by T. L. Haddix
When Stella pulled back, Maria could tell she wasn’t ready to hear the truth just yet. She stood and moved the chair back to where it had been. “I’d better let you rest. Is your sister looking out for you?”
Maria blushed. “Yes, and so is Wyatt Dixon.”
The answer seemed to surprise Stella for a minute, but then she winked. “Do tell. You’re certainly in good hands, then.” She bent down and gave her another hug. “Thank you for listening to an old woman, sweetie. I hope you feel better very soon.”
“You’re not old, and I already feel better. Thanks for stopping by, and for the flowers. Will you consider what we talked about?”
With a noncommittal smile, Stella headed for the door. “We’ll see.”
When Stella opened the door, Maria could see Wyatt standing outside the room talking to Richard Hudson.
“Oh. Hello, Sheriff, Richard. If you gentlemen will excuse me?” They stood back to let Stella pass.
“Come on in,” Maria called to the men, then she sat back with a tired groan, stretching her legs out in front of her. “That was interesting.”
“What did she say?” Wyatt asked. “Any idea what’s going on?”
The aide returned with a tray of food, and Maria waited until she left before responding. “Stella has some serious hormonal issues that are probably playing a big role in all this.” She took a bite of the toast. “You might want to ask Jackie to give her an extra week or so before she approaches her. She’ll probably have better results.”
Richard looked perplexed. “How do you know about the effects of thyroid disease?”
“My grandmother. We thought she had dementia, but it turned out to be her thyroid. That little gland can seriously mess a person up. So when can I go home?”
Richard laughed. “Well, you seem ready to go now, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a little while longer. The surgeon will have to release you, and Doctor Howard doesn’t usually make rounds until the evenings. I won’t take you away from your food to examine you, but how are you feeling?”
“That’s the question of the day, Doc. The pain is a little uncomfortable from the surgery, but the agony that brought me here is gone. It’s amazing, actually.”
“Good. That’s perfectly normal. You got very lucky, young lady. Your pancreas wasn’t involved. If it had been, you’d be a guest in this institution for a few days.”
Wyatt said, “Something Maria said when she was drifting in and out is still bothering me. Something along the lines of how there are no secrets in hospitals, that doctor’s know all their patients’ sins. That’s true to some degree. Other than doctors, who else would know a patient’s secrets?”
Richard shrugged. “It depends. Doctors, nurses, anyone who comes into contact with the medical records. Transcriptionists certainly would.” He frowned. “You aren’t thinking this extortionist is someone here, are you?”
“I don’t know what I’m thinking.”
The doctor glanced at his watch and grimaced. “I need to go. Call me if you need anything.” With a wave, he was gone.
Wyatt moved to Maria and helped her stand. “I could have sworn I saw a spark when he said ‘transcriptionist.’”
She slid her arms around his waist. “Good catch, Sheriff. I’ll tell you about it, but first I want something. I’d like a kiss.”
He gave her a mock scowl and leaned closer. “Are you trying to bribe me, Ms. Pace?”
“Yes. Is it working?”
In answer, he nipped gently at her lips, then deepened the kiss, carefully gathering her against him. She could feel his restraint, and too soon, he pulled back.
She cleared her throat. “The victims sourced from Sharon Jenkins’s office? All that info came from medical records. That’s a rich resource for anyone to tap into. I think we should explore the possibility that our extortionist is a transcriptionist, or someone who has access to the records of a transcriptionist.”
“Okay, we will. I’ll call Ethan shortly. But right now, I think you need to rest. That’s your number-one task.”
With a contented smile, she let him help her into bed. “Yes, because as soon as I have the go-ahead, I have plans for you.”
Wyatt gave her another soft kiss. She settled back against the pillows, and closed her eyes. “I’ll just rest for a few minutes,” she told him with a yawn. Within a few seconds, she had drifted off to sleep.
~ * * * ~
As soon as Maria was asleep, Wyatt called Ethan.
“Hey, I have something for you.” He explained the theory. “Take that and run with it. Bring everyone up to date. My gut’s telling me this is something.”
“Sure thing, Boss. How’s the patient?”
“Resting, doing better. She’ll probably be released this evening some time.”
“Good. Are you going to try to take her home with you? You know, I did that, sort of, and ended up married.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Watching you fall?” The detective chuckled. “Hell, yes.”
“Just get onto what we talked about, and quit playing Cupid.”
Ending the call, Wyatt watched Maria as she slept. He had to admit that marriage was something he was considering, something he hadn’t thought he would ever be interested in again. He wondered if Maria felt the same way.
Chapter Thirty Four
By Saturday morning, Maria was ready to climb the walls. She’d been released from the hospital Thursday evening, as Dr. Hudson had predicted. Though she’d wanted to go home with Wyatt, she had finally allowed herself to be convinced to stay at her condo, with Savannah there to help her. Wyatt had the strongest argument.
“You need someone with you for the first couple of days, anyhow. I could be there at night, but not during the day, and I very much doubt Savannah would agree to come to my house and stay with you,” he told her when they were alone. “As much as I want you with me, we need to consider your best interests.”
To her embarrassment, she had cried with disappointment. When he pulled her into his arms and tried to comfort her, she had held on tight and laughed through the tears. “I know. I just don’t want to let you go.”
Wyatt had kissed her tenderly and promised to stop by every night. He’d kept his word, shamelessly bribing Savannah with her favorite ice cream that night, and then a home-cooked meal on Friday evening. When he showed up at lunchtime on Saturday with homemade brownies, Maria was sure her sister was starting to soften.
“I’m only going to the kitchen, so don’t get too touchy-feely,” Savannah warned, taking the brownies with her.
Maria placed her hands on her hips. “You know I can’t eat those right now.”
“I know, but I’ll make you a whole batch just as soon as you can.” He eased her into his arms.
Sliding her hands slowly up his chest, she grinned. “I was hoping you would say that. Can you stay for a while?”
He dropped a kiss onto her lips. “No. I’ve still got some things to take care of at the office. We’ve been chasing down that lead you gave us.”
“Any progress?”
“Maybe. We’ll know more by Monday. Stop that,” he gently scolded, stopping her hand from playing with his collar. Undeterred, she moved on to the buttons on his shirt, looking up at him impishly when he growled. “You’re going to start something we can’t finish right now.”
With reluctance, she stopped teasing him. “Any chance you can break me out of here? Take me with you to the office? You have that nice couch; I could sit quietly there just as well as here.”
Wyatt rested his cheek next to hers. “I wish I could, but no. If I take you to the office, you’ll try to work. But I’ll tell you what. If you’re interested, I’ll pick you up this evening and steal you away for the rest of the weekend.”
“Really?”
He ran his hands over her back. “Oh, yes.”
When she drew in a deep breath, she was surprised to find it shaky. Completely serious
, she met his gaze with concern. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we? This isn’t a frivolous fling or something like that, is it?” She was relieved when he didn’t blow off the question.
“No, it isn’t.”
The moment stretched, and Maria couldn’t tear her gaze from his. When her sister’s phone rang in the kitchen, they both jumped.
“If I go home with you, I might not want to come back here,” she warned.
Wyatt’s response was surprising. “I’m okay with that.”
Just as he leaned in to kiss her again, Savannah cleared her throat. Maria couldn’t prevent a small laugh at the disgruntled look that crossed Wyatt’s face.
“So sorry to interrupt, but that was the folks. They’re on the way over to check on Maria.”
With a heartfelt groan, Maria dropped her head onto Wyatt’s chest. “I feel a relapse coming on. Are you sure you can’t take me with you?”
“I’m sorry, honey.” He tightened his arms around her and turned to her sister. “Savannah? I’m kidnapping your sister later this afternoon. Will you help her get a bag together after your parents leave?”
Savannah gave him a searching look. “You do make a mean brownie.” She turned to Maria. “Are you sure you’d rather be with him than someone like Damon?”
Maria sent her a satisfied look. “Oh, yes.”
Savannah rolled her eyes, but she was clearly fighting a smile. “Okay. But as far as Mom and Dad are concerned, you’ll be staying here. I am not breaking this news to them.”
Chapter Thirty Five
Wyatt requested that Ethan, Stacy, and Gordon meet him Saturday afternoon at the office. Stacy was the first to arrive, and when Wyatt saw her face, he came up out of his chair. “What the hell happened to you?”
The left side of her face was mildly swollen, with bruises forming around her cheek and eye, and a small cut in the corner of her mouth. She winced, but held still while he examined her.
“I’m okay. I just got caught in the middle of a brawl between the pastor’s wife and his mistress. At his funeral. Did I ever mention that I hate funerals?” She sat down. She was carrying a towel-wrapped ice pack, which she carefully held up against her injuries.
“Once or twice.” He leaned against his desk, astounded. “Who hit you? For that matter, what hit you?”
“I’m not sure. It turned into something of a free-for-all. I think it was Mrs. Jones’s mother’s purse, though. She was aiming for the mistress.”
Ethan came in then, and he had much the same reaction as Wyatt when he saw the bruises. “At least tell me the other guy looks worse.”
The uninjured corner of Stacy’s mouth twitched. “It was an accident. I couldn’t strike back, unfortunately.” She told him the story.
He sat down in the chair beside her. “At a funeral? Damn.”
Before she could say anything else, Gordon knocked on the door. “Sorry I’m late. I…” His voice trailed off, and his body went completely rigid. For long seconds, he just stared at Stacy’s face.
When Gordon shifted an accusatory glare, Wyatt held up his hands. “Little old lady with a purse clocked her.”
The room was quiet as they waited to see what Gordon would say. He was clearly struggling, and opened his mouth several times to speak, but pulled the words back before they left his mouth.
Ethan snickered, and Gordon’s eyes narrowed. “What, you think it’s funny that she got hit?”
“Hell, no. You know better.”
Stacy rolled her eyes. “Are you going to stand there all day, or are we going to get this over with? No offense, Boss,” she said as she turned back around to face Wyatt, who covered his mouth with a hand to hide his own amusement.
“So what started the brouhaha?” Wyatt asked as he returned to his seat. “At the funeral, I mean.”
Gordon’s jaw dropped. “At the funeral? That happened to you at a funeral?”
“Yes, it did,” Stacy said. “The whole thing was soap-opera worthy, really. You know they held the pastor’s funeral until today so his brother could fly in from Africa, right? Well, the pastor’s wife apparently got into something before the service, and in the middle of the eulogy, she lost it. She stood up and started screaming at the mistress. That’s all it took. It turned into a multi-generational catfight, with the two women’s mothers joining in. I waded in, and that’s when Grandma swung for the cheap seats. My going down was an effective end to the fight, actually. They were horrified.”
“Did you lose consciousness?” Ethan asked.
“I saw some very pretty stars, and it… um, addled me briefly. But no, I didn’t lose consciousness. And before you ask, I saw a doctor as soon as it happened; there was one at the funeral. I know the signs of head injury. This isn’t my first go-round, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.” She didn’t so much as glance at Gordon.
Wyatt did, though, and what he saw on the younger man’s face confirmed his suspicions. What Ethan had said the other day about how he was enjoying watching Wyatt and Maria fall came back to him, and he disguised his chuckle with a cough.
“You interviewed the mistress, right?” he asked Stacy. Since the pastor’s wife apparently hadn’t known about their relationship, and the pastor himself wasn’t around to be questioned, they had to get their answers somewhere else. The mistress-slash-secretary was the obvious choice.
“Yesterday, yes.”
“So what did you find out?”
“Well, there’s a lot of animosity out there, thanks to the good reverend’s escapades. The woman’s husband has filed for divorce. She swears she never told anyone the truth about her children’s paternity, and she doesn’t think the pastor did, either. However, her husband apparently put two and two together after the birth of the second child. He may have said something to his doctor, because he apparently took the kids in for paternity tests.”
Wyatt frowned. “How long ago?”
“Six months.”
Gordon whistled from where he sat on the couch. “So he’s known for six months that his kids weren’t his? And he’s what, just kept his mouth shut all this time? What the hell kind of marriage is that?”
Stacy shrugged. “I guess he didn’t want to lose face. See, he’s a deacon in the same church. After the pastor killed himself, though, the husband confronted her, and I guess they had a pretty good row. The deacon decided to cut his losses after that.”
Wyatt saw that the other two men had the same surprised expression he was certain was on his face.
“What?” Stacy asked.
“Nothing,” Ethan replied. “People are just amazing at times; that’s all, and I don’t mean that in a good way.”
“Especially the ‘good Christians,’” Wyatt added.
Gordon scoffed. “Please. We’re just programmed, societally speaking, to expect more from people who hold roles we’re taught to respect. They’re still human, and they make the same mistakes the rest of humanity does. They just draw more attention when they screw up.”
“That sounds like experience talking,” Ethan remarked.
The cold glitter in Gordon’s eyes was tinged with bitterness. “It is.”
After a brief pause, Ethan said, “After talking to the rest of the victims, we have several doctors who, thanks to Richard and Jackie, we know use the same transcription service. Prime Transcription, here in Leroy, owned by one Leslie Simms. I find it hard to believe that’s a coincidence.”
“That does sound promising,” Wyatt said. “How do you want to proceed?”
Ethan turned to Gordon. “Didn’t Kathryn run a transcription service before she moved here?”
“She did,” Gordon confirmed. “You want me to pick her brain?”
Wyatt noticed that Stacy had developed a sudden fascination with her watchband, and decided to mix things up a little bit. “Why don’t you do that, Gordon, but take Stacy with you? That way when we question Leslie Simms, Stacy will have a better idea of what to look for. Ethan, are you okay?”
&nbs
p; The younger man nodded, his face red as he coughed and cleared his throat. It had been a bonus for Wyatt that, when he had made the suggestion to Stacy and Gordon, Ethan had just taken a large sip of coffee. “I’m fine. Just swallowed wrong,” he managed to say.
Wyatt watched as Gordon sent him, and then Ethan, calculating looks, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled out his cell phone.
“How’s your schedule this evening?” he asked Stacy without looking at her.
Stacy’s free hand moved nervously against her leg. “Open. Why?”
“I’m texting Kat to see if she’s busy. If she isn’t, maybe we can meet with her tonight,” he replied, his eyes on his phone.
“Sure, that’s fine.”
Ethan cleared his throat. “You should see if she has any of that chocolate cake lying around. Have you tried it, Stacy?”
“What is it with you and caffeine lately? You’re worse than a woman with PMS,” Stacy commented.
Ethan scrambled for a response. When he couldn’t seem to come up with one, Wyatt stepped in. “I think Beth is still having an aversion to coffee.”
Her face cleared, and the grin she sent Ethan had a distinctly devilish glint to it. “Oh, okay. So if I offer you chocolate or coffee, you’ll do my paperwork?”
“Pfft. Not hardly.” But after a beat, he asked, “How much coffee, exactly?”
They all chuckled. Gordon’s phone chirped, and he read the new message. “Hey, Kat’s free. What time and where do you want to meet?”
Stacy played with the bag of ice she held in her lap. “It should be someplace where we can talk without interruption. Why don’t the two of you just come to my house? We can call for some food, say around six?”
“Sounds fine, but since we’re invading your place, I’ll take care of the food. You do have a working kitchen, right?”
“Of course I have a working kitchen. I just don’t use it.”
“Are there any foods you don’t like, or have an allergy to?” he asked.
“No. Well, I don’t do liver and onions, or sushi. Or bugs. That sort of thing.”