The doctor answered on the first ring. “I was about to call you. Dana’s condition is deteriorating more rapidly than anticipated. We aren’t going to be able to manage her symptoms much longer.”
Connor let out a few choice curse words. “How much longer?”
“Two or three hours.”
Silence, broken only by the blipping of machines in the background.
“There’s a chance hellbane is our mystery substance. Would that account for Dana’s symptoms?” Connor asked.
“Yes. But then, so would dozens of other possibilities.”
“Ready whatever you need to counteract a hellbane overdose then, but don’t give it to her yet. I’ll try to get confirmation first.”
“Got it.”
I spent the rest of the journey silently cursing every car ahead of us that slowed down for a turn or stopped too long at a traffic light.
Too long. We were taking too long.
Josh’s mansion sped into view and we raced inside. The bottle was sitting on Josh’s pale stone kitchen counter.
“Taste it,” Connor said to me. “I want a second opinion.”
I rattled around in a cutlery drawer and found a long-handled teaspoon before unscrewing the cap. I dipped the spoon in the liquid, then sniffed and tasted it gingerly, the image of Dana alone in a sterile white bed vivid in my mind from all the times it had haunted me.
The flavors of fermented pomegranate and sweet straw burst on my tongue. “It’s hellbane all right.” I spat the tiny trace of it into the sink and rinsed my mouth out. “What do we do now?”
Connor was staring out into the garden where the bottle must have been found, his gray eyes shadowed. “I don’t know.” He spoke more to himself than to me or Josh. “I don’t like it. Dana should have tasted it, even with the Ambience there as well.”
It was true. Hellbane’s flavor was subtle but distinctive once you knew what to look for, and if she could pick out the Ambience in a blackberry dish, she should’ve detected the hellbane too.
“And the crime scene team did a sweep of the house and garden and didn’t find the bottle.”
“The team could’ve missed it, couldn’t they?” I asked. “This place is huge, and what possible reason could the killer have for planting the bottle in the garden for us to find now?”
“To finish her off. If we give her the wrong counteracting drugs, she’ll die.”
We both knew that if she didn’t have the gene mutation PSH337PRS, she’d be dead already.
Josh hadn’t said a word since we’d arrived, but now he cut in. “But without the right antidote, she’ll die anyway!”
Connor’s gaze swept to him. “The killer wouldn’t be able to know that for sure. We’ve kept her condition a secret.”
“Then wouldn’t they assume she’s dead?” I asked. “No one’s seen her since. If it was intended as a lethal dose, why would the killer suspect she’s alive?”
“Remember, we told a few people that an attempt was made on her life. That says not dead.”
“But why finish off Dana if Josh was the target?”
“Maybe she saw or tasted something that could lead back to the person behind it. Or maybe they think finishing off Josh’s girlfriend is an easy way to hurt him, seeing as he’s turning out to be hard to kill.”
My eyes flicked to Josh. His face was a rigid, pale mask. He looked like I felt. The implications weren’t good.
Yes, Dana could have missed the hellbane and the crime scene team could have missed the bottle in the sweep. It was possible. But it was also possible the bottle had been planted to trick us into finishing her off. If Juan was working with Caroline like we suspected, it would have been oh so easy for him to place the bottle in the garden.
I was selfishly glad the decision was Connor’s. Josh and I watched him with matching apprehension.
“Mr. Summers, I’ll have a team look over the last few days of your security footage for any sign that the hellbane was planted to finish Dana off.”
He turned to me. “Get in the car. We have an hour left to find and interrogate our killer.”
22
I thought Connor had been driving fast before, but now he raced down the streets like he had sirens on. Only he didn’t have sirens on.
I held on and tried to connect the dots. “If you think it’s unlikely Dana missed the hellbane, is it possible it got into her system another way?”
Not all poisons have to be ingested or absorbed through the membranes under the tongue or in the nasal passages where a Shade can screen them. Some can be absorbed through the skin, aerosols and gases can be inhaled, and others injected, but these methods are unpopular. Skin absorption is slow, and usually causes irritation at the site of entry, which means there’s time to seek treatment and so fatalities are rare. Aerosols and gases are volatile, dangerous to the handler, and have a high risk of accidental collateral damage. Injections are fast and effective but require basic medical knowledge, and the bad guy has to get up close to the victim, which negates most of the benefits of using poison in the first place. A bullet or a knife works just as well if you don’t mind the risk of being spotted in the act.
The car screeched around a corner as Connor answered. “It can be injected, but it would have had to be administered after the Ambience, otherwise Dana would’ve known about it and reported it. So the theory doesn’t work unless Dana was the intended victim. Plus, she was monitored that whole time.”
He shook his head. “If Caroline is behind this, it doesn’t matter how she did it—Juan’s our best chance of putting a name to the second poison in the next forty minutes. Caroline would’ve needed him to lace the blackberries with Ambience. If we’re lucky, she told him the rest of the plan.”
“Will he know what was used, even if he did it?”
“We’re about to find out.”
Long minutes later, we screeched to a stop at an address in Hollywood Hills—Juan’s next client. The usually forty-five-minute drive had taken us thirty-five, but the Green with Envy van we were looking for wasn’t there.
Connor called the dispatcher again. She called Juan’s phone but got no answer and reiterated what we already knew. He’d been scheduled to leave Eagle Rock forty minutes ago. Plenty of time to have made it to Hollywood Hills, even stopping for gas. Connor asked the dispatcher if she’d told Juan he was coming. She had. He gave a curt thank-you and hung up.
“Do you think he’s on the run?” I asked.
“Could be.” His eyes were hard. “We’ll sit here for another fifteen minutes in case he’s just very late. If he’s on the run, even if he’s dumb enough to go home first, it will take us more time to get to El Sereno than we have left.” He let out a slow breath. “Dana’s condition is so critical now that even with the right antidote she might not make it. Every minute decreases her chances.”
I touched his arm. “There’s a good possibility it’s hellbane, isn’t there? Josh’s place is huge. It would be easy to miss a small bottle stuck in a bush. Plus, Josh said he and Dana were recovering from a big night, and he urged her to hurry. That, combined with being distracted by the taste of the Ambience, might have been enough to make her miss the hellbane. It’s rare to have more than one poison in a single meal, right?”
Connor looked out the window in the direction Juan would come, if he was coming. Minutes dragged by.
“Could we ring his wife?” I asked. “Ask her if she’s seen him? Or maybe we could call Caroline and grill her without mentioning what we think her motive is?”
Connor crushed the steering wheel. “It’s too late. We’re out of time.” He rang the doctor. “Give it to her. Let me know as soon as her condition changes, either way.” When he hung up, he sagged in his seat, aging five years before my eyes. Lack of sleep hadn’t ruffled him, but admitting defeat was a whole other matter.
Best to keep him occupied. “Now what?”
He stared out the windshield and didn’t respond for one long, scary minute. T
hen he reached for the keys. “Now we find Juan.”
We drove to the Castillos’ home in El Sereno. If Juan was on the run, he might’ve contacted Francisca, and regardless of what he was up to, there was a chance he’d answer a call from her when he wasn’t answering anyone else’s.
Francisca wasn’t happy to see us. “You think because he’s Mexican he’s guilty, huh? My husband is good man!”
“We’re not accusing him of anything,” Connor said. Yet.
“We’re just trying to find him so we can ask a few more questions,” I said. “Could you please try phoning him?”
She glared at both of us but grabbed her phone and dialed. It went to voice mail.
“Mrs. Castillo, could you tell us more about Juan and the nurse, Caroline Smythe’s, relationship?”
Her dark eyes smoldered. “Relationship? You think my Juan is having a relationship?” Before Connor could respond, she slapped him across the face. “How dare you? Get out of my house.”
Connor backed up, hands raised. “That’s not what I was asking. Really, I meant no disrespect.”
She wasn’t having any of it. “Get out!” She included me in her fiery gaze, and I started backing up too.
Connor placed his card on a side table on the way out. “Please call me if you hear from him.”
She slammed the door in our faces.
“That went well,” I said.
Connor’s cheek sported a rosy imprint of Francisca’s wrath. He didn’t say anything.
Was it possible Francisca had hurried us out on purpose, to cover for Juan somehow? His Green with Envy van wasn’t in the driveway, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here.
We returned to the SUV. My mind churned. What was our next step? I came up empty. Even if we found the killer and got a full confession in the next two minutes, it wouldn’t make any difference to Dana. The antidote was either stopping the hellbane from doing any more damage or making it worse and guaranteeing she’d never be unhooked from life support.
Connor hadn’t started the engine. He was just sitting there, smiling.
I did a double take. His smile was as wide as I’d ever witnessed.
I checked to see if I was missing any clothes. Nope, all there.
Connor held out his phone. “Read it.”
It was a message from Dana’s doctor.
Appears antidote is working. Pulse, blood pressure, and vitals starting to improve. Not out of danger yet, but outlook is positive.
I felt like I lost ten pounds in an instant. The waistband digging into my hips didn’t corroborate this miraculous weight loss, but I looked up at Connor and grinned anyway.
He really was breathtaking when he smiled. Just as well it was a rare sight.
“You did it,” I said. “You made the right call.”
“No. We did it.”
I realized I was still holding his hand, the one holding his phone. I let go.
He leaned in toward me, and the atmosphere of our shared relief turned steamy. I searched his gray eyes, which were warm for once, and didn’t pull back. He tucked a stray tangle of hair behind my ear, his touch sending tingles rampaging all the way down my spine. I licked my lips. He drew closer, and my breath hitched. Then his lips met mine, and my head exploded.
Or it might have if he hadn’t pulled away after a minute.
I stared at him, breathless and disoriented. “Why did you stop?”
His face told me nothing. “The Taste Society contract states I need your explicit agreement, remember?” He brushed my cheek. “But your acting’s improving.”
I shoved his hand away and tugged up my top, which had somehow slipped down past my bra when I wasn’t paying attention. “I’ll have to report you for breach of contract, then.”
“Yes. Only we both know you want me to do it again.”
He may have been right, but he wasn’t giving me any clues about what he wanted, or his real reason for pulling back, so I finished adjusting my top and tried to look haughty. “Then, like you said, I guess my acting is improving.”
Connor didn’t react. The robot. He started the engine. “Are you hungry?”
“For food? Of course.”
I was way too horny to be hungry, but I couldn’t let him know that. Besides, by the time food was served, I was pretty sure my stomach would have reasserted itself as overlord of my bodily urges.
Sure it would have.
23
We went to an outdoor taco stand, seeing as we were in the area for it. I was a big fan. I just hoped living by all this cheap, delicious Mexican food, with its huge portions, wasn’t going to turn me into a big fan in the literal sense.
I was licking the last of the spicy sauce from my mouth, trying not to imagine Connor doing it for me, when his phone rang once more.
“That was the dispatcher from Green with Envy,” he said after disconnecting. “Juan called in to report he was running late because his client wanted to discuss his landscaping ideas. Apparently he had a lot of ideas, and Juan left his phone in the car.”
“So, he’s not fleeing to Mexico?”
“Doesn’t seem like it. Of course, he doesn’t know what we’ve learned.”
The thing I’d learned was that Connor was a better kisser than I’d fantasized. Somehow I doubted that’s what he was referring to.
“So, what do we do?” I asked, to cover my distraction.
“Well, now that Dana’s been given the correct antidote and Juan isn’t halfway to the border, everything is less time critical. That means we can delay confronting Juan until we have either concrete evidence or a bluff strategy to persuade him to confess. I’ll head in and work with the research team, see what we can rustle up.”
“Can’t I come?”
“No. You don’t have clearance.”
“Then, what do I do?”
“Get some sleep?”
I crossed my arms and harrumphed, but, as expected, he remained unmoved. He drove me back to my apartment, and I trudged up the stairs, feeling strangely subdued considering everything.
Dana is going to live, I reminded myself. My flat mood must be the fatigue catching up with me. I carried Meow to my bed for a quick nap.
Five hours later, I woke up to Meow’s purrs vibrating through my belly. I checked my phone. It was six-thirty, and Connor had sent me a message half an hour ago:
Doctor says he’s seeing steady improvements in Dana’s oxygenation, pH levels, renal function, and vitals. All that means she’s out of danger, and he should be able to take her off the machines and wake her up tomorrow. Thought you should know. Also, still have some things to take care of here, so I’ll see you for a late dinner around 8:30.
I got out of bed and danced around the room. Meow was unimpressed. I didn’t care. Dana was out of danger! It was incredible news.
Incredible news that Josh deserved to know, I realized. He’d been at least as stressed as me the entire investigation and then found out she was his daughter to boot.
It was the kind of news best delivered in person. Besides, I didn’t have his number. Mind made up, I fed Meow her dinner and grabbed my keys before remembering I’d given my car away.
I swore.
Google Maps said it was a nine-mile walk. Too far. I did some more Googling. I could use my last few bucks on bus fare, catch two buses, walk two miles, and take an hour and a half to get there, or I could get Etta to drive me. The problem was, I couldn’t tell Etta where I was going or she’d want to come too.
What was around Josh’s place aside from mansions? I racked my brain until it came to me: the canyon. I hadn’t done any exercise lately, except for running away from Mr. Black, so it was a believable tale.
Etta didn’t know yet how lazy I was.
Besides, strolling through beautiful scenery was the one type of exercise I could actually enjoy. To support my story, I changed into workout gear. Having a non-slob excuse to wear sweats and comfy shoes was the best part of being active anyway. I pinched Oliver
’s headlamp off his dresser too. It would be dark in an hour.
As a final touch, I transferred the pepper spray and Taser to my new outfit. Who knew if Albert was still stalking me? The thought made me shudder, but I was pretty confident I could take the weasel if it came to it.
I paused in front of the mirror before leaving. I looked like myself, which meant a long way from how Josh had seen me before, primped up to Connor’s standards. I didn’t think Josh would care once I told him the good news.
I squeezed my way past Etta’s outdoor sofa and knocked on her door. She answered it with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth and another shift dress hanging from her frame, black this time. The murmur of the television spilled out behind her. From what I could see of the apartment, it was a mirror image of ours, only fifty years into the future. Her TV was a flat-screen, her carpet a plush light gray, and her kitchen a pale oak finished with white glossy counters and a kettle, knife block, and tea towel in turquoise.
“Did you bring cookies?”
I whipped them out from behind my back. “Is the ground dirt?”
She smiled and gestured beyond the stair railing to the sidewalk below. “Looks like concrete actually, but you know how to win a woman over. Even if you can’t shoot a gun.” She stubbed out her cigarette and took the plate.
“I have a favor to ask,” I admitted. “I loaned my car to a friend and was hoping you could give me a lift.”
“Well, I can’t blame you for loaning your car to that particular friend. I’d give him any ride he wanted.”
I hid a wince while she grabbed her keys from a hook by the door and a cookie from the plate.
“Where are we going?”
Three minutes later, we were in Etta’s 1970s, buttercup-yellow Dodge Charger. The black leather seats were worn in a comfortable way. The rest of the interior was immaculate.
“Nice,” I said.
Etta turned over the engine and let it warm up for a bit. “I know. I bought it second-hand from the original owner twenty years ago and haven’t looked back.” She pulled out onto the road without signaling. Or looking back. “What do you think of my new outdoor sofa?”
Eat, Pray, Die (An Eat, Pray, Die Humorous Mystery Book 1) Page 20