by Rita Herron
“Oh my God, Peyton. I had no idea,” Joanna said softly. “You should have told me.”
“There’s more. Agent Maverick exhumed Gloria Inman’s body, and the ME performed another autopsy. According to him, Gloria had opioids in her system and received two shots of epinephrine.”
“That doesn’t sound right.”
“It’s not. Mr. Inman claims his wife didn’t take opioids and I didn’t give her a double dose of the epinephrine or any morphine. But someone is trying to make it look like I did.”
Joanna gasped. “Who would do such a thing?”
“I don’t know for sure. But Agent Maverick is questioning two men who are persons of interest. A med tech and a PA.”
“I don’t understand,” Joanna said.
“Neither do I,” Peyton said. “But Dr. Butler could be involved. Whatever is going on, there definitely was some kind of cover-up with Mrs. Inman’s death, and the agent believes that case is related to the hospital fire, that it was set to destroy evidence of wrongdoing.”
“This is hard to believe,” Joanna said. “Dr. Butler seems so conscientious. And I know you are.”
“I’m scared, Jo.” Peyton gulped back a sob.
“It’s going to be okay, Pey. But I’m so sorry you got caught up in this. No wonder you didn’t want your mother left alone for a minute.”
Emotions churned inside Peyton, and she willed her mother to pull through.
Every minute she remained unconscious intensified her worry that she might not wake up at all.
* * *
JACOB ESCORTED AN irate Brantley to a holding cell. They could hold him for twenty-four hours without charging him, and they intended to do so. A night in jail might persuade him to open up. If the man was addicted to opioids himself, he would be getting antsy for a fix. It also would give them time to search his house and car.
In light of the autopsy results on Gloria Inman, Jacob escorted Barry Inman back into the interrogation room. Inman looked more rested than he had when they’d first brought him in. Living off the grid had its drawbacks. Here he’d been given three hot meals and a bed to sleep in.
It probably felt like a hotel compared to how he’d lived the last five years.
“Well, Mr. Inman,” Liam said as Jacob closed the door. “We need to have another chat.”
Inman rocked back in the chair. “I hope you’re going to tell me I’m being released. That you know what happened to my wife, and that you arrested the real person who set that fire.”
“Actually, we know a little more about what happened to your wife, but no, we’re not ready to release you just yet,” Liam said.
Inman’s eyes turned feral. “Cut to the chase then.”
Jacob dropped a folder with a copy of the ME’s findings on the table. “We have the results of your wife’s autopsy.”
Inman went still, the legs of the chair hitting the floor with a thud. “Then you know I was telling the truth. That the hospital made a mistake.”
Liam chewed the inside of his cheek as he scrutinized Inman’s reaction. “There was a mistake, yes. But we’re not sure of the source.”
Inman exhaled noisily. “Stop beating around the bush. What caused my wife’s death?”
“Cause of death was cardiac arrest,” Liam said. “But there were oddities in the tox report. According to the hospital staff, you did not disclose the fact that your wife was addicted to opioids when you brought her to the ER.”
The color drained from Inman’s face. “What are you talking about? My wife didn’t do drugs. And she certainly wasn’t an addict.”
The ME checked her medical history for injuries or chronic pain. But he wanted to hear Inman’s response. “Did your wife suffer any injuries lately or in the past few years?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“How about chronic back pain?” Liam asked.
“No.” Inman lurched up and slapped his hands on the table. “This is crazy. My wife was not an addict.”
Liam glanced at Jacob, and he shrugged. “I hate to tell you this, but the autopsy proves long-term abuse. Perhaps she hid it from you.”
Inman shook his head in denial. “I can’t believe this. Gloria was doing drugs...”
“She either took or was given morphine shortly before her death. The ME also found two injection sites where she received epinephrine. The nurse who treated her denies giving her morphine or more than one injection of epi.”
Inman scowled. “Then she’s lying.”
“I don’t think so,” Liam answered. “Do you know what epinephrine does to the body, Mr. Inman?”
He shrugged. “I know it’s used for people with allergies.”
“Right. It’s also given when a person’s heart stops. It’s a stimulant which jump-starts the heart. But given to a patient who doesn’t need it, it can trigger a heart attack.”
Inman ran a hand over his eyes. “You’re saying the nurse killed her with epinephrine?”
Liam shook his head. “No, I think someone else injected her, maybe before she went to the hospital. That shot triggered her to go into cardiac arrest.”
Inman shook his head again, then cursed. “No... I did not kill Gloria.” He balled his hands into fists. “I didn’t. You have to believe me.”
The trouble was, Liam was starting to.
But if Inman hadn’t injected his wife with drugs, who had?
Chapter Nineteen
“Mr. Inman,” Jacob cut in. “We’re aware that you and the woman you had an affair with work for a pharmaceutical company where you have access to a variety of drugs. Are you sure you didn’t supply your wife with opioids?”
Inman’s eyes flared with bitterness. “I’m sure. Besides, our samples are carefully monitored to prevent anyone from skimming them from the company. There’s no way I could have done that without getting caught and losing my job.” His breath hitched. “And if I’d thought my wife had a problem, I would have insisted she get help, not feed her habit.”
“Then we won’t find any opioids at your house?” Jacob asked.
Confusion marred Inman’s expression. “I don’t think so. But if you’re saying Gloria abused drugs, and I didn’t have a clue, it’s possible she had a hidden stash.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“What about epinephrine? Do you have access to it through your company?”
Inman shook his head. “Everything the company is doing is experimental. Drugs to treat cancer patients and...” His voice faded.
“And what else?” Liam asked.
Inman’s face paled. “And Alzheimer’s.”
“Which would be used in an assisted-living and nursing facility,” Liam pointed out.
Inman dropped his head forward. “I didn’t drug Gloria or anyone else. I swear to God I didn’t.”
If he was innocent, Liam might feel sorry for the guy. But he couldn’t discount him as a suspect yet.
“If you think of anything else that might be helpful, let me know.” Jacob gestured for him to stand. “Meanwhile, you’re gonna be with us a little while longer.”
Inman looked panicked. “You have to find the truth. Someone may be setting me up.”
Liam gave him a blank look. “That’s exactly what we think happened with Nurse Weiss.”
Inman shuffled beside Jacob, protesting his innocence as Jacob led him back to his cell.
“What next?” Jacob asked.
“Search his house. I’m going to drive Peyton to the hospital to see her mother. And I intend to have a chat with Dr. Butler.”
The man had either protected Peyton regarding Mrs. Inman’s death, or he was the one who’d framed her to take the fall if police investigated.
He texted Bennett and asked him to find everything he could on the doctor.
W
hile you’re at it, research the director of Golden Gardens.
If something was wrong at the facility, Director Jameson might know more than he was saying.
* * *
PEYTON CHEWED HER FINGERNAIL as Liam drove to the hospital. As a little girl, she’d been a nail biter. Her mother had tried everything to break the habit, but it hadn’t worked. After college, she’d begun painting her nails because she found if they were polished, she tended not to chew on them.
She looked down and noted the polish was in shambles now, and she’d nearly chewed her thumbnail to the quick.
“Inman denies everything, even knowing that his wife took opioids,” Liam said as he rounded a curve. “In light of this new information, I want to question Dr. Butler again and find out if he’s really your friend or the enemy.”
Peyton’s mind raced to assimilate everything they’d learned. She felt as if they were on a Tilt-A-Whirl where everything kept shifting and they were spinning in circles. She wanted to get off and have her feet on solid ground, but the Tilt-A-Whirl was gaining momentum instead of slowing.
“I’m going to review my mother’s medical chart,” she told Liam. “The fact that she hadn’t regained consciousness worries me.” She picked at a cuticle. “Typically, I trust hospital staff, but now I don’t know what to think.”
Liam covered her hand with his. “I don’t blame you. It’s best to keep your eyes wide open right now until we know who’s behind this.”
He pulled into the hospital visitors’ lot and parked, then gave her hand another squeeze. “Hang in there, Peyton. I think we’re getting closer.”
Her heart stuttered at the tenderness in his eyes and voice. She latched on to his words and their gazes locked. Liam Maverick was not just an agent, but a virile and understanding man. She wondered why he wasn’t married with a family of his own.
Although perhaps he had a girlfriend or lover.
It doesn’t matter. He’s with you to solve a case, not get romantic.
The thought sobered her, and she dragged her gaze away and climbed from the car. They walked in silence up to the hospital entrance. Like a gentleman, he opened the door for her. She hurried to the elevator, her pulse pounding. Maybe hearing her voice would bring her mother back to life.
While Liam spoke to the deputy stationed outside her mother’s room, a heavy fear fell over Peyton. Eyes closed, unmoving, her mother looked so pale and fragile that Peyton rushed to her to make sure she was still breathing.
Her hand felt cold and clammy, and her chest rose and fell slowly. Thank God she was alive. But she was struggling.
She leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’m here, Mama. Please wake up. I need to see your bright, shining eyes.” And know that I’m not alone.
She stared at her mother’s face, willing her to make some movement, to open her eyes and look at her. To say something.
She squeezed her pale, limp hand. But nothing happened.
Tears threatened to choke her. “Come on. You have to fight. It’s not your time yet.”
Although fear that she was wrong needled at Peyton. What if it was her mother’s time? What if she lost her? How would she go on?
* * *
LIAM HAD TO WAIT on Dr. Butler to finish a consult before he could question him. The man looked annoyed as Liam studied the diplomas, awards and certificates on his wall. Dr. Butler had graduated from Brody School of Medicine at East Carolina University, then did his residency at UNC in Chapel Hill.
“My time is limited, Agent Maverick,” Dr. Butler said curtly. “Get on with it.”
Liam seated himself across from the physician. “I had an interesting conversation with Peyton Weiss. She explained that she’d withheld the truth about the night Gloria Inman died.”
Dr. Butler rolled a pen between his fingers.
“She admitted that she voiced concerns to you, but you produced paperwork indicating she was at fault. She denies giving Mrs. Inman opioids, and states that she gave her one shot of epinephrine.”
“All I can tell you is what that log report showed.”
Liam narrowed his eyes. “You were in that ER with her,” he said. “Didn’t you know what meds were dispensed?”
“I gave the order for the epi,” Dr. Butler said. “If Nurse Weiss gave Mrs. Inman an opioid or a second epi shot, I didn’t see her do it.”
“Then how do you explain that log?”
His eyes widened. “I can’t. All I know is that her code was used to open the medicine cart.”
Liam hesitated. The doctor sounded convincing. But some people were adept at lying. And he could have told himself this story so many times that he’d actually started believing it himself.
“Dr. Butler, is it possible that someone else could have gotten hold of Peyton’s code?”
He tapped his pen on the desk. “The staff are instructed not to share codes. If Peyton shared hers, then she’s responsible for whatever drugs were removed.”
“What if she didn’t share it? What if someone stole it or found out on their own?”
“You’ll have to ask Peyton if she left it somewhere that someone could have gotten hold of it.”
“You encouraged her not to talk to the police,” Liam said.
“Listen, Agent Maverick, I think highly of Nurse Weiss. She’s dedicated, hardworking, compassionate and giving. I wish we had a thousand more just like her. That’s the reason I told her to keep quiet. I didn’t want her reputation ruined over a mistake.”
Liam leaned forward. “But didn’t you want to know what happened?”
The man’s expression went flat. “Yes, of course I did. But we did everything possible to save the woman, and sometimes we fail.”
Liam swallowed. “Maybe you weren’t concerned about Peyton’s reputation. Maybe it was your own you wanted to save.”
Dr. Butler’s expression turned steely.
“Then you were worried she would talk to the police, so that night you called and threatened her.”
“What?” Outrage sharpened his features. “What are you talking about?”
“Peyton says a man phoned her and threatened her. He told her that if she didn’t keep quiet, her mother would end up like Gloria Inman.”
The doctor rolled his hands into fists, then unfolded one and reached for the phone. “We’re finished, Agent Maverick. If you want to speak to me again, you’ll have to go through my attorney.”
Liam had expected him to lawyer up. But he didn’t like it.
“You can hide behind a lawyer if you want, Doc. But we also believe that whoever threatened Peyton attacked her. And we think that same person caused the gas leak that sent her mother to the ER. If she dies, that’s going to constitute a homicide.”
He stood, gave the man a lethal stare, then left him sweating as he punched his lawyer’s number.
* * *
PEYTON CHECKED HER MOTHER’S medical record, but nothing seemed amiss. Was she paranoid?
No, something nefarious was going on.
She pressed a cool washcloth to her mother’s face, gently wiping her eyes. Please wake up, Mama.
But she showed no reaction.
Despair threatened, but she reminded herself she’d seen patients who were unresponsive for days, even weeks, suddenly regain consciousness and recover. She had to think positive.
“Remember when you used to sing to me and Val,” she whispered. “And dance. I always liked it when you cranked up the music and sang and danced around the kitchen.” A smile tugged at her lips. “Val and I used to hide out in the hall and watch you.” She stroked her mother’s soft gray curls away from her forehead. “We used to giggle and laugh. Sometimes we made fun of your moves, but we didn’t mean any harm, Mama.” Tears filled her eyes. “We loved it.” She swiped at a tear that found its way down her cheek. “I remember one time you cau
ght us, and you dragged us all in the kitchen and we held hands and danced together. I think I was ten and Val was eight.” Her voice choked. “I’ll never forget that night. Never.” It was a time when they were innocent and she and her sister were close, and life seemed full of fun and promises.
Her mother had been strong and had taught her and Val to be. Until Val hit fourteen and everything went south.
Peyton silently chastised herself for the millionth time. At sixteen, she’d just discovered boys and a seventeen-year-old soccer player had actually shown interest in her. She’d been so caught up in young love that she’d been oblivious to the fact that her sister had started slipping away into depression. Val had been the beautiful one, the outgoing girl, the athletic one with the long, lithe body. Even at fourteen, Val had drawn the eyes of the older boys. Peyton had been envious of her confidence and grace.
She was the shyer one. The bookworm. The one who didn’t quite know how to dress.
Then Seth Simmons had asked her to homecoming.
That night while she’d received her first kiss, Val had almost OD’d.
Pain wrenched her at the memory. She’d felt guilty for not knowing her sister was in pain and had devoted the next few months to making sure Val felt loved and cared for.
But Val had never been the same. And neither had their relationship.
Guilt had sent her to a therapist who helped her deal with her emotions. Eventually she’d chosen nursing as a career—maybe to make up for the one person she couldn’t save.
Her mother’s body suddenly jerked and spasmed, and Peyton jumped up and checked the monitors. Oxygen saturation level low. Blood pressure dropping. Heart monitor beeping wildly.
Machines beeped and sounded, and a flood of nurses and doctors rushed inside. She backed away, praying as they began CPR again.
Her own heart thundered, her lungs straining for air. One of the nurses coaxed her into the hallway. The deputy outside the door clutched her arm to steady her.
Liam appeared, his brows knitted. “Peyton?”