Fatal Hearts by Norah Wilson Page A

them alone. Hayden noticed Boyd seemed even less interested in his meal than she was in hers. Then she remembered how pale he’d appeared earlier. He needed to eat.
    She picked up her fork and dug into the salad. “Mmm, just as good as I remembered.” She gestured with a fork at his untouched plate. “How’s the salmon?”
    The look he sent her told her he knew what she was doing, but, dutifully, he picked up his knife and fork, cut off a piece, and ate it. “Pretty good,” he said, sounding surprised. “Pretty damned good.”
    They ate in silence, which was probably a good idea considering the subject matter of their conversation thus far. Forensic talk, grief, and guilt were not good dinner companions.
    Guilt. Yes, he felt plenty guilty. She’d heard it in his voice, in his words. He really thought if he’d been home to take that call, Josh might not have died. But she doubted that. On the other hand, he now would have had the name of the woman Josh thought was their birth mother. She put down her fork.
    Across the table, Boyd put his own utensils down and leaned back. His plate, she saw with satisfaction, was bare.
    “I guess I needed a good meal. Thank you, Doc.”
    “For what? I didn’t do anything.”
    Instead of answering, he picked up his mug of beer and cradled it. “Did you ever go to Josh’s place?”
    “At Dr. Stratton’s? Yeah, I used to go there to watch TV sometimes. It felt strange, at first, being in her house. She’s sort of medical royalty in this town, which made it kind of weird. Initially, I couldn’t get why Josh didn’t just go ahead and rent an apartment, but he seemed to like staying there.”
    “You must know how he wound up there?”
    “Yeah. He told me. Apparently, she was one of his first stops when he got to town. He picked her because she’s one of a handful of active docs who were practicing back then, and he figured she’d be a good resource to give him the lay of the land. When she realized the duration of his stay was contingent on his investigation, she suggested he take a room she’d just finished as a B&B rental.” She laughed sadly. “He took her up on the offer for the short term, planning to get himself an apartment, but then he had his first gourmet breakfast there. The arrangement instantly became longer term.”
    Boyd grinned. “Classic Josh. Thinking with his stomach.”
    “Definitely.”
    “I imagine he was also influenced by not knowing how long he was going to be here.” Boyd sat back in his chair. “If he’d solved his investigation within the first few months, he probably would’ve given his notice at the paper and gone back to his old job, or at least another big-city paper. By staying at the B&B, he wouldn’t have to fuss with a lease or find someone to sublet when he left.”
    “All while saving a bundle. So I got used to it. It’s not like I even saw Sylvia when I went there. Well, not very often.”
    “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her—she wasn’t around when I went there to clear out Josh’s things—but she sounds intimidating.”
    “She is. Very old-school. It’s Dr. Walsh and Mr. McBride. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a person’s first name pass her lips, not even her ailing husband’s, whom she refers to as Senator Stratton or the Senator. I gather they were a serious power couple, back in the day.”
    Boyd frowned. “I remember Josh talking about the Senator. He’s in a coma, right?”
    “I’m not sure it’s a coma, exactly, but he can’t communicate. Or so I’ve heard.”
    “I’m going to head over there later, I think.”
    “To Stratton House?”
    “Yeah. I’d like to give Josh’s room a thorough search. The kind I should have done the first time around.” He shrugged. “I just wasn’t thinking.”
    She imagined him packing away Josh’s clothes. Had he taken them back to Ontario? Or had he dropped them off at one of the many community donation centers around town? And his toiletries