by Regan Black
“I can relate,” Laney said. “Like I said, your cupcakes are addictive.”
Instead of preening under the praise, this time Heidi’s eyes took on a calculating gleam. She reached for a box. “Will you be taking one or two dozen cupcakes back to the station?”
“I walked over, so only one dozen. An assortment will do, but make sure we have at least two of the pumpkin cheesecake flavor.” She tapped the glass case. “It’s Officer Trask’s favorite.”
“It’s a seasonal bestseller.”
“I appreciate your time, Heidi.” Laney waited a beat while the baker nestled each cupcake into the box with care. “Who’s your supplier?”
Heidi bobbled the box, recovering quickly. “That depends. Paper goods come from one service, foodstuffs from another. Whenever I can, I use locally grown produce.”
“And what about the cocaine? Where do you get that?”
Heidi slammed the box onto the counter, negating all her earlier care with her product. “You need to leave right now. I have the right to refuse service.”
“I’ll go.” Laney held up her hands. “Just as soon as you call Dr. Perez to set up a rehab program.”
“I do not need rehab!” Heidi shrieked.
“Says every addict ever.” Laney felt a pang of sympathy. “Being in business poses all kinds of challenges,” she said gently. “You’re not the first to resort to a chemical booster.”
“Get out of my store.” She flung her arm toward the door.
Laney pointed at the phone on the wall behind her. “Call Dr. Perez, get into treatment and I’ll lock up for you.”
“I will not be treated this way, Deputy Chief Holt,” she blustered. “You’ve crossed a line.” She tore off her apron, flung it over the register. “Chief McCabe will deal with you.”
Laney was ready when Heidi turned and bolted for the back door. She had agility and speed on her side. Being high might have increased Heidi’s alertness, but it impaired her judgement. Rather than simply run, she stopped for her purse and got the strap tangled with the hook. As she wrestled to get free, her purse upended. Keys, sunglasses, lip gloss, wallet, loose change and several unmistakable packets of white powder spilled out across the floor.
As she tried to scoop up everything, Laney caught her hands and cuffed her, shoving her into the corner.
“Don’t do this,” she pleaded, tears rolling down her round cheeks. “You’ll ruin me.”
“No, that’s on you. You’re an adult. You know there are consequences for every decision.”
“I’m not a bad person,” Heidi spluttered. “I haven’t hurt anyone.”
“Drugs hurt a community one junkie at a time.” She dropped to one knee in front of Heidi. “Who is your supplier?” Based on the amount of coke in her purse, this was more than occasional recreational use. She had enough on her to support an active daily habit.
Yes, the SLPD had a murder, probably two, to solve, but Laney refused to give an inch on crime right now. Murder and drugs often went hand in hand. Shutter Lake didn’t need another scandal compounding the current crisis.
When Heidi didn’t answer her, she dialed the medical clinic and asked to speak with Ana.
“I’m in the middle of a drug intervention,” Laney said when Ana answered. “Can you send an ambulance over to Batter Up, please? Heidi needs a treatment program.”
“I do not!” she shouted. “I won’t go!”
“If she refuses treatment…”
Laney sighed as Ana’s voice trailed off. No need to finish that thought. Glaring down at Heidi, she made a decision. “She has a head injury as well. Possible concussion.”
Heidi swore. “Liar!”
“I’ll send a team to pick her up, “Ana replied. “I can’t guarantee she’ll stay.”
Laney thought about the baker’s aggressive reactions and brash attitude. “Let’s give her a chance to calm down. Have them come to the back door. I’ll explain her options on the criminal side of things, if she refuses my generous offer.”
She pressed a finger to her ear as Heidi burst into another flood of tears. “Thanks for the assist,” she said to Ana, ending the call.
Crouching again, she stared at Heidi. Her face red and splotchy, her eyes still showed the signs of drug use. “You still have choices. I can take you to the station and start the legal proceedings—”
“For what? I’m a user, not a dealer. No one got hurt!”
“The amount you’re carrying around, this could go either way. Or,” Laney continued, “we can skip the public humiliation of that and you can take a medical approach.”
“You’ll charge me either way,” Heidi spat. “I’ll file a complaint. You’re interfering with my business. Planting drugs on my person. You’re working for Nolan!”
Paranoia was another classic symptom of drug abuse. “All right, we’ll go to the station.” She hauled Heidi to her feet. “Heidi Udall, you’re under arrest for possession of cocaine with possible intent to distribute. You have the right to remain silent…”
“Wait! Wait!” Heidi gulped in a breath.
“Laney, please.” She wiped her face on her shoulder. “I didn’t do anything wrong. If you take me to the clinic, I’ll go into a program.”
“And?”
“And what?”
Laney wanted nothing more than to roll her eyes. She had to take what she could get right now. “Is your supplier in Shutter Lake?”
“No.”
“Thank you.” One small victory she and McCabe would celebrate. “I will search your bakery and I am going to pursue those missing cupcakes.”
“Whatever.”
“Is there anyone I can call to handle the perishables?”
“Now you’re nice?” Heidi puffed a breath that lifted her bangs. “I’ll talk with my doctor about the details.”
“Works for me.”
When the ambulance arrived, Laney saw Heidi loaded in, gave the key for the cuffs to the attendants and watched them drive away.
Shaking her head, she turned back to the daunting task of searching Heidi’s bakery kitchen for drugs and the link between Sylvia’s cupcake order and the disappearance of those cupcakes.
While searching for Sylvia’s killer, they’d found she wasn’t simply the beautiful entrepreneur loved by her staff. Sylvia had been blackmailing several of her clients. According to interviews with the employees, Heidi remained a Sparkle client. Lucy Gomez had taken over her service. Had Sylvia learned about the cocaine habit and used it to squeeze the baker in order to add to the stacks of cash they’d found in the wall safe?
It fit. Shaking her head, Laney called McCabe. This search would go better with two of them. She had no intention of giving Heidi any loopholes to slip through on the drug charge or anything else.
Chapter Four
Ana had learned early on that Mondays posed challenges for medical professionals. Even in Shutter Lake, where the overwhelming majority of citizens were committed to a healthy lifestyle, patients often waited for office hours rather than seek care over a weekend. Even though she rarely went out of town and could be on site within minutes, people too often waited for regular hours. Add in the patients who overdid it with sports or various physically demanding projects and the waiting room was always full on Mondays.
She and her team had barely cleared the most urgent cases when Laney called for help with Heidi Udall. While the team picked up the patient, Ana juggled the scheduled appointments so she could handle the baker’s crisis personally.
The signs of habitual drug use were clear enough and Ana chided herself for not noticing sooner. The health of this community rested on her shoulders. To be fair, she didn’t cross paths with Heidi often since the woman avoided the wellness activities and regular checkups. Now Ana had a better understanding of why.
Belligerent and embarrassed despite every effort to protect her privacy, Heidi reluctantly agreed to enter a drug rehabilitation program. She only had two conditions, the first being she
didn’t have to talk with Deputy Chief Holt again. Ana didn’t make any guarantees, only assuring her that no one from the SLPD would violate her rights.
The second condition was that Ana find someone to take a cupcake or doughnut to Troy Duval and visit with him each week. She explained how she inherited the thoughtful task from Sylvia and Dana picked up the tab for the treats now.
Accepting Ana’s promise to fulfill those conditions, Heidi asked to call Sheena Appleton, her backup baker. Ana allowed the phone call and then finished the arrangements for Heidi’s transfer. She and the staff were just getting back on schedule when Nolan walked in.
Since Sylvia’s death, the owner of The Grind coffee shop had been suffering physically. Although his symptoms mirrored a stomach virus, Ana suspected the root of his trouble was grief. As both physician and friend, she knew Nolan had been sleeping with Sylvia. Her friend claimed it was more convenience than relationship. Ana wasn’t sure Nolan would have agreed with that definition.
When she met him in the exam room, she could tell by his gray pallor and the deep circles under his eyes that nothing had improved. “No change?” she asked.
“Dr. Perez, there has to be a pill or something that will work.” He pulled his dark hoodie tight around his torso, huddling as if he couldn’t get warm enough.
Time, she thought. Only time could heal the erosion of grief. “You’re not running a fever—“
“I can’t keep anything down.”
“I understand,” she soothed. “I miss her too.”
He gawked at her. “You… what? What are you talking about?”
“In my professional opinion your symptoms are just as likely to be emotional as viral. Every test we’ve run has come back clear, Nolan.”
“She told you about me?” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Sylvia told you about me?”
Ana nodded.
“What did she say?”
“Good things.” Ana smiled, grateful her dusky-gold complexion rarely revealed her emotions. “Good things,” she repeated absently.
Sylvia had never made a habit of sharing all the intimate, gritty details of her sex life, not even with Ana. But she’d made it clear she enjoyed her time with Nolan immensely.
He slouched in the chair, his long legs stretched out and his hands over his face. “I loved her, Dr. Perez. I loved her and I don’t know what to do now.”
Tears leaked around his fingers, dampening his cheeks and the beard he hadn’t shaved for several days. “You’re doing exactly what you need to do,” she assured him. “Cry. Shout. Take some time off. Talk to a friend. Grief needs an outlet.”
“There’s no one to talk to. No one who has any idea how close we were. How she…”
His voice trailed off, his gaze distant, proving that was the crux of it. Nolan was carrying a terrible burden all by himself. According to Sylvia one of Nolan’s biggest assets had been his discretion. He respected and honored her request to keep their hook-ups private. Neither of them could have foreseen this scenario and how complete discretion hurt him.
Ana thought of Sylvia’s visits with Troy Duval, a secret she hadn’t known about. It was a quirk of Sylvia’s to keep so many things private and compartmentalized, from business to people. At first glance that seemed like an excellent philosophy. One she too had adopted early in her life. Now Ana wasn’t so sure. “You can talk to me,” she said before she could change her mind.
Nolan’s gaze cleared, sharpened. He sat forward in a flurry of long limbs. “Whatever I say here is confidential, right?”
“Yes.” Ana managed not to recoil at the abrupt and intense change in his demeanor. Was Nolan suffering so deeply because he’d killed Sylvia? Please not that. “Yes,” she repeated. “Unless you share information about a crime or show me signs that you’re a threat to yourself or others.”
The surge of energy and enthusiasm drained away as swiftly as it had appeared. He slumped back into the chair again. “You think I killed her.”
Her hands still folded on the desktop in front of her, Ana studied the man, first as a patient and then as a friend of a friend. She made the effort to remain objective, keeping her old fears buried.
“No.” She’d seen killers up close. She’d looked into the eyes of killers who believed they loved their victims. The memories pulsed to the surface like a slow-moving bubble of lava ready to burst and spill over, scorching her. She pushed back, focusing on the present. “If you know something about who did kill her, I encourage you speak up.”
“To you?” Hope flared in his grief-worn gaze.
“To the authorities, preferably. Sylvia deserves justice.”
Nolan leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “Yes, she does.”
“As someone who loved her,” Ana continued, “you understand the need for closure.”
“I know. Believe me, if I could help the investigation, I would.”
“All right.” Ana didn’t press further. She wished there was more she could do, for Nolan and Sylvia. “Did you try the herbal tea I suggested?”
He sat up, sheepish. “It helped a little,” he admitted. “Lacks flavor.”
“Add some honey.” He could stand the boost and calories from a little sugar right now. “And pick up some chocolate.”
“I don’t really have a sweet tooth,” he said.
“Then bring the chocolate for me when you come in for a follow up.” The joke brought out a ghost of his charming smile. The response gave her confidence he’d soon be through this acute phase of the grieving process. If only she could say the same for Sylvia’s parents. Or even herself.
At the door, Nolan paused. “How do you do it, doc?”
“Do what?”
He circled a finger around his own face. “Keep up the cool, confident façade.”
“A lifetime of practice.” She smiled, sincerely, just to prove she still could. “Medical school is really just several long, intense years of poker-face training.”
She and Sylvia had both mastered that exhausting aspect of being successful in a service industry. It required effort and commitment to remain calm and professional when clients were in a tizzy or a crisis. No wonder they’d bonded so quickly.
“So nothing rattles you?” Nolan asked.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” She patted Nolan’s shoulder. Premature death bugged her almost as much as physical affection. Unsolved murders definitely rattled her. “We all grow up, but everyone still has a monster or two lurking under the bed.”
“Guess so.” Shoulders hunched again, Nolan turned and walked out of the exam room.
She stood there in the wake of his sadness wondering what to do next. Sylvia had told her she’d taken precautions during her search for answers to Josie’s disappearance. She’d promised to set up some sort of alert or message that would deliver to Ana if something terrible happened.
Well, the absolute worst thing had happened and the continued silence was deafening. Could she ask Laney about it or give the deputy chief a lead without digging an inescapable hole for herself?
Not yet.
She couldn’t tie any of her suspicions about who killed Sylvia to actual facts. The police didn’t need another wild goose chase and supposition wouldn’t make a difference for Sylvia, Josie, or even Mr. and Mrs. Cole. As she told everyone who’d asked since the day they found Sylvia’s body, she didn’t know anything.
“Imbecile! Idiot!” Her father’s insults filled her ears and she flinched with the first lash of the belt across her bare back. “Have you learned nothing?”
Silence was the only safe response when he was angry and making a point.
“They are not your pets. They are my property. They are cattle.”
Each hard statement was violently underscored with the belt. Pain shot through her as her flesh stung and burned. Wounds on her back meant her sister or mother would have to help her wash. They would all be punished if he found out they did anything to ease her suffering.
&n
bsp; She forced her eyes to stay open, to keep still and endure, as he beat her in front of the women chained to the wall. Age was impossible to determine, she only knew they were older than her, with breasts and hair over their privates.
Nothing was private in this room.
The women were only allowed to wash and dress when they were selected to work a job or meet a private client. Her father claimed clothing was a wasted resource that gave them delusions of power and respect.
Her father, Sergio Rojas, held the power. And he made it clear that respect and dignity would never be offered in this dank hole.
Hatred for him burned through her, deeper than the lash and sting of his belt.
At church each week the priest taught them hate was a sin. He told the people filling his church to forgive. She knew she could not. He told them to pray. She did not see the point in prayer anymore. He told the people to know others by their actions and leave vengeance to the Lord.
By his actions, she knew her father was evil. Her nerves on fire with desperation in her heart, she wasn’t convinced the Lord would exact vengeance in time to save these women. To save her.
“Dr. Perez? Are you well?”
Ana blinked rapidly, clearing away the gruesome memory. Slowly, the face of Donovan Keller, her newest physician assistant, came into focus. He was young, trim, and well built, with hair more red than blonde. Compassionate and witty, his clear blue eyes sparkled when he smiled, making him an immediate favorite with the female patients.
“Hmm?” Based on the tone and concern in his gaze, he’d clearly asked the question more than once. “Yes, I’m fine. Merely lost in thought.”
Those clever blue eyes flashed. “It’s a Monday.”
“Right.” She didn’t have a better excuse. “Lost thoughts will wait.” Checking her watch, she added, “We have a good three hours of clinic left today.”
“And about four hours of patients,” he quipped. “I’ll get moving.”
“Me too.” Smiling, she moved toward the next exam room.
Ana peeked at her cell phone for any missed messages. Finding none, she stepped into her office and made a quick call before hurrying back into the fray. She didn’t want to miss the press conference and a chance to speak with Dana in person.
