“Detective Graham?” Lana said.
She somehow looked even more pregnant standing up.
“Yeah, I’m his next of kin, for medical purposes,” Griffin said, “ever since he was here for stent surgery a few years back. He hasa sister in New Orleans—she’s on her way.” Griffin had sent the plane for her.
“We tried calling you, but the number we have on record didn’t work,” the man said.
“No, it wouldn’t have.”
“I’m Dr. Kincaid. Sam.”
Griffin introduced himself and Lana.
“Yes.” The doctor nodded to Lana. “We met yesterday.”
Lana pressed her lips together. It had to be the doctor who’d seen her speaking with Walter.
The doctor confirmed what Griffin knew from his parents and the media—Darnell was found just before dawn, washed up on the beach near his home with a head injury. The theory was that he’d fallen off his surfboard and hit a rock.
“If it was an accident,” Griffin said to the detective, “why are you here?”
“I’m just confirming as much,” she said. “You high-profiles get special treatment. But rest assured, there’s nothing from the witness to suggest foul play.”
Griffin frowned. “Witness?”
“Mr. Lascelles here was lucky. An off-duty nurse was taking an early-morning jog. In the dark, she thought it was a seal at first, with the wetsuit. He was breathing, just. She managed to pull him clear and stabilize him and call an ambulance.”
“He was initially en route to County but we offered to take him,” the doctor added. “Most high-profiles tend to come our way—it’s what we’re set up for, and we offer a high level of discretion. If there were, for instance, drugs in his system, prescription or otherwise…”
“He’s been clean for decades.”
The doctor nodded, evidently unconvinced. He’d probably heard that claim before, especially from people in Darnell’s zip code.
The detective pulled a clear plastic bag from her satchel. It contained a cell phone. “This was on him, in a dry bag, but we can’t access it to check his last calls and things. You know the code, by any chance?”
“No way in hell will anyone be able to get into that phone. Darnell takes cybersecurity seriously.” Griffin held out his hand. “I’ll look after it for him.”
The detective hesitated. “I could get our techs to look into it.”
“Darnell really wouldn’t like that.” Griffin grabbed it before she could object, and she reluctantly let go. “How is he?” Griffin asked the doctor.
“Hard to know what the damage is until the swelling subsides and we do some more tests. Mostly, it’s a matter of waiting it out. In the meantime, he’s sedated and comfortable.” The doctor laid a hand on Darnell’s shoulder. “We’ll take great care of him. If you’ll excuse me.”
As the doctor left, Detective Graham turned to Lana. “Have you discovered anything more about your sister?”
Lana glanced at Griffin. “Yes, and no. We know about this celebrity extortion gang—I’m guessing you do too? And that Vivien got wrapped up in it.”
“You’ll understand that I was limited in what I could say—still am, given that it’s an ongoing investigation. Mind if I…?” The detective gestured at one of the visitor armchairs.
“Oh, please do.”
She didn’t so much lower herself in but position her butt over it and let go, landing with a whoosh that could have come from her lungs or the chair. “What do you know?”
Lana filled her in on the details Estelle had shared about the extortion operation—without identifying Estelle. She evidently didn’t want to say anything about Walter, which was understandable.
“It’s a sophisticated operation,” the detective said. “Celebrity blackmail is nothing new, but these guys have evolved. None of our usual methods are working. Would you mind…?” She pointed at a carafe of water on a tray table, and Lana poured her a glass.
“What do you know about them?” Griffin said.
