Diamond Before Dying (Reapers in Heels #4)

by Krumbine, Jason

  Betty fidgeted uncomfortably her seat, avoiding Avery's gaze.

  "Okay," Avery said. "I'll take that as a no." She sighed. "You guys should probably take the rest of the day off."

  "I don't think you can tell us to do that," Betty said.

  "Well, the alternative is to hang around here and deal with a lot more of those." She nodded at the office.

  Betty got to her feet. "You know what? Going home sounds like a great idea."

  Avery and Brooke stepped back out into the hallway.

  "I'd like to go home," Brooke muttered. "I shouldn't have to be here working. You know what we need? Bereavement leave."

  "First off," Avery said. "We're basically independent contractors. We don't get any kind of leave. Second, bereavement leave is for when you've lost somebody."

  "Really?"

  "Really." Avery looked at her. "How do you not know these things?"

  Jack joined them in the hallway before Brooke could reply. He was holding several folders. "Here's the info on all the patients that have come back so far. The sixteen year old in the morgue? She was DOA shortly after arriving. They had her on the table for all of five minutes."

  "Five minutes?" Brooke asked in disbelief. "That's all?"

  Jack nodded towards the morgue. "Did you see her?"

  "Actually," Brooke said, folding her arms. "I did not. I decided to hedge my bets and not risk turning into a zombie."

  Jack looked at Avery. She just shook her head. "Don't ask."

  "Well, if you had seen her, you'd know there wasn't much to work with," Jack explained to Brooke.

  "Somehow that sounds vaguely offensive, but I can't put my finger on just how," Brooke interjected.

  "The girl was in an accident at the Waterside Mall, where they're doing all that construction," Jack continued, ignoring her aside. "She had half a concrete wall collapse on top of her."

  "Okay, that's a bit of an ouch," Brooke conceded. "But still, five minutes? I mean, is that even long enough to say you've tried?"

  "It's a personal policy of mine to never second guess another surgeon," Jack replied.

  "Yeah, but maybe second guessing this guy and working on the poor girl for longer than five minutes would have kept her alive," Brooke said.

  "And maybe it would have just prolonged the inevitable," Jack responded. "Do you know the kind of pain she would be in?"

  "It can't be any worse than what she's in now," Brooke said.

  "Well, since neither one of us has actually examined her, we don't know what kind of pain she might or might not be in," Jack replied. "Not that it particularly matters."

  "Wow, I certainly hope that I don't end up on your table." Brooke frowned. "Or the table of the guy that worked on this poor girl."

  "Alright," Avery said, cutting in. "Let's not go off on a tangent here. Not having any of our equipment isn't going to make this any easier, but it's possible we might be able to find something if we start talking to the other subjects. Maybe there's something's similar in their stories."

  "I can already tell you that there probably isn't," Jack said.

  "Buzz kill," Brooke muttered. Avery shot her a glare.

  Jack continued. "Plus, since you've been down here, we've had two more not die."

  "Two more?" Brooke gaped at Jack. "Geez. What's your mortality rate around here?"

  "Well, it is a hospital," Jack replied coolly. "People are bound to die."

  "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure your job is to make them better," Brooke said.

  "Then clearly we're doing our job," Jack replied through gritted teeth. "Since they're all coming back to life."

  "Okay," Avery said, grabbing the folders from her boyfriend. "We're gonna go before you two kill each other."

  "Be careful," Jack called after them.

  ten

  "You really need to stop ragging on my boyfriend," Avery said as they rode the elevator up.

  "Why? You do it to me all the time," Brook responded.

  "That's because the men you're with are usually about a step above wild dogs," Avery said, watching the digital numbers above the doors. "Or a step below, sometimes."

  Brooke made a wishy-washy gesture with her hand. "I don't know. Jack doesn't seem much better, honestly."

  "Then maybe you need to see a doctor," Avery suggested. She tried to check her sister's head. "Maybe you have a concussion? Or a tumor? Maybe it's a tumor pressing down on the part of your brain that helps you see reason?"

  Brooke brushed her sister's hand away. "Okay, first off, thanks for wishing I had a brain tumor."

  "That's not actually what I was saying," Avery interrupted.

  "Second," Brooke continued. "Sure, Jack's a doctor and everything and I guess that's great if you're into the whole stable-male-provider-that-you-can-marry-and-have-two-point-five-kids-with thing."

  "Because god forbid somebody would want something like that," Avery muttered.

  "But it feels like there's a scuzzball lurking right beneath the surface of that doctor's coat," Brooke finished.

  "Really?" Avery asked. "You're saying that my doctor boyfriend is a scuzzball? Is that even a word?"

  "You were using 'amuck,' like, ten minutes ago."

  Avery shook her head. "I can't even begin to guess what you're getting at."

  "I think it's pretty obvious what I'm getting at," Brooke said. "How well do you know your boyfriend."

  "How well do I know my boyfriend?" Avery asked. "As opposed to, what? How well you know him?"

  "Okay, well, when you put it like that, it sounds kind of bad."

  "Kind of bad?" Avery repeated. "Brooke, we've been dating for a little over two years. I'm pretty sure that no matter what, I know him better than you."

  "Okay, sure, maybe," Brooke started.

  Avery shook her head, cutting her sister off. "Nope. There's no maybe about it. That's a cold, hard fact."

  "Interesting you should bring up the words cold and hard," Brooke replied.

  "Please don't make this about sex," Avery muttered.

  "Come on." Brooke looked wounded.

  "Well," Avery said. "You make everything about sex."

  "I don't make everything about sex."

  "Oh, that's rich," Avery scoffed. "I can't remember the last conversation we had that didn't end in the discussion of somebody's sex life."

  "I'm just saying," Brooke continued, ignoring her sister's jab. "That if you were to read between the lines-"

  "Why would you even do that?" Avery interrupted.

  "Because I think there's something being said between the lines," Brooke replied. "Something that you don’t feel comfortable saying out loud. That's why one has to read between the lines."

  "Except that when you read between the lines, you end up seeing things that aren't there," Avery pointed out. "Which brings us back to the brain tumor. Which, for the record, I do not want you to have."

  Brooke turned and gaped at her sister in surprise. "Oh my goodness."

  Avery shrank back from her, looking at Brooke like she suddenly grew a third eyeball. "What? Is it that surprising that I don't want you dead? Why are you staring at me like that? Stop it. It's freaking me out."

  "You're hoping that Jack pops the question," Brooke said.

  "Excuse me?" Avery did a double take. "What did you just say?"

  "You heard me."

  "I don't think I did," Avery replied. "Because I think I heard you say that I was hoping that Jack asks me to marry him."

  "I didn't use the word marriage," Brooke corrected. "I try to be delicate about these kinds of matters."

  "Right. Delicate is the word I would use," Avery said, dripping with sarcasm. She just shook her head and turned her focus back to the digital numbers over the doors.

  "Well?" Brooke asked after a minute.

  "I'm not even going to dignify your question with an answer," Avery said.

  "Oh, come on."

  "No, I will not 'come on.'"

  "I tell you everything." />
  "And I wish you wouldn't."

  "I'm just going to make things up in my mind," Brooke said.

  "You're going to do that anyway," Avery replied.

  "This is your opportunity to just come clean with me," Brooke said. "I mean, if these are the things you're thinking, now's the time to discuss them before you get locked into anything that you regret."

  "Oh, boy," Avery muttered.

  There was a soft ding. The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, but nobody got on.

  Instead, Brooke and Avery were greeted by the sight of two gunshot victims howling in pain, blood squirting everywhere.

  "I don't understand!" Somebody howled. "What the hell is going on? They're flatlining but they're not dying and they're not getting any better!"

  "I don't know!" Somebody shouted back.

  One of the gunshot victims started cursing up a storm and the elevator doors slid close. A moment later the elevator resumed its trip up to the sixth floor.

  "Well," Avery said. "This is going to get worse before it gets better."

  eleven

  George Madison was cold to the touch. Ice cold, in fact. It hasn't deterred his daughters though. They've been holding on to his hands as tightly as they could, as though their combined grip could keep him from slipping away again. The monitors around him weren't recording any signs of life despite the fact that George had been sitting there, carrying on conversations with his children like nothing had happened. The nurses had stopped coming in to check on him, leaving George alone with his children, which was how Avery and Brooke found him when they stepped into his room on the sixth floor.

  The Madison family instinctively tensed as the Graves sisters walked in, as though they knew, on some subconscious level, who they were.

  Avery flashed her reaper badge, but it didn't seem necessary. "My name is Avery Graves and this is my sister, Brooke," she said. There was no response from the Madisons. "We'd like to talk to your father alone for a minute."

  George's children eyed Avery and Brooke warily, none of them moving from their spots.

  "It's fine," George said, speaking with an ease in death that he hadn’t known in life for months. He extracted his hands from his daughters’ grips. "I'll be fine," he shooed them out. "Go wait outside. I'm not going anywhere just yet."

  His children stepped out and Brooke suddenly became aware of how quiet the room was. She glanced at the monitors.

  "This is super creepy," she muttered, tapping on one of the monitors, but it refused to come to life.

  "I don't think the problem lies with the machines," George said. He sounded remarkably robust. A stark contrast to the sixteen year old girl who was falling to pieces down in the morgue.

  Avery sat in the empty chair next to the bed. "Mr. Madison," she began.

  "Call me George," he insisted. "Certain formalities don't seem all that important now."

  Avery smiled. "George, then."

  He returned the smile, but it was bittersweet. His gaze drifted to the window. "I knew it was too good to be true, my coming back."

  "Well, it is a bit of a mystery," Avery said. "But we're not here for what you think we are."

  "Oh?" George looked at her. "Are you here to tell me that I'm going to get another chance? That I've been given a few extra years?"

  "Not exactly."

  "Of course not," George said. He plucked at his sheets for lack of anything better to do with his fingers. "You never are. It's okay, though. I made my peace with this a long time ago. I wouldn't know what to do with any extra time anyway."

  Brooke grabbed the other chair and flipped it around so she sat in it backwards. "Except we're not here to take you anywhere."

  That got a surprised look from George. "You're not?"

  "No," Avery replied. "That's what I'm trying to tell you, George. We're trying to find out what happened."

  George switched his gaze back and forth between the sisters. "You mean, you don't know?" He frowned. "You'll forgive me, but that doesn't exactly inspire confidence in your particular job skills."

  "If only you knew," Brooke said.

  "We know that you're not the only one who hasn't passed on today," Avery explained. "We're trying to figure out why that is."

  "I think it has something to do with zombies," Brooke said.

  Avery glared at her sister.

  "What?" Brooke asked. "What'd I say?"

  George chuckled. "I'm pretty sure I'm not a zombie."

  Brooke eyed him suspiciously. "I'm pretty sure that's what a zombie would say."

  Avery sighed. "Please forgive my sister," she said.

  "She was dropped on her head as a child?" George finished for her. "I believe I've used that one once or twice in my time." He smiled at Brooke. "Don't be concerned with what other people think, young lady."

  Brooke smiled back. "Thank you." Then she smacked Avery in the arm. "See, that's what you should be. Supportive. Caring. Encouraging."

  George chuckled again. "You two remind me of my own daughters."

  "George," Avery said, "what we need, actually, is your help."

  George was surprised again. "My help?"

  "We'd like you to tell us what happened. Please."

  George was silent for a moment. When he did speak, his voice was heavy and his eyes were unfocused. "I was surrounded by my family here in this very room. I could literally feel myself slipping away. I thought I would be scared, but I wasn't. It was very," he paused, searching for the right word, "relaxing. Yes." He nodded, satisfied with his description. "That's what it was. Relaxing. There was no white light for me. I won't lie, that was a little disappointing. You hear so many stories about the white light. But for me there wasn't any white light. I wonder what that means?" He looked to Avery, but she didn't have any wisdom to offer. George continued, "Honestly, it felt very much like going to sleep. I was just slipping away. Farther and farther away. And for the briefest of seconds I was going," he paused again, searching for the words, but not finding anything suited to doing it justice. "I was going someplace else. I'm not sure where or even, honestly when. It was just, not here. Does that make sense? And then, I wasn't going anywhere. I was back here, in this bed, surrounded by my family." He stopped and looked at the sisters. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

  "It is," Avery said. "But, unfortunately, it doesn't tell us anything we wanted to know."

  She got to her feet and started for the door. George stopped her. "Ms. Graves, Avery. Will I be going back to the other place?"

  Avery hesitated before answering. "If we do our job right, George, yes. Yes, you will."

  George let her go, nodding his head. "That's okay. I've had plenty of time. But it was nice to have a few extra hours, too. I know it's not your doing, but thank you."

  "Wow," Brooke said, following her sister to the nurse's station. "That was like a punch to the gut."

  "I know," Avery agreed.

  "Why can't our usual bounties be like that guy?" Brooke asked.

  "Because men like that don't run from their responsibilities," Avery replied.

  Brooke shook her head. "Wow," she repeated. "I'm not gonna lie. I almost cried. Seriously. I felt my eyes water up a bit."

  They reached the nurse's station. Avery flashed her badge. "We're looking for Dr. Reyes?"

  "I swear, that old bastard was dead!" Somebody behind them exclaimed.

  The sisters turned around and found Reyes sitting in a wheelchair, pulling at his hair. He slowly rocked back and forth in the chair, butting the handles against the wall.

  "Is this going to be, like, the catchphrase of the day?" Brooke whispered to her sister.

  "It's certainly looking like it," Avery replied.

  "My life is over," Reyes muttered. "They're going to take my license away."

  "Oh, boy," Brooke said. "Buddy, I'm pretty sure they don't fire people around here for keeping patients alive."

  Reyes looked at her with twitchy eyes. "Except he's not supposed to be ali
ve. You know that."

  "Dr. Reyes, Avery Graves," she introduced herself. "Don't worry, we're not the death police."

  "Kind of we are," Brooke said.

  "We're more like bounty hunters, really," Avery corrected.

  "Yeah, but in this case, I feel like we're kind of being The Man, if you know what I mean," Brooke said.

  Reyes' gaze just bounced nervously between the sisters. "I have no idea what the hell is going on."

  Avery looked at her sister. "Just stop talking. You're freaking people out who are already freaked out."

  "And this is why I shouldn't be working today," Brooke pointed out. She looked at Reyes. "I'm kind of an emotional wreck right now. I apologize if I say or do anything that might come off as vaguely offensive."

  "You know she's telling the truth because she never apologizes," Avery said. "I'm still waiting for an apology for stealing my boyfriend back in highschool."

  "I was doing you a favor," Brooke said. "He was a total man whore and you were too much of a delicate flower to deal with something like that."

  "Anyway," Avery said, bringing them back on topic. "You said he was dead?"

  Reyes bobbed his head up and down. "I checked. There was no pulse. The machines recorded no heartbeat. George Madison was dead. And then," Reyes waved his fingers around, "he wasn't."

  "Was there anybody else in the room?" Avery asked.

  Reyes shook his head, staring at the floor. "Just family."

  "What about visitors over the last few days?"

  Reyes shrugged. "I don't know. I think it was just family, maybe a few friends. It's not like it came as a surprise to anyone. The man was ninety-five years old. His health had been steadily declining over the last year. He was about as ready to die as you can get." Reyes shook his head. "And then he simply wasn't."

  "Okay, well, you're just a super bundle of uselessness," Brooke said. She turned her back to him and whispered to Avery, "Can we go now? Because Dr. Doodie here is starting to bring me down and I can't handle getting any lower."

  Avery sighed. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Reyes. If you think of anything, have them page us over the intercom. We'll be around for a little bit longer."