by Jada Ryker
Alex cocked his head, his eyes hard and cold. He took Marisa’s arm and dragged her into the hallway.
Good thing I’m wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, thought Marisa as she was pulled through the living room.
His muscular arms flexed and his legs braced, Alex flattened himself against the wall next to the door. “Ask who it is,” he ordered in a hoarse whisper.
Marisa had to clear her throat. “Who is it?”
“Tara! Open the door!”
Alex and Marisa looked at each other. Marisa shrugged her shoulders.
“Tara!” cried Marisa as she threw open the door. “What’s wrong?”
Tara, dressed in an ancient sweatshirt and faded jeans, threw herself onto the couch. “He’s a madman! He’s crazy!”
“Who? The murderer?” Marisa grasped her friend’s shoulders.
“Murderer?” Tara’s face was curiously twisted. “I’m talking about the murderer of our hospital, Payton Reed!”
“What has he done?” Marisa prompted.
“The hospital called him at home to tell him we’ve run out of wound care supplies. You know, we have a couple of burn patients, as well as a few elderly people with sores that just won’t heal. They go through fresh dressings at a fast rate. When the night supervisor told him they’d run out of bandages, he immediately went to the hospital.”
“That’s good! Right?” Marisa asked, when Tara remained silent.
“That blithering idiot showed up with a gallon of bleach, bottles of detergent, lingerie bags, and one box of gauze pads.”
“Bleach? Lingerie bags?” Marisa was bewildered.
Tara jumped up from the couch, too furious to sit. “He instructed the nursing staff to place the used gauze pads in the lingerie bags and wash them in detergent and bleach.”
Marisa gasped, “Surely the nursing supervisor explained such actions would violate every policy, the standards of infection control—”
Tara moaned, “He retorted the heat in the dryer would kill any germs on the gauze! He said the dryer would be like using an autoclave!”
Alex interjected, “Oh, my Lord. I am the first one to say, ‘let’s save money,’ but this…He has no concept of the proper running of a hospital!”
Tara seemed to notice Alex for the first time. Her eyes widened. “Alex! What are you doing in Marisa’s house?” She wheezed in a breath and choked. “In your underwear?”
Marisa grimly thumped her friend on the back. “Those are shorts. Outside shorts. Focus, Tara!”
Tara tore her eyes away from Alex. “It gets worse.” Tara was glum. “We know the nursing staff has been up in arms because of Payton’s failure to buy needed supplies and equipment, and the corporation’s focus on the bottom line. The mass layoffs Payton announced have pushed them over the edge. They’ve all written out their resignations, effective in two weeks. Some of the nurses wanted to walk out, but that would jeopardize their professional licenses. They’re turning in the resignations tomorrow.”
“That’s terrible! What are we going to do?”
“Myrtle, the volunteer coordinator, told me Payton approached her about the volunteers taking up the slack. She told him in light of the management changes and the downsizing, all of the volunteers have resigned.”
Marisa felt her mouth drop open. “All of them?”
“Yes! He instructed her to try and get them back, but she’s had limited success. Marisa, this is our chance to overthrow Payton! If we tell the corporate office what is happening, they’ll have to fire him!”
“Tara, the first thing to do is calm down. Payton is not the despotic ruler of a small country, subject to overthrow by the rebellious masses! The corporate office knows his management style and put him in charge. It’s possible he’s made these decisions without consulting the corporate office, and there may be fallout. He’ll have to figure out the appropriate course of action.” Marisa shrugged. “Perhaps he’ll have to hire agency staff to take care of the patients. He’ll have to pay the company that supplies temporary nurses. Since the average pay rate of our nurses is nearly half what he will have to pay the agency, then the corporate office may fire him due to the impact on the bottom line.”
Tara’s green eyes were wild. “Marisa, you just don’t get it! Especially after Payton’s attempt to get me fired, I hate his guts! I want him gone! One way or another!”
“Get you fired?” Alex was mystified.
Not wanting to talk about Tara’s problem with the non-work related online activities and her subsequent warning to her friend, Marisa shook her head at him. She put her arm around Tara’s trembling shoulders. “Tara. The hospital is under new management. Our hands are tied. If we’re not happy working there, it’s time for us to find new jobs. I’ll help you with your resume—”
Tara wrenched away. “Marisa, you just don’t understand!”
The door slammed. Her friend was gone.
Alex stared thoughtfully at the door. “She was terribly upset.”
“I had no idea this was hitting her so hard. I know she has had issues with Payton, but I didn’t think she’d be so angry and out for blood over them—”
The strident ring of the doorbell filled the house, followed by urgent banging on the front door. “What the hell?” Marisa and Alex stared at each other.
“Lieutenant Camden, Ms. Adair. Open up. Police business.”
One hand flying to her heart, Marisa threw open the door.
“Ms. Adair.” The lawman’s head turned sharply in surprise. His eyes widened at Marisa’s mussed hair, and the muscular man in shorts and bare feet.
“I must not be as good a detective as I thought.” In surprise, he eyed the other man, noting the protective stance of the body ranged next to Marisa. “You and Russell Meeks have been running around and questioning people...I thought...”
“Lieutenant.” Alex glanced at Marisa. “I think we should tell you everything.”
Marisa moved abruptly. “Everything, Alex?” Her voice rose in question.
“Everything,” replied Alex firmly. “Come and sit down, Lieutenant. We’ll tell you everything we know.”
Camden raised his hand. “First, let me tell you why I’m here.” The lieutenant told them about Renee Walker and the fire which had been started. “She’s lucky she wasn’t killed. The fire alarm was tripped…the fire alarm right outside Jonah Graham’s apartment, which is near Zoe’s apartment. And the 911 call came from Jonah’s apartment.”
“You’re saying the person who set the fire also pulled the alarm and called the police?” Marisa shook her head.
“Exactly!” exclaimed Camden. “Why would a cold-blooded killer pull the alarm, call the police, and pull Zoe’s mother to safety? Why would he—or she—do all of that to prevent anyone getting hurt?”
“Because,” answered Alex slowly, “it’s not the killer.”
“Not the killer!” cried Marisa. “But that doesn’t make any sense!”
“It’s the only theory that does make sense. The killer doesn’t care who is eliminated, so long as anyone who threatens him is put out of the way. It sounds like the unknown person who started the fire took great care to ensure no one was hurt. Therefore, the killer and the person who set fire to Jonah’s apartment are two different people.”
“Two people,” breathed Marisa. “Good heavens.”
“And now,” Camden reminded them firmly, “you were going to tell me everything.”
Taking turns, and at times repeating themselves, Alex and Marisa told Lieutenant Camden everything they knew about the crimes.
When they had finished their narrative, Camden stared at them both. “I think that the killer is out there, just waiting to strike at the next person who threatens his—or her—safety.” Soberly, he looked at Marisa, then Alex. “I just hope it isn’t you two.”
Marisa turned toward the detective. “I think you forgot something at the police station.”
“What?” The lieutenant’s brow furrowed in thought.
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“Your long-suffering attitude toward us. It’s conspicuously absent.” Marisa raised both eyebrows.
“I’m only aggressive when civilians consistently get under my feet and nearly get themselves killed,” Camden growled. “I decided it would be easier to work with you two than waste my time trying to keep you out of trouble.” He smiled at them without mirth.
Marisa jerked as a tinkling sound broke the silence. She started to run toward the window, but Alex pushed her back behind him.
As Camden and Alex raced to the window, a crackling noise caught Marisa’s attention. Unconsciously, her gaze followed the sound to the floral sofa.
“Fire!” Marisa tried to shriek, but her throat was tight with fear. A rag stuffed in a bottle was burning on the couch.
At the strangled gasp, Alex and Camden both pivoted away from the broken window.
“Molotov cocktail!” Alex cried, starting toward it. “I’ve got to get it!”
“Forget it! It’s getting ready to blow!” Camden caught Alex’s arm and tried to swing him away.
As the two men grappled with one another, grunting as they scuffled for domination, Marisa gazed at the burning rag stuffed in the bottle. Without stopping to think of the consequences, she grabbed the huge vase on the coffee table with both hands. With a cry, she flung the contents on the fire.
The loud sizzle caught the men’s attention, causing them to release their hold on one another. They looked first at the wet, smoking mess, covered with scattered flowers, and then turned their amazed faces to Marisa. Two sets of eyes bulged as both jaws dropped.
“Well,” Marisa twitched her shoulders defensively, “you two were busy with your masculine posturing. Someone had to do something.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The afternoon sun touched the house and the surrounding trees with rays of molten gold, making the summer colors seem brighter. As Alex cautiously approached the closed, metal gates, Marisa silent at his side, his eyes were drawn to the quiet house. He casually tried to open the gate, silently approving the gracious lines of the towering brick home with the pristine white shutters and trim, and the neatly manicured lawn and grounds.
He glanced back at Marisa. As he surreptitiously drew a metallic tool from his pocket, her eyes widened. When he applied the tool to the latch of the gate with what appeared to be an appalling dexterity, Marisa grabbed his arm. “You can’t do that!”
Alex looked up at her in surprise. “Why not?”
“Because it’s illegal!” Marisa squeaked. Her head swiveled as she checked the quiet cul-de-sac. “Not only could we get fired for breaking into our boss’ property, but we could also get arrested!”
“It’s a quiet, drowsy Sunday afternoon. This is the last house on the street, and the other houses are too far away for anyone to see anything. Stop bracing yourself in anticipation of the rough grip of the law on the nape of your neck You’re just suffering from nerves.”
“I always get nervous when I contemplate haunting the unemployment line, let alone a long prison sentence for breaking and entering, trespassing—”
“See?” Alex turned to Marisa with a dazzling smile. “How careless of someone to leave this gate open. Shall we go inside and notify the owner?”
“Someone’s in the garden!” Marisa whispered urgently, clutching Alex’s arm from the shelter of the trees lining the curved drive.
Alex followed her gaze through the foliage. His eyes narrowed on the elderly, stooped figure of a woman, her face shaded by a large, straw hat.
“I don’t want to spook her. You wait here while I speak with her.”
Alex approached the old woman like a stalking tiger creeping up on a gentle, unsuspecting antelope. When he heard Marisa’s quiet steps behind him, he didn’t even pause. He should have known she wouldn’t listen to him.
As if catching his predatory scent on the afternoon breeze, the old woman raised her head cautiously and scanned the trees.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” Alex stepped from behind a tree and stepped onto the paved garden path. Marisa was so close behind him he caught the faint scent of her soap mingled with the sweet fragrance of the flowers.
The only sign of her surprise was the widening of the old lady’s eyes. “Hello. Would you like to see my beautiful flowers?”
Alex was taken aback. He’d expected a challenge, not a greeting. “I’m here to visit Payton Reed.”
She nodded vigorously, sending the hat to one side of her curly gray head. “You must be with the other one. They’re in the study.” She bent down, and pulled vigorously at a stout weed.
His hand firm on Marisa’s arm, he began to turn away. Alex paused, studying the plump back, heavy legs encased support hose, and the flabby arms tugging at the recalcitrant weed.
“Mrs. Reed.”
She straightened, her vague blue eyes meeting his. “Yes?”
Alex smiled his most winning smile and met the cloudy eyes squarely. “Don’t you remember me? My big brother and Payton were inseparable in school.” Alex felt Marisa’s start of surprise, and squeezed her hand to silence her.
She frowned in concentration, then her wrinkled brow eased in recognition. “You must be Bertie’s little brother! My, how time flies. The last time I saw you, your leg was in a cast.” She wiped one grimy hand across her sweaty forehead. “You, Bertie, and Payton had watched that show on television about stunt driving. After you saw Evil Knievel, the famous daredevil, jumping the Grand Canyon on his motorcycle, you decided you could accomplish the same feat with your bicycle!”
Alex laughed with her. “Oh, yes, it was a crazy thing to do. I thought it would impress my friends, not to mention Bertie and Payton.”
With her lips abruptly pursed, the lines in Mrs. Reed’s face deepened around her mouth. She avoided Alex’s eyes. “I suppose you call him Payton because he insists upon it. He won’t let me call him by his real name, even in private. He’s afraid I will make a slip in public.”
Feeling like a soldier picking his way through a minefield, Alex spoke softly. “He was very adamant about that.”
“I wish I knew where I’d gone wrong,” Mrs. Reed sighed, her eyes focused on the past. Absently, she slapped at an insect on her arm. “Payton’s father and I loved him so very much. Our first priority was to give him a loving home, with plenty of encouragement and nurturing. We were so proud when he announced on the night of his high school graduation he’d decided to become a minister. His father’s chest swelled so much with pride for his son I thought he’d pop all of the buttons off his brand-new shirt.” Her pale mouth, innocent of lipstick, tenderly curved into a motherly smile.
When Marisa started to speak, Alex squeezed her hand so firmly she let out a little squeal of protest.
Mrs. Reed’s head turned sharply, nearly dislodging the straw hat. “I know what you’re thinking, young lady. When he stole the money from the church, I should not have protected him.”
Marisa’s indrawn breath of shock was the only sound in the sun-flooded garden. Her mouth opened, then closed as she met Alex’s severe glare of warning.
“It was storming the night he showed up on our doorstep, as wet and bedraggled as a half-drowned rat. When I opened the door and let him in, Payton fell back against it like a poor, abused dog. He staggered to his knees at my feet and sobbed out the whole, sordid story.
“I was always surprised Payton wasn’t caught at that point,” interposed Alex gently.
Mrs. Reed shrugged. “It was the staged suicide which kept the authorities from arresting him, of course. He took that fine, upstanding widow woman from the church with him. After he had all of her money, he left her high and dry. Then, after he had everything set up for his new life, he had the audacity to steal a body from the morgue. Now I ask you, what decent kind of man takes a dead body? Anyway, he crashed his car, with the poor dead man in it, and left it to be found as himself. The police had no choice but to assume it was him.”
Alex’s tone was carefully neutral. �
�You covered for him.”
“No matter what he’d done, he was still my son!” She was a savage female lion, protecting her only cub. “I couldn’t turn him over to the authorities! They’d have put him in prison, locked him away. I thought if he had a fresh start, he would make the right choice this time, righteousness rather than evil.”
“And did he?” Marisa stepped closer to the older woman to meet the faded blue eyes.
Mrs. Reed turned away. “That’s between him and God,” she evaded. She passed a grimy hand over her cheek, leaving a black streak of dirt. “All those years gone by—”
A sharp crack exploded nearby. “That was a gunshot!” Alex cried. “It came from that corner room, where the window is open!”
“The study! My son!” wailed Mrs. Reed. She set off for the patio doors at an unsteady run.
Alex sprinted past her, with Marisa so close behind him he could hear her breath hitching in her chest. As he entered the shadowy, quiet hall, he swerved to the right and ran toward the closed door at the end.
Alex skidded to a halt in front of it, and listened intently. Marisa abruptly shoved him aside, sending him into the wall with a cracking jar to his shoulder. As she grabbed the door handle and turned it, he cried, “Stop!”
She pushed the door open, and lunged into the room. Alex rolled his eyes at the ceiling. She never listened to him. He had no choice but to plunge through the doorway after her.
* * * * *
As Marisa burst through the door, her eyes fell on the dark metal of a handgun. The slim hand holding it was connected to a woman, who was staring at Marisa in horror.
“Tara! What on earth are you doing?” Marisa felt the room tilt dizzily. She was barely aware of Alex inching his way behind Tara.
“I’m doing what should have been done long ago! Our hospital has been run into the ground. The only way I can turn it around is to kill Payton.” The green eyes, framed by tousled blonde hair, were beseeching. “You do understand, don’t you, Marisa?”
“Tara.” Marisa felt helplessly disoriented. Her best friend was holding a gun and ranting about killing the hospital administrator. She squared her shoulders. Perhaps she could reason with her irate friend. “Honey, if you kill Payton, what do you think will happen? The corporate office will send along another one just like him. If you eliminate that one, then they’ll just send a third one. He is a symptom, not the problem. He is the representative of a huge corporation, a corporation which doesn’t care about employees or patients.”