His admission shouldn’t warm her inside, despite the frigid air. It shouldn’t matter that he believed her. But it apparently did. She looked up to meet his gaze. “Detective McCully will never take my observations seriously. You heard him. He’s determined to declare this an accident.”
“Then go above his head.”
“That would only make him angrier.”
“So what?” Cillian pushed his bare hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “He could be trying to hush it up for some personal reason. Or maybe he’s one of those cops who likes power too much and will never admit he could be wrong.”
She scanned the driveway. Hopefully, none of the officers had heard his characterization of police. But the closest officers were outside the open gate, where she had found Thomas.
The memory of his pale, lifeless face sent a pang through her. Perhaps the detective was right, in a sense. Whether an accident or intentional attack, Thomas was still gone.
Either way, she wasn’t a member of the police force. She could do no more than she’d already attempted. “I’ve told the detective my suspicions. I’ll have to let him decide what to do with his own job and his own case.” She stepped around Cillian without risking another look at his face.
“Still always following the rules, I see.” His accusation followed her, causing her to pause mid-stride as he hit the old wound that had never quite healed.
“You keep doing what you’re told, and you’re going to hurt more than me.”
She kept going, trying to outpace the painful echo of Cillian’s young voice from the past as it chased her, carried on the icy wind.
Chapter
Eight
How could she have changed so little after so many years? Cillian ran the fingers of both hands through his hair as he stared at the computer screen. But he didn’t see the phone number and address there.
He saw Victoria as she had dropped her gaze and hurried around him outside the Briscoe mansion, as if she knew she’d better run instead of having to admit she was still ridiculously tied to following rules. Doing whatever people in authority told her to do, including the clearly mistaken Detective McCully.
Cillian had tried his best to break her free from that habit when they’d dated. He’d arguably been the opposite extreme back in those days, but even now as an adult, he could still see she had a problem.
Rules were fine when they were good ones and protected people. But to blindly acquiesce and submit to every person with authority, no matter how stupid or wrong they were, was ludicrous. He couldn’t figure out if it was fear, some kind of cowardice that made her do that, or just a brainwashed instinct thanks to being raised by Henry Weston. The man made sure there were hefty consequences anytime he didn’t get his way.
Nothing physically abusive, as far as Cillian had been able to figure out, but he had an unhealthy psychological hold on Victoria. Even when she’d been away from him with Cillian on dates and there was no way he could’ve known what she was doing, Victoria had still never crossed him. Except for that one night. Which majorly backfired because she wouldn’t break free from her father. She would only follow his rules to the letter, to the bitter end.
And now she was doing the same thing with the police. Well, Cillian couldn’t force her to be more persistent with Detective McCully, but he could end her father’s control over her.
He blinked at the screen, clearing his concentration to see the phone number of one of the plaintiffs in a malpractice suit against Dr. Henry Weston. One of the four suits he’d found evidence of online was clearly a dud. The claim was flimsy, a transparent attempt to claim trumped-up psychological damages that hadn’t made it to court or any kind of settlement.
The other three suits had all been dropped. Could be they lacked enough evidence to go to court or even to induce the insurance company to settle. But knowing Dr. Henry Weston, Cillian was banking on another explanation.
Weston couldn’t have much of a bedside manner and didn’t care about people. But he was an expert neurosurgeon who would never botch a surgery if he could help it, if only to keep his reputation and pride intact. That said, everyone made mistakes. And Dr. Weston was only human, despite what he’d programmed his daughter to think.
If he had made a mistake and someone sued, Weston wouldn’t be above using unethical and maybe even illegal tactics to quiet the scandal before it could come out. He would do anything to protect his career and reputation. To get what he wanted. Cillian had proof of that firsthand when Weston had made his daughter reject Cillian against her will.
There had to be a skeleton in one of the closets of these lawsuits. Maybe more than one. All Cillian had to do was gather enough evidence that Weston had intimidated, threatened, or harmed a plaintiff, and he would have the leverage he needed to make Weston do the right thing. To let his daughter go.
Cillian copied the phone number from the screen into his smartphone. Maybe he’d get lucky, and the first plaintiff he called would be the winner.
The rings stopped at two and a half. “Rebekah Leeland.”
“Hi, Mrs. Leeland.” He smiled to inject an approachable sound into his tone. “You don’t know me, so I know it’s a little strange for me to call you. But my mother was a patient of Dr. Henry Weston as I understand you were. She had a brain tumor.”
“Oh?” Puzzlement colored the woman’s tone, but she didn’t sound closed off. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is she all right?”
“Yes, ma’am, she is. But I’m afraid that isn’t thanks to Dr. Weston, if you know what I mean.”
“Did something go wrong?”
Cillian sighed. “Well, let’s just say she’s considering suing him for malpractice thanks to what happened. I was hoping you could offer some advice that might help her. I understand you had to sue him, too?”
