Security Measures

by Sara K. Parker

  He followed her as she walked out with George and stopped to chat with several residents on their way. Once they got to the walkway, she held out the Bible. “Thanks for letting me borrow it,” she said.

  George waved it away. “It’s yours. Keep it.” He waved hurriedly at Mack, calling out his name. “I’ll be seeing you.”

  Triss held on to the Bible and kept walking, but she veered off the walkway toward the creek that ran by the church.

  As she neared the creek, she slipped off her heels and slowed her pace. Hunter followed silently, suspecting that whatever was happening would be a turning point for them.

  He stood next to her, hands in his pockets to keep himself from tugging her to his side.

  A cardinal sat on a nearly bare limb of a tree across from them, the creek clear and moving swiftly over pebbles and craggy rocks. It was a whimsical scene, but when Triss finally turned to face him, he knew that whatever she was about to say would not be light and fairy-tale-like.

  “I’m sorry I canceled on Josie’s party yesterday,” she said. “And I’m sorry I dropped out of your lives this summer.” She paused, pressing her lips together, vivid grief in her eyes.

  Without thinking, he reached for her, unable to watch her stand so heartbroken and alone, but she stepped back.

  “Don’t.” She said the word sadly, almost hopelessly, and he suspected that she wouldn’t pull away if he tried again, but he dropped his arms and waited instead, giving her the time and space to say whatever else she needed to say.

  “I’ve been keeping a secret for six years, and I think it’s killing me. It’s the reason why you and I will never work, and it’s only fair that I tell you now. So you’ll understand. And so, maybe, I can start to move on.”

  * * *

  A cool wind ruffled against Triss’s too-thin blouse, and she hugged George’s Bible to her chest as if it would somehow give her warmth. Or strength. She’d started now, and there was no going back.

  “The baby clothes and toys you found in my apartment,” she began, watching Hunter’s reaction closely. “I bought them for my daughter.”

  Only a slight widening of his eyes showed that he had heard. But he stood still, waiting patiently, like he always did, and Triss took a deep breath and told him her story.

  The words tumbled out like the running water of the stream, cleansing and freeing her heart of the secret she’d held tightly for too long.

  He listened without saying a word until she had to eventually turn to the stream to finish her story, unable to bear the way he watched her—the compassion in his eyes, the way he shoved his hands in his pockets, she knew, so he wouldn’t try to hug her again.

  “A couple of months after the adoption, I decided to come home,” she said, finishing her story. “I didn’t want to tell Luke. He would have helped me raise her. But he’d spent years raising Cal and me already. I couldn’t do that to him.”

  She was silent for a moment, letting Hunter digest the story, and he finally spoke.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I just knocked on the door one evening, and he hugged me so hard I almost couldn’t breathe.” She smiled, tears leaking out at the memory. “I asked him not to ask me questions, and I promised I would never disappear again.”

  “And he accepted that?” Hunter asked, surprise in his voice.

  “He tried a few times, but I shut him down. I think he was afraid I’d run again. I used his fear to my advantage. Remember—I was sixteen. Not exactly thinking about anyone but myself.”

  She took a breath and turned to Hunter. “I love y-your kids, your little family.” Her heart raced as she nearly slipped and told him she loved him. Her eyes flooded again and she pressed the tears away, annoyed. “I haven’t cried in years. I think these funerals over the past weeks opened up the dam.”

  “You’ve got a few years of tears built up,” he said softly.

  “Crying is useless, though.”

  “Some call it cleansing.” His eyes searched hers. “You were saying...you love my kids?” A gentle smile played on his lips.

  “I do. But it’s too painful, Hunter.” The tears fell freely now, and she couldn’t stop them, her voice hitching as she struggled to explain. “I wanted to die after I said goodbye to my daughter. I had never loved someone so much. I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life without her, and I felt so ashamed. One night, I went to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. I almost jumped, but a passerby stopped me. When I finally came home, I started drinking. Finally understood what had driven my mom to drinking and drugs. Sometimes, there’s so much pain, you just want out. But one morning, I woke up and decided to start over again.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I laid out goals for myself and made a plan to achieve them. I only let myself think about my daughter for one week per year—the week of her birthday. I would buy her a gift for each birthday.”

  “The gifts I found in the chest in your living room.”

  She nodded, swallowing past the urge to break down and weep. “On her birthday, I would always say a prayer for her and put the gift in the chest, and then I would close the chest and refuse to think about her for the next year.”

  “Survival skills,” Hunter remarked, watching her. She could tell he still didn’t understand what her daughter had to do with their relationship.

  “Josie and my daughter are only two weeks apart in age, Hunter. Every milestone reminds me of what I walked away from. I can’t do that for the rest of my life. I’m not built that way. I won’t survive it.” Her voice broke on the words, but she added one final, desperate plea. “Please, don’t ask me to.”

  He was silent for a long moment, and then he reached a hand toward her, his knuckles gently brushing the dampness from her cheeks.

  Warmth spiraled through her from the touch, and she forced herself to keep her feet firmly planted and not step into what she knew would be his welcome embrace.

  He dropped his hand and shifted on his feet, his expression falling into one of sad acceptance. “I won’t ask you to,” he finally said, his voice thick with emotion. “But I won’t pretend I don’t wish things could be different between us.”

  She nodded, her heart all at once relieved and achingly sad. “I know.” She turned from the creek, shoving her feet into her heels. Her toes were numb from cold, and the shoes didn’t do much to warm her up. “But now you know why.”

  She started toward the walkway and he walked beside her, hands in his pockets. “Will you ever tell Luke?” he asked, and her heart tripped at the thought.

  “I think I have to now,” she said.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “That he’ll tell me he would have helped me raise her. That I made the wrong choice.”

  “Do you think it was the wrong choice?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I think it was brave, Triss,” he said as they walked, and the sun suddenly felt warm on her face. “At barely sixteen, to run away and have a baby without any support system, to choose adoption, to come home and start a new life despite all you’d been through—that takes an unbelievable amount of courage and strength.”

  His words flowed over her like the healing rays of sunshine, the affirmation that she had gone so many years unable to accept.

  “Maybe, one day, you can connect with her again,” he offered as they approached Creekside.

  She’d thought about it each year. Had drafted and redrafted an email to the adoption agency. The adoptive parents had hoped for an open adoption. She’d made the decision to keep it closed, believing it would best for everyone. She’d regretted it ever since.

  “Maybe,” she said noncommittally, because she was afraid of that, too. Afraid of finding out her daughter was unhappy, unloved, alone. That Triss had actually made the worst choice she could have made, even out of the desperate hop
e and desire to do the right thing and give her daughter the best chance.

  “Roman will need some time to get someone to take over my shift,” Hunter said as he reached for the door. “I’ll talk to him after the holiday. Hopefully, we’ll catch this lunatic by then.”

  Triss nodded. “Good.” It was right and simple. The best way to break their ties with one another, and she knew it. But it didn’t make it any less painful. She’d known, however, that Hunter wouldn’t fight her. He was too good of a man, too honorable. He would accept her decision, especially now that she’d made it perfectly clear and he could understand her reasoning. She should feel only relief, but she felt strangely empty.

  ELEVEN

  Drained from finally telling someone about her daughter, all Triss wanted to do was head to her apartment and be alone for a while, but as soon as she walked into Harmony, she was pulled into a discussion by Sissy and Kaye about the week’s festivities. There would be pie-baking and Thanksgiving tree making, and Kaye suggested that Hunter bring his kids to the Thanksgiving eve festivities. Zach’s family was coming into town to lead a sing-along as they put up the facility’s Christmas tree and strung popcorn, and all of the planning and holiday excitement forced Triss’s thoughts away from her daughter and Hunter—and how much she was going to miss him and his kids.

  Eventually, she was able to slip away from the group and change into a pair of track pants and a hoodie. She tied her hair into a big bun and shoved on a pair of sneakers before heading to lunch. Her stomach rumbled, but she couldn’t decide if she was actually hungry or just anxious and emotional. She’d been moved by the pastor’s sermon earlier, and she didn’t regret telling Hunter about her daughter. In fact, she did feel lighter after confessing her secret and seeing how warmly it was received. She’d go to Luke’s house tonight and tell him, too. Get it over with so she didn’t have to keep thinking about it.

  But she just felt tired and a little nauseous, truth be told. She wasn’t used to letting herself feel so deeply. She’d spent so many years stuffing down her thoughts and fears and regrets that when she’d finally started to let it come out, she was physically exhausted by it.

  The scent of chicken tortilla soup filled the hallway, and Triss was tempted to fill a big bowl. She didn’t dare, though, and headed straight to the kitchen to grab one of the premade chicken-and-rice bowls from the fridge. She heated the meal in the microwave and then walked into the dining hall, joining a group of several of her friends.

  “You look terrible,” Riley announced before realizing how rude she’d sounded. “I mean—”

  “I’m aware,” Triss said, cutting her off. She wasn’t exactly living her best week.

  She took a bite of the chicken and rice, her stomach queasy. The dish was weirdly sweet—or Triss was in a lot of turmoil. She swallowed and washed down the bite with water, setting her fork on the table. Maybe she’d make herself some toast a little later.

  Conversations swirled around her and she scanned the room, wondering who had followed her that morning, who had been lying in wait with Kristy’s stolen car to try to...what? Scare her? Run her down? Why?

  She zeroed in on some of the conversations—Kristy and Zach talking about the damaged car; Hunter and George debating best holiday pies; Kaye and Courtney setting up their meeting.

  George leaned forward, his voice lowering. “Between you and me, I think she’s a little self-important.”

  Triss held back a laugh. Courtney had confidence, and she liked to tell everyone about her endeavors. Her research project was an endless conversation. They would all be glad when she finished interviewing her last subject—Kaye.

  “At least it’s an interesting topic, right?” she asked. “Something about combating loneliness in the elderly population.”

  George rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “That kind of research is only interesting to the younger generation. We aren’t lonely. We’re tired of being social.” He grinned. “We’re antisocial, and we’ve earned the right to be.”

  It was Triss’s turn to roll her eyes. “Whatever you say, George.” She saw the loneliness firsthand. It was shocking how few of the residents had regular visitors, especially considering how many of them had children who lived close by. She’d like to think that she would have been a presence in her mom’s life, if she would have lived, but she didn’t know enough to judge.

  “There she goes again,” George said suddenly, and Triss turned in her seat to see what he was looking at.

  Iris was slumped forward in her seat, her cheek half on the table, half on the plate.

  Triss jumped out of her seat and ran to the woman, shaking her awake. What was up with her narcolepsy lately?

  “It’s just her condition,” George said, then swallowed another spoonful of soup.

  But was it? Triss had a flashback to Iris in the ocean. Was someone still after her? Hunter appeared at her side, and Triss leaned forward and shook Iris’s shoulder, relieved when the woman jerked up into a sitting position.

  “I fell asleep again,” she said, stating the obvious.

  “Don’t you have a medication for this?” Triss asked. “Did it stop working?”

  “I ran out,” Iris said, her accent soft, her expression perplexed. “Can’t think of how, unless some spilled and I didn’t realize. Too early to get a refill.”

  “It’s a liquid?” Triss asked, red flags shooting up in her mind. The previous day, she’d asked Iris about her bank accounts, but Iris kept meticulous records and had found nothing out of the ordinary. With no clues as to why someone would target Iris, Triss had started to second-guess herself.

  “Yes.” She shrugged. “I wonder if the pharmacist cheated me.”

  “Maybe you can talk to your doctor and get a refill, anyway?”

  Iris frowned. “It’s a real hassle to get it.”

  “I could drive you,” Triss started to suggest, but Iris was already shaking her head.

  “It’s a controlled medication.”

  Triss stilled. “What is the medicine you’re taking, Iris?”

  “It’s called Xyrem. Works like a dream.”

  Xyrem, the drug Dr. O’Neill had mentioned.

  “For your narcolepsy?” she asked, certain she must be wrong.

  Iris nodded. “Yes, why?”

  Triss’s mind raced back to her lab results and the question of how Iris’s prescription medication could have ended up in her food or drink.

  “It’s a drug prescribed sometimes for narcolepsy,” Courtney chimed in. “But Iris is right—getting a refill ahead of schedule probably wouldn’t work. It’s a controlled drug.”

  “Controlled, why?” Triss asked, but she had a feeling she already knew.

  “It’s basically a form of GHB,” Courtney said. “Pretty dangerous when it’s misused.”

  “Well, it does its job for me,” Iris said, and she stood to leave. “I think I’ll take a little nap at my place.” As she walked out of the room, Harrison appeared in the entrance, his stance alert, his focus urgent.

  “Got a minute?” He gestured for her to follow him.

  She excused herself, tossed her dish in the trash and followed Harrison out of the room, Hunter catching up in seconds.

  “Did you catch all that?” she asked Hunter as they walked to her apartment with Harrison.

  He nodded. “You calling Goodson, or should I?”

  “I’ll do it after we see what Harrison has to say.”

  There was no doubt in her mind that someone had gotten into Iris’s medication and used it on Triss the other night. Had the same person seen the theft’s effect on Iris and taken advantage of her sleep spells to toss her overboard? If so, why? Who had a motive here? She needed to find some way to convince the police to seriously start investigating the four deaths before there were more deaths to investigate.

  As soon
as she’d shut the door to her apartment, she turned to find Harrison standing in front of her, his expression serious.

  “Someone’s been looking into the use of coolant as a method for poisoning,” he said. “We need to check the cameras in the kitchen.”

  Her stomach rolled, but she mostly felt fine. She’d only taken a small bite. But it had tasted strange...

  “It was under Don’s account this time,” he said. “But I don’t think it was him. The time stamp is from two days ago, late into the night—close to midnight, and before the new cameras were activated.”

  “Don’s in bed by eight most nights,” Triss pointed out, trying to ignore the rising nausea.

  “I got that impression.”

  “Do you feel okay?” Hunter asked her.

  “Kind of queasy, to be honest. My food tasted off.”

  The two men stared at her, alarm in their expressions.

  “I only took one bite. I’m sure it’s okay.”

  “We should get you to a doctor,” Hunter said, his eyes serious.

  “I’m fine,” Triss insisted. “But this is getting out of hand. We’ve got to figure out who’s behind it all.”

  Hunter looked like he might argue, but then Harrison spoke up.

  “I’ll put in a call to Poison Control and ask some questions when we’re done here,” he offered.

  The idea seemed to appease Hunter, and he nodded his agreement. “First order of business will be to pull footage from the cameras, though my guess is the coolant was added to your food before the cameras went up. Maybe even the night of the internet search.” Pulling out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, he motioned for the two of them to join him in the living room. As they sat around the coffee table, he opened the paper and set it in front of them.

  “This is the list of people who were on the ferry. I crossed out the least likely culprits—the captain and crew, anyone not related to Harmony.”

  Triss silently counted. “That leaves twenty-six people.”

  “We need to go through this list systematically and narrow it down. If we can first figure out who could have committed all of the crimes, then we can look at possible motives.”