“They sure didn’t help any.” She shot a troubled glance over her shoulder. “I mean, I’ve seen Sylvia upset lots of times, but never like this. She started complaining about chest pains. Her BP and pulse were elevated, and she was having some shortness of breath, so Earl and I talked her into coming here.”
Pete rubbed the ache that blossomed behind his forehead. “She’s been through a lot in the last year or so. Having these guys at her door after what happened to Oriole was probably enough to push her over the edge.”
Pain shone in Zoe’s baby blues as she gazed through the glass at Sylvia in the hospital bed. “I know.”
“Have you talked to Rose?” Sylvia’s daughter-in-law and Zoe’s best friend, who had moved to New Mexico a few months ago.
“I called her as soon as we got Sylvia here. I’ll call her again and let her know what Dr. Fuller said.”
Earl rounded a corner and strode toward them. “Hey, Pete. Zoe, you ready to go?”
She looked at Pete, a silent question in her eyes.
“I’ll stay with her until they get her settled in her room.”
“Thanks.” Zoe’s eyes glistened with a flash of tears and she blinked. “We have to get these guys.”
He drew her into his arms. “We will. I promise.”
She held onto him, her breath warming his neck. After a moment, she pushed away. “I have to get back to work.”
He watched her go, slipping into her jacket as she headed for the exit, and then glanced into the treatment room. Ever the mother hen, Sylvia gave him a pleased smile. He held up one finger at her and pulled out his phone, punching in Seth’s number. He wanted an update on the search for the sons of bitches in the white van who had paid another visit to his township.
It had been almost midnight before Pete made it home from the hospital. Why the hell did it take so long to get a patient moved into a room? Exhausted, he fed Zoe’s cats and fell into bed only to lie there, eyes wide open, staring at the shadows.
He guessed he fell asleep around four. His alarm went off at six. By seven he was at the station to meet with Kevin Piacenza, his third-shift officer, who thankfully had agreed to stay over a few extra hours while Pete helped get Harry moved into the nursing home.
Assisted-living facility.
The area-wide BOLO on the white panel van had been updated to mention damage from last night’s collision, and Pete asked Kevin to check out the local body shops.
When Pete arrived at Golden Oaks, he searched the lot for Nadine’s car. Apparently he’d arrived first. He parked his Edge at the front door and climbed out. As much as he hated to admit it, his sister had been right about moving Harry this morning. While the usual gray clouds hung overhead, the temperatures had climbed to near forty, balmy by January standards.
By the time Nadine pulled up behind the Edge at nine thirty, Pete and one of the staff members had unloaded Harry’s belongings from the back of the SUV and transferred them into the room that would be his father’s new digs.
Nadine held the passenger door open and offered Harry a helping hand. “Here we are, Dad.”
Harry struggled out of the car, took the cane Nadine held out to him, and stared at the nursing home’s façade, a puzzled look on his face. “What’s this place?”
“It’s Golden Oaks, Dad.”
“Kinda early for lunch, isn’t it?”
Before Pete could step in and remind his father about their visit here two days ago, Nadine slammed the car door. “I wanted to beat the crowd.”
“Must have good food.”
“Yep.”
As Harry shuffled toward the door, Nadine shot a glance at the Edge and then at Pete. “Where’s Dad’s stuff?”
“I already moved it into his room.”
“You should have waited for me.”
“You were supposed to be here a half hour ago.”
“Dad wasn’t cooperative about getting dressed this morning. I suppose you just dumped everything in the middle of the room.”
Damn, she sounded like their mother hounding him to clean his room. “I didn’t know where you wanted it.”
“Exactly. I intended to put stuff away as you brought it in. Now I’ll have to spend all day sorting through everything.”
“What difference does it make? And what was I supposed to do while I waited for you? Sit on my hands?”
They’d reached the heavy wooden doors, and Harry stopped and straightened. “Stop bickering, children.”
The stern paternal voice stirred a flood of memories. Pete as a boy. Bratty baby sister Nadine jabbing at him in the backseat of the car. Pop behind the wheel. Stop bickering, children.
Pete hadn’t heard those words or that tone in decades. “Yes, Pop.”
Inside, the same thin gray-haired woman who’d shown them around two days ago waited, a warm smile on her face. What was her name?
Nadine and the woman shook hands, and Pete caught a glimpse of her name badge. Connie Smith. That was it. Pete rubbed his forehead. Good God, was he going to be calling everyone Sunshine before too long the same way Harry did?
Pete surveyed the area. A number of residents gathered in the sitting room to his right. To his left, two ladies sat at one of a handful of tables having coffee near a counter containing a large water dispenser and a bowl of fruit. Another woman, well-dressed in a blue sweater and pearls, her hair styled and sprayed in place, stood holding onto her walker near the receptionist’s desk. Two young men chatted with her, smiling and gently touching her arm. Grandsons perhaps. One of them kissed her on her cheek.
“Right this way,” Connie Smith said, interrupting Pete’s thoughts. She directed them toward the elevator, which Pete had become familiar with in the last half hour of lugging his father’s possessions inside.
During the ride to the second floor, Nadine and the woman chatted like old friends. Harry scowled at the various notices and activities lists posted on the elevator’s walls. As soon as they stepped out, he balked. “What’s going on?” he demanded, a quiver to his voice.
With well-practiced joviality, Connie patted his hand. “This is your new home, Mr. Adams. Your apartment’s at the end of this hall. I know it’s kind of confusing now, but we have lots of aides to show you around until you get used to it.”
Harry’s expression had transformed from confusion to fear to obstinate as the woman spoke. “No.”
Nadine blanched. “What?”
“No. I’m not staying here.”
Pete had been afraid of this. When Nadine looked at him, silently pleading for his assistance, Pete gave her a helpless shrug. What did she expect Pete to do? This was a nursing home. Not a jail.
She shot a dark look at him and turned to Harry. “Dad, we discussed this—”
“No.” Harry shook his head adamantly.
Connie took his hand. “You’ll like it here. We have games and crafts and exercise classes—”
He jerked his hand free. “I don’t play games. I don’t like crafts. And the only exercise I need is a walk around the park.” Having dismissed both women, he fixed his gaze on Pete. “Take me home, son.” Harry turned to get back on the elevator, and Pete believed he would have—except the doors closed before he had the chance. “Dammit.”
Nadine appeared on the verge of tears, and the Smith woman promised everything would be fine. Watching Harry jab at the down button, Pete wasn’t so sure.
He moved closer to his father and whispered in his ear, “Pop, we need to talk about this.”
“I’m not talking. You can’t make me stay here. I’m going back to my house. Not yours. Not Nadine’s. Mine.”
Pete’s headache ratcheted up a notch. The house—Harry’s house, which he’d shared with his late wife for decades—had been sold to a nice young couple years ago when Nadine had taken him in. “Pop…”
The
elevator doors swished open. The elderly woman in the pale blue sweater, who had been speaking with her grandsons downstairs, stood inside with her walker, blocking Harry’s entrance. But he also blocked her exit. She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Oh. Excuse me.” She smiled and Pete couldn’t help but think she must have been a knockout in her younger days.
Harry must have been thinking the same thing. “No. Excuse me.” He stepped aside with a grand and gentlemanly sweep of his arm, inviting her out.
“Why, thank you.” She stepped from the elevator with remarkable grace for a woman on a walker. “You must be new here.” She extended her hand. “I’m Barbara.”
Harry took the offered hand, and for a moment, Pete damned near thought his old man was going to kiss it.
“Barbara. That’s a lovely name for a lovely lady. I’m Harry.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry. What room are you in?”
He looked at Nadine and the Smith woman, both of whom gaped at him. “Well? What room am I in?”
“Uh. Room 224,” the Smith woman stuttered.
As if Barbara hadn’t been right there to hear, Harry turned to her and repeated, “Room 224.”
“How nice. I’m right across the hall. We’re neighbors.”
“Wonderful. Maybe you can show me around. Until I get to know the place, I mean.”
“I would be delighted.”
Side by side, Harry and Barbara tottered past Nadine and the Smith woman and down the hall. “Tell me, Barbara, do they sell chocolate milkshakes here?”
“As a matter of fact, they have delicious milkshakes. And they’re free.”
Nadine braced a hand against the wall. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“I told you it would be fine,” the Smith woman said, as if she’d planned on playing matchmaker all along.
Pete watched his father and the elegant woman with the pearls stroll away. Nadine and her new best friend trailed after them. He shook his head and smiled. “Pop, you dog you.”
ELEVEN
“Thanks for giving me a lift home,” Sylvia said.
“I wasn’t gonna let you camp in the hospital lobby.” Zoe slowed her battle-weary three-quarter-ton Chevy truck as they approached the turn onto Veterans Street in Dillard. The pickup that had crashed last night had been removed, leaving a fractured utility pole splintered and listing, held somewhat upright by its wires. “You really shouldn’t stay at your house alone though.”
Sylvia huffed. “What else can I do? With the kids out west, I don’t have anyone to come stay with me.”
Not that Sylvia would have let her daughter-in-law or grandkids babysit her anyway. But the For Sale sign in front of their house just two doors away from Sylvia’s provided a painful reminder that help was no longer close at hand.
“Pete and I talked,” Zoe said as she parked in the spot the ambulance had occupied last night. “He wants you to pack some things and move into his guest room. I’m staying with Mr. and Mrs. Kroll until we catch these guys, so it’s available.” She didn’t mention the part about Pete’s displeasure with her ongoing vigil at the farm.
Sylvia looked at Zoe askance and smirked. “As if you’re actually staying in the guest room.”
Zoe’s cheeks warmed. Her sleeping arrangements at Pete’s weren’t something she cared to discuss, especially with Sylvia.
“Besides, there’s no way in hell I’m letting some punks scare me out of my own home.” Sylvia gathered her oversized handbag—the one Zoe was convinced contained rocks—and released the seatbelt.
Zoe jumped out and circled to the passenger door before Sylvia could attempt the large step down from the old pickup.
Sylvia fluttered a dismissive hand at her. “Quit treating me like an old lady.”
“I’m not. I’m treating you like anyone who had spent the night in the hospital and had a stress test this morning.”
“And passed with flying colors, mind you.”
Not quite true. The doctor hadn’t liked what he saw and had ordered Sylvia to make an appointment with a cardiologist ASAP. She’d been as dismissive of him as she was trying to be of Zoe.
But Sylvia looked at the ground and hesitated. “It’s a long way down there, isn’t it?”
“This is a truck. Not your little Escort.” Zoe offered a hand.
Sylvia reluctantly took it.
A gust of chilly wind prompted Zoe to flip the hood of her coat over her head. “It’s colder here than it was in Brunswick.”
They shuffled toward Sylvia’s house arm in arm. “The weathermen said falling temperatures later this afternoon. I think their timing might be off.”
On the porch, Zoe opened the storm door—and froze. The wooden entry door wasn’t completely shut. “I know I locked up as we were leaving last night.”
Sylvia clutched her purse to her bosom. “Are you certain?”
Zoe had grabbed Sylvia’s keys and double-checked the lock while Earl and Seth had wheeled the stretcher out to the ambulance. But now the door was ajar. Closed enough to keep the cold out, but not latched. Zoe leaned down for a better look. The wood around the latch plate was crushed, evidence of being forced.
Zoe fumbled for her phone. “I’m calling Pete.”
“You do that.” However, Sylvia shouldered the door open and stormed in.
“Wait. Don’t go in there.” But Zoe might as well have ordered the northern wind to stay out. With an exasperated growl, she followed.
Sylvia charged through the kitchen to her living room, where she stopped and covered her mouth, letting out a sob. “Dear lord.”
Zoe reached Sylvia’s side, catching her arm before looking around. The entertainment center her family had given her two years ago for Christmas now boasted a gaping void where the television had been. The DVD player was also missing, a tangle of cords and cables left behind. The doors stood open and the knickknacks and photos on the shelves all appeared out of kilter.
Zoe tugged Sylvia’s arm. “We need to get out of here and call Pete.”
“Oh, no.” She ignored Zoe’s plea and moved toward the unit. “Oh. No, no, no.” She reached toward an empty spot on a shelf.
Zoe caught her hand. “Don’t tamper with the crime scene.”
Sylvia didn’t resist, but kept her hand there, as if touching an invisible picture frame. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Zoe struggled to recall what had been in that spot.
“Those filthy bastards.” Sylvia’s voice was little more than a whisper. “They could have my TV. They could have anything else they wanted. But why?” She hiccupped. “Why take Ted’s memorial?”
Zoe’s throat threatened to close. That’s what was missing from the shelf. The display Sylvia had created of her late son’s firefighting memorabilia. His badge. A plaque the fire department had made to honor his service. And a triangular wooden frame containing the American flag that had draped his coffin.
Zoe took Sylvia by the shoulders and turned her away from the shelves. “Let’s go over to Pete’s house. We’ll call him from there.”
The fight had gone out of the older woman. She lowered her head. “Whatever you say.”
Harry and his new “friend” had tottered off, with Barbara promising to show him around. Pete tried to excuse himself. “I have to get back to work.” But Nadine kept giving him The Look she’d inherited from their mother.
“Try it over there.” His sister pointed at one of the walls in Harry’s new room, indicating where she now thought the bookshelf should go.
Never mind that Pete had already moved the thing twice, and that wall was where he’d set the shelf in the first place. However, mentioning the fact would only have raised Nadine’s ire, so he dutifully lugged it across the floor. At least it was one of those cheap DIY pieces of crap from the local big box store and didn’t weigh much.
As Nadine pondered the aesthetics of the room, Pete’s cell phone rang. Zoe’s gorgeous face on his incoming call screen was a welcome sight.
“Hey,” he said. “How’s Sylvia?”
A moment’s silence greeted the question before Zoe spoke. “We have a problem.”
He sensed the strain in her voice and glanced at Nadine, who was still studying the furniture arrangement and tapping one foot. “I’ll be right back,” he told his sister and ducked out of the room before she could protest. “What’s going on?”
The story Zoe poured out stirred the embers of his tension headache.
“Is Sylvia okay?” He could well imagine her needing an immediate return trip to the ER.
“I offered her some of your good bourbon. She took it.”
And Sylvia wasn’t much of a drinker. “Have you called 911?”
“No. I called you.”
He would have smiled if he wasn’t so damned pissed. “I’m still in Brunswick getting Pop settled in.” From down the hallway, Pete spotted his father and Barbara chatting with three other gray-haired women. He appeared to be acclimating nicely. “You and Sylvia stay right there. I’ll have Kevin get over to her house and look around. I should be back in a half hour or so.”
After hanging up, Pete returned to Harry’s room and found Nadine waiting. “Let’s try it back over there.” She pointed at the wall from which Pete had last moved the shelf.
He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. “I have to get back to the station.”
There was that look again.
“There’s been an incident. Someone broke into Sylvia’s house and stole a bunch of stuff.”
The Look faded to one of concern. “Is she okay?”
“What do you think?”
Nadine nodded. “Of course. You go. I can handle the rest of this.”
Which was what Pete had said an hour ago. He approached her and kissed the top of her head. “Call me later.”
He ducked out of the room before she changed her mind, punching in Kevin’s cell number as he headed for the elevator.
UNEASY PREY Page 10
