going on?”
“Clayton Bradshaw has a gunshot victim he swears is you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Since you answered, I agree, but she must be a dead ringer for you. The woman was shot at Coles Creek on the Trace, which is National Park Service property—you’ll probably be called in to work it.”
“I doubt it. FBI gets first dibs, and if you don’t want it, Clayton Bradshaw and Evan McCall are next in line to investigate—not me. Besides, the Investigative Services Branch doesn’t come in and work on a case unless we’re asked, and I don’t think either of those two have asked.”
“Clayton thinks you’ve been shot. He only called me because I told him we were working together on a case this morning. I guarantee you’ll be getting a request from Evan, asking you to look into it.”
Hugh and Evan both knew she didn’t work violent crimes, not after what happened in Texas.
“You know you want to check out this woman who looks like you. She’s at Merit not ten minutes from you.”
The local hospital. Madison’s heart beat a little faster. She did not want to get caught up in an attempted murder case. “You say Bradshaw mistook the victim for me?”
“Yes. I’ll text you his number.”
“Okay, only to prove this woman doesn’t look that much like me.” It looked like whatever was going on with her grandfather would have to wait. She hung up and slid her phone into her pocket before she stepped back inside the study. “Hugh Cortland wants me to check out a shooting victim.”
“You have your key in case I’ve gone to bed when you return? And you remember the security code?”
“I do. It’s my birthday. Are you going to set the alarm when I leave?”
He nodded.
“I don’t think I’ll be gone long, but if you’ve gone to bed, I’ll see you in the morning at breakfast.”
“Be careful.”
“Always.”
With her grandfather’s concern about Aaron Corbett fresh in her mind, Madison scanned the grounds for anything suspicious as she pulled out of the drive. Anyone could lurk among the ancient oaks in the front yard and she wouldn’t be able to see them.
And neither would his neighbors since his house sat in the middle of five acres on the edge of Natchez. It would be hard for neighbors on either side to know if a break-in happened. She shook her head, dismissing her fears. He had a security system, and he was armed.
She wasn’t that familiar with Natchez but did know where the hospital was and quickly drove the short distance across town. Madison found a parking space under an overhead light and climbed out of the Impala. Even with the light, it was dark in the parking lot, and she looked up. Either clouds were obscuring themoon or there wasn’t much of one. She called the number Hugh had texted her as she hurried to the hospital entrance.
“Bradshaw.”
“This is ISB Special Agent Madison Thorn—”
“You can’t be Thorn. I’m standing at the foot of her bed right now.”
“And that’s impossible. What’s the room number?”
“Room 224 in ICU on the second floor. I’ll meet you in the waiting room.”
“I’ll be right there.”
13
William Anderson poured himself another drink from the almost-empty bottle on his desk and checked his watch. No word from Madison, and she’d been gone almost two hours. He leaned back in his chair, a headache starting in his temples. Maybe it was better that circumstances interrupted his time with her.