Before I Wake

by Dee Henderson

  “Maybe a seizure, rather than a heart attack. Her shoulders are a bit drawn under her like her chest had lifted up, and these look like bite marks on her inner lip. Her eyes are a little cloudy but that could be the time until the body was found. You called for the transport?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll do the autopsy this afternoon and put a rush on the toxicology.” Walsh stepped back. “To die in your sleep the reflex to breathe has to be suppressed or blocked, and in someone this young—something massive has to go wrong to make that happen by natural causes. When we move the body, let’s keep it simple. Wrap the sheets over her and put the entirety in the body bag. Send the blankets over as well.”

  “I appreciate the expedite.” Nathan stepped out to the hall as he heard a stretcher being maneuvered from the elevator. “They are here now.”

  Rae was no longer with the group by the elevator; she was farther down the hall talking with an elderly lady watching what was happening. Nathan headed her way. Rae nodded and closed her pad, thanked the lady. Rae came to join him.

  “You’ve been busy.”

  “I’m not trying to step on your investigation. It just felt really strange just standing here not doing anything.”

  Nathan raised a hand to pause her words. “You’re fine, Rae. I appreciate the note you sent to me. What else do you know?”

  “Everything I’m sure of is in the note.”

  “I’m the kind of guy that likes to hear the less-than-certain maybes too.” He scanned the top page of her notes and saw a neat orderliness. He could either encourage her away from talking with guests, or he could trust Bruce’s judgment that she was a good cop and knew how to do a field interview that didn’t suggest the answers by the questions she asked. “Keep taking notes. As soon as I get things organized here, I’m buying you a cup of coffee and I want to read that notepad.”

  “Thanks, Nathan. If I’m not here or in the lobby downstairs, I’ll be in my room—” she pointed—“that one —3723.”

  Five doors down. “I shouldn’t be long; I’ve got an interview to do downstairs. If for some reason I get delayed and you need to leave the hotel, would you mention it to an officer?”

  “Sure.”

  He paused long enough to smile at her. “For what it’s worth, this kind of thing doesn’t happen often in my town.”

  “It’s a quiet town; I’ve been assured of that many times.”

  His words were getting echoed by others . . . it was a bit disconcerting. Nathan went to interview the maid who had found the lady.

  7

  Nathan tapped on Rae Gabriella’s hotel-room door forty minutes after their brief hallway conversation. He heard the chain slip off and Rae opened the door holding a phone in her hand. “Come in, Nathan. I’m almost done.” She turned away from the door and back into the room. “Is there any indication of what kind of chemical it is in the vat, Frank?”

  Nathan hesitated before stepping into the room, not sure he wanted to eavesdrop on her conversation. Rae had changed from her dress to jeans and a sweatshirt. Her hotel room was neat, the bed made, a well-read newspaper folded back together on the table, and a cup of coffee cooling on the desk.

  She paged through a thick book on the desk, pausing to spell out a chemical name. “That’s closer. Does it have a phosphorus base?”

  It sounded very much like a work conversation, and Nathan wondered again what Rae had specialized in while with the FBI.

  The bouquet of roses he had sent dominated the hotel dresser. Nathan walked over, pleased with it. The roses were two days away from perfection as they opened, the blooms perfectly formed. Beside the roses rested a pair of earrings and her sunglasses.

  Nathan studied the three photos set out on the dresser. Rae Gabriella had at least a couple men in her life who qualified for framed photos. They looked to be roughly Rae’s age. He noticed, because life went smoother when he noticed the details. The mere fact she’d taken the time to set out the photos in a hotel room told him they were more than casual relationships.

  “Maybe drain it to glass flasks? I don’t know that you want to use anything made of rubber or plastic unless we know exactly what it is. What quantity are you dealing with?”

  Rae pulled out a calculator from her briefcase and punched numbers. “I can stop at the medical-supply company on my way into town Monday and get some flasks if you can work around it for another twenty-four hours.”

  Nathan gave up trying to appear not interested in the one-sided conversation. Hazardous chemicals caught any officer’s attention. She was working another job besides her work with Bruce? Was one of these photos the man she was talking to?

  “Okay, I’ll do that, Frank. Expect me about nine.” Rae hung up the phone and marked the page in the book before closing it. “Sorry about that.”

  “No problem. Trouble?”

  “My uncle owns a crime-scene-cleanup business and occasionally the unexpected surprise shows up at a scene. My cousin has got something neither of us has seen before.” She switched pads of paper. “I’ve got my notes.”

  “Let’s get a cup of coffee at the restaurant downstairs.”

  She picked up her room key. “Thanks for the roses.”

  He wasn’t sure but he thought that was the faintest hint of a blush forming with her smile. He smiled back. “You’re very welcome.” He held the door for her. “Elevator or stairs?”

  “Stairs.”

  * * *

  Nathan nodded toward the restaurant café. The room was still being set up for the Sunday lunch crowd, with a few guests finishing a late breakfast.

  Rae took a seat at a table away from the other guests. “I spoke with nineteen people, four of them staff, twelve that have rooms on the third floor, the rest guests who expressed various levels of interest and had questions in what was happening.”

  Nathan smiled as she started her report as soon as she sat down. He held out his hand. “Let me see,” he asked, and she offered the pad of paper.

  The waitress joined them. “Two coffees,” he requested. She nodded, and came back with coffee mugs for them both.

  Nathan scanned Rae’s notes. He turned a few pages, seeing a common format she had followed. Name, date, and location at the top of the page, any time reference people made pulled out to the left edge of the page for quick reference.

  Most of her notes were verbatim quotes of phrases as someone answered a question, but occasionally a paragraph appeared in a fast shorthand he would have to ask her to translate in its entirety. Full contact information for the person was circled at the bottom of the page. She’d done this out of habit, and he wondered again at what her day-to-day job had been at the FBI. The completeness of the interviews, when they had been informal conversations in a hallway, told him she was good at teasing out information without witnesses feeling pushed by the questions.

  “Two guests were especially helpful; they spoke with Peggy at lunch and knew some of her itinerary for Friday and Saturday.”

  Nathan went back to the front of the pad and began to scan the quotes from different people, finding a reassuring consistency in the information from various guests. When these notes were matched up with the broader number of interviews being done by his officers, there would be a good record of Peggy Worth’s movements since she arrived at the hotel.

  “From what I see here, you were one of the last ones at the hotel to see her. Talk me through your meeting with Peggy Worth, Rae.”

  “She was in the exercise room Saturday evening when I arrived and looked like she had been working out awhile. I recognized her as someone I had passed on the third-floor hallway and I think she also recognized me. She asked me if I had the time, which is why I know it was seven-twenty-two when I got to the exercise room, and she didn’t stay more than another fifteen minutes or so.”

  “What else did she say?”

  “That she had a late-night, first-time date, and she mentioned the movie Holiday Park. She wasn’t sure how successful a
date it was going to be; I got the impression she didn’t know her date that well.”

  A late movie—that suggested an eight or nine o’clock start time, which gave him an eleven or twelve o’clock finish. “Did she say who she was meeting?” Nathan asked.

  “No. Nor did she mention if she was meeting him somewhere or if he was picking her up here.”

  “You got back to the hotel last night about 12:30. Did you happen to see her then? Or anyone else in the hall?”

  “When I got to the room I found there was a fax waiting for me so I went back downstairs again. A few minutes after I got back to my room with the fax, your roses arrived. I didn’t see Peggy during those trips, although I passed a few people. I didn’t notice enough about them to be helpful to you.”

  “The fact you didn’t tense to someone that appeared out of place is itself helpful. Peggy talked about an upcoming date, what else?”

  “It wasn’t a long conversation; I didn’t even know her name until today. She did ask if I knew a Joe Prescott.”

  “Joe? That’s interesting.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s dead, about three months ago now. He lost a grandson to a drug overdose at one of those millennium New Year’s Eve rave parties in Chicago and he had been battling depression ever since. He drove his truck into a tree, likely on purpose.”

  “I’m surprised Peggy didn’t learn that quickly,” Rae said.

  “Those who knew Joe knew how strongly he resented the press that came around asking questions after his grandson died. I’m not surprised they avoided talking with a reporter about him.

  “Twelve teenagers died at that rave party from some new designer drug and it was a sensational story around here. Joe didn’t even want an obituary run in the paper announcing his passing; that’s how contentious it became with the press. Peggy would have eventually learned he had passed away, but it wouldn’t have been volunteered once she said she was a reporter.”

  Rae turned her coffee mug in her hands. “If she were working on a drug-use story and doing a follow-up on the rave deaths . . . does this in any way look like a suspicious death?”

  “Peggy Worth died in her sleep; we’re going to have to wait for the coroner to say if it was natural causes or not. Everything I saw suggests it’s natural causes.”

  Nathan lifted a hand, acknowledging the detective at the café entrance. “I’ll call you tonight with a general update and to see if you heard anything else around here that might be useful. How late is too late?”

  “I’ll be up through the late news.”

  Nathan nodded. He left money on the table for the two coffees and a large tip and got to his feet. “Thanks for the help, Rae.”

  8

  Nathan pulled into his driveway Sunday afternoon and parked behind the rusted truck his grandfather drove when he wasn’t hurling by in that new sports car. The backyard gate was open and as Nathan opened his car door, he smelled charcoal. Barking erupted and two fast black dogs darted out to meet him.

  “Yes, it’s me.” Nathan knelt to greet them, their bodies wiggling in joy and their tongues lapping at his exposed skin. “Are you two enjoying the company?”

  His grandfather appeared at the gate. “They are eating your flower-bed edging.”

  “I know.” Nathan accepted it as the cost of having young dogs. Digit and Black chewed on their gnaw bones when in the house, but outside they ate the flower-bed edging, the tarp over his planters, and just about anything that let them cut their teeth.

  Nathan opened the passenger door of his car. The deli had fixed a quart of coleslaw, baked beans, and a batch of deep-fried chicken hearts for him. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “I heard the scanner traffic. She’s dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “That will do wonders for tourism. The café crowd will be talking it up.”

  Nathan waved his dogs ahead of him and walked into the backyard where his grandfather had the grill ready to accept two thick-cut steaks. “What can I help with?”

  “I’ve got the meat handled, assuming your dogs don’t jump me for it.”

  “They’ll listen to a no.”

  Nathan entered his kitchen. Lord, give me patience. His grandfather taxed his ability to be polite, for the man knew how to get under his skin. Mom said he was lonely and mad, and it came out as being cranky. Nathan understood her point, but it didn’t make the situation any easier. He could have ducked out of the lunch arrangements today pleading the case to work, but he was worried about his grandfather. If Henry wanted to invite himself for lunch, he would be here.

  He opened the deli items, found serving spoons and a large tray to carry everything outside so they could eat on the back patio. The day was freezing, but his grandfather preferred a coat and a view rather than sitting around a kitchen table.

  Nathan pushed open the patio door with his foot. His life revolved lately around eating with someone and catching up on news—at this rate he was going to have to figure out how to run during the winter or pay for it come spring.

  “How long are you planning to maintain two homes? I need your tongs to do these steaks properly and you don’t have anything here but big serving forks.”

  “As long as I’m sheriff, I have a place in town,” Nathan replied. He’d made it a campaign promise, and he didn’t regret it. It minimized how long calls at night cut into his sleep.

  “Well it’s a waste of money now that you’ve been reelected. I know this town. You’ll be sheriff for life until you decide not to run for reelection again. I was by your main place yesterday and it’s obvious no one is home much. The drive needs attention, you’ve got tree limbs down from the last storm, nothing has been done to repair that fence your mom insisted was perfect.”

  “I’ll get to it, Henry. I was out there a day ago, and Dad is by to get the mail if I don’t have time. Once the strike is past I’ll be spending the weekends out there again.”

  For topics of conversation it was family, the strike, or what was happening in Bruce’s life, and the only one of those subjects that Henry didn’t have a preset position on was Bruce. Nathan sacrificed his friend without a qualm. “Bruce Chapel has brought in a partner.”

  “I heard she’s already gotten involved in police business with that hotel death.”

  “Her room is a few doors down; it’s hard to miss the cops and coroner traipsing by. She’s a retired cop; she was useful.”

  “Is she single?”

  Single, pretty, and had him intrigued. “Yes. I think she and Bruce go way back.” Nathan watched his dogs come around from behind the garage, both with noses brushing through the snow on the ground and tails wagging fast. One began to dig at the woodpile.

  “Bring over the tray. These steaks are done.”

  Nathan brought over the tray. They were two beautifully cooked steaks. “Thank you, Henry.” He waited until his grandfather took a seat at the table. “Would you say grace?”

  His grandfather put his rugged hands together in an old-fashioned sign of respect. “Lord, You made us and gave us breath. May we do justice, love mercy, and walk honorably before You this day. By the precious name of Jesus, I ask for Your help to do this. Amen.”

  Nathan blinked away unexpected moisture in his eyes. “Thanks.”

  “I’m not so old I forget who I’m about to meet one day soon. Pass the salt.”

  Nathan passed it over, knowing the salt was bad for Henry’s blood pressure but that he’d also lived long enough he didn’t care. “I talked to Larry over at the union hall yesterday. I’d like your advice.”

  His grandfather reached for the baked beans. “What’s the latest wrinkle?”

  “Prescription costs.” Nathan cut into his steak and explained what he had learned the day before.

  * * *

  Rae closed the book she was reading and slid it over onto the hotel table beside the couch. Her Sunday was ending back at the hotel where it had begun.

  Are you happy when you first awake? H
er grandmother knew how to get to the heart of the matter. The lady was ninety-two, had lived in a nursing home for the last seven years, and was at peace with life.

  Rae envied her grandmother. Mornings when Rae woke were often the heaviest point of the day, the moment when she opened her eyes and saw a good day, and then the memories of the past returned. . . . She didn’t know how to be happy anymore or if she even deserved to be again. She’d failed so miserably, and Mark was dead. That would never change.

  Sunday was at least ending. She’d spent the afternoon with Bruce painting her new office, left to see her grandmother, and returned to town too late to make the evening church services. Her only contribution to the world today had been to get in Nathan’s way this morning even though he’d been nice about her interference. Tomorrow, working with her uncle, she’d be too busy to waste time thinking.

  She wanted to be needed again, to fit in, to have a place and a job she could do. Happiness—maybe someday she could let herself hope it would return.

  She reached over for her Bible. The book traveled with her as one of her most important possessions, but for all the handling and hours spent reading it, the words had felt dry this last year, the words not reaching past the confusion and hurt she was feeling. Her fault probably, but a reality she had come to expect. She let the Bible open to the middle and found herself in Proverbs, on a familiar page marked with underlined verses she had discovered and noted in years past.

  He who gives heed to the word will prosper,

  and happy is he who trusts in the Lord.

  Proverbs 16:20

  Not for the first time in the last year she read the words and found they hurt. They held out such promise and she just couldn’t seem to take hold of it and see it come true.

  Lord, I just don’t understand anymore. I tried my very best to take care in what I did, to do my job with honor, and I ended up destroying Mark’s life and my own. Why didn’t You stop what was happening? You could have laid me out with cancer or a busted leg or done something to change the course of events. But You didn’t.