by Dale Mayer
There had to be something somewhere. When one of the teams contacted him and said the dead cop at the house was another of Tristan’s young buddies, they said they had a line on finding Tristan.
He sent back a text. Where? When? I need a time and a place, and I’ll be there.
When we figure it out, we’ll let you know.
Their subsequent reply came, and, even in a text, the words sounded short. He hit the Talk button and called his team member this time. “We need this solved,” he said. “Another woman is involved now too. And her father’s dead, although we think it’s probably of natural causes.”
“What is it with you guys?” Fallon asked. “How the hell do you keep finding women in the middle of all this stuff?”
“It’s not that we’re finding women,” Cain said. “The women are already here.”
“Says you,” he retorted, with a note of humor. “Because it just seems like you’re constantly finding trouble for yourself.”
“Maybe so,” he said, “but I’d like to keep this one alive if possible.”
“Is she special?”
He hesitated and then said honestly, “Yeah, she is.”
“Interesting,” Fallon said. “What is this? First Ryland and then you?”
“Hell no,” he said. “Just because I want to keep her safe and to let you know that she’s special doesn’t mean it’s a done deal.”
“No, it probably isn’t a done deal,” he said. “As a matter of fact, why would it be? Shit’s going on in her world, and she’s got to blame you for some of it.”
When they hung up, Cain wondered about that because that would be a crap deal if it were true. But a lot of common sense was behind Fallon’s comment, and that made Cain feel even worse. He hoped she didn’t blame him for the trouble, but, if she did, he’d have to spend some time convincing her otherwise.
Chapter 8
Petra woke up groggy and disoriented. She was in her own bed, in her own bedroom, but it seemed like nothing else was hers anymore. As if the life she had been living had changed in some fundamental way, and she wouldn’t recognize anything. Feeling odd and unsettled, she lay under the blankets, wondering at the chill that had settled inside. It was summer and was supposed to be hot here and definitely warm, even at this early hour of the day.
She checked the clock beside her and confirmed it wasn’t even six o’clock in the morning yet. But something just felt off.
Slowly she swung her feet to the floor and, pushing the blankets back, got up and walked to the window to look outside. The events of the night came rushing back. The fights, the gunfire, the shooter, the man in the house beside them and—her sister.
She bowed her head, willing the tears and the grief to come pouring forward, but everything was still locked behind a stone wall, where her sister had stayed all that time she was supposedly gone. It drove Petra crazy to think that her sister had been here for the last few months and hadn’t even stopped in to say hi. What kind of family member did that?
But she immediately answered it herself. A family member who wanted nothing to do with her family. Petra headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She quickly tossed off her simple nightshirt and stepped under the hot spray.
It was hard to imagine ever being clean after a day like she’d had yesterday. She worked in the sterile world of test tubes and cells. Not in a world of gunfire and murder. The fact that her sister had been lying there with a bullet in her head all that time? She couldn’t shake that mental image from her mind.
Even if the drunken father had been threatened, couldn’t he have done something? Was everybody okay to let a body rot in the same house they lived in? Sure, it was more dried than rotted, but still, the insects and bugs had gone after it, and that would be a sight she would have a hard time getting rid of too. It seemed like it was emblazoned into her memory bank, probably for the rest of her life, along with the thought that her sister had come to such a terrible end.
Petra just shook her head, unable to get it all out of her brain. Finally, after washing her hair several times and scrubbing herself from top to bottom, she shut off the hot water, grabbed her towel, and dried off.
Cain was still out in the living room. Or was he? Had he left sometime in the night or early this morning? Or would she tiptoe out there to find him fast asleep, bent into a pretzel on that poor excuse of a couch? She hadn’t had any extra money in the last year, since paying for her father’s care and the research. Normal family members would have taken him in without the financial support, but, since her aunt wasn’t willing to do that, and Petra couldn’t afford the elderly home rates, this had been a good option. But no doubt it still took a huge dent out of her paycheck.
Deep down, she knew there was no real hope of getting her father back, and this was a lifestyle she had to maintain as long as he was in this state. His body was healthy, so it could go on for a long time.
That brought her mind back to Cain and his question about moving. Even if there were labs around the world where she could work on a cure, how could she possibly leave her father here? She didn’t fool herself into thinking that he knew when she was there or that he was calmer or happier when she was around. She was just an assistant, giving him whatever sustenance his body needed. But, other than that, she had no relationship with her father anymore, no hint of her father, and that made her incredibly sad.
Dry, she tossed the towel up on a hook and walked into her bedroom fully nude, then pulled clothes out of her drawers. First panties and her white capri pants, then slipped into sandals, even as she strapped on her bra. After that she walked over for a simple turquoise T-shirt. Her hair was still wet, and she put it into a ponytail, high on the back of her head, knowing it made her look like she was eighteen years old. But she didn’t really give a damn.
When she opened the bedroom door and walked out into the kitchen, she stopped, surprised to find Cain and Eton both sitting at the kitchen table. She looked at them, frowning.
Cain looked up and smiled when he saw her. He hopped up and walked over, wrapped her in his arms and held her close. Something about the look on his face told her something else had happened. She grabbed his forearms, her gaze going from Cain to Eton and back to Cain. “What happened?”
“Another blow in your life,” he said. “Come over here and sit down.”
She resisted his pull toward the couch because, if it was bad news, she wanted to hear it now. But he insisted. Finally she dropped onto the couch and glared at him. “I’d rather hear bad news without being mollycoddled,” she snapped.
He took a deep breath and said, “Okay. Listen, Petra. It’s your father.”
She took the blow viscerally, her body almost slamming into the back of the couch, as she stared at him in shock. “What about him?” she asked hesitantly, afraid to hear what he would say.
“He passed away in the night,” he said.
She just stared at him and shook her head. “What? No. That can’t be. His body was healthy. His mind was gone, but his body was healthy.”
“That’s something you’ll have to take up with whoever does an autopsy, if one is even performed,” he said.
She just stared at him, her mind trying to organize the words coming at her, but they weren’t going together. “Wait. He’s already been taken away?”
He took a deep breath again, settled down beside her, and said, “Look. I made a tough decision,” he said. “Your father passed away in the wee hours of the night. I did hear about it, and I decided not to wake you.” Then he stopped as if ready and willing to take whatever blow she was willing to hit him with.
She just continued to stare at him, in shock. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you’d been through enough already,” he said gently. “You needed some quality sleep, and a chance to absorb some of the shock of one hit before another one hit you.”
She sagged in place. “And he was already gone? They didn’t call you to say that he was dying, t
hat I could come say goodbye?” she asked helplessly.
“No,” he said, “they did not. I don’t have all the details. I just got a call saying your father had died.”
She could only stare at him.
He nodded. “I know,” he said. “As far as I am aware, he died of natural causes.”
She snorted at that. “I’m not so sure about that,” she said, turning to look out the window.
“Why not?” Eton asked intensely from the other side of the room.
She looked at him and hesitated.
He settled back slightly, as if aware of how intense his scrutiny was, and said, “If you have any doubts, suspicions, or accusations to make,” he said, “this will be the only time you’ll really have a chance to prove it one way or another.”
“I was just always worried,” she said.
“Worried about what?” Eton asked.
“He became this way after eating a meal with my aunt and uncle,” she said. “And I have to admit, at the time, I was pretty suspicious that maybe Migi had poisoned him.”
“Why would she do that?” Eton asked.
“It was after the accident, and he had a ways to go for a complete recovery, but he seemed to be okay. He had some money, and he had the house. My uncle had lost his job, and the bed-and-breakfast wasn’t doing well, and my aunt and uncle were in danger of losing their house,” she said. “It was just a wild thought. My uncle got sick at the same time but not as bad.”
“Interesting, but it’s hardly enough of a motive because they couldn’t be guaranteed that they would get any of the money or the house, would they?”
“No,” she said, “that’s why I dismissed it.”
“And why would it have brought on that kind of a condition?”
“He ended up without oxygen for a certain length of time,” she said, “and, when they brought him back, he was like this.”
“But haven’t you been looking for a cure?”
“Yes,” she said, “but he already had the markers for Alzheimer’s. It just wasn’t very developed. I was working on that, knowing that it probably wouldn’t make any impact on his condition, because of the oxygen deprivation.” She stared down at her hands. “I can’t believe that my whole family is gone.” Her voice held a helpless tone. “My sister and now my father.”
“And even though it didn’t happen at the same time, finding out at the same time is just as hard.”
“It’s essentially the same adjustment anyway.”
“Yes, of course,” he said. “And it doesn’t make it any easier.”
“No,” she said, “if anything, it’s much worse.”
*
Cain remained beside her, as Eton got up and put on a pot of coffee—their second but her first. Cain reached over and held her cold, clammy hands. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I could have woken you in the night, but you couldn’t do anything anyway.”
“Maybe seen him before he went to the hospital,” she said sadly. “But even then, maybe not. My aunt isn’t exactly the friendliest of people.” She frowned. “How did you find out? Did they call?” she asked, looking toward her phone on the counter.
“They would have, but Eton interrupted and said he would take care of it by calling me.”
“I’m sure she’ll have a bad attitude toward me today then.”
“Why? Because I stayed at your apartment?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yes.”
“Who cares what she thinks?” he said. “Particularly if you have doubts about her anyway.”
“Right,” she said. “I don’t even know what to say. But I do want an autopsy done.”
“You’ll probably have to contact the coroner about that. I’m not sure what the budget is like here.”
“It always comes down to money, doesn’t it?” she said. “That was one of the other reasons why I had trouble with it being my aunt because she needed the money.”
“You said that your uncle was sick too?”
“He just ended up with an upset stomach,” she said, “but, in my uncle’s case, it was different than my father’s reaction. My father had some kind of attack that stopped the oxygen getting into his lungs. We thought he was dead, but the paramedics arrived really fast, and they brought him back,” she said. “I was ecstatic, but he was never the same.”
“Right, so it’s possible it was premeditated. Did anybody ever check for poison?”
She shook her head. “By the time I thought to do it,” she said, “months had passed.”
“Which is too bad because you’re working at a lab and might have had the facilities to test something like that.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve chastised myself over that a lot. And now he’s gone.”
“The only good news in this scenario,” Cain said, “and I know it’s not good news, is that you don’t have to tell him about your sister.”
“He wouldn’t have understood anyway,” she said. She sagged back into the couch, pulling her knees up tight against her chest and tucking her feet underneath. “I’m an orphan,” she said in surprise.
“And, without your sister, then I gather, outside of your aunt, you have no other blood family?”
She shook her head. “No, just my aunt.”
“So, they were brother and sister?”
“No,” she said. “She was my mother’s sister.”
“What happened to your mother?”
“She died from childbirth complications after giving birth to my sister,” she said quietly.
“So she hasn’t been around for a very long time. And she’s your only aunt? Right?”
“If you’re asking about grandparents or other children, we have distant ties to Chico but other than that as far as I know, it’s just the two of us.”
“Interesting,” he said. “I thought this region was known for big families.”
“My family has never been particularly fertile or long-lived,” she said. “My grandparents died when I was maybe nine or ten years old.”
“How did they die?”
She looked at him and frowned. “There was an accidental fire, I believe.”
“A lot of accidents,” he said.
She looked at him, her tone hard. “I don’t like my aunt much,” she said, “but she is the only family I have. It’s one thing for me to have suspicions, but—”
Eton chuckled. “But nobody else can, especially no observer coming at it from a completely detached point of view, right?”
“Of course you can,” she said. “I just didn’t really want to go down that pathway.”
“Sometimes people do things we don’t want to think about,” he said.
“Who gained from your grandparents’ death?” Cain asked.
“My aunt of course,” she said. “My uncle has rarely worked in his life. Only in the last few years did he have more of a steady job. They live off their property. Then they sold off all the pieces to make it small enough that they could actually afford to be there. But then, at the same time, they sold off the gardens and orchards, so then they didn’t have any income.”
“Sounds like some of these deaths helped her out.”
“Accidents and deaths, yes,” she said.
“But your mother didn’t die from anything suspicious at the hand of your aunt, right?”
“And to my knowledge neither did my grandparents,” she said in a firm voice. “I shouldn’t have brought up my suspicions about my father.”
“Because none of it makes any sense?”
“No, it doesn’t,” she said, with a shrug.
“Except for the other factor. Is it possible any life insurance was on your father?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “And, even so, it would come to me, not to her, right?”
A long silence followed, as Cain let her think about that. She got there and looked up at him. “Please tell me that you’re not suggesting that she would kill me to get it.”
“I’m not suggesting anything,
” he said quietly. “Unfortunately we’ve seen a whole lot more of the unpleasant side of life, so we don’t want you to assume something that isn’t there. Neither do we want you to be blind to something that could be there.”
“Right,” she groaned. “This isn’t exactly the way I wanted to wake up this morning. But you know? I knew something was up. From the moment I woke up, something was telling me that the world as I’d known it had changed.”
“On the other hand, you won’t have to send a large chunk of your paycheck to your aunt now.”
“Which is another reason why she wouldn’t have done anything to hurt my father. She needed that income and still does.”
“I get that, and she may not have had anything to do with this part, but, until we actually have a chance to go over there, we won’t know.”
She snorted at that. “If you think my aunt’ll talk, you’re wrong. She’s always been extremely dominant in her attitude. She’ll tell you what she wants you to know and nothing else.”
“Well, after breakfast, I suggest we walk up and see her.”
“She probably won’t even let you into the house,” she said. “After last night, I presume she asked you guys to leave?”
“And I came here with our gear this morning,” Eton said. “So, essentially we’ve left already.”
She nodded. “Are you leaving town today?”
“That’s the plan,” Cain said. “At least, it was, until your father died.”
“That doesn’t change anything for you,” she said, reaching up and rubbing her forehead. “I, on the other hand, now have two deaths to deal with. Funerals, law enforcement, and coroner. One of the things that disturbs me the most. Not only did she come back to town and didn’t see her family but she’s been in that bedroom for how long?” She shook her head. “And to think that old man Morgan knew about it.” She shook her head. “It just defies logic.”
