On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

Sandra Ellingston and Becky Saunders. Hopefully, Jeanne had discovered what kind of connection the women had had with Kyle.
    "Thanks," Aiden said finally, and then closed his phone. His jaw was tight, his eyes a flinty blue. He met her questioning gaze and said, "Sandra Ellingston is a doctor here in town. She's in a long-term relationship with a woman, so there's no way she and Kyle were having an affair."
    "Oh, well, I guess that's good news." She wondered why he didn't look happier.
    "Is it good? He was seeing a doctor for something."
    "It could have been as simple as a flu shot. What's her specialty?"
    "She's an ear, nose and throat doctor," he said.
    "Well, that doesn't sound so serious. Maybe he had allergies."
    "I never heard him mention any. But what's also interesting is that Becky Saunders is a nurse."
    She stared at him, her stomach beginning to churn. "That's a coincidence."
    "I don't believe in coincidence."
    "Do you think Kyle was sick?"
    "He never showed a sign of being ill. But he did take a few days off about six weeks ago. He told me he was helping Vicky move into their new place in San Francisco, but Jeanne said that she found credit card charges in the Los Angeles area for that same weekend. Kyle spent time at a place called The Healing Sun. The facility specializes in holistic medicine, acupuncture, massage and stress therapy, as well as osteopathy. No one at the center would provide information as to whether or not Kyle was there or what he was there for."
    Silence followed his words as they both pondered the possibilities.
    "Aiden, you need to talk to Vicky again," she said. "If Kyle was sick, she had to know."
    "Maybe not. He could have kept it a secret from her, too. There were certainly no outward signs of an illness." He let out a frustrated breath. "Damn. Every time I get an answer, I end up with more questions. I doubt I can even get Vicky to talk to me again."
    "What about Becky? She might speak to you. Now that you have more information, you'll be able to ask better questions."
    He nodded. "You're right. I'll start with Becky. Jeanne gave me her phone number."
    As he reached for his phone, she said, "Can you put on the speaker? I'd like to hear what she has to say, too."
    "Sure." He punched in a number.
    A woman answered. "Hello?"
    "Becky?" he asked. "It's Aiden Callaway."
    "Aiden," she said, a resigned note in your voice. "I had a feeling you were going to call me."
    "You started to say something the other night, something about Kyle. I need to know what he was talking to you about."
    "I'm sorry, Aiden, but my conversations with Kyle were private."
    "Was he sick, Becky?" Aiden's blunt words brought a long silence. "Becky?"
    "Kyle asked me not to tell anyone," she said finally.
    "Tell anyone what? Becky, please. I need to know what was going on with Kyle. He was my best friend. You know that better than anyone."
    Sara could hear the anguished plea in Aiden's voice. She thought Becky might cave, but a second later, she apologized again.
    "I'm sorry, Aiden. I made a promise to Kyle. I didn't always keep my promises to him, but I'm going to keep this one. Please don't call me again."
    Aiden uttered a protest, but the dial tone made it clear that Becky was not going to help them.
    "I shouldn't have done this over the phone," he said. "If I saw her in person, I could probably make her talk."
    "I don't think so, Aiden. Becky seems determined to keep Kyle's confidence."
    "A great time for her to develop a conscience," he said sarcastically. "Becky was breaking promises right and left in high school."
    "This isn't high school. You're going to have to talk to Vicky."
    "She'll more than likely slam the door in my face."
    "Only one way to find out." She got to her feet, aware that they both needed to have difficult conversations. "San Francisco here we come—ready or not."

    * * *
    On the four-hour drive back to San Francisco, Sara used her phone to search the Internet. Before she spoke to her father, she wanted to see if she could find any more information on her brother or her parents during the time period that they'd been together.
    As she typed in her brother's name, it hit her again that he had been named for their father. When little Stephen died, her dad must have felt like he was losing himself.
    Was that what had happened? Had her father simply given up, gone through the motions of life with no warmth, no love, no happiness? It made sense. But she couldn't help wondering why her own