She sucked in a rough breath, continuing with the images. Piecing them together like a puzzle so she could complete the picture in her mind.
“I walked away from him. I was scared. Then I fell over something and landed on the wet floor.”
* * *
Mick had no doubt about what she had tripped on as her eyes filled with tears and spilled down her pale stricken face.
“It was Dr. Wells,” he said.
She nodded, her mouth open as she pulled in a rough inhalation, but she pressed on with her story.
“He was staring at me. His head was at a weird angle. I thought his mouth moved for a second.”
A shudder shimmied across her body and she grabbed hold of her biceps with her hands. “I picked him up, but he was all warm and wet. His body was in pieces and there was something sticking out of the back of his skull.”
“A piece of a chair leg. Someone drove it into him,” Mick advised.
“I didn’t do it,” she reasserted.
“I know.” No sense denying that he believed her. The more and more Mick found out about Edwards, the more sure he was that he was behind whatever had happened. And if he was Edwards, he wouldn’t have picked Caterina as the one to do the killing. Especially not if he had not one, but two men, capable of the violence.
“You don’t know the names of the men?”
She shook her head emphatically, sending the loose curls of her hair shifting with the movement. “The patients used to spend time together at first. But then people started not coming back from their treatments. Dr. Wells said that it would be better if we didn’t get too attached to each other.”
Or it would be better that the patients didn’t figure out that some of them were being disposed of when they had ceased to be useful to Wardwell, he thought.
“Wells, Edwards, and Morales. All of them were aware of what was happening with the patients?”
At her nod, he said, “Anyone else? Nurses? Other staff or family?”
“A limited number of people had access to us. Even visits from friends and family were restricted. Dr. Wells told me it was because we were immunologically compromised.”
A harsh laugh escaped her and she wagged her head in chastisement. “I was such a fool.”
Mick didn’t want to feel sympathy, but he did.
“You made a difficult choice. Don’t second guess it.”
She snared his gaze with hers. “Would you have made that choice?”
He recalled the decision he would have made – to put a gun in his mouth and blow out what was left of his brains.
She exhaled sharply once more and said, “I didn’t think so.”
Raking her fingers into her curls, she pulled her hair off her face, and then let it tumble down again. “What do we do now?”
We? he thought.
“We don’t do anything. I am going to up security around here and try and get more information on the two men you thought were patients. Find out what the dead patients’ families were told.”
He rose from the recliner, but she surprised him by laying a hand against his waist. A tender touch. One that stirred emotions best left buried.
“You don’t have to always go it alone.”
“Wrong. Alone is all I know. Don’t forget that,” he said and hurried from the room. As he had indicated, he had things to do.
Things he had to do alone.
Sins of the Flesh: Chapter Twenty-Five
After the early morning incident with Liliana, Mick activated the perimeter warning systems running all along the edges of the property. He didn’t normally keep them live since they were too easily tripped by a stray dog, cat, or errant beachgoer, but it worried him that it could just have easily been Mad Dog grabbing Liliana instead of her ex.
That he had made a good choice was reaffirmed when just before lunch the system was tripped, alerting him to a security breach.
A major one, he thought as he watched his mother stride up the walk, a minor hitch in her gait thanks to the knee she refused to get replaced. In one hand she held a large bag emblazoned with the restaurant’s logo while in the other she carried what looked like a delivery receipt.
As she paused by the steps to the front door, perusing the slip as if to confirm the address, it occurred to him that his mother had become quite an actress in her old age.
When someone opened the door, Liliana he hoped, his mother played it up, although anyone who knew them would be confused as to why she would be lost at her own son’s home.
Anyone else, however, might think it a routine take-out delivery and discontinue their surveillance.
He pushed away from the desk and walked into the hall where he heard his sister say, “Come in, mom.”
“Sshh, niña. Someone might hear you,” his mother whispered.
As the door closed, that hushed entreaty was immediately followed by, “Dios mio. You’re the lady from the news.”
Fuck, he cursed and hurried down the stairs just in time to catch his sister introducing the two.
“Mom meet Caterina Shaw. She’s Mick’s . . . house guest. Caterina, this is our mother, Mariel.”
So much for keeping things secret, he thought.
As he arrived where the three women stood staring at one another with some trepidation, he enveloped his mother in a bear hug and said, “It’s good to see you, Mom. I missed you.”
With a sharp elbow to his abused ribs that shoved him away and forced him to contain a groan, his mother said, “You missed me so much that I had to guess from Liliana’s take-out orders that you were home.”
“I didn’t spill the beans,” Liliana confirmed to him, miming that she was zipping her lips.
“I’m on a job, Mom.”
“And you involve your sister!” his mother complained, rising up on tiptoe and wagging a finger in his face.
He snagged that digit before it took out an eye and as he did so, he noticed Caterina’s amused face. Before he could do anything else, Liliana jumped back into the fray.
“I asked Mick if I could stay here. I broke off my engagement with Harrison.”
His mother immediately launched into action. She pressed the bag of food into Caterina’s hands and embraced Liliana.
“Ay, niña. La virgencita has answered my prayers,” she said. Then she released his sister and wrapped her arms around him, pressed her head against the middle of his chest, which was the only spot her petite stature permitted her to reach.
“Why didn’t you say you were helping your sister?” The grip of her arms was tight, but there was a doughy softness to them and her bosom which reminded him of his youth and the comfort of that embrace.
He hugged her back hard, bent, and dropped a kiss against the side of her face. “I’m glad you’re here. I was hungry.”
In answer to the enticing smells from the bag that had wafted into his vicinity, his stomach growled loudly.
The three women all laughed in unison, although their laughs couldn’t have been more different. His mother’s loud and slightly hoarse. Liliana’s like a short burst of gunfire.
Cat’s was almost melodic, with a freedom he suspected she hadn’t experienced in quite a long time. The smile on her face confirmed that impression, as did the deep blue of her eyes.
When he took the bag from her hands, their fingers brushed, kindling the need he had tempered last night. Bringing a spark of awareness in her as well, he realized.
* * *
Caterina quickly withdrew her hands from the bag, ignoring the sensation jumping alive within her at the simple and innocent touch of their fingers.
Mick rushed away with the bag, leaving her to follow Liliana and Mariel as the two women walked arm-in-arm toward the kitchen.
The resemblance between the two was strong, much like that of Mick and Liliana, only Mariel’s eyes were neither green nor brown, but a light-colored hazel.
Their mother was petite like Liliana, but with a stout figure which said she had clearly enjo
yed a lot of her own cooking.
The sight of them – mother and daughter, clearly friends – roused memories of her own childhood. Of strolling beside her mother in the park or sitting beside her on the piano bench as her mother played, the notes from the piano resonating through the space of their small apartment.
An apartment similar to this home with its rich colors, artisanal furniture, and collectibles that spoke of a love for culture and tradition.
Interesting for a man who she might have said spent little time in one place. Someone had definitely used some loving care in building this home, although there were things which also hinted that he neglected it.
Like the candles that had lost their fragrance.
In the kitchen they gathered at the table. Mick was quick to empty the bag of the aluminum pans filled with an assortment of foods while Liliana retrieved beverages for everyone.
Anyone looking in on the picture would say it was just another family gathering. Only she wasn’t family. She had no family, just a circle of friends who now might believe that she wasn't a murderess.
She swiped at her eye, brushing away a tear, and motherly Mariel immediately noted her upset.
Patting her hand as it rested on the tabletop, Mariel said, “Do not worry, niña. If Miguelito is helping you, all will turn out well.”
She met Mick’s gaze from across the width of table, almost daring him to admit that when it came to her there would be no happy ending, but he remained silent.
Maybe it was better that way. Mariel didn’t need to know that the son she seemed to adore was holding her captive. That he had taken money to return her to a man who had engineered her into some kind of genetic freak.
When Liliana placed a plate laden with a sampling of Mexican foods before her, she had little appetite, upset as she was by the current state of her life. But it was difficult to ignore the enticing and earthy smells of the food which resuscitated happy memories in her brain and had her mouth watering as if she were one of Pavlov’s dogs.
“I remember some chef saying that as long as you kept your food, your culture would stay with you,” she said, carefully forking up pieces of a tomato-laced meat that had been stewed until tender.
“Did your mom cook Mexican food for you?” Liliana asked.
“Your mami was Mexican? Que bueno.” Mariel clapped her hands together and riveted her gaze on Mick. “She’s a Mexicana, mi’jito. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Her father was American. Irish, right?”
“Of Irish descent,” she replied after swallowing the delicious meat.
“Irish and Mexican. Two cultures rich in the arts. That must explain your love of music,” his mother said before daintily digging into her own plate of food.
“Mom was a pianist. A very good one, but my father didn’t approve of her performing. He wanted her home and taking care of him while he built his business.” Mention of her father diminished her hunger, so she pushed around a bit of enchilada on her plate.
“He didn’t approve of your choice of career either, did he?” Mick asked, a tenderness in his voice that made her jerk her head up in surprise and meet his gaze.
Understanding was developing there. More than she had expected to see based on his actions which said he had to keep his distance, emotionally and physically.
“No, he didn’t approve.”
“His loss, Cat. You’re an amazing musician and your mother must have been as well to instill such passion in you,” he said.
All three women turned to peer at him. Caterina in surprise, Liliana with a knowing grin, and his mother with pride and hopefulness.
“Thank you,” Caterina replied, pleased by the support she had not expected. In the little time they had spent together, Mick had been controlling and determined. She had even come to accept what he was – a man who would take on a dangerous and possibly illegal job for money.
But this was just another of those fragile moments where he also showed her he was capable of tenderness and caring, confusing her.
Caterina couldn’t wrap her head around what the real Mick was like.
“Nice to know you’re finally liberated, Mick,” Liliana teased, dispelling the growing seriousness of the discussion.
Mick chuckled at her comment and resumed eating, and so did Caterina. The food had been prepared with care and loving, adding a special essence to it that filled more than just their bellies.
By the time they had finished eating and sharing a few stories about Liliana, Mick, and their other two siblings, she felt relaxed, but also tired and achy. There was a growing heat in her body and pain in her joints. Caterina understood it was a reaction to the replication inhibitor Liliana had injected her with the night before. She wondered when she would be due for another shot and whether her body could handle it.
As Mick was ushering his mother out the door, insisting that Caterina had to rest and he had work to do, Mariel trailed her motherly eye over the sweats swimming on her body.
“Surely you have something else for Caterina to wear, Miguel?”
Mick released an exasperated sigh and said, “There hasn’t been time to get her anything.”
Mariel slashed her hand through the air and eyeballed her before facing Liliana. “Caterina seems close to Roberta’s size, don’t you think?”
Liliana examined her, appearing like a younger version of Mariel before she confirmed the assessment with a determined tilt of her head. “About the same as Bobbie. She left some clothes at home, didn’t she?”
“Sí, just like Roberta. She won’t be home on leave for a couple of months, so she won’t miss them. Liliana can come get them later.”
Before Mick could argue, Mariel was bustling out the door, leaving the three of them standing there in her wake.
Mick was quick to say, “I’m sorry, Cat. I know she can be a handful.”
Caterina thought about Mariel’s food, concern, and highhandedness. She could find nothing for which Mick should apologize.
With a smile, she said, “She reminds me of my mother. I like her.”
Caterina expected both the siblings to argue with her as siblings sometimes did when it came to their parents, but they didn’t. Instead, Mick said, “You’re looking a little pale.”
“Tired. A little sore,” she confessed and rubbed the top of her bowing arm, which was always the one to give her the most trouble. She’d battled with some bursitis there for years.
Liliana frowned. “You’re not due for another shot until tomorrow, but if the aches and fever haven’t subsided by then I’m not sure we should give you another shot.”
“I’m with you, Liliana. I don’t like feeling like this,” she said.
Mick jammed his hands into his pockets and inclined his head in the direction of the stairs. “Why don’t you go get some rest?”
Caterina thought about the rest. Thought about an old saying she’d heard from her father more than once.
“I’d rather find a way to help the two of you. There’ll be time enough to rest when I’m dead,” she said.
Somehow his immediate nod of agreement brought little comfort.
Sins of the Flesh: Chapter Twenty-Six
The three of them sat around the table for the bulk of the afternoon until both Caterina and Liliana were close to dropping off from a lack of sleep.
Mick, damn him, was like an automaton, able to function on little rest. Caterina assumed that during his time in the Army he had likely gone days without anything more than short naps.
When he urged both her and Liliana to go rest, Liliana protested, determined to walk the few blocks to their parents’ home in order to get the clothes for Caterina. Since she wasn’t due back at the hospital until the next day, she assured both of them that she would be able to get all the sleep she needed after that short errand.
Mick indicated that he would accompany her, clearly fearful that Liliana would encounter Harrison once again.
As much as she wanted not to displa
y her weakness, Caterina’s eyes were heavy-lidded. All she could think about was sinking into the comfort of the bed.
She started up the stairs, but tripped on a step.
Mick was immediately there to help her, sliding an arm around her waist, and walking beside her to the guest room. She eased beneath the covers and he tucked her in, pulling a sleepy smile to her face.
“You’re not such a hard nut after all,” Caterina whispered before closing her eyes.
* * *
Not such a hard nut, Mick thought, a wistful smile on his face as he considered a sleeping Caterina.
She was on her side, her face resting against the pillow. One hand tucked beneath her cheek. There was a rosy hue to her skin, but it wasn’t a healthy blush.
He placed the back of his hand on her forehead and measured the heat there. Still lower than it had been the night before, but based on the papers in the medical file they had reviewed yet again that afternoon, each dose of the inhibitor might bring ever higher temperatures as the drug attacked the replication going in her body. That attack unfortunately produced an immune response in the patients, leading to the fever, and sometimes muscular and skeletal pain.
The only treatment was the plasmapheresis to remove the antibodies and debris left behind by the inhibitor. If a patient’s blood wasn’t cleansed in time, they could die.
There was no time to rest if they were to keep her alive, he thought.
Which meant that it was time to pay Edwards a visit. Rattle the cage and see how he reacted when pressed.
Gently passing a hand across her hair, he vowed to make sure that whoever had done this to Caterina would get their just rewards.
For now, he would take a short break by walking Liliana home and then he had to figure out the best plan of attack against Edwards.
* * *
It had been a toss-up between confronting Edwards at his offices at Wardwell or his home in nearby Marlton.
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