Touched by Beth’s sincerity, Tamara nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
Beth nodded. “Good. His people like you, they never liked Carin, and don’t care much for me and Terri. That’s okay, I’m just passing through. Not sure about her.” She pointed to her daughter.
“I’m still trying to decide what to do with the house Carin left me. Back home, I’m renting, and this house is paid for. But if she has a lot of outstanding debts, I may need to sell it to pay off her estate. I just need to wait and see,” Terri said.
Tamara was surprised Carin had the foresight to make a will and wondered if she left anything for Kevin. “If it makes it easier for you, I’m not going to sue her estate. Originally she stole twenty-two thousand, but returned twelve. I closed the loan on the other, so we’re even.”
“Twenty-two thousand!” Beth said, sitting forward. “I… what was she doing with all that money?”
Tamara wouldn’t be the one to tell Carin’s family that she was a high dollar call-girl who got caught up in some type of scam. Three Federal agencies had been working together and closed in on her.
Standing, Tamara glanced meaningfully at Gayle, who frowned, then pushed away from the table and stood. “I don’t know. It was nice meeting you, Terri, Beth. Time is moving and I have meetings tomorrow.”
“And Max tonight,” Beth said, grinning. It was hard not to smile with the woman, she lacked decorum and was refreshingly brash.
“Yes, and that too.” Tamara smiled when Beth winked.
Terri frowned and then stood. “It was nice meeting you, and thanks for not suing the estate. I appreciate it.”
Tamara and Gayle grabbed their purses and both threw a ten on the table.
Beth’s gaze widened. “Hell, maybe I should move up here and wait tables, that’s a lot more than I ever make back home.”
“The chef came to the table and gave us personalized service, that’s priceless,” Tamara said, heading toward the kitchen to pick up Max’s food.
Chapter Four
Max sat in the conference room thirty minutes longer than Ms. Wills promised he would need to wait. No one should have been surprised by his gruff disposition by the time three men entered the conference room wearing forced smiles. Brock had hit the situation on the head, they were afraid of something.
“While the three of you have been conferencing, you’ve kept us waiting a long time for information on my son. Either you produce all the documents on the diagnosis, tests, and care for my son, as well as the security footage for the time he was here at the hospital, now, or I’m leaving and my attorney will file a negligent lawsuit charge tomorrow.” Max sat with his fingers laced together across his stomach while delivering his greeting.
The shortest male of the three stepped forward, extending his hand. “I’m Craig Harper, hospital administrator. Verifying your information caused the delay. I want to assure you we intend to work with you as best we can.”
Max didn’t bother responding to the delay tactic, he looked at his watch. “You have ten minutes to give me what I asked for or we are leaving. If you have no intentions of bringing me the information, let me know now and we’ll leave.” He met Harper's’ shocked gaze.
An older, taller man stepped forward, pulled up a chair, and sat across from Max. “Former Staff Sergeant Alton Vernice, Security Chief. We don’t have footage from that day. Due to cutbacks, our surveillance system is a joke. Most of the cameras are dummies.”
Angry, Max sat forward. “No footage, in this day and age?” Vernice shrugged. “No. This is a small hospital, and it was all I could do to get the dummies purchased and installed.” He looked at Brock and then at Max. “I’ll take your second to look at our security set-up so you’ll know it’s the truth.”
Brock stood without Max saying anything. Security was his specialty, if anyone had tampered with the equipment or removed portions of the feed, Brock would know it, and would call the hospital on it.
Vernice stood, and the two of them left. Max glanced at his watch and then looked at Harper. Neither spoke, Max had said all he intended. Either Harper handed over the files, or Max walked and let Nick handle things. He grinned thinking of Nick; the man was a tiger for justice. When Tamara told the man what was happening to Max and Kevin, Nick asked to see his files, re-sent notices to every law enforcement agency in the state regarding the kidnapping, and then tried to get Helen placed on the most wanted list.
“Mr. Delgado, this is Doug Jefferson, legal counsel for the hospital. He has gone over your papers and has a few questions.” Harper sat across from Max, and then Jefferson approached the table.
Max glanced at his watch, they had six minutes.
“You are a former Navy SEAL, correct?” Jefferson asked.
“Yes.”
“This woman babysat for you when you were out of town, did you ever give her power of attorney for emergencies?”
“No. Never! If my son was sick, he would be taken to the nearby army hospital on post. I left everything in order for him at that location.”
Jefferson pursed his lips. “So she had no legal right to bring him to this hospital?”
“She had no legal right to have him, period,” Max snapped, the delay strained his patience. He glanced at his watch again.
“We are aware of that now, but no sick person can be turned away from an emergency room. So when he came in, the doctors on staff did what they are trained to do.”
Max waved down the legalese. “Bring me the files, all of them, or this conversation is over.” He glanced at Harper, who looked at Jefferson.
“Okay,” Harper said as he rose and left the room.
“We aren’t trying to stonewall you, Mr. Delgado. My clients want to make sure they’re not unjustly maligned behind this incident.”
Max tapped the table with his fingertips rather than say something that would be interpreted as ungrateful. This man did not understand all he’d been through in the past few hours, and deliberately delaying giving him the information didn’t help.
Harper returned and placed a file folder in front of Max. He stared at the name on the jacket, Kevin Moore. Brock mentioned she had changed her name to Helena Moore. Seeing the name pissed him off. He opened the folder and read each page. “Get Mason in here, please.”
The administrator nodded. “He’s off, but I asked him to wait around to answer questions. One second.” Harper pulled out his phone and placed a call. When he disconnected, he looked at Max. “He’s on his way.”
“Thank you.” Max continued staring at one particular page. The doctor had written notes regarding Kevin’s case that made little sense. The door opened and Brock walked in alone. Their gazes met and Max understood Vernice had been honest. That sucked, he’d hoped to see his son and Helen on video.
A few moments later, Dr. Mason entered the room and stood near the table. Max held the page out to him while pushing the folder to Brock so he could read through it.
“Could you explain this to me please?” Max asked.
Mason read the sheet. “Kevin came in with a sustained high temperature over a hundred and six, I needed to bring that down before doing anything else. I administered common fever reducers, but only succeeded in bringing his temperature down a few degrees.” He pointed to the file. “You can see how it was tracked on his chart.”
Brock handed Max the pages, and he noted the temperatures. “Why wouldn’t the temperature go down?” Max looked at the doctor.
“I suspected there was something else going on with him other than the strep. I asked his… the woman who brought him in, some questions about his background, to understand his family history, and she became combative.”
Max could imagine. “She doesn’t know anything. You have my health records and I can send a copy of his mother’s health records in the unlikely case Helen returns with Kevin for treatment. His good health trumps everything.” Max paused. “Are we clear?”
“Yes, yes of course,” Harper said.
; “That’s been my position all along,” Dr. Mason said without looking at Harper or the attorney.
Max liked the doctor’s candor and leaned forward to talk with him. “What do you think is wrong with my son?”
Dr. Mason continued looking at his notes. “Because of the rash on his skin, the fever, the pain in his legs, his hands were cold, and he was lethargic, I wanted to test him for meningitis.”
Max sat back in his chair and clenched his fists on his thighs. “Meningitis? That’s… that’s serious.” His heart raced at the news.
“Yes, and it requires aggressive treatment. As you can see on his chart, I administered an IV of antibiotics while he was here, but he didn’t receive enough. He needs to be tested to determine if he has meningitis or something else. If it is meningitis, then test to determine whether it's bacterial or viral. It’s important to know which so proper treatment is administered. Bacterial is more aggressive than viral. When I explained this to the woman, she panicked and unhooked Kevin from the machines, causing him more stress. As a doctor, my primary concern is my patient and Kevin was a very sick little boy.”
“Could he die? Without proper treatment, I mean?” Max asked through a tight throat.
The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips and then looked at Max. “Yes, if it’s bacterial meningitis. It can rapidly progress within hours and end in death despite the most advanced medical care. If he survives a severe case of bacterial meningitis, he could have long-term disabilities involving his eyesight, hearing, seizures are a possibility, paralysis, and decreased mental function could also happen. Bacterial meningitis is nothing to play with, that’s why I called Social Services. I felt his life might be endangered without proper diagnosis and treatment.”
Max swallowed hard. “All of this because she stole my kid… I… I’m so fucking speechless right now.”
Brock rested his hand on his shoulder for a few seconds and then removed it.
“What about the other? You said there were two types,” Max asked after a few moments.
The doctor nodded. “If it’s viral, he would take acetaminophen, drink a lot of fluids to stay hydrated, and it would clear up in a couple weeks or less. Viral is not life-threatening.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t have meningitis at all, and if he does, I’m praying it’s viral and not bacterial,” Harper said.
Max silently agreed.
“Is he contagious?” Brock asked.
“Meningitis is contagious. As I stated before, I did not have a chance to finish examining Kevin, so I don’t know if he has meningitis, but he had several symptoms of meningitis,” the doctor stressed. “I gave him some antibiotics to bring his temperature down. But not as much as he needed.”
“If Kevin is contagious,” Max turned to Brock, “then Helen is sick. Have Detective Vargas send another round of notices to police departments and hospitals. Eventually she’ll need to get treatment.”
Brock nodded. “It’s a place to start.” He picked up his phone and left the room.
“Social Services can help you with that,” Dr. Mason said.
“How?” Max asked, ignoring the frown on Harper’s face.
“We don’t need to involve –” Harper started saying.
“How?” Max asked again in a harder voice.
“I called it in and then explained I was concerned for Kevin’s well-being. The case worker…” He paused and closed his eyes. “Valerie Binder, I believe her name was, she was livid and threatened to contact some state agency. It’ll be another hand in the fire against this woman when she surfaces.”
“Thanks, I’ll have a talk with her tomorrow. Thanks for the care you gave my son while he was here and caring enough to call it in. If you hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t know my boy was sick.” Max extended his hand to the doctor, who shook it once and released.
Brock stepped into the room and nodded. Max released a breath. He had a lot to think about. How far would Helen go to keep Kevin? Would she take him to the doctor or hospital for proper care, or would her fear of being caught stop her?
Max stood and stuffed all the files in his satchel. “Thanks for your help in this matter.” He gave each man his card. “If you think of something else or come across any more information that’ll help me find my son, please call. I have a reward set up as well.”
The doctor nodded and placed the card in his pocket. “Will do, and I wish you the best in finding him, he was a precocious fella even though he was sick.”
Max picked up his bag and walked toward Dr. Mason. “How so? Did he say something?” Max asked, greedy for any nugget of information.
The doctor turned, and they walked out the room together. “Yes, I told him I gave him medicine or something along those lines, and he told me he couldn’t talk to strangers.”
Max smiled and headed to the elevator with the doctor, determined to hear everything that happened during that examination from beginning to finish.
Chapter Five
The entire ride to Tamara’s home, Max thought of the small child in the morgue, Kevin with meningitis, Helen running, and the shadowy person helping her. Whoever helped her had done a great job staying off everybody’s radar. Each time Skinny or one of the guys got close, Helen moved.
By the time Max pulled into the driveway, mentally he was tapped. The events of the past few hours left him drained. All he wanted was to lay close to Tamara, inhale her sweet scent, and not think.
Before stepping onto the porch, the door opened. They needed to talk about exchanging keys soon, it would be more convenient, plus the idea of waking her from a deep sleep made his dick hard. After locking the door, he reached for her. Tamara filled his arms without resistance and laid her head on his shoulder. They fit perfectly. For a few seconds they remained in that position, giving and receiving comfort.
“You smell so damn good,” he murmured against strands of hair as his fingertips twirled the shoulder length curls.
Tamara rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Hungry? Charlene sent a plate.”
Max hadn’t thought about food and suddenly was starved. “Yeah, I can eat something.” He didn’t bother telling her he’d forgotten to eat. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her waist and walked toward the kitchen. “You went to Reclamation?” He noticed the bag on the table.
“Yeah, Gayle and I had dinner there.” She moved from his arms, grabbed a plate, and transferred the food from the container in silence. With the night he had, her silence should be welcome. If it were the right quality of silence, that is. Something was off, the stiffness in her shoulders, and the mechanical way she fixed his plate spoke volumes.
Inwardly Max battled with his conscience, should he ask what was wrong? Or ignore the symptoms that something bothered her? He wasn’t a mind-reader, she could tell him whatever was on her mind. But he’d canceled dinner tonight, in fact, he’d canceled quite a few times in the past weeks. No wonder she was moody, he needed to step up his game.
Quiet, Max sat at the table and waited for some type of clue she wanted to talk. As much as he didn’t want to, he realized that’s what was required.
Tamara took the plate from the microwave and set it in front of him. God bless Charlie, meatloaf and potatoes was one of his favorite meals.
“Thank you,” he said, just before digging in. Tamara placed a large glass of sweet tea and a small loaf of warmed bread next to his plate. He hoped she would sit and tell him about her day as she normally did.
She sat, but didn’t talk.
“How was your day?” he asked to get her talking.
“It was okay, not a lot going on. You?”
This wasn’t working the way he thought, but he didn’t want to talk relationships, not theirs, not tonight. Tonight he wanted uncomplicated support.
“I worked the club this morning.” He took another bite without meeting her gaze.
“Yeah, you mentioned that earlier. Everything went okay, right?”
He nodded an
d chastised himself for forgetting an earlier conversation when he'd invited her to dinner tonight. If he kept this up, she might not let him stay. “Yeah, everything’s cool.”
“Everything? Nothing new going on? New people? Anything like that?”
Max met her gaze and read nothing. Either she was getting better at hiding her feelings, or he was too tired to see what she hid. “No. I told you I had to go check a few things out with Jace. I got a call from Detective Vargas.” That lit a fire in her eyes.
“What did he want?”
Max finished the food on his plate and then gulped down his tea. “Thank you, baby, that hit the spot.”
“She sent peach cobbler too. You want some?”
“Peach cobbler? No, that’s not what I want.” He held her gaze, telling her with his eyes how much he wanted her.
She pushed away from the table and stood. “I’ll put it up then. If you want to take a shower, I’ll meet you in a few.”
Even though she’d made that offer every time he came over, this time the words sounded different. Plus, she didn’t say anything about the I-want-you stare he gave her. She always made a comment about that.
“Okay.” He stood and left for the shower to think and decide the direction to take. Sometimes she joined him. After five minutes, he realized she wasn’t coming, and he was too drained to deal with her hurt feelings. Tomorrow morning they’d talk, maybe, if she pushed. But tonight he needed to rest. With a plan of action, he got out of the shower, dried off, and headed for the bedroom. The room was dark, and she was beneath the covers.
He slid in bed next to her, pulled her close and waited. When she didn’t say anything, he rubbed her back, inhaled and allowed her scent to fill him. Second by second, he relaxed and pulled her closer, nibbling on her jaw and neck. He felt her smile, heard the soft gasp as he placed kisses on her cheek, lips, and then he took her mouth. Soft and sweet, she yielded, allowing him to take what he wanted, no, needed. He pushed her boy shorts down, and squeezed her ass.
Lies in the Morgue Page 3