“Speaking of which, I wonder if we could go around the police and ask the families some questions,” Triss suggested. Her stomach churned, but she ignored it, willing the nausea away.
“Roman was trying that avenue,” Hunter said. “The families have all been advised to speak with no one but police.”
“So the deaths are being investigated,” Triss said, somewhat reassured that they weren’t on their own in this mess—even if it sure felt like they were. “Anything else, Harrison, before I call Officer Goodson?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. I’ll keep you posted.”
* * *
Several police cruisers sat in front of Creekside Manor two hours later, and the facility was eerily quiet. Everyone had been asked to stay in their apartments while police investigated. Food from the dining hall had been bagged to be tested, including the premade meals Triss had waiting for her in the fridge. Whatever she’d eaten had made her pretty sick. She’d thrown up twice but refused to go to the hospital because she felt better within a fairly short period. She was visiting with Kaye and Sissy right now, and Hunter settled into the leather couch, his mind flashing back two years, as he followed the ambulance that carried his wife, having tucked a sleeping four-year-old Josie and newborn Levi into car seats and followed with no time to call anyone to watch the kids. By the time he’d arrived inside the hospital, it was too late. His wife had died.
The doctors tried for a long time to revive her, but nothing could be done. Too many times over the past days, Hunter had imagined he was too late for Triss. She had made herself clear today, and he was prepared to step out of her life. But he wasn’t prepared for her life to be taken. He wanted nothing but the best for her, even if that didn’t include him.
He thought about the story she had told him, the tears she had shed by the creek that morning, the daughter she had courageously chosen to relinquish for adoption. If anything, her story had made him love her more, which made the idea of losing her that much harder.
Tonight he’d talk to Roman and make sure someone they could all trust would take his place at Harmony after Thanksgiving. He’d never be able to honor her wishes to let her live her life without him unless he turned and physically walked away.
Restless, he stood and started down the hall, but the officer stopped him. “Sorry—we’re still finishing up in the dining hall. I’ll let you know when it’s okay to enter. We’re planning to go door-to-door for interviews, and everyone has been instructed to stay on-site until interviewed.”
“Any progress on looking into the four deaths of residents?” Hunter asked.
“Two were cremated,” the officer said. “We’ve started talks with family members of the others, but without concrete evidence, it’s a tough sell for them to allow us to exhume the bodies and pursue an investigation. We’re working on gathering evidence for some warrants.”
Goodson’s partner called him, and he shrugged apologetically. “Sit tight for a few.”
Hunter couldn’t sit tight. He had someone in mind to talk to, and he walked down the hall to knock on Iris’s door. She opened it and invited him inside, her white eyebrows furrowed in deep concern. He signed her visitor log before she even had a chance to hand it to him, and kindly refused the offered seat.
“I won’t stay long,” he said. “I just wanted to ask you about your prescription for Xyrem.”
Confusion swept over her features and she cocked her head to the side. “What about it?”
“You said that you’re out of the pills prematurely?”
“It’s a liquid, but yes. I thought I had several doses left the last time I took it.”
“Where do you keep the prescription bottle?” Hunter asked.
“Right in my purse, always,” she said emphatically. “Sometimes I forget to take it in the morning, and when I remember I’m already at breakfast. Hate to come all the way back to my apartment for it.”
“Did you throw away the empty bottle?”
“Not yet. The pharmacy’s number is on the bottle, and I keep meaning to call...”
Hunter tried not to get too excited, knowing her hands had been all over the bottle and likely had destroyed any fingerprints that may have been on it. He didn’t for one minute think that Iris could be the culprit.
“Why are you asking these questions?”
“It’s a long story, Iris,” he said, not sure how much information he should share with her. He quickly sent a text to Officer Goodson asking him to come to Iris’s apartment. “I’ll tell you all the details later, okay?”
“Am I in trouble?” she asked, wringing her hands together in her lap.
“No, no, you’re not in trouble,” he said. “We think you could help us, actually.”
The officer tapped on the door, and Hunter explained that the empty prescription bottle was still inside Iris’s purse.
Iris was already grabbing her purse and reaching for the bottle before either man could stop her.
“Not sure why you need it, but you’re welcome to it. Just let me copy the phone number on it.”
Officer Goodson pulled on latex gloves and grabbed the bottle from her, holding it out so she could jot down the number. He then slipped it into an evidence bag, and they thanked Iris and left.
“I’ll have my guy rush processing on this,” the officer said, holding the bag up to the light, as if he could identify the culprit’s prints by staring hard enough and under enough light.
But just before he dropped his arm, Hunter noticed something. “Wait.”
The officer held it up to the light in the hallway, and Hunter looked closer. “There’s a hair stuck to it,” he said.
Officer Goodson stared for a moment, his eyes widening. “You’re right. Short, black and looks like—”
“Bleached on the ends.”
“Only person around here I know with hair like that is Zach,” Hunter said, his pulse racing. Could it be that easy? Had Zach left a hair with his fingerprint? The two looked closely at the bottle through the bag, clearly seeing the single strand of hair, which was seemingly stuck under the cap of the prescription bottle.
“Looks like Zach is my next interview,” Officer Goodson said, and Hunter pointed down the hallway. When they arrived at Zach’s door, Hunter knocked and stood waiting, reminding himself to be professional. But when Zach opened the door, all he wanted to do was slug him in the face.
He resisted the urge as Officer Goodson greeted him and asked if they could talk.
Zach led them to the living room, his perfectly styled hair gelled and standing high. He’d done nothing to decorate his apartment and seemed nervous to have the men there.
After a series of questions that led to no interesting information, Zach finally frowned. “Do you think I have something to do with what’s been going on around here?” he asked.
“Everyone will be interviewed tonight,” Officer Goodson said, skating around the question.
Zach nodded. “Well, I don’t have anything to hide. You can even search my place if it’ll make you feel better.”
Hunter couldn’t believe his ears. Was Zach opening up his place to a warrantless search? He resisted the urge to advise him to get a lawyer first. If he wasn’t guilty, nothing would be found. No harm, no foul.
Officer Goodson was extremely careful about the search, recording Zach’s permission and reading him his rights, but Zach didn’t waver, was adamant—almost too adamant—that they wouldn’t find anything.
The officer called in his partner and another officer to help him conduct the search while Hunter sat with Zach in the living room, suspicious but certain the search would yield nothing.
After several long minutes, Officer Goodson appeared. “You have diabetes?” he asked, and Zach frowned.
“What? No.”
“You have a friend or family member with diabetes who s
tays here?”
“No...what are you talking about?”
The officer held out a small bag with what appeared to be several insulin shots.
Zach shot up out of his seat. “They’re not mine.”
“They were under your bathroom cabinet, behind rolls of toilet paper,” the officer said. “You sure you don’t know who they belong to?”
Zach shook his head, but he no longer looked calm and collected, as fear entered his expression.
“I don’t know where that came from, but I think I want you to stop searching my place. I think I need to ask you to get a warrant to finish the search,” he said, his voice shaking.
Hunter shook his head. Had the kid not anticipated the police would find what he’d been hiding? He thought about the insulin and Walter Tompkins. Zach would have had access to the man. Could he have been counting on benefiting from an inheritance because he was dating Walter’s granddaughter? And the Xyrem made sense. With his medical background, he could easily put ideas together on sinister ways to misuse medication.
Anger rose up hot, and Hunter knew if he stayed a moment longer in the apartment, he couldn’t be trusted to keep his hands off the guy without risking jail time. Instead, he left the apartment and went in search of Triss, adrenaline pumping and his temper simmering.
TWELVE
The scent of pumpkin pie permeated all of Creekside Manor. Triss sat in a recliner in the commons, tediously stringing needle and thread through popcorn to decorate the tree the residents would help erect the next day, after Thanksgiving dinner. Soft Christmas music played, and residents and staff alike had filled the room, stringing popcorn and writing their blessings on leaves for the Thanksgiving tree poster Brandon had affixed to a far wall. By all accounts, Triss should feel lighter and full of new hope. She had survived what could have been several deadly attacks, Zach had been arrested, the deaths at Harmony were being investigated and she’d sent the email she’d been rewriting for half a dozen years.
Only, her heart felt strangely heavy. Roman had pulled his team from Harmony starting today, all evidence pointing to Zach despite the confounding lack of motive. Stella had insisted, and he couldn’t exactly force their way onto the property. She’d claimed she would hire extra security officers at a fraction of the cost, but thanked them kindly for their service.
Triss would see Hunter and the kids tonight, but she wasn’t sure when after that. Her internship with the FBI would begin in January, and she’d be leaving Shield officially. Her brother couldn’t be happier, and she had to admit to being a bit relieved herself. Her job at Shield had ended up being much more dangerous than she’d ever anticipated. At the FBI, she’d be getting hands-on training in forensic-scene investigation, and she’d be even closer to finally achieving her career goals.
Still, that excitement was shadowed by the sorrow she felt about saying goodbye to Hunter and the kids tonight. And also the unanswered questions she had about Zach.
“What a thing, huh?” Kaye asked, neatly threading her needle through another popcorn puff. “Zach. I would never have guessed.”
“I still don’t understand it,” Triss said. “Then again, even if someone gave me a plausible motive, I don’t know if I’d understand it. It’s hard to believe.”
“You do believe it, though, right? I mean, money’s a pretty good motive.”
“I’ll believe it when the investigation’s done and all the evidence is on the table.” It still remained to be seen how much money had been gleaned from the murder spree, but it didn’t sound life-changing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Riley said. “His hair was practically inside Iris’s medicine bottle. Walter’s insulin was hidden in his bathroom. And they think that bottle of cleanser with his fingerprints is antifreeze.”
“I know, I know,” Triss said. After getting a warrant to finish searching the apartment, police had found a generic cleanser bottle filled with what they suspected to be coolant. They were still waiting on results from the food testing to see if any of the meals had been contaminated. “I’m not saying I don’t believe it, exactly. I’m just saying it’s hard to believe.”
She glanced across the room at Courtney, who was helping Iris stick her thankful leaves to the poster tree, and her heart dropped. The defeat and sadness in her eyes were palpable. She must be horrified to know that she’d been so close to a murderer. She and Zach had only been together for a few months, but they’d practically been attached at the hip. She felt sorry for the girl. Setting aside the popcorn strand, she forced herself to stand.
“Want some cocoa?” she asked Courtney. “I’m getting myself a mug.”
“Sure.”
Triss returned quickly with two steaming mugs, handing one to Courtney. “You doing okay?”
Courtney stared into her mug, her forehead creased in worry lines. “Been better.”
Kaye came up beside them and put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, dear.”
“We need some music, and none of this elevator Christmas junk,” George announced, drawing all their attention. “Wasn’t Zach’s family coming to sing for us tonight? Wouldn’t let them in if they came here with Santa and his eight reindeer.”
Courtney sniffled and turned away from the room, taking her cocoa with her. Triss thought about following, but knew she probably needed a little privacy.
“We could have a sing-along,” Triss suggested, not quite sure she was hearing her own voice.
“A sing-along!” Kaye repeated. “That’s a fine idea.” She yanked the cover off the piano in the corner. “I’m sure there are some old Christmas books in this bench.” She lifted the lid and started rifling through the stack of books inside. “Give me five minutes here.”
Triss sat and started to pick up her neglected and rather sorry-looking strand of popcorn, but the sound of Levi’s little voice grabbed her attention.
“Is it Cwismiss?” he asked with a bright smile as he charged into the room, his feet tumbling so fast in front of him that he tripped again, barely breaking stride before picking himself up and charging directly toward Triss.
She knew she shouldn’t pick him up, but she couldn’t resist. His wispy dark hair always smelled like strawberries, and his warm little hands always smelled like Oreos. He grasped her into a tight hug and then shoved right off and ran to the thankful tree. “What is it?” he asked curiously.
Kaye’s answer was lost to Triss as Hunter walked in behind Josie, both of them toting trays of some goodies.
Josie smiled shyly at Triss. “We made cookies,” she said, bringing her tray directly to Triss. “Want one?”
“We were very careful not to use any dairy,” Hunter said.
They were a mess—misshaped stockings and googly-eyed angels with far too much frosting and even more sprinkles—but Triss wouldn’t think of refusing. She took one and bit heartily into it, complimenting Josie on the taste and decoration. Josie broke into a big grin, leaned close and whispered, “My cookies are on Dad’s tray. These are Levi’s.”
Hunter held out a much more palatable sampling, and Triss laughed, taking a less gooey Christmas-tree-shaped cookie.
“Nice job,” she said, and she meant it. Josie beamed and turned away, offering cookies to others in the room as Hunter did the same.
Triss tried not to stare, but she wanted to commit this night to memory. If she’d learned anything in life, it was that happiness was fleeting and life changed in an instant.
The door alarm beeped and Triss was surprised to see Luke walk in with his wife, Natalie.
Triss crossed the room and hugged them both. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Thought we’d join the festivities, see how you were doing,” Luke said, his arm slipping around his wife’s waist. Months after their wedding, they still seemed to glow, and Triss could be nothing but happy for them both. She�
��d begun to think that raising her and Cal had ruined Luke’s chances of ever finding love, but then he’d met Natalie and it seemed their story had been written from the beginning of time.
“Welcome,” Kaye said, introducing herself and doling out hugs all around. “Make yourself at home. We were about to have a little sing-along.” She bustled back to the piano. “I’ve got a whole pile of music,” she announced. “But I’m not a singer. Who’s going to lead us?”
Brandon hurried over to the music system and cut off the recording. Silence fell over the room, no one volunteering.
“Guess we were spoiled with Zach,” George mused. “Too bad he was trying to kill us all the while.”
For one broken moment, it seemed like everyone’s spirits had deflated, the reality of the past weeks setting in hard and cold. Triss ached with the sadness, and without thinking, she stood. “I haven’t done much singing in years, but I can handle a few Christmas carols.”
She went up to the piano, avoiding Hunter’s gaze, and wondered what had even gotten into her. It had been years since she’d felt remotely like celebrating Christmas. Years since she’d felt like she’d truly belonged somewhere.
“What do you think we should start with?” Kaye asked, showing her the table of contents on one of the books.
“Oh, definitely this one,” Triss said, and focused on the book in front of her instead of the now-silent friends who all sat watching her expectantly.
Kaye began to play “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” and Triss took a deep breath, then hummed quietly with the introduction, getting herself in tune. Then she began to sing, reunited with the music she’d left behind years ago. She’d sung an entire verse before she realized no one was singing with her, and she finally turned to them, waving for them to sing.
They did so haltingly at first, but then the voices filled the commons, staff pausing and taking seats to join in, and all felt right with the world—if only for a time. She took in the sight of Hunter and his kids, and her heart swelled with the knowledge that this was their farewell night. And then her gaze lit on her brother and his wife. Luke’s eyes shone with the light he’d always hung on to, the light she’d always craved. Tonight was time, she thought. Time to tell her brother everything.
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