Suspicious Circumstances

by Rita Herron

  “What happened?” she cried as she ran toward Joanna.

  “Gas leak,” Joanna said. “I smelled it the minute I went in.”

  Peyton froze, her mind racing. The only gas in the cottage was the fireplace which her mother never turned on. Her hands were too weak.

  Which meant someone else had.

  The medics were rolling her mother to the ambulance. Joanna hugged her, her eyes wide in fear, making Peyton’s stomach clench into a fist-sized knot. Joanna was the calmest, coolest caretaker Peyton had ever met.

  If she was worried, her mother’s condition was serious.

  She wiped at a tear as she ran to the ambulance. Joanna grabbed her arm as if to steady her, and it was a good thing. The sight of her mother unconscious with an oxygen mask over her face stole her breath.

  One medic was taking her mother’s vitals while the other medic was on his phone calling in to the hospital. Peyton stroked her mother’s soft hair from her forehead. “I’m here, Mama. I’m here. Hang in there.” But her mother didn’t respond.

  “We’re going to transport her to the hospital,” the medic said.

  “How is she?” Peyton asked, a note of desperation in her voice.

  “Pulse is low and thready. But hopefully we got her out in time.”

  Peyton gripped the side of the gurney to keep from sinking to the ground. Fear was rapidly taking over, fueled with adrenaline and panic.

  She kissed her mother’s cheek, then released her hand so the medics could load her onto the ambulance.

  While they did, she scanned the lawn and property for her sister or anyone suspicious, but a minute later, the medics said they were ready to leave and shut the back door of the ambulance. She gripped her keys to go to her car, but Joanna caught her arm. “I can drive you, Peyton.”

  She shook her head. “Stay here and see after my patients,” she said. “I’ll let you know when I hear something.”

  Terror knifing through her, she jogged back to her car, started the engine, pulled from the parking lot and followed behind the ambulance.

  * * *

  LIAM SPENT THE next few hours investigating Miller Conrad. He stopped by Jacob’s office and set up his laptop in one of the interrogation rooms, then phoned Pine Ridge Hospital.

  Anita Arnez, the head nurse for the ER, took his call. He explained that he’d spoken to Conrad. He wanted information on his mother’s illness, but he knew damn well that HIPAA would prevent a doctor from divulging personal details. Still, a casual conversation might lead to insight.

  “Miller is dependable, punctual, and takes the healthcare of his patients seriously.”

  “Sounds like a glowing recommendation for someone who was asked to leave,” Liam said.

  She hesitated, then cleared her throat. “Well, yes. The problem was that sometimes he gets a little intense.”

  “What do you mean?” Liam asked.

  “I don’t want to slander his reputation,” Anita said. “But he and I clashed on how to deal with patients’ families. When those two patients died, and questions were being asked, he got defensive and said he’d go work for a place that appreciated him.”

  “What do you mean about how he deals with families,” Liam said, drawing her back on track.

  “Well, he reprimanded grown children for not taking better care of their parents. He accused one man of neglecting his mother, and a sister and brother of withholding medication that would make their father more comfortable.”

  “Were his accusations substantiated?”

  “Not that we found, although there definitely are some people who don’t treat the elderly well. I don’t like it either.”

  “I imagine he’s extra protective because of his mother’s illness,” Liam murmured.

  Another sigh. “You know about her?”

  “I stopped by his house and saw her,” Liam admitted. “He said she’s in the final stages of cancer now.”

  “Yes, he’s certainly devoted to her,” Anita said.

  So, he was telling the truth about her illness. “Who takes care of her while he’s at work?”

  A tense heartbeat passed. “I’m sorry, Agent Maverick, but I’m not comfortable discussing Mrs. Conrad’s health. You understand.”

  “Yes, of course.” Liam paused, then asked her about the case at Serenity Now. “Were you aware of that?”

  “As a matter of fact, the director of Serenity Now phoned and asked me about Conrad after that woman died. But the center found no evidence of wrongdoing.”

  Just like Whistler Hospital insisted there was no wrongdoing involved in Barry Inman’s wife’s death.

  “I have one more question,” Liam said. “You said Mr. Conrad is devoted to his patients and I saw how compassionate he was with his mother. If a patient was terminal with no hope for a cure and in tremendous pain, do you think he might help them to pass?”

  A long strained silence stretched between them. “I don’t know how to answer that, Agent Maverick. But if I knew of a case where he did that, I would have to report it. Now, excuse me I have to go.”

  Liam thanked her and ended the call. She didn’t know how to answer—but her reaction was an answer in itself.

  He checked the file Bennett had sent, then shot him a text asking him to dig deeper into Conrad and the idea he might be a mercy killer.

  Bennett texted in return, Copy that. FYI: Conrad’s father died while at Golden Gardens.

  If he was an angel of mercy, that death could have been his trigger.

  * * *

  PEYTON PACED THE ER while the doctors treated her mother for gas inhalation. They were giving her fluids and oxygen and had connected her to a heart monitor. Her blood pressure and oxygen saturation level were dangerously low, and she hadn’t yet regained consciousness.

  That worried Peyton the most. Her mother couldn’t die.

  Guilt niggled at her, and she squeezed her mother’s hand. If Val knew her mother might be dying, would she clean up her act and come to the hospital and say goodbye?

  Or...would she come and try to steal drugs from her own mother? Was that the reason she’d been at her mother’s cottage? Not that they stored narcotics in the residents’ homes. The staff monitored the medications.

  Residents suffering from memory issues, depression, confusion as a result of illness or aging conditions, and ones too physically challenged to oversee their own medications needed assistance. One could easily overdose if they mixed the wrong meds or overmedicated themselves.

  Joanna called for an update, and Peyton choked up. “I don’t know if she’ll make it. She looks so weak and pale.”

  “Hang in there, Peyton. I’m praying for her and you.”

  “Thanks, Jo. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Try to get some rest. Call me if you need me.”

  Peyton mumbled she would, hung up, then stepped into the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face and stared at the bruise on her cheek. Even with makeup, the purple-and-yellow bruising shone through. She traced her fingers over the knot on the back of her head.

  He mother’s heart monitor suddenly beeped that she was flatlining and Peyton darted from the bathroom. Two nurses and a doctor rushed in.

  “Get the crash cart!” the doctor shouted.

  “On its way,” the nurse responded.

  Peyton had assisted in critical situations just like this so many times that it shouldn’t phase her. But this was her mother.

  She leaned against the wall and watched in silence as the nurse charged the paddles.

  Suddenly her phone beeped with a text. One of the nurses shot her an irritated look, and she clenched her phone with a white-knuckled grip as her mother’s frail body jerked, then went still again.

  Tears blurred in her eyes as she looked down at the text.

  YOU WERE
WARNED.

  Peyton pressed a fist to her mouth to stifle a scream of denial, then watched as the staff desperately worked to save her mother.

  Chapter Eleven

  Peyton held her breath and sent a prayer to the heavens that her mother would survive.

  After two attempts with the paddles, the machine finally beeped indicating a heart rate. Relief whooshed through her, and she sagged against the wall. Perspiration trickled down the back of her neck and her hands felt clammy.

  One of the nurses gave her a questioning look. “You okay?”

  She nodded although tears burned her eyes, blurring her vision. One nurse pushed the crash cart from the room, while another stayed by her mother’s side, checking and adjusting the monitors.

  Shock and fear had fueled her adrenaline, but now that that was wearing off, her anger mounted, and the world moved in slow motion.

  Suddenly woozy, she muttered she’d be back, then hurried from the room. She stumbled down the hall to the restroom, splashed cold water on her face again and stared at herself in the mirror.

  A liar’s face stared back. She’d been running scared for five years. If the hospital fire was connected to Gloria Inman’s death, her silence might have caused other people to lose their lives.

  Including Agent Maverick’s father.

  The events of the past played through her head and tears ran freely down her face.

  She’d kept silent when questioned about Gloria Inman’s death. Lied to the police when they’d asked if she suspected foul play.

  Even this week when that agent had shown up, she’d maintained her original story.

  But her mother lay in a hospital fighting for her life anyway.

  Something had to change. She could not let whoever was doing this dictate her life and hurt her mother.

  Her hands trembled as she plucked a paper towel from the holder and wiped her tears away. She refused to be victimized anymore.

  She might face consequences for her silence. If she lost her license, how would she support herself and pay for her mother’s care?

  But if she didn’t do something, her mother might die anyway.

  Her hand trembled as she retrieved her phone and Agent Maverick’s card from her pocket. Another female entered the restroom, and she stepped outside, then walked to the waiting room. Full.

  Frustrated and wanting privacy, she headed toward the cafeteria. There, she could blend in with the staff and patients’ family members and find a quiet corner to make the call. As she entered, she scanned the room in case someone was watching her.

  Although she had no idea who’d sent her that text message. The voice on the phone from five years ago had been distorted.

  Deciding it was too loud in the cafeteria, she headed toward the staff lounge, but since she no longer worked at Whistler Hospital, she didn’t have the code to enter. Nerves on edge, she walked back to her mother’s room to make certain she was stable. Satisfied when she saw her heart rate had steadied, she told the nurse to call her if there was a problem, that she was going to get coffee.

  Then she veered down the hall to an atrium area which housed a coffee shop at one end and small seating alcoves for visitors. She bought a cup of coffee, then claimed an empty table in the corner by the window.

  Nerves clawed at her as she pressed Agent Maverick’s phone number.

  * * *

  “I’M SORRY, AGENT MAVERICK,” Dr. Hammerhead said. “I can’t find the toxicology report on Mrs. Inman, although I’m certain I ran one.”

  “Do you recall seeing anything suspicious?” Liam asked. “A drug interaction?”

  “No, but I can’t say with all certainty. I’ve worked on hundreds of autopsies in the past five years. It would be a disservice to simply guess.”

  Liam’s phone buzzed with another call. Peyton Weiss. But he needed to finish this call first. “I’m requesting an exhumation order for Gloria Inman’s body. If her death has anything to do with the hospital fire, learning what happened to her is key.”

  “I’ll be happy to work it in when you get approval,” Dr. Hammerhead agreed.

  “All right. I’ll let you know.”

  Before he returned Peyton’s call, he rapped on Jacob’s office door. “I want to talk to Inman again.”

  “New evidence?”

  Liam shook his head. “It’s about his wife’s autopsy.”

  Jacob retrieved Inman while Liam grabbed the man a bottle of water and carried it to the interrogation room. Inman shuffled in a few minutes later, looking even more ragged than he had when they’d first brought him in. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and despair robbed the color from his face. Liam wondered if he was suicidal as his mother had suggested.

  Although he’d had five years to kill himself if he really wanted.

  Then again, he was in jail now. Maybe he’d survived because he hadn’t had to face the consequences of his actions.

  He shuffled through the door, head lowered as Jacob led him to the table. He sat down with a thunk and an angry scowl. “You don’t have proof I did anything but leave town after my wife died. And that was after I tried to find out what caused her to die.” He muttered a low sound in his throat. “Course I was the only one who wanted the truth.”

  Liam maintained a neutral expression. “If you’re as innocent as you claim, help us prove it.”

  The man spied the bottle of water, grabbed it, twisted the cap off and gulped down half the bottle. When he set it on the table, he stared directly into Liam’s eyes. “What do you want?”

  “To exhume your wife’s body. Apparently, the toxicology report disappeared. If someone made a mistake in that ER, a new autopsy might prove you were right about the hospital’s wrongdoing.”

  The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his skinny throat as he swallowed. “I thought the lawyers already looked at that.”

  “True. But the original files were destroyed in the fire. And paperwork can be doctored.” If he had the original, he’d have it analyzed for false documentation. Without the original though, it would be impossible to prove it had been tampered with. “I understand exhumation is not a pleasant idea but reexamining her remains could help clear your name. I can proceed without your permission, of course, but having your consent will expedite the process.” He leaned forward. “So, if you’ve nothing to hide, and you want justice, another autopsy would be beneficial.”

  Inman took another long gulp of water, then set the bottle down. “All right. Then do it.”

  Inman’s cooperation might mean he was telling the truth. Or...if he or Sondra had killed Gloria, they’d used a drug they didn’t think could be detected in a tox report.

  He made a mental note to ask the ME to search for drugs that weren’t typically checked for in a routine autopsy.

  Jacob stood. “I’ll handle petitioning for the license and approval.”

  Liam nodded. Hopefully this would bring them one step closer to the truth.

  He excused himself, then left the room to see why Peyton had called. Outside in the hall, he checked his messages.

  “Agent Maverick, it’s Peyton Weiss.” Her voice sounded shaky, broken. “I...need to talk to you. Please call me.”

  Liam’s pulse jumped. If Peyton was ready to talk, something must have happened.

  He quickly pressed Call Back, then paced the hall. Tense seconds passed before she answered.

  “You want to talk?” he asked gruffly. “I’m listening.”

  Another second passed. She was hesitating. Because she was frightened?

  * * *

  PEYTON TOOK A deep breath. “Not over the phone. Can you meet me?”

  “Of course. Your apartment?”

  Whoever had sent her that message had been at her place. He might be watching. “No,” she said quickly. “Meet me at the Grapevine in River’s Edge.”
It was a funky little wine bar with dim lighting. If she was being watched, it would appear she was on a date, not meeting the agent.

  “All right. What time?”

  “Half an hour.”

  She ended the call, then phoned Joanna and asked her to sit with her mother. There was no way she’d leave her alone, not knowing that bastard had almost killed her.

  Joanna agreed to come right away, and Peyton hurried to check on her mother. She was resting and stable although still hadn’t opened her eyes yet.

  “We have a room for her on the second floor and are admitting her,” one of the nurses told her. “They’ll be moving her soon.”

  Peyton thanked them, then ducked into the restroom, pulled her compact from her purse and tried to repair her face. Her eyes still looked red and slightly swollen and that bruise made her look downright scary.

  For the briefest of seconds, she saw herself as Agent Maverick must. A scared and emotionally drained woman in trouble.

  Fighting humiliation at the thought, she reminded herself that it didn’t matter. She didn’t care what he thought about her looks, only that he could help her.

  She washed away the remnants of her mascara, applied concealer, then dabbed powder over her face and applied a soft pale pink lip gloss. She couldn’t show up at the Grapevine looking like she’d been in a bar fight.

  The door to her mother’s room opened and she peeked from the bathroom door. Joanna poked her head into the room. “Peyton?”

  Peyton jammed her compact back into her purse, threw it over her shoulder and stepped into the room. Joanna’s worried expression indicated she knew how close Peyton had come to losing her mother.

  “I’m sorry to ask—”

  “Don’t you dare apologize,” Joanna said as she pulled Peyton into a hug. “You know you can call me for anything you need. Anytime.”

  Joanna had been a true friend the past few years, ever since she’d come to Golden Gardens. Her compassion for the senior patients was touching.