The Southern Comfort Series Box Set

by Clark O'Neill, Lisa

  As Michelle resumed her seat at the conference table, where he, Kathleen, Mac, Lieutenant Cunningham and a couple of others from Michelle’s unit were seated, Kathleen stood to talk, running through the facts they had gathered so far with regards to the mayor’s daughter. But Josh couldn’t stop moving the dots around in his head.

  One could allow for the fact that there seemed to be some personal animosity between Salinas and Karen as a way of explaining some of the differences between the crimes, but something just seemed a little… off.

  And how did Allie Beaumont fit into this picture?

  Had Salinas taken her off the street as she walked through the city one night, only to find out that he’d just abducted the mayor’s daughter? He would have to have known that would bring a shitload of heat down on his head. So he realizes he has to kill her, beats her face in, then stuffs her dead body down a drainpipe on a construction site that just happens to be under fire from her father. A pipe which is conveniently covered in concrete sometime soon after.

  There was also the fact that they had no employment record for Salinas up to that point. The man was apparently a fairly recent transplant, yet after he murders the mayor’s daughter he seeks employment at the city’s busiest hospital. Why not just cut his losses and get out? Find another city to start over in. Of course, he couldn’t have known that Beaumont’s body would be discovered, probably thought he’d buried her where she’d never be found, but still, why take the chance? It wasn’t like he had any ties here. What was he doing in Charleston anyway?

  “Harding?”

  His boss’s voice made Josh blink.

  “You want to join us anytime soon?”

  “Sorry.” He turned to the Lieutenant. “Just… woolgathering.”

  “Well, play with your sheep another time. Right now we’ve got too much to do. Murphy, I want you talking to Allie Beaumont’s friends and classmates, see if anyone ever remembers Salinas hanging around campus. Washington, follow up with the van. He had to have stored it somewhere – kept it out of sight when he wasn’t using it. I want a way to positively link it to Tony Salinas that involves something better than the bubblegum and string we have right now. Casey, talk to the women again, flash Salinas’ picture, see if it jogs their memory. And follow up on the forensics to see if they’ve come up with anything else.

  “Harding,” he turned to Josh, “we need to ID our crispy corpse. Make sure it was indeed Salinas who died in that fire and not some friend, relative, or a damn meter reader. Unless or until we can dig up some dental records or DNA for comparison, you’re it.”

  “I’ll get on it right away, sir.”

  The man continued doling out orders, and Josh’s mind drifted back to dots. There were still some missing.

  He was sure of it.

  JOSH was looking over photographs of the dead man’s head when his cell phone rang. It was strange, he mused as he reached into his pocket, how fire shrank a victim’s skin without destroying it, melting distinguishing features into a sort of generic death mask. Although he felt little sympathy for Tony Salinas, it was a hell of a way to go.

  “Harding,” he answered in a tone that was all business.

  “Josh?”

  His expression softened, and he turned away from his desk. Burned up rapists didn’t need to be privy to this conversation. “Hey, honey,” he murmured, heart turning over because it was Sam. Sam, the woman of his dreams, whom he’d somehow convinced to become his wife. His vision blurred for just a moment and he made a mental note to call some jewelers. Surely one of them would be open on Sunday so he could stop by and look at rings.

  “Sorry to bother you at work,” she began, as if that were actually a possibility, “but I just wanted to let you know that I’m taking a cab over to Karen’s. I figured at some point today you’d realize that I didn’t have a car, and since I didn’t want a repeat of the whole you walked home, what were you thinking incident, I thought I’d sand bag that particular dam.”

  Josh let his head fall back on his shoulders. “Dammit.” He cursed himself for an idiot. “I can’t believe I forgot about your car breaking down. I should have –”

  “No, you shouldn’t. You were preoccupied this morning – for which I have to say thank you – and then you got called into work unexpectedly. And besides that, I’ve been thinking now for over twenty-seven years, and I’ve worked up to doing it on my own. So while I appreciate the fact that you’re a man – I really do appreciate that fact, by the way – and circling the wagons is in your DNA, please don’t worry about my transportation. It’s easy enough to take cabs until my car’s fixed.”

  Josh frowned, but then started to laugh with the ease at which she’d put him back in his place. “Okay, but just remember to be careful. And that wasn’t patronizing, that was concern.”

  “If I see someone coming at me with pink roses, I’ll run the other way.”

  “Sam, this isn’t a joke.”

  “I know it isn’t. And seriously, I promise to be cautious.” She paused, and Josh could hear the gentle sigh of her exhale. “It’s not that I don’t trust you enough to lean on you,” she said softly. “I think I just need a little time for it all to sink in. I’m not used to asking for help.”

  “I know that. And you take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Another pause followed by an indrawn breath. “You’re the best man I know.” And Josh felt the pleasure of that all the way to his toes. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

  After Josh said his goodbyes and forced images of exactly what seeing Sam tonight would entail out of his brain, he returned his attention to the gruesome photos. Not quite what he’d envisioned doing with his art when he was a student falling in love with one of his subjects, he mused.

  But then, life was rarely what we envision.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  JUSTIN Wellington sat as immobile as possible in the dim stillness of the men’s locker room, attempting to keep his head from simply falling off his neck. He wasn’t supposed to be working tonight, wasn’t even supposed to be on call, but the damn virus that had been crawling virulently through the hospital had wreaked havoc with everyone’s schedules.

  But he would never, never have gone head to head with Kathleen Murphy over a bottle of whiskey if he’d known he’d be working today. The woman was the devil incarnate. And she’d had the gall to call him this afternoon sounding cheerful, for God’s sake. She’d been out haranguing witnesses for a case she was working, but had offered to stop by and bring him a hangover remedy.

  He’d lied through his teeth and told her that he was feeling perfectly fine.

  He’d never again underestimate the alcohol tolerance of a woman who’d most likely been conceived in a pub. She’d probably been bottle fed beer instead of formula, cut her eye teeth by chewing on pilsners. Either that or he’d been too distracted last night at the reception to notice that she was pouring every other drink in the potted palms.

  It was the legs, he decided. Kathleen Murphy had very, very nice legs. And she’d displayed them shamelessly in his direction to keep him befuddled and off his guard.

  The door behind him eased open with a slight squeak and a louder bang, and Justin winced as he lifted his head. He prayed it wasn’t someone looking for him, because he needed a few more minutes alone. A few minutes to let the latest dose of acetaminophen kick in. He was grateful it had been a slow night so far, because he didn’t believe in operating when he was less than a hundred percent. But that could change in the space of an instant. Thankfully the years of medical school and surgical training had taught him to function even when it didn’t seem humanly possible.

  Justin sat quietly, senses alert, listening for any indication that he should stir, but there came no urgent page, no familiar voices raised in chatter. No creak of hinges from lockers opening or the scuffle of tired feet along the floor.

  A door eased open to Justin’s right, the one to the closet which held the extra scru
bs. Another poor sap, Justin thought with compassion, probably called in on his day off. He looked around, thinking that misery actually didn’t love company, misery preferred to be bitter and grouchy all alone, and saw an older man – average height, solidly constructed, not familiar – creeping into the closet. Maybe he was one of these loaner physicians that the hospital had been “borrowing” for the occasional shift due to the fact that so many of their own were out sick. Maybe a retiree they’d pulled in from the golf course.

  Opting for peace and quiet over manners, Justin bunched his lab coat into a ball, placing it between his head and the lockers. Shifting his shoulders to find a somewhat comfortable position, he eased out a breath and closed his eyes.

  He was just settling into relative oblivion when he heard the door to his right click shut. There was a pause, then quiet footsteps heading away. He waited for the squeak and bang of the outer door, the sign he once more had the place to himself, but there was silence, the only sound that of his own breath. The air vibrated with the tension of another presence in the room, and he was sure he was not yet alone. Maybe the other man had decided to take a nap on the opposite side of the locker room. But something didn’t quite feel right about that, and so he opened one eye in a squint.

  Nothing was wrong. The room was still quiet, no fellow malingerers anywhere to be seen. The smell of old gym socks and disinfectant assailed his nose, but other than that he couldn’t detect another cause for concern. His senses were probably just still out of whack from the alcoholic Olympics he’d put himself through last night. Damn Murphys. They were treacherous, the whole lot. Particularly when you put one in high heels and sheer black stockings with a bottle of whiskey in her hand.

  Justin sighed, closing his eyes to embrace the darkness.

  Just before a more deadly kind of darkness embraced him.

  VINCENT Santone wondered why he hadn’t thought of this yesterday. Visitors bearing flowers might be like background noise in a hospital, but doctors were the top of the food chain and therefore weren’t questioned as to their business. He’d strolled out of the locker room wearing that young doctor’s lab coat, immediately sensing the wisdom of his impulsive decision. It wasn’t like him to act without forethought, but sometimes an opportunity presented itself which was simply too ripe not to be plucked. There’d been enough upheaval in the staff lately that it was impossible to know who was who, and he found himself feeling grateful to whoever’d brought on this virus. Not only had it kept his idiot nephew from killing that nurse and thereby giving him and his partner a perfect set-up, but it made the job he was currently undertaking that much easier to carry out. Even the latex gloves covering his hands were an expected medical accessory.

  When Vincent arrived on the proper floor he was alarmed to discover some sort of commotion. The voices of several medical personnel could be heard raised over the din of a wildly screeching monitor, and there came the sound of metal clanking against metal, a high pitched whine and the shout to “clear!” Vincent realized that in actuality he couldn’t have had better timing. One of the patients had obviously gone into cardiac arrest, and the staff was therefore distracted by the incident to the point that the hall was completely deserted. He slipped past the room, hazarding a glance that told him the nurses and doctor were most certainly otherwise occupied, scurrying like fire ants after the disturbance of their mound, and allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction that things could not have gone better. Tonight was one of those times when everything just fell into place.

  He’d be on the corporate jet, enjoying a glass of wine and looking forward to a night spent in his own bed before Martin’s body was cold.

  Kismet, he thought, pausing at the door to the meddlesome bartender’s room. Sometimes the cosmos just smiled on you.

  SAM picked Snickers’ hair off the cream-colored expanse of her cotton sweater as she rode the elevator to her brother’s floor. The little dog had been overjoyed to see her, though Karen had been a bit reserved. Sam knew very much how the other woman felt, so hadn’t pushed. Karen would have to come to terms with what happened in her own time and in her own way, but Sam would be there when she was ready to talk. Right now Karen was a bit like an injured animal that needed time alone to lick her wounds.

  Sam glanced at her watch, realizing that the paperwork she’d gotten caught up in had put her here later than she’d hoped, but certainly earlier than her usual visits. She had a thick volume by her brother’s favorite suspense writer in her bag, and since Josh would be working late tonight, a whole evening in front of her to settle in with it.

  Sam went dizzy again, as she had numerous times throughout the day, just thinking about all that had happened. Within the space of twenty-four hours she’d gone from being resigned to the fact that the only man she’d ever truly cared for was involved in a long-term relationship with another man, to becoming engaged – engaged – to that same man. With the possibility, however unlikely, that she was carrying his child. Sam’s hand fluttered to her stomach. The mix of overwhelming joy, confusion and trepidation she was feeling had really done a job on her nerves. Throw in everything that was going on with her brother, the empathetic ache she felt over what had happened to Karen and the unsettled anxiety she had over the current state of her own safety and she was pretty much one big, exposed nerve.

  But on the plus side, if she told Donnie about everything she’d experienced in the past week the shock alone might be enough to wake him.

  Sam’s heart lurched when she stepped off the elevator and heard the commotion coming from down the hall. Donnie, she thought frantically, breaking into a trot. She hoped he wasn’t experiencing another seizure.

  But as Sam rounded the corner she saw that the disturbance was taking place in another room. Glancing in, she saw a doctor placing paddles from a crash cart on a young woman’s chest while the nurses moved about frantically. Her racing heart settled then sank, deflated by guilt at her sense of relief. God help her. She was so happy that it wasn’t him. She’d give anything to have him get up and walk out of here.

  When she entered Donnie’s room she was startled to see the legs and feet of a physician peeking out from beneath the privacy curtain drawn around her brother’s bed. Probably Donnie’s doctor, with whom she’d been trying to speak for days.

  “Dr. Munoz?” she called out, moving across the room toward her brother’s little cubicle. “It’s Samantha Martin. Looks like I finally caught up with you.”

  The figure behind the curtain went still. “Visiting hours are over, Miss. I’m afraid you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

  Sam stopped in her tracks, because no one associated with her brother’s care had hassled her about visiting hours for quite some time. They all just sort of looked the other way, knowing that she got here whenever she could. Maybe this was a new man, someone she hadn’t yet become acquainted with.

  “I’m sorry.” She moved closer, just outside the curtain. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Donnie’s sister, Samantha. If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you about my brother.”

  There was a moment of silence, and Sam wondered if she’d annoyed the man. Some doctors were prickly about talking prognosis in these kinds of cases, because they had to admit that there was much they didn’t know. Not to mention the fact that she was ignoring his earlier warning. But she’d learned a long time ago that the meek might inherent the earth, but only because they’d been trampled into it by the bold, so she pressed on, placing her hand on the curtain. This was her brother they were talking about. She’d annoy God himself if she had to.

  She was just about to edge the curtain back when it was whipped from beneath her hand. The heavy fabric rubbed a burn into her palm and she shook it, stepping back in surprise.

  An older man stood there, a deep scowl creasing his face, but Sam refused to be intimidated by his displeasure. She stuck out her hand, despite the fact that it still throbbed painfully, and flashed her most disarming grin. “It’s a plea
sure to meet you,” she insisted.

  The man looked at her, and then flicked a glance at her hand, annoyance stamped all over his features. With obvious reluctance he held up his own gloved appendage. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t shake,” he said finally. “With all of the illness going around, we’re trying to keep cross contamination to a minimum.”

  “Oh. Of course,” Sam agreed, dropping her hand to the top of her bag and doing her best not to feel intimidated. She looked down at her shoes, fighting the embarrassment that flushed her cheeks, then returned a more determined gaze on the doctor.

  There was something familiar about this man, disagreeable as he was, but she just couldn’t place him. Maybe she’d run across him in the cafeteria.

  “It’s another reason you shouldn’t be here just now,” he scolded softly, interrupting her thoughts. “I don’t need to remind you how vulnerable your brother is. Surely you wouldn’t want to make him sick?” He smiled now, all warm and avuncular, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. They were an unnatural shade of blue behind his thick glasses and something about that struck Sam as odd.

  “Of course not,” she said, shifting slightly. There was something nagging at her, making her uncomfortable. She glanced toward Donnie’s bed, where her brother lay still and pale against the sheet. The urge to protect him was suddenly overwhelming.

  Then the fine hairs on her neck stood up like sentinels.

  So she looked at Donnie. Really looked. Something was wrong. He just didn’t… seem right. “Did something happen?” she asked suddenly, concern creasing her brow.

  “Not at all,” the man assured her, moving to take her by the elbow. His fingers were thick as sausages and he smelled of aftershave layered over sweat. As he steered her gently away from her brother’s bed, Sam did her best not to recoil.

  “Your brother’s doing as well as can be expected, Miss Martin. Why don’t you come back tomorrow when you can talk with Dr. Munoz?”