Security Measures

by Sara K. Parker

  “You’ll need some new things.”

  “The apartment she’s getting ready comes furnished, but I’ll need new clothes. I’ll probably go out tonight after dinner.”

  “Bryan’s on night shift. Make sure he goes with you.”

  “Something tells me I wouldn’t be able to stop him if I tried.”

  “True.” A pause. Then he added, “I was surprised to see you here so early.”

  Obviously. “There was no other reason to keep me. The doctor said they’d call when the rest of the test results come in.”

  “Where are we headed?” he asked as she led the way down the hall and through the common area.

  “Chair-fit.”

  “Chair what?”

  “Fit.” She gave him the side-eye, glancing at his attire.

  “If you want to blend in, you’ll want to rethink your uniform. Not to mention, chair-fit is hard to do in a suit.”

  She walked through an open doorway into a studio with hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling mirrors, a dozen chairs in two staggered rows.

  She glanced at her watch. “We have about ten minutes, but everyone will start trickling in soon. Help me get things set up?”

  He followed her dutifully, setting out five-pound weights, resistance bands and balance balls. She tried her best to ignore him. It was impossible.

  She was never so relieved when Sissy Maynard showed up. Triss was convinced that Sissy’s name was code for Sassy because the woman was a fireball of energy and borderline inappropriate humor. Her short hair was faintly blue today, courtesy, no doubt, of her latest boxed dye.

  “Oooh, la la!” Sissy exclaimed as she entered the fitness room and cast her eyes on Hunter. She feathered a hand through her wispy hair. “No one told me we had a new instructor.”

  Triss snorted. “Don’t get your hopes up, Sissy. Courtney will be here like she always is. This is my friend Hunter. He forgot to dress down.”

  “You’ll want to lose that jacket and tie, honey,” Sissy said, glancing at her black leotard–clad figure in the mirrors. “Where are you sitting?”

  “Next to you, of course,” he answered, and Triss heard the smile in his voice. Against her better judgment, she glanced up and caught his expression in the mirror. His broad grin, those dimples... He winked, and her heart dipped. Stupid heart.

  It wasn’t long before the rest of the class and Courtney arrived. Hunter tossed his jacket and tie on an empty chair, rolled up his sleeves and took his place next to Sissy like the good sport he was.

  “You don’t have to do it,” Triss said quietly. “I do a little and walk around and help encourage everyone.”

  “I don’t mind,” he said.

  The music started, and Courtney’s peppy voice filled the small room. “Let’s warm up!” she yelled.

  “I’m already warm!” Sissy yelled back. “I’m sitting next to Mr. Muscles.”

  The group laughed, and Triss couldn’t help but join in. He did have some serious muscles, one of his many attractive qualities.

  “There’s an empty seat next to me, Mr. Muscles,” Iris Patterson called out, her smooth British accent making the quip all the funnier. “That will certainly keep me awake!”

  Triss rolled her eyes. As long as she remembered to take her medicine for narcolepsy, Iris overflowed with flirtatious humor.

  Leading the class, Courtney Tompkins, the nursing-school grad student everyone went to with aches and pains, was energetic and smiley, but Triss knew the pain she was hiding. Her grandfather, Walter, had been the first of the four recent deaths, and the two had been close. Come to think of it, Courtney had been quiet at Triss’s security meeting the other day. Maybe she could pull her aside later and have a chat. Chances were pretty high that Courtney was on board with the security plans but didn’t have the gumption to voice her opinion in the face of all the naysayers.

  They were twenty minutes into the class when Triss’s cell phone vibrated. She glanced at it and saw it was the hospital. Waving the phone toward Hunter, she stepped into the hallway to answer.

  “Is this Triss Everett?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hi, Triss, this is Dr. O’Neill. I’m calling with test results. Your toxicology report showed the presence of sodium oxybate.” He paused as if she might see the significance, but then continued. “You take no daily medications, correct?”

  “Right.”

  “That rules out Xyrem,” he said quietly, and Triss tried to follow the explanation.

  “You may have heard of GHB,” he said then. “Looks like you may have been the victim of the date-rape drug.”

  Triss straightened. “What? How?”

  Hunter appeared at her side and stayed as she listened to the advice of the doctor to report the incident to the police, and to review all that had happened the night before to try to figure out how she had ingested the drug. Finally, she disconnected the call, her mind tracing back to yesterday evening, as faces and conversations flashed through her memory.

  “You’re shaking.” Hunter set his hand on her arm, as if to anchor her, but she pulled away and stepped back. His touch was too intimate, breaching all the boundaries she’d drawn. She needed to think.

  “Toxicology report showed possible GHB,” she told him, struggling to make sense of what was going on. Maybe the car accident and the apartment fire could be explained away, but this couldn’t. “Someone drugged me.”

  FIVE

  The toxicology report changed everything. Officer Goodson and his partner, Nicole Quinn, were on-site within an hour, scanning the visitor log from yesterday and interviewing residents and staff. Tensions were high as the Harmony community whispered and speculated about what, exactly, the police could be looking for. Officer Goodson had advised Triss not to discuss what had happened until after he’d interviewed everyone, and that only contributed to her growing unease. If there was a killer in their midst, she wanted to warn her friends.

  Of course, if there was a killer in their midst, then there was a high possibility that the killer actually was one of her friends. The thought sat in the pit of her stomach like a massive stone as she tried to stay out of the way and avoid conversation.

  And then, Levi and Josie arrived with a giant bucket of Play-Doh. At two and five—nearly six, as Josie was quick to remind her—they were just what everyone needed to lighten the dark mood.

  “Twiss!” Levi shrieked as he toddled forward and tripped over his tiny feet, his knees hitting tile for a fraction of a second before he pushed himself up and kept running.

  Triss crouched and braced herself for his trademark running leap, and he didn’t disappoint as he launched himself into her arms, his chubby ones wrapping around her.

  His ruffled hair tickled her chin, and she thought she detected the scent of Oreos, his favorite snack.

  “Hey, buddy,” she whispered, and then started to set him down, but he held on tight and Josie appeared next to them. She wore her hair in long brown pigtails, her edges curling up around her face as she clutched the large bucket of Play-Doh to her chest, a serious expression on her face.

  “Hi, Triss,” she said, her voice solemn. “Are you doing Play-Doh with us?”

  The last thing Triss wanted to do was play with these two kids who had wedged their way into her heart, but she couldn’t say no. Not with Josie staring seriously at her, a challenge in her eyes. It was as if she was saying “Where have you been?”

  “Sure. I can play for a little while,” she said, starting to stand, but Levi wouldn’t loosen his hold.

  She shifted his body weight in her arms, then stood. “We’re going to play in this big room over here.” She led the way, Levi’s fingers pinching the skin at her nape.

  “Who do we have here?” George Wyrick asked, looking up from his book with an interested smile.

  Josie walked right up to
him. “I’m Josie,” she said. “What’s your name?”

  “Well, hello, Josie. I’m George. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Do you wanna do Play-Doh with us?”

  George set his book on the side table and pushed down the footrest on his recliner. “I don’t think I’ve touched the stuff in fifty years. That sounds like fun.”

  “It is!” Levi exclaimed, wiggling from Triss’s arms and toddling over to the table where Hunter had set the bucket. He climbed onto a chair and threw the top half of his body on the bucket, yanking hard at the lid.

  “Here, big guy.” Hunter reached over and pried off the lid, then pushed the bucket over to the kids. Josie and Levi both grabbed armfuls of smaller containers and started handing them to the residents.

  “Oh, my, how adorable,” Kaye said as she entered the room, her expression bright. “Josie and Levi, right?”

  Josie nodded with a shy smile and handed a container of Play-Doh to Kaye.

  “Look at this, Iris!” George hollered across the room.

  Iris glanced up from her solitaire game on a computer. “I’ll be right there. Save me a blue.”

  “How about you, Don?” Triss called. Donald Keaton had positioned himself at a computer in the corner of the room. He peeked over the computer monitor, shook his nearly bald head briskly and returned to whatever he was doing. A heavy sadness yanked on Triss’s heart. Two days before Genevieve died, Don had bought an engagement ring for her. The student residents and staff had all been working together to help him plan a romantic proposal evening. Since Genevieve’s death, Don had barely come out of his room, and when he did, he made it clear he didn’t want to have any conversations.

  “Play-Doh!” Riley’s tinny voice sounded from the hall, and Triss bristled. Everything about the girl rubbed her wrong. Riley bustled into the room and grabbed a black, yanking off the lid and rolling the dough into a ball. “We used to play this game—everyone had to, like, make something based on a theme, and then the others tried to guess it.”

  “That sounds fun,” said Josie, who was busy making a purple flower. “What’s a theme?”

  “Like, you know, we would all make an animal, or we would all make a dessert,” Riley said, flashing a bright smile at Josie. She wore too much makeup, but she still only ever looked about twelve years old, and Triss wondered how she’d do in her upcoming law-firm internship.

  “Next week’s Thanksgiving,” Kaye said. “How about everyone makes something related to Thanksgiving?”

  “Or Cwismiss!” Levi shouted.

  “Christmas would be easier,” Hunter agreed with a laugh.

  “Well, look at this,” the activities director said, sweeping into the room with a pleased smile. What had started as four or five residents in the room had quickly morphed into a packed room of seniors making shapes with the Play-Doh. Even some of the staff had started to get into it. “Now that I know what a hit a kid’s toy can be, I may just spend a little less time planning all of these elaborate activities around here,” Brandon said.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Kaye said. “I’ve been looking forward to tomorrow’s cruise for almost a month now.”

  “Cruise?” Hunter asked close to Triss’s ear, and she rejected the spiral of warmth that flooded her veins at his nearness.

  She walked around the table to reach a container of green.

  “Tomorrow, a small group is going on a little lunch cruise at the Inner Harbor.” She rolled the green into a cone shape and started pinching the edges to make a Christmas tree.

  “You going, or do you have class?” Hunter had followed her closely, his own hands idly rolling a lump of orange.

  “I’m going. Classes are Monday through Thursday mornings for me. I missed today.” She wasn’t too worried about it. They were off next week for Thanksgiving, and her instructor said she’d post the notes online.

  “I made a stocking!” Levi announced.

  “Matches my hair,” Kaye said with a laugh. “Here, what do you think I’m working on?” She pointed to the table, where she had set three small round balls, one on top of the other.

  “Fwosty!”

  Kaye laughed, clearly delighted. “That’s right. What else does Frosty the Snowman need?”

  “Cowitt nose!”

  “Yes, a carrot nose! Who has orange?”

  “Heads up!” Hunter called, and tossed a small bit of orange into his son’s hands. Then he leaned closer to Triss. “I know I should be correcting those Rs, but I can’t bring myself to.”

  “He’ll outgrow it, and you’ll miss it,” Triss pointed out. As if she had any business giving parenting advice. She rounded the table again to get some more space between them, grabbing another container of Play-Doh.

  “Purple for a Christmas tree?” Hunter asked, and when she looked up and met his eyes, she saw him trying to read her.

  Triss looked at the purple she’d absently picked up, then pulled off a tiny piece and rolled it into a ball. “Ornaments.”

  “Creative,” Hunter said, amusement lighting his eyes. This time, he didn’t follow her. Instead, his gaze roamed the room, and she could see that work mode was kicking in as Zach walked in with Courtney. The two had been dating almost since they’d first moved to Harmony in August, and nearly always showed up as a pair.

  Triss introduced the two to Hunter as Officer Goodson and his partner made their way into the room.

  “We’re heading out,” Officer Goodson said. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Triss thanked them both, swallowing her frustration. She knew they couldn’t discuss their findings with her, but time wasn’t exactly on their side and she wanted to know everything the police knew.

  Kaye appeared at Triss’s side, her eyes troubled as she absently rolled a white ball of Play-Doh in her palms. “You already had me a little worried, but with the police coming around now...”

  “I think the police are here out of an abundance of caution, Kaye,” Zach volunteered, his voice reassuring. “Any fire needs to be investigated.”

  “They weren’t just asking about the fire, though,” Kaye pointed out.

  “What else were they asking about?” Hunter asked, and Triss knew he asked the question only to get conversation flowing, to see if he could glean any more clues.

  “Everything,” Courtney answered, rubbing her hands along her arms as if to ward off a sudden chill.

  “Not just about last night with the fire, but about the deaths, too,” Zach said, rubbing Courtney’s back. “You okay?”

  “It’s hard,” Courtney said, her blue eyes brimming with tears. “I get it that they need to investigate, but I don’t think Gramps’s death is part of any of it.”

  “Your grandfather was Walter, right?” Hunter asked, and Courtney nodded.

  “We’d been talking about moving him to Silverwood. His memory was going.” Her bottom lip trembled and she pressed her mouth closed. She cleared her throat. “I think he overdosed by accident with the insulin.”

  “Because of the memory problems?” Hunter asked gently.

  She swiped at a tear that flew down her cheek, then tried on a wobbly smile. “He didn’t want to move to Silverwood, though. I know that much. I hate that he’s gone, but it’s probably better this way.” She shrugged. “At least, that’s what I try to tell myself.”

  “I think you’re right,” Kristy Ingles said, appearing in the doorway. The other graduate student resident at Harmony, she was pursuing a psychology career, and could always be counted on for the right words at the right time. “Loss is painful no matter what,” she said, her dark eyes full of sympathy. “But it’s incredibly painful to watch the people we love deteriorate.”

  Courtney nodded. “Exactly.”

  “So true,” Kaye said, passing a container of yellow to Kristy. “Play-Doh?”

  Kristy smiled widely, bronz
e lipstick highlighting a perfect white smile on midnight skin.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” she said with good humor.

  Kaye didn’t acknowledge Zach and Courtney, and Triss wondered if she was holding last night against Zach. She’d spoken to Kaye earlier, and had listened as she recounted all the details of the night before, and how Zach didn’t think she should call 911. Whatever Kaye’s judgment, Triss thought nothing of Zach’s reluctance to call 911. He seemed to be a bright and clearheaded kind of guy. He’d probably assumed Kaye was overreacting, which was a logical assumption.

  As Triss observed Hunter making conversation and getting to know the people at Harmony, she could almost see him committing names and details to memory. Some residents stayed for a while, and others just passed through with quick smiles. Eventually, though, the hour grew late and people started trickling back to their rooms or the dining hall.

  Triss observed silently, her gaze touching on each person who entered and left. She wondered if any of them had it in them to kill. Surely not grieving Don, settled into the computer in the corner. Or Sissy with her jokes and her blue hair, or Kaye with her vivacious personality. George was known to save spiders that happened into the facility, and his buddy Mack was just as harmless. Her gaze touched on her fellow graduate students, but didn’t stay long there, either. Zach was going into sports medicine with a minor in music and was known for giving impromptu guitar and voice concerts before dinner. His girlfriend, Courtney, the resident nurse and germaphobe, was now bustling around the room spritzing tables with cleanser and wiping them down—something she did often when she wasn’t interviewing residents for her graduate project on loneliness and the elderly. Riley didn’t seem sophisticated enough to pull off a killing spree, and Kristy was one of the friendliest people Triss had ever met. That left several residents Triss didn’t know well, and the staff—the security team, the chef, the housekeepers. Not to mention all the people who lived at the other two facilities, plus many random visitors, though outside involvement seemed unlikely at this point.

  “Josie, Levi, time to start cleaning up,” Hunter said, pulling Triss from her thoughts. “You eating in the dining hall?” he asked her. “Samantha packed dinner for the kids.”