Fifteen minutes later, Suzie finally calmed down. Rachel dried her off and dressed her in pajamas, and the little girl fell back to sleep. “Mommy loves you, Suzie. Mommy loves you so much,” she whispered. She took deep breaths of her own to try to fight off her anxiety. The mental static in her head was earsplitting.
She’s going to be okay, she told herself. She’s going to be okay.
But talking to herself wasn’t working. She needed someone else to talk to. She found her phone and called her sister, Laura. She hated talking to Laura, because most of their conversations ended badly. She suspected Laura still resented that she had gotten the hell out of Minnesota before their sixty-year-old mother was diagnosed with full-blown dementia.
Since Laura was the one still living in Minnesota, their mother had become Laura’s sole responsibility. But it wasn’t as though Rachel had planned it that way. When she’d left Minnesota, her mother had seemed completely fine, so it wasn’t fair to be angry with her. She had simply been following her dreams. What was so wrong with that?
Rachel’s and Laura’s lives couldn’t have turned out more different, and over the years, they’d only grown further apart. But she didn’t have anyone else to turn to. No one else with children, at least. Besides, Laura’s kids were always dealing with different health issues. Every time they talked, it seemed she was always shuttling her kids to a different specialist, so Rachel knew she had a lot of experience with doctors and medications.
She was relieved when Laura answered.
“How’s Mom?” Rachel asked.
“Ugh,” Laura said. “She managed to sneak out yesterday. Took the damn minivan to the supermarket and bought about twenty pounds worth of candy.”
“Yikes. Is she okay?”
“Yeah. She’s watching The Price Is Right and shoveling M&M’s into her mouth.”
“I thought The Price Is Right only came on in the morning?”
“The kids record it for her.”
At the age of nineteen, Rachel had moved from Nowhere, Minnesota, to Los Angeles with a guy she’d been dating with dreams of becoming an actress. But after years of auditions, she’d landed only three small roles—each with fewer than five lines—two of which perished on the cutting-room floor. Then when she got pregnant, she was forced to exchange days running between auditions to late nights of waiting tables for a practical office job. She told herself that one day, when Suzie was older, she might try her hand at acting again, but for now she needed a more reliable paycheck and health insurance.
Rachel never would have thought for a moment that she’d ever envy her sister’s boring suburban life in Minnesota, but she was envying it now. Laura’s big house, her loving husband, kids in a nice, private Montessori school, and still enough money left to go on vacations every year. And here Rachel was in the big city, a failure as an actress, barely making it as a mother, and hardly a dime to her name.
“What’s up?” Laura asked.
Rachel told her about the doctor’s visit and Suzie’s screaming fits.
“My kids have temperatures higher than that all the time,” Laura said. “And sometimes they cry like banshees for hours. It’s just what some kids do after getting their shots.”
Rachel was stunned to hear her sound completely calm about it.
“But why?” Rachel asked.
“Hell if I know.”
“The nurse said it was due to tenderness at the injection site,” Rachel said.
“Yeah. That’s probably it.”
“But see, here’s the thing. When I press on the injection site, she doesn’t even react.”
Silence. Then: “Yeah. I don’t know.”
“Did your girls get Respira?” Rachel asked.
“They’ve had their first two doses. We go in tomorrow for the third.”
“And they were fine after theirs?”
“Sophia cried a little bit. But that was the extent of it.”
That made Rachel feel a little better.
“Being a mom is scary, Rachel. But I’m sure she’ll be just fine.”
“Yeah, I guess so. But what could possibly be hurting her so bad that she’d scream like that? It bothers me that I don’t know. That she can’t tell me.”
“You’re overthinking it, Rachel.”
Wanting to know what was hurting her daughter was overthinking it?
“I’m not sure I’m going to get her the other two doses. Not after how she reacted to this one,” she said, more thinking aloud than anything.
“Don’t say that,” Laura snapped. “You have to. And if you don’t, don’t even think about bringing her around my kids. I’m just saying. Rhinovirus is the gateway to some nasty stuff. Illnesses I don’t want my girls to get.”
Rachel knitted her eyebrows, wondering what the hell her sister was talking about.
She knew she shouldn’t have called her.
“Plus, I heard they’re talking about adding Respira to the shot schedule soon,” Laura said, referring to the schedule of immunizations recommended by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. “So, if she doesn’t complete the series, she won’t be able to go to day care or school.”
Right now, Rachel couldn’t give a crap about day care or school. At the moment, her daughter’s pain and well-being were all she could handle thinking about.
“Don’t be one of those crazy mothers who makes the mistake of thinking they know more than their doctor,” Laura said.
Talking to Laura was only making her feel worse. But she knew that Laura had a good point. Who was she to question Dr. Winters? After all, if she was as smart as he was, she wouldn’t be working for a jackass she hated for slightly over minimum wage.
“Seriously, just think about it, Rachel. You really think they would tell us Respira was safe if it wasn’t?”
CHAPTER 7
DANIEL
AFTER WORK, DANIEL drove to a florist on Sunset Boulevard to buy Mia flowers. He was feeling guilty about the suspicious thoughts he’d had the night before.
So what if Mia had smiled oddly?
Also, how much did it really matter if the person texting her hadn’t been her boss? It’s not like they had to tell each other everything. Maybe she’d been in the middle of a personal text conversation with someone and just hadn’t wanted to share it with him? So the hell what? For their relationship to stay as healthy as it was, they needed to remain individuals. Checking up on each other at every moment and expecting 100 percent sharing was immature—and they were hardly kids anymore.
It pissed him off that he’d listened to the meddling little voice last night and had actually questioned Mia after all the effort it had taken this past year to let down his guard with her. After watching couples implode beneath the pressures of coupledom his entire life, it was important to him to give her a wide berth. Plenty of room to be herself, to preserve her independence. That was another thing he’d noticed the most with unhealthy couples. How one, or sometimes both partners, began to take a sense of ownership of the other. At that point, things quickly went downhill. That was the last thing he wanted for him and his wife. They had a great relationship. They treated each other with respect. He wanted to make sure those things didn’t change.
Besides, he’d also promised himself before they got married that he would perform random acts of romance as often as he could. Just because they were married shouldn’t mean that he should stop trying to sweep her off her feet.
After picking up a dozen orchids—her favorite—he drove up the coast to Jiminy’s to hand deliver the flowers. Jiminy’s was an upscale seafood restaurant nestled a couple of miles from Malibu, just off the Pacific Coast Highway. It was popular with tourists and always packed.
He pulled into the crowded parking lot, grabbed the orchids, and climbed out of the SUV. As he walked to the doors of the restaurant, a cool wind blew in from the ocean, tousling his hair, and a chill swept through his body.
The parking lot and entrance to the restaurant were d
ecked out with colorful Christmas decor. He smiled as he walked past wreaths, twinkling trees, and mistletoe, embracing the whimsical feeling of the season. Most of his Christmases as a child had been miserable, but he was living a new chapter now. A brand-new life. Christmases with Mia were bound to be magical.
As soon as he walked inside the warmth of the restaurant, the aroma of grilled fish wafted into his nostrils, and a young, bubbly blonde, whom he pegged to be in her early twenties, stood smiling behind the hostess station and wearing reindeer antlers. A large red circle was painted on the tip of her nose. Her name tag read Julie.
“You shouldn’t have.” She grinned.
He returned her smile. “They’re for Mia Winters. I was hoping I could see her for a moment.”
Julie crinkled her red nose.
Daniel realized the hostess might not recognize Mia’s new last name. “Formerly Mia O’Brien,” he said, using her maiden name. “We were married recently.”
A spark of recognition lit up Julie’s face, followed by another nose crinkle. “Sorry. Mia’s not here. She’s off tonight.”
An icy sensation raced through Daniel’s body. Mia had told him that she was going to be pulling the late shift tonight. That that’s what her boss had been texting her about.
I told you she was lying to you.
Daniel scratched the outside of his elbow with his free hand. “Are you sure?”
“Yep. Positive,” Julie said. “But maybe she’s coming in later. You want me to check?” she asked, glancing nervously past him. A line was forming. He was holding it up.
“I bet that’s what it is,” Daniel said. “No worries. You don’t need to check.” He looked down at the orchids. “But could you do me a favor?”
Two minutes later, Daniel was back in his car. He had left the flowers with Julie, so she could make sure Mia got them when she came in later. He thought about Mia’s texts again last night. Feeling an undercurrent of uneasiness, he reached for his phone to text her, to ask her where she was.
But then he froze.
He trusted her, so checking up on her was unnecessary. No matter what the voice in his head wanted him to think. He had probably just misunderstood her last night. Got her hours wrong. Hell, she might even still be at the house when he got home.
No. You’re not mistaken, Daniel. She lied—
He hurled the voice into a room in the back of his head, slammed the door, locked it, then headed for home.
His phone buzzed a few minutes later. He glanced at the display on his dashboard. It was Dr. Josh Thornton, the doctor on call.
“Hey, Dan. It’s Josh. I wanted to let you know I got a call from the mother of one of your patients. Suzie Jacobs?”
Daniel frowned. “Yeah?”
“Her mother said she’s had a temperature of 102.5 for a few hours. I told her to alternate Children’s Tylenol and Motrin and to go to the emergency room if it reached 104. Just wanted to let you know.”
“Thanks, Josh. She received her first dose of Respira today, so her immune system’s probably just kicking in.”
“Makes sense,” Dr. Thornton said. “I wouldn’t have even called you, but Ms. Jacobs sounded pretty upset, so I wanted you to know.”
“Thanks,” Daniel said. “Let me know if she calls back.”
“You got it.”
When Daniel pulled up to the house, his heart dropped like an anvil in his chest. The driveway was empty.
Ten minutes later, as he stood in the kitchen filling Bruce’s food bowl, Daniel realized he still felt a curl of dread in his stomach.
Why did trusting someone have to be so hard for him? He stared at the liquor cabinet that he’d inherited along with the house, knowing a drink would help him relax a little. Over the last few years, after a long and difficult battle with alcohol, the liquor in the kitchen cabinet had strangely offered little temptation. In fact, he’d prided himself on the fact that he could be in such close proximity to it and not be seduced. But it was tempting him now.
Just one glass.
That’s all he’d allow himself. He needed it to dull his agitation, his worry.
No, Daniel. There’s a reason you don’t drink at home.
He continued to stare at the colorful bottles, the contents of which promised relief.
Just one glass, he reasoned.
NO, the voice hissed.
The voice hated alcohol. It usually took only two drinks to make it go away.
Running a hand over his mouth, he turned away. “Yeah, probably a bad idea.”
Bruce whined at his feet. Daniel looked down and saw the animal staring at him. “Okay, definitely a bad idea.” But damn, it was hard.
Daniel yanked open the refrigerator and grabbed the pitcher of iced jasmine tea instead. He poured a glass, then went out to the deck. As he sipped his tea, he inhaled the chilly air and watched the last of the day’s colors fade into pastels across the sky.
“It’s lonely without her, isn’t it, boy?” he asked Bruce.
Bruce stared up at him and responded with a throaty growl.
He looked at his phone again and thought about texting Mia. Not to check up on her this time, just to make sure she was okay.
Hi, beautiful. Just checking in. Everything okay?
She replied less than a minute later: Very busy tonight! Be home after 2. Miss you. xx.
He felt a surge of relief. Yes, they must have just missed each other. He was glad he’d decided to text her. Now he could relax. He was heading upstairs with plans to shower and then crawl into bed when his phone rang. It was the doctor on call again.
“Dr. Winters here,” he answered.
“It’s Josh. Sorry to bother you again, Daniel, but I thought you’d want to know that the patient I called about earlier . . . Suzie Jacobs? She’s in the emergency room at Northridge Hospital. She’s having seizures.”
Daniel was lying in the dark with his eyes open when Mia walked in the front door. It was 2:30 a.m. The news about Suzie’s seizures had made it impossible for him to sleep. Not because he hadn’t experienced a patient having seizures before, but the seizures coupled with the call from Andy disturbed him. Since speaking with Dr. Thornton, he hadn’t been able to get Rachel Jacobs’s face out of his mind.
He lay there, listening as Mia quietly entered the room, undressed, and switched on the shower.
What is she washing off? the voice asked.
He flinched in the dark. It had a good point. Mia didn’t usually shower at night unless they had just had—or were having—sex. Before he could stop himself, his mind filled with images he didn’t want to entertain.
A few minutes later, the shower faucet squeaked as it was turned off.
When he felt the bed shift beneath Mia’s weight, he murmured, “Hi, beautiful.”
Silence. Then: “Did I wake you? I’m sorry. I tried to be quiet.”
“It’s okay. How was work?”
“Good. But I’m wiped out.”
“Long shift?”
“Yeah. Nine hours. My feet are aching.”
He did the math in his head. Then did it a second and a third time, just to be sure. According to what she’d told him last night, she’d been one of the closing staff at the restaurant tonight, which meant she’d gotten off at 2:00 a.m. So, nine hours meant she’d been there since 4:00 p.m.
But when he had stopped by Jiminy’s, she hadn’t shown up yet. And that was at 5:30 p.m.
The skin on his arms prickled.
Why was she lying to him?
When Daniel awoke next, it was 4:45 a.m. He turned to find Mia’s side of the bed empty.
Why was she already up? She couldn’t have gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep. He replayed her coming home earlier, taking a shower.
Lying to him.
He pulled on his robe and walked downstairs, inhaling the aromas of freshly brewed coffee and fried bacon. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the back of the house, he saw Mia sitting outside on the deck, bundled up
in a pink heavy cotton robe. Her dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and she was staring out at the ocean with a scowl on her face.
He walked to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. Taking a long sip, he continued to study his wife from a distance. She looked so serious. Worried, even. He wondered what she could possibly be worried about?
Why didn’t she say anything about the orchids last night, Daniel?
That’s right. She hadn’t.
He searched the kitchen, then the living room for the flowers, but there was no sign of them.
Did she even go to Jiminy’s?
And if she didn’t, where did she go?
He took another long sip of his coffee and went to the French doors that led out to the deck. He saw that she’d made him breakfast. He clung to the gesture. After all, if she’d gone to the trouble of waking after fewer than two hours of sleep to make him breakfast, she must love him, right?
And if she loves me, she wouldn’t lie to me.
You’re being naive, and you know it, Daniel.
Glowering, he stepped outside.
This was all new territory for him. Being this crazy about a woman. He was finding it difficult not to overthink everything. It was possible she’d simply forgotten the orchids. She’d probably been exhausted at the end of her shift, so that made perfect sense. Probably more sense than any of the distressing things he’d been entertaining.
He was being ridiculous.
Overly cautious.
You didn’t leave a card. Maybe she thought the orchids were from someone else.
No. After all, who else would be sending her flowers? The voice was screwing with him. Sending him false signals. Making him worry unnecessarily. Maybe he’d run his course with it, and it was time to part ways.
He’d join her on the deck, and she’d thank him for the orchids. Then he’d ask her about Jiminy’s, the time discrepancies, and she’d explain his worries away.
He opened the door and watched her straighten in her seat. When she turned to him, he saw that her face had rearranged itself into one of her old smiles. A sincere one. The type that had always comforted him.
Malice Page 5
