He grinned. There were times when he wouldn’t mind gaining a few years. He’d found that many women past forty had worked through some snags of deceit and vanity of earlier adulthood, and had learned to express themselves with more honesty.
He’d found it invigorating that Megan didn’t have a problem with vanity, which was a good thing because her professional ability and intelligence were always going to be challenged by the impact of her beauty, no matter how old she got.
She didn’t typically practice deceit either. The major deceit she was practicing right now was on herself. That disturbed him.
Lynley sank into the closest chair with a quiet sigh and a slight aroma of fish. A little less statuesque than Megan, she had an economy of movement that fit a good nurse like a second skin and an air of serious worry that never helped a thing.
“My mother seems to know a whole lot more about you than I do.” Lynley’s voice held a curious mixture of suspicion and envy, and there was a slight lilt to her words that resembled Kirstie’s warm vocal mannerisms. “She mentioned talking to you, but I didn’t know you were actually coming here.”
“For a talkative woman it sounds as if Kirstie can keep her own counsel when she wants to.” He gestured to the bloodstains on the floor. “Were the wounds bad?”
“They’ll heal quickly if she’ll just stay off her feet for a while. That won’t happen. Do you mind telling me how you know my mother so well?”
“I reached her by phone when I was searching for Megan.”
“Did it occur to you that if Megan had wanted you to find her she’d have told you where she was?”
Gerard nodded with approval. She was loyal to her friends. “The relationship between Megan and me is strictly between Megan and me.”
“What happened in Corpus Christi?”
Not for the first time, he was glad the whole story hadn’t been released to the press, and he was still fighting to keep the specifics from the public. Megan didn’t need the additional grief, and the rescue mission didn’t need the notoriety.
“A couple of killers have slipped past our sentinels in recent months,” he told Lynley.
“And?”
“Working in a mission clinic can be a dangerous job. Did she tell you about it?”
Lynley looked away, shook her head, glanced up toward one of the cameras.
“We’ve beefed up our guard,” he assured Lynley.
“She’ll never go back.”
Gerard felt stiffening in his chest. Her words resonated with assurance. He suspected she might know what she was talking about. But things could change.
For instance, his presence here wasn’t simply meant to satisfy his curiosity—nor was he here to satisfy the curiosity of Megan’s friends. He was a more intentional man than that. But several times he had questioned himself on the drive: Was he serious about planning a future here when the woman he loved didn’t even seem to want him in Jolly Mill?
“So you’re an ex-cop,” Lynley said quietly, studying him.
He nodded.
“You know about my mother, obviously. Has she told you she’s been misdiagnosed?”
He held Lynley’s gaze for a moment then nodded.
She looked away, and moisture filmed her eyes. “I just finished dragging her out of the mill pond. She could’ve drowned. She needs help, Mr. Vance, and no one seems interested in giving it to her, not even Megan.”
“Haven’t you always been able to trust Megan?” he asked.
Lynley met his gaze.
“Hasn’t she always been there for you?”
She hesitated before nodding. “But people change.”
“You’re absolutely right. People either grow and mature from the impact of life’s punches or they grow sour and old before their time. I can tell you for a fact that Megan’s one of the good ones, no matter what your experiences have been with other people in your life.”
Before Lynley could question him or reply, Carmen returned from the back room. “Coffee’s brewing and your tea is steeping, Mistress Lynley,” she said with an overdone curtsy. “Nora said she was baking a fresh batch of cookies today, and Mr. Vance, you do not want to miss that treat.”
“Call me Gerard,” he said as he stood.
“Wow, and a real gentleman.” Carmen sank into the deep cushion of the chair beside him. “Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?”
He grinned as he ventured to his chair. Exactly what he’d hoped for—a chance to get acquainted with Megan’s friends, and Kirstie’s. Now…where to start…
FIVE
Megan was jotting down vitals when she heard a watery sniff. She glanced toward the exam bed to find a tear caressing a clean portion of Kirstie’s smooth porcelain cheek with the trajectory of a falling star. It splattered on the thick fold of the blanket Megan had tucked around Kirstie after checking her over and treating her cut and bruised feet.
“Still hurting?”
Kirstie shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Sure you are. You act fine.” Every vital number so far was within normal parameters, except the blood pressure was slightly elevated because of the pain.
“I want you to draw blood,” Kirstie said. “I think I may be getting poisoned.”
There, the subject had been brought up at last. Megan’s patience rewarded. Another tear trickled down Kirstie’s face. In that moment, she seemed younger than Megan by twenty years, not older. The chin-length curls of her blond hair nearly blended with the paleness of her skin. The hazel eyes, barely touched by evidence of the lines of laughter that had always been part of Kirstie’s life, seemed to have had their color depleted by the tears.
“Gerard mentioned that this morning,” Megan said.
“Good. He saved me some time explaining.” The normally warm tones of Kirstie’s voice sounded fragile, so unlike the way she’d sounded out in the waiting room moments ago. That was Kirstie, always strong for her daughter.
“I know I’ve asked you about this before, but is Dr. Kelsey positive that none of the chemo drugs would have had an effect on your memory? I can call him for a consultation.”
“The chemo ended two years ago,” Kirstie said.
“Delayed reaction, perhaps?” Megan asked. “The results of the initial trials may have a bearing—”
“They showed no kind of mental lapse side effects.” The misty green-gold of Kirstie’s eyes seemed to soften further as she looked up at Megan at last. “But thanks for asking over and over and over.”
“I’m not finished asking.” Megan sat down on the exam stool. “When Gerard mentioned poisoning—”
“I know, you thought about a possible metastasis to the brain or reaction to the chemo. We’ve talked about it. I have become adept at online searches.”
“I have access to physician sites, and I found nothing. I started the search as soon as I heard about the blackouts. You know this.”
“That’s why I think it’s time to try finding some other source of poison,” Kirstie said. “And by that I mean intentional.”
Megan closed her eyes as the words hovered. The prospects could be the beginning of yet another nightmare. She was in the eye of some kind of storm, and she could not escape. There seemed to be a killer or a wannabe murderer on every street corner.
“I know that nothing’s shown on any of my previous blood tests,” Kirstie said. “You and Lynley are the only ones willing to consider other options besides that awful A-word.”
“And Gerard.”
“Oh, bless that gorgeous man.”
“And Carmen.”
“Loyal to the end.”
“And Nora.”
Kirstie gave her a faint smile. “You’ve made your point. Ye
s, I have friends, but none of my other friends can help me the way you can, and none are so indomitable.”
“Oh really? You think Carmen’s a weakling? Nora?”
“I’m just saying, it feels to me that to the medical world I’m a middle-aged crazy woman who should be locked away.”
“I thought you wanted to be locked away.”
“I want to be kept safe until we find out what’s going on so things like this,” Kirstie said, holding up her feet, “don’t happen again.”
“I’ll need copies of all your medical files,” Megan said.
“You mean you’re actually taking on my case?”
“Not that I’m sure I can do a lot of good, but we can at least get started.”
Lines of anxiety touched the corners of Kirstie’s lips. “You mean that? You’re a smart woman, but you’re not going to find anything in those records the other doctor wouldn’t have found. I want a new series of tests.”
“I know. For poisons. But you know how hit-and-miss that’s going to be. It won’t hurt for me to study your medical file. Maybe I’ll find something there that’s been overlooked.”
Kirstie’s lids lowered. One more crystalline droplet escaped her eye.
In the thirty-two years Megan had known Kirstie, only twice had the life-loving, bubbly woman been caught crying in public. The first time was the day Lynley married Dodge Knowles. Megan suspected at the time that those tears of supposed joy were liberally mixed with sadness—not because Kirstie was one of those clingy mothers who resented anyone else in her child’s life, but because she had little faith in Lynley’s judgment when it came to men.
Kirstie had learned the hard way how to distinguish an honest man from a scoundrel, whereas Lynley still carried hope that her own father might one day turn out to be a good man after all.
The second time Kirstie cried in front of others was the day Dodge divorced Lynley, and she saw the heartbreak she had suspected, from the day of the wedding, that her daughter would endure.
Megan believed those tears of supposed sadness—though not touched by outright joy—may have been relief. Having one’s daughter dumped by one’s son-in-law for another woman was infuriating, of course. After watching that daughter suffer, however, through four years of a verbally abusive marriage with a self-righteous, strutting rooster who used God’s name and carefully edited verses from the Bible to emotionally beat Lynley into submission, the legal ending of the nightmare was a relief for all.
Megan had flown from Corpus Christi to celebrate with Lynley, Kirstie, Carmen and Nora at Calvin’s Pharmacy and Fifties Soda Fountain after Lynley’s day in court. Though there had been tears over the divorce, there had also been plenty of healing laughter among dear, longtime friends.
And now Lynley was faced with this. And handling it poorly.
“She’s ruining her life, cutting herself off from the world.” Kirstie accepted the tissue Megan handed her.
“She’s here taking care of her mother. That’s how she sees it.”
Kirstie held Megan’s gaze. “Is that how you see it?”
“I deeply admire what she thinks she’s doing, I just don’t agree with the way she’s going about it. She can’t be on guard 24/7, and that puts you at risk.”
“That’s what concerns me,” Kirstie said. “What if something happens to me the next time my brain unexpectedly plunges me into Capps Creek? Not that I’m afraid for myself, because I’m as sure of my afterlife as you are of that stethoscope you live with, but I’m mother enough not to want my daughter to endure that pain.”
“Something happened to you this time.”
“I wasn’t terribly maimed. Somehow, I almost wish I had been at least slightly more injured. I should’ve never given her power of attorney.”
“You can always check yourself into a care center. I know of a good one in Springfield.”
“I tried that. Didn’t Lynley tell you? I went to Scrieb’s Health Care, had most of the arrangements made, started to sign the papers and had a brain glitch, right there. Can’t remember anything but fear and loss. They called the emergency number I’d just given them, and wouldn’t you know, Lynley came, showed them her DPOA papers and brought me back home. I was, of course, back in my right mind by the time she arrived to pick me up, but would anyone listen to me? She warned them that she would see to it that they would not receive funds to care for me.”
Megan’s annoyance with Lynley dug a deeper groove as she prepared a syringe and tubes for drawing blood. Why was Lynley risking her own mother’s safety to defy a doctor’s diagnosis? Where was her brain these days? And what made her think she was the only one capable of caring for her mother?
“Don’t blame her,” Kirstie warned, reading Megan’s expression with obvious ease.
“We need to get you checked into a safe place before something bad does happen to you and her whole life is corroded by guilt,” Megan said. “We could at least hire someone to work nights and keep watch, or we could rig up some kind of alarm system on your door.”
“It wouldn’t have helped last night. I wasn’t inside the house. I apparently just walked off the front porch without my shoes or anything. And no one can watch me every minute.”
Megan handed her friend another tissue. “I’ll drive you to Scrieb’s myself.”
“I’m on their reject list.”
“Take back power of attorney.”
“I’d rather not do anything that drastic.”
“You can stand up to your own daughter, Kirstie.” Megan said it, but she wasn’t sure she meant it. Lynley was the darling of Kirstie’s life, her only child, the source of her joy. Just as Alec was to Nora. Kirstie and Nora had a lot in common. Perhaps that was why they’d been so close for so many years despite their conflicting personalities. Kirstie would do anything to keep Lynley happy and safe.
Wasn’t that what most mothers did? The defining term was most. Megan sighed and withdrew her thoughts from that old and aching sore spot.
“What’s to stop Lynley from threatening nonpayment to the next place you try to check into?” Megan asked.
Kirstie suddenly focused her attention on Megan. “I have some ideas. Meanwhile, tell me when that gorgeous man out in the waiting room showed up.”
For a few seconds, the subject change caught Megan off guard, though it shouldn’t have. Kirstie often did that when she wanted to take control of a conversation.
“You’re deflecting,” Megan said. “This office visit is about you, not me, and I’m not finished talking about you.”
“He drove all the way from Corpus Christi to see you, didn’t he? What did I tell you last week?”
“Give it up, Kirstie. It isn’t going to work.”
Kirstie’s grin, though strained by the effects of the night before, was genuine. “I warned you that your heart was in danger, but I can see the warning came far too late.”
Megan positioned the syringe. “I’ll have Carmen prepare a medical release form for you to sign before you leave today so I can get your records.”
“Not Carmen.”
“Why not?”
“I want you under the radar. No one needs to know you’re taking the case.”
“You’re talking crazy.”
“True to form, according to some.”
“That isn’t what people are thinking, Kirstie. Your friends and neighbors are simply worried about you, so why keep all this under the radar?”
“I have my reasons,” Kirstie said. “Let’s get back to the more interesting subject. Don’t tell Nora I said so, but I think her son has some formidable competition. Why is it you always seem to be dating your boss?”
Megan tightened the tourniquet around Kirstie’s arm, thumped for a vein, held the needle up and w
iggled her eyebrows in a gesture of lighthearted teasing that she hoped reached her eyes.
“Don’t even try to threaten me with pain, Megan Bradley.” Kirstie made as if to reach for the syringe. “I can draw my own blood if you’re going to tease like that.”
Megan fixed the needle tip in a healthy vein and started the draw. “I’m not dating the boss now and I never dated Gerard.”
“But you spent a lot of time with Gerard, right?”
“Naturally. He runs the mission.”
“But you ran the clinic, so why did you spend so much time with him?”
“The clinic is inside the mission. He was in the clinic a lot. He cared about the people who came in.”
“And about the doctor who treated them.” Kirstie’s voice turned gentle. “He cares a great deal about you.”
“We live in different worlds.”
Kirstie sighed. “Have it your way. Carmen saw you with Alec at the drugstore lunch bar Friday, and Nora just happened to mention it several dozen times when I had coffee with her yesterday. She’s always had her sights on you for her son. You think she’ll welcome Gerard to town?”
“Alec’s married.”
“That was a spur-of-the-moment decision he’s regretted ever since. Did he tell you they knew each other three weeks before they got married? Too sudden and too short. Nora barely met Zoe before the separation.”
“But there’s been no formal divorce yet.”
Megan felt bad for Alec, but he would never be more than her boss. Not now.
“The girl’s been gone for a year. It was a nonmarriage as far as Nora is concerned.”
“Anyway, it wasn’t a date, Kirstie. Alec just wanted to catch up. We hadn’t seen each other for a while.” Megan kept her focus on what she was doing and didn’t look up.
“Nora also mentioned in as many casual ways as she could that you had lunch with him at Corinne’s Café Monday. I’m telling you, she’s got her hopes up.”
“He and I are friends, okay? We do have history, and I guess he just needed to talk about things. I was always a good listener.”
Eye of the Storm Page 6