Obsessed (The Lizzy Gardner Series)

by T. R. Ragan

  “What would Lara talk about?”

  “She was always worried about her older sister.”

  “Did she say why?”

  “Well, you see, Lara is a freshman in high school now, which means she still goes to the same school as her sister. Apparently there were—maybe there still are, I don’t know—a lot of rumors going around, and Lara was worried about Abbi’s reputation. If I were her mother, I would never let Abbi out of the house wearing those skimpy clothes and that crimson lipstick. I mean, come on, ladies, she’d be better off with a colorful braid or tattoos like the two of you.”

  “It’s called a dread,” Kitally told her. “Not too many people can rock one.”

  Hayley scratched her neck and said nothing.

  Helen didn’t need any prompting to keep talking. Hayley and Kitally sat on stools, watching her talk with her hands as she ran around the kitchen, collecting bowls and a mixer. “So you two work for that Lizzy Gardner woman?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Kitally said, which for unknown reasons made Hayley smile.

  “Could you grab the flour from the pantry?” Helen asked Kitally.

  “You need to put on some weight,” Helen told Hayley the minute Kitally disappeared. “That friend of yours is a tiny thing, too, but she looks healthy. Could you grab a couple of eggs from the refrigerator?”

  Hayley didn’t budge.

  “The sooner we get these in the oven,” the woman told her, “the sooner you two can try a little bit of heaven.”

  Kitally ended up getting the eggs and doing the baking while Hayley ushered the woman into the main room and did her best to keep her focused on why they were there in the first place.

  “Is Owen a friendly man?” Hayley asked.

  “Hmm. I don’t know about friendly, but he says hello or thanks me for the cookies I send over with Lara. Overall, I guess I’d have to say he is a strange one. I don’t trust people who don’t say much.” The woman stared at Hayley. “Like you, young lady. You’re a tough one to gauge. All of those tattoos on your body are throwing me off. Do they mean something?” She pointed to the snake tattoo on Hayley’s neck, the one with the skull for a head and a slithering tongue. Helen winced. “An angel on your collarbone and a snake thing on your neck. I don’t get it.”

  Hayley shrugged. “If I told you it meant something, would it matter?”

  Helen wagged a finger at her. “Ah, I get it. This is one of those curiosity-kills-the-cat things, isn’t it? If you tell me what it means and I don’t like it, I might not like you.”

  “And why would I care if you liked me or not?” Hayley asked, irritated that the woman was getting to her.

  “Everyone wants to be liked. It’s human nature.”

  “She really doesn’t care,” Kitally told Helen as she stirred the ingredients inside the giant bowl she held in her arms.

  “What happened to your finger?” Helen asked next.

  Hayley was about to tell the woman to fuck off, that it was none of her business, when Kitally dropped the spoon into the bowl and picked up a framed picture. “Who’s this?”

  “That’s my daughter, my only child.” Helen swallowed as if she were trying hard to keep her peppy self in check. “She was killed by a drunk driver.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kitally said. Then she gave Hayley a look that said give the woman a break and headed back into the kitchen.

  For the first time since they’d entered the house, Helen Smith was quiet.

  For some weird reason, Hayley felt the woman’s pain ripple right through her.

  As Hayley watched the woman sit quietly, she realized that nobody had ever asked her about her tattoos before. Not Lizzy, not Kitally, not even her mom. Hayley unclenched her teeth and said, “This coiled snake tattoo on the back of my neck represents my reality. The serpent holds his ground—fights and never retreats.”

  Helen lifted her head and her eyes brightened just a little bit. “Is your snake poisonous?”

  “No. Its venom provides me with expanded consciousness.”

  Helen looked doubtful.

  “The angel on my collarbone,” Hayley went on, “is someone I used to know.”

  “The other you before all the bad,” Helen said as if she could read her mind. “She’s your guardian just as my daughter is mine. They watch over us and remind us to live in the moment and to dance like nobody’s watching.”

  “Sure, yeah,” Hayley said.

  The buzzer on the stove began to ding.

  “I like your tattoos,” Helen said with a gentle pat on Hayley’s knee. “Now let’s go eat some cookies.”

  CHAPTER 41

  “Dad looks so much better,” Cathy said as she and Lizzy headed for the cafeteria to grab some coffee. “I’m proud of you for coming to see him. I do think it’s good for both of you.”

  Lizzy nodded her head as she tried to think about how she was going to tell Cathy what she’d learned about their father.

  After they grabbed a coffee and took a seat at the end of a long rectangular table, Cathy looked at her and said, “OK, out with it. You suck at trying to keep things from me, so what’s going on?” She pointed a finger at Lizzy. “And please tell me this has nothing to do with you and Jared.”

  Lizzy frowned. “Why would you say that?”

  “Never mind. What is it then? What’s going on?”

  “It’s about Dad.”

  Cathy frowned.

  “Remember the day Dad had gotten out of surgery and I called you to let you know the nurse had called me by mistake?”

  Cathy nodded.

  “Well, I didn’t tell you the whole truth. The fact is I went to see Dad that morning, but he’d just been wheeled out of the recovery room. After watching him sleep for a while, I got up to stretch and found an envelope made out to Grandpa with a handmade note inside.” Lizzy pulled up the pictures on her phone and handed Cathy her cell.

  Cathy glanced at the drawing. “Emma. Who is Emma?”

  “There’s more,” Lizzy said. “When Dad woke up, he called me by the name of Michelle, then reached out his arms and asked for Emma.”

  “Well, he was obviously still drugged up . . . you know . . . delirious.”

  “I was thinking that was the case,” Lizzy went on, “but there was a return address on the envelope. I did some investigating—”

  “Of course you did,” Cathy cut in.

  Lizzy sighed. “Michelle and Emma live in Oregon. I found an address and telephone number. I called Michelle, but she wasn’t home so I talked to her husband instead. I pretended to be a nurse calling from the hospital and told him that Mr. Gardner had listed Michelle Borell as one of the emergency numbers and that I needed to know if the name and number were correct.”

  “This is crazy,” Cathy said. “What did he say?”

  “He said yes, that all of the information was correct. He sounded concerned. He wanted to know how Michelle’s father was doing.”

  Cathy stared at Lizzy as if she had lost her mind. “Are you trying to tell me that Dad has another family hidden away in Oregon?”

  “I’m just as confused as you are, but I figured you would want to know about this.”

  Cathy stood up. “Why would you do this?”

  “Why would I do what?”

  “You have a wedding to plan but we have yet to try on dresses or celebrate in any way. More importantly, Dad has cancer. He’s dying, Lizzy, and yet here you are making phone calls and doing everything you can to find a way to drive a wedge between me and Dad.”

  Lizzy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I should have known you would find a way to try to make this my fault.” Lizzy shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

  Without another word between them, Cathy grabbed her coffee cup and tossed it in the garbage by the door as she walked out.

 
After Lizzy watched Cathy storm off, she decided to let her be for now. Cathy needed time to digest the news and figure things out for herself.

  Once again Lizzy’s life felt like it was spiraling out of control. Jared was the only stable thing in it. She really did need to take a few weeks off and concentrate on her wedding, now only thirty-two days away. And yet she knew she wouldn’t be able to get anything done until she helped Dr. Blair. The woman had made a terrible mistake. But the thing was, Lizzy could sense fear miles away and Madeline was seriously afraid for her life.

  Lizzy couldn’t just push it all aside. Whether Detective Chase or anyone else wanted to acknowledge it, the truth was that Madeline’s friends were disappearing. They needed to find the person responsible before he got ahold of anyone else.

  As long as she was here, Lizzy took the elevator to the third floor, where she stopped at the nurses’ station to ask about Madeline’s clinical toxicology report. There was only one nurse at the desk. According to the tag on her chest, her name was Margery. The odds of getting any information from the nurse were not in her favor, but one thing she’d learned over the years was that it never hurt to ask.

  “My client, Dr. Madeline Blair,” Lizzy told the nurse, “had some tests done here last week. I called a few days ago, but the results hadn’t arrived yet. I was wondering if someone could tell me when we can expect her toxicology report to come in?”

  Margery clacked away at the keyboard. “The report is right here. These tests usually take weeks, but it looks like Dr. Blair’s tests were expedited. They came in two days ago. When did you call?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “What?” Lizzy strained to see the report, but the monitor was turned away from her. “I’m a private investigator hired by Dr. Blair. Would it be possible for me to get a copy of the report?”

  Margery leaned in and peered at the screen. Come on, lady, give me the report. She could always have Madeline stop by for it, but that would be a hassle and would waste precious time.

  “Janelle Brown was the nurse in charge that day.” Margery looked around. “That’s Janelle right there. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  Damn. As soon as Margery walked off, Lizzy leaned over the counter and moved the computer screen so that she could scan the report. It was mostly mumbo jumbo, medical jargon she didn’t understand, but then she saw the words etorphine and fentanyl and she knew instantly that’s what Madeline’s attacker had used to immobilize her. Why both drugs, though? Perhaps there was no method to his madness. Maybe he used whatever he could get his hands on. He must have shot Madeline up in the beginning so he could tie her up and then again before he removed all evidence.

  Lizzy had straightened just as Margery pointed her out. Despite the severe expression on her face, Janelle was an attractive woman in her early forties. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a messy bun. A streak of white through her bangs, though, spoke of stress, or maybe she had a pigmentation anomaly. A stethoscope hung down her chest over blue scrubs. Completing the ensemble were black canvas tennis shoes with white polka dots. Interesting.

  Janelle walked over to where Lizzy stood. “Margery tells me you want a copy of a report. We have strict rules about these things. We can’t give the report to anyone but the detective in charge of Ms. Blair’s case.”

  “I have his card right here in my bag. Would it be possible to have the information sent over to Detective Chase today?”

  She stiffened, obviously not pleased by the request, but she collected herself and agreed to have Margery look into the matter. It would be hard to miss the crackle of bad energy coming off the woman. When Lizzy failed to head off, the nurse’s eyes roamed over the length of her, assessing and resentful. “Is there something else I can help you with?” she finally asked.

  Despite the woman’s wrathful stare, Lizzy held her ground. “I was wondering if you could tell me how many drug diversion cases you and your staff report each month.”

  “Is that why you’re here? Because of a reported drug theft?”

  “One of the cases I’m working on involves the theft of syringes of fentanyl, a narcotic painkiller used—”

  “I am aware of the drug fentanyl,” Janelle said, cutting her off.

  “Does your hospital have a password-controlled system for dispensing narcotics in the operating room?”

  “Of course.”

  “And every loss is reported to the DEA within twenty-four hours of the theft?”

  The woman’s face flushed. Her fingers curled at her sides as if she were getting ready to claw somebody’s eyes out, most likely Lizzy’s. “Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?”

  “Not at all.”

  “And what was your name?”

  “Lizzy Gardner, private investigator. And yours?”

  “Janelle Brown, head nurse. It’s time for me to get back to work. If you have further questions, I suggest you take the matter up with the hospital administrator.”

  CHAPTER 42

  Kitally spotted Tommy at the kitchen counter, where a minibar of sorts had been set up for his party. She’d only known him for two years, but it was as if he’d transformed from a geek to a real guy within months. With dark curls frolicking around his ears and sparkly blue eyes, Tommy was looking pretty good. The dark jeans and sweater she’d helped him pick out a few weeks ago gave him a whole new look. If he wasn’t already taken, Kitally might be interested.

  The poor boy didn’t even realize Hayley still had a fondness for him that went beyond friendship. Or maybe he did know and they were both good at concealing their feelings. Either way, Kitally didn’t get it, didn’t understand why people couldn’t openly express their dislikes and desires. Lame.

  The boy was just lost where women were concerned. Case in point: the three obviously appreciative young women surrounding him in the kitchen of his new one-bedroom Midtown apartment while he yammered on to some pal of his. Kitally thought of Hayley again: you snooze, you lose.

  Kitally called him over with one waggle of a finger.

  “I think the outfit is a hit,” he told her as he joined her near the gas fireplace.

  She nodded her agreement. “I’m going to get my coat and take off.”

  “Already? The party is just getting started.”

  “I dressed you, I helped you decorate, and I gave a few of your friends a thrill by dancing with them. My work is done here.”

  He laughed as he looked around his apartment. “I was really hoping Hayley would change her mind and come over.”

  “Not a chance in hell. For Hayley, coming to a party like this would be synonymous with going back to high school. It’s never going to happen.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “About the same.”

  “Does that mean her every thought is about finding Brian?”

  “Pretty much,” Kitally said. “Her newest idea involves offering a reward for Brian’s whereabouts.”

  “A reward? How much?”

  “Ten thousand dollars.”

  Tommy let out a low whistle. “The rest of her inheritance?”

  “No. Once I realized that Hayley was never going to let this Brian thing go, I put up the cash.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You shouldn’t get involved in all of this,” Tommy told her.

  “Hayley isn’t the only one who can pack a lot of wallop in one small fist.” Kitally raised her fist and chucked him softly under the chin.

  “I’m serious.”

  “I can tell. You need to lighten up, Tommy boy.”

  Silence.

  “Well, I have to get going. Besides, your girlfriends are getting impatient.”

  “You know I’m not interested in any of them.”

  “Yeah,” she said as she walked away, “I know.”

 
“Thanks for all your help,” he called after her.

  Without turning around, she waved a hand in the air, then grabbed her coat from the guestroom and headed out. A chill greeted her as she stepped outside. The clicks of her high-heeled boots echoed off the pavement and into the night. The sky was black. Every night lately there seemed to be fewer stars.

  Kitally lived alone in a big empty house in Carmichael that belonged to her parents. She hated the house. It was the same house her dad used to bring his mistress to. After she told her parents she was moving out, her dad told her to pick one of their many properties. She’d picked the house in Carmichael just so her father wouldn’t have a convenient place to stay after working long hours at the office. She figured he could take his whore to a hotel instead.

  She got off at the Marconi Avenue exit and saw the car that had been right on her ass do the same. She took a right on Marconi as planned, but instead of heading for Palm Drive, she sped up and made a right on Fulton, her tires smooth as she cut through a yellow light.

  The car behind her went through the red. So this was serious business, she realized. But she wasn’t worried. Her Lamborghini Aventador might only be the fifth-fastest street-legal car on the market, but it was one of her favorites. The beauty had pushrod suspension and a superfast single-clutch gearbox. Whoever was following her was out of his or her league.

  She cut down El Camino and took a detour on Morse. Ten minutes later, Kitally waited for the garage door to slide open before she pulled into the garage and turned off the ignition. The chase had her blood pumping in earnest and she considered going to a club and dancing off some of the adrenaline racing through her veins. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face if she tried. She had her father’s love of cars. She used to travel with him to Germany and Italy to attend car shows held only for their VIP buyers. They toured the factories and even test-drove a Bugatti Veyron.

  Kitally peered into the night, wondering who had been chasing her. She’d danced with a few of Tommy’s friends. Some guys thought of dancing as a form of foreplay. Maybe one of them thought he could follow her home and get to know her better.