Evil Never Dies (The Lizzy Gardner Series Book 6)

by T. R. Ragan

  Lizzy slid an arm into her jacket.

  “Both husbands refused to use donor eggs and both went on to remarry and have children of their own. One of them married my best friend, with whom I no longer speak. When I get lonely, I play the violin. I love going to operas. I spend most of my life sitting here in this chair listening to others without passing judgment. I listen to their stories and I see their sadness, feel their grief, and I know, above all, I cannot cry. It would be unprofessional to do so.”

  Lizzy slid her other arm into her jacket and shouldered her purse, her gaze never leaving Linda’s. And then she sat back down and listened.

  “Through my clients, I have learned forgiveness. So many hours I spend sitting in this chair, wanting to tell someone what to do, but I sit quietly and listen because I know that if I can draw in my own thoughts and listen really well, I’ll be more helpful to them. I have learned over the years that we are all children at heart and that we all need to be heard and understood. I have carried hundreds of stories deep within and when my clients hurt, I also hurt. When they mourn, I mourn with them. And through it all, my heart has grown bigger and stronger and for that I am eternally grateful.”

  “Thank you,” Lizzy said as she came to her feet once again.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Lizzy stopped at the door and said, “I’ll see you next week.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The only nursing home Kitally had visited in her lifetime was the one back east where she’d last seen her grandfather. It had been a happy place. There was always laughter and entertainment, piano music or singing. On one of her visits to see her grandfather, the staff had set up a little petting zoo outside, complete with miniature goats, rabbits, and sheep. They held classes—yoga and dancing. Even the people in wheelchairs used to dance.

  But Shady Oaks Nursing Home in Orangevale was nothing like that.

  One lady sat lopsided within her wheelchair, abandoned in the hallway, facing the wall. Kitally looked around. Would anyone notice if she walked over to the woman and turned her chair around so she could look at something other than a wall?

  “Can I help you?”

  The woman behind the front desk was looking her way. Her frizzy brown hair was clipped back. Her face was pinched.

  “I called a few hours ago about getting a tour of Shady Oaks,” Kitally said. “My mom and I need to find a place for my grandmother.”

  Exasperated, the woman picked up the receiver and said over the loudspeaker, “Janice Unger. Please come to the front desk.” After she hung up, she said, “Janice will be here momentarily. Please take a seat.”

  Kitally grabbed a magazine and settled into one of the plastic chairs lined up against the wall. Her gaze promptly returned to the woman in the wheelchair. She had yet to see the woman move a muscle. Is she asleep? Dead? Does anyone care?

  Figuring she could ask Janice about it when she arrived, Kitally skimmed through the magazine.

  “CAW! CAW!”

  Kitally jerked to attention.

  The frazzled woman behind the desk merely groaned. “There she goes again.”

  Kitally followed her gaze to the woman in the wheelchair. She wasn’t dead, after all. She came to her feet and did it again. “CAW! CAW!”

  The call of the wild. Within seconds all sorts of animal noises erupted from different sections of the building. The distinct moo of a cow was followed by the neigh of a horse. Then came a meow and a dozen barking dogs.

  What the hell is going on around here?

  If the frizzy-haired woman didn’t look so thoroughly agitated, Kitally might have laughed out loud. By the time the animal noises began to die off, a very round woman with short stubby arms and legs waddled toward the front desk.

  Frizzy-haired lady pointed at Kitally.

  The woman waddled her way. “I’m Janice Unger. Nice to meet you. Let’s go.”

  Kitally returned the magazine to the pile on the table, then hurried to catch up to the woman. She followed Janice to the left, away from where the woman sat in the wheelchair. “What was that all about?” Kitally asked.

  “What?”

  “The animal noises.”

  “Oh, that was just Ms. Trumble having some fun. She loves animals, and I think it makes her happy to hear all the animal sounds.”

  “So,” Janice said as they walked. “You’re looking for a place for your grandmother?”

  “Yes.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Um, seventy-six.”

  “She’s young. You realize we’re a full nursing-care facility, not just assisted living. She needs twenty-four-hour medical care to be admitted.”

  “Yes, I know. Mom is taking care of her now, and it’s becoming too much of a burden for her.”

  “Does she need long-term care or short-term?”

  Kitally was at a loss. The truth was her grandmother had died when Kitally was very young. “I’m not sure at this point. If I could just have a quick look around, then report back to my mom, that would be best.”

  Kitally followed Janice into a large room. “As you can see, this is the recreation room.”

  Kitally couldn’t see that at all. There was no music. No life. Three women played cards, but that was the extent of the entertainment.

  Next, she was shown the cafeteria, the kitchen, the outside area that consisted of two plastic chairs and a weathered bench. There wasn’t anywhere nice to sit and enjoy the day. The sound of the freeway was deafening. No birdsong. No greenery. She hadn’t thought about it before, but Kitally realized she didn’t like the idea of growing old. She thought of Helsie, the reason she was here. Dementia was an awful disease. If the woman had been abused, had she known what was happening to her? Were there moments of clarity where she knew exactly where she was and what was going on? Stuck in this place with no one to protect her. Not cool.

  “What do you think about Shady Oaks?” Kitally asked.

  Janice used her fingernail to dislodge something from her tooth. “It’s a great place. I’d bring my mother here if I could afford it.”

  Kitally didn’t believe it for a moment. “Could I see the rooms where residents sleep and spend most of their day?”

  “We’re all filled up at the moment. I’m not allowed to disturb our residents. I’m sorry.” She picked at a scab on her arm. It took every bit of restraint Kitally could muster to not make a face.

  “Janice Unger,” a voice called over the loudspeaker. “Please come to the front desk.”

  The woman glanced at her watch. “Oh, would you look at that. It’s time for my next tour.”

  “I just need a little more time,” Kitally said, sniffling. “I just can’t imagine bringing my grandma to a nursing home and leaving her.” She wiped at nonexistent tears.

  The woman shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

  “Go on,” Kitally said. “I just need a few minutes to collect myself. I know the way out.”

  “OK. If you’re sure.”

  Kitally turned her back to the woman and sniffled again as she headed for the weathered bench. The moment she heard the door swing shut, Kitally stood up and followed her into the building. She headed back the same way Janice had brought her. In fact, she saw Janice talking to the new visitors. The frizzy-haired woman was no longer standing behind the desk, giving Kitally a chance to head the other way. The lady in the wheelchair was gone.

  In the first bedroom she came upon, Kitally saw an elderly woman being spoon-fed her lunch by a middle-aged woman wearing a green Shady Oaks smock. Nobody noticed her standing a few feet from the door. Everything in the room looked neat and orderly.

  The next room was empty, which was odd considering she’d just been told the place was full. She walked inside. It was a small room, twelve-by-twelve at the most. No windows. Claus
trophobic. She stepped back into the hallway and continued on, peeking inside each room. Every other room was unoccupied. She had no idea what she was looking for or expecting to see. She just kept walking.

  “Hey, you.”

  She backed up a few steps until she saw an old man sitting in bed.

  “Yeah, you,” he said.

  Kitally stepped inside his room. The place smelled like unwashed skin and disinfectant. She tried not to wrinkle her nose. “Do you need something?”

  “Are you new around here?”

  “I don’t work here, but I could try to find someone.”

  “I just need you to get me an extra blanket.” He pointed across the room at the high dresser with the TV on it.

  She opened one drawer after another: socks and underwear, adult diapers, T-shirts. No blankets.

  “Nothing in there?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Go back into the hallway and in the next room you’ll find an old broad named Betty Ackley. Tell her I need one of her blankets.”

  “Maybe I should just ask one of the staff members for a blanket.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “Next room on the right. Ask Betty.”

  Kitally sighed. “Sure. OK. I’ll be right back.” Unlike the other rooms she’d seen so far, Betty’s room was larger. She even had a window, although the view of the parking lot was nothing to get excited about. Still, it was better than nothing. The TV was on, the volume turned up. A soap opera.

  “What do you want?” the woman asked, loud enough to be heard over the TV.

  “Um . . . the man in the next room needs a blanket. He said to ask you for one.”

  “Are you his daughter?”

  Kitally shook her head.

  “Niece?”

  “No.”

  “Well, who the hell are you?”

  “I’m just here for a tour. My mom and I are looking for a place for my grandmother.”

  “Don’t bring her here. No matter what you do, don’t bring Grandma here.”

  “Why?”

  “Look around, honey. Open your eyes.”

  “It really is that bad?”

  “Worse than bad. I should have had children. Maybe then someone would break me out of this joint.”

  Before the woman could say anything else, another woman wearing a green smock entered the room. “Got yourself a visitor, Betty?”

  “I sure do. Dixie, I’d like you to meet my grandson’s girlfriend. Isn’t she pretty?”

  “She’s gorgeous,” the nurse said without glancing her way.

  As the woman in the green smock set up a tray of food next to her bed, Betty winked at Kitally and said, “Why don’t you go ahead and grab a blanket for Cecil?” She pointed to the dresser. “Bottom drawer.”

  Kitally did as she said. On top of the dresser there was a calendar and an assortment of pens and stationery. Stationery with a squiggly design on the bottom right corner. The exact same stationery she had seen inside Lizzy’s file.

  Could Betty Ackley be the one who wrote the note and had it delivered to Gus? Could Kitally have really stumbled upon the person she was looking for that quickly? No way. Nothing in life was ever that easy!

  Kitally bent down, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a blanket.

  After the orderly finished setting up Betty Ackley’s meal, she finally took a moment to look at Kitally. And that’s when the woman’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s your badge?”

  “Badge?”

  “All visitors must wear a badge.”

  “Oh. It must have fallen off.”

  “You can’t be in here without a badge.”

  “My name is Kitally,” she said, more for Betty’s benefit than the nurse’s.

  “Don’t care if your name is President Obama. You can’t be in here without a badge.”

  “It’s OK, darling,” Betty said to Kitally. “Take Cecil his blanket and next time you come, make sure you wear your badge and bring me some chocolates, too.”

  “I’ll see you in a few days,” Kitally said before making her exit.

  Betty nodded. “I’ll be here.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Standing outside the door to her office downtown, fishing around inside her bag for the keys, Lizzy heard someone call her name and glanced over her shoulder. It was Jessica Pleiss, her very first employee, now ex-employee and rookie FBI agent, running toward her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I just flew in an hour ago,” Jessica said, catching her breath. “I rented a car and came straight here. I have a meeting in an hour, so I thought I’d see if you were here. After I didn’t see your car, I decided to get a coffee, but then I saw you and here I am.”

  They embraced, and then Jessica pointed to the coffee shop up the street. “I’ll go get us both a coffee. I’ll be right back.”

  “Nothing for me,” Lizzy said. “My stomach has been acting up.”

  “Have you had a checkup recently?”

  Lizzy gave her a don’t-mother-me look. “Go get your coffee,” she said, shooing her away. “I’ll put away my things and heat the place up so we can talk and you can tell me why you’re here in Sacramento before you run off.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Lizzy used to stop to admire the etched sign on the door: LIZZY GARDNER INVESTIGATIONS. But not any longer. The sign, the business, everything about the place left a bad taste in her mouth. She would sell the business today if she didn’t need it as a cover for their extracurricular activities.

  Hurrying inside, she dropped her purse in the bottom desk drawer, then put away any files or notes that might raise a red flag. Jessica had no idea what she, Kitally, and Hayley were up to, and Lizzy planned to keep it that way. Jessica was a law-abiding citizen, a straight shooter who happened to work for the FBI.

  Jessica returned five minutes later, coffee in hand. “Did you know that the Bernsteins sold the coffee shop?”

  Lizzy shook her head.

  “According to the new owner, they were robbed. Twice. They couldn’t take it any longer and they moved away. Clear across the country.”

  “I can’t blame them.”

  “What? Don’t tell me you’re thinking of moving.”

  “I’m just taking it one day at a time.”

  Jessica sank into the seat in front of Lizzy’s desk. “How are you doing, Lizzy? How are you holding up?”

  “I don’t want to talk about me. Tell me why you’re here.”

  Jessica’s gaze roamed over Lizzy’s face as if she was searching for answers. Finally, she exhaled and said, “I’m sure you’ve heard about Mark Kiel’s daughter. Killed while taking a run through the park.”

  Lizzy nodded.

  “I can’t say too much, but there are at least two other homicides that occurred in the past few months that are being reexamined for connections.”

  “And they wanted you on the case because . . . ?”

  “Because the FBI is getting involved and Jimmy Martin asked me to help him out. It will be good for me to get some early exposure to these sorts of crimes.”

  “What about Quantico?”

  “I still have a few weeks of training left. I’ll be flying back and forth.”

  Lizzy nodded. “Good for you.”

  “There’s more. Another body was found during my flight over here this morning.”

  “Where?”

  “Right off of the American River trail. Not too far from Kitally’s house in Carmichael.”

  Lizzy stiffened.

  “With Brittany getting into Sac State and with you taking your morning and/or evening runs, I thought you should know.”

  “I appreciate it.” Lizzy rubbed her chin. “How did you know about Brittany getting into Sac State?”

  “She calle
d me.”

  Silence.

  “Your niece is worried about you. You should call her.”

  “I will. Do you have a place to stay?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  When Lizzy arrived home at six o’clock, she found Salma sitting at the dining room table, playing solitaire. “There’s some vegetarian biryani in the refrigerator if you’re hungry.”

  “What is it?”

  “A classic Indian dish with basmati rice, potatoes, carrots, peas, and lots of spices.”

  Lizzy plopped her purse on the table. “Thanks. I’ll give it a try. Where’s everyone else?”

  “Kitally is in her bedroom, and I haven’t seen Hayley all day.”

  Lizzy wrinkled her nose as she walked toward the family room. “What’s that smell? It’s not your yani dish, is it?”

  “It most certainly is not. And it’s called biryani, not yani.” Salma sniffed the air. “It does smell in here, though. Kind of smells like seafood, doesn’t it?”

  Lizzy walked around the main room, trying to find the source of the smell. “Yes, that’s it. Smells like rotted fish. Makes me want to gag.”

  “I mentioned it to Kitally, but she couldn’t smell it. I thought maybe I was going crazy.”

  Lizzy gave up on finding the source of the smell. As she walked back toward the kitchen, she said, “I’m sorry about the other day. I haven’t been myself lately.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t feel like home if everyone walked around with smiles on their faces.”

  Lizzy forced a smile, and then opened the refrigerator and pulled out the container holding the dish Salma had made. She popped the lid and gave it a precautionary sniff. Nope, that wasn’t the smell. If the rotting-fish stench didn’t go away soon, she was going to start opening windows. She put the container in the microwave and pushed a few buttons to heat it up. “I have a friend coming here to stay for a few nights. She should arrive any time now.”

  “Oh. I can move out of the bedroom and give her some privacy.”