by Debra Webb
Somehow he had to convince her not to allow Addington to win.
He hadn’t told his parents yet about the ring or him popping the question. Waiting to see what her answer would be had seemed prudent. His mother would be over the moon. He didn’t want to build up her hopes in case Rowan said no.
She wouldn’t say no, would she?
He thought of the way she felt in his arms. Of how her body reacted to his. The way she looked at him, touched him.
She wouldn’t say no.
Putting him off, she might do—out of fear and for no other reason.
Maybe his confidence was inflated but he didn’t think so.
They hadn’t talked about kids, but he’d seen the way she looked at little ones. She wanted children. He was certain of it. Just something else her fear wouldn’t allow her to wish for.
Damn Julian Addington.
The nurse appeared at the door to his father’s room. Billy glanced at him to ensure he was still sleeping before pushing to his feet. He slipped out of the cubicle, the door swooshing shut behind him.
“You have more test results back?” His gut clenched at the idea that this could be bad news.
“The doctor will be in to speak with you shortly, but I wanted to give you a heads-up for your mother. They’re going to transfer your father to Huntsville Hospital. He’ll likely be there a couple of days depending on the procedure they decide to do. She may want to run home and get a few things. They won’t allow her to ride in the ambulance, so she’ll need someone to drive her.”
“I’ll be going with her. About how long do you think we have before the transfer?”
“Perhaps an hour,” she said. “As soon as the doctor can he’ll go over all the details with you and Mrs. Brannigan.”
“Thank you. I’ll step out to the lobby and let them know.”
The nurse gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep an extra close watch on your father until you’re back in the room.”
Billy thanked her and exited the intensive care unit. He strode directly to the small waiting room. His mother and Rowan stood the instant they saw him, fear claiming both their faces.
“He’s still stable,” he quickly assured her. “No change. He’s resting.”
His mother released an audible sigh. “Thank God.”
“Any updates from the doctor?” Rowan asked.
He nodded. “That’s why I came out.” He took his mother’s hand. “They’re going to transfer him to Huntsville. The nurse said you should go home and get a few things since he might be staying a couple of days. I’ll drive you to Huntsville so don’t bother getting your car.”
His mother looked uncertain.
“I’ll take you home to get some things, Dottie,” Rowan offered. “We’ll make it fast.”
“Good idea,” Billy agreed.
“Okay.” Dottie looked from him to Rowan and back. “We’ll be back quick.”
Billy hugged her and then Rowan. “Drive safe.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Rowan promised. “We’ll be fine.”
He watched them go and worry gnawed at him despite Rowan’s reassurance. Pryor still had an agent following her around, but Billy wasn’t so sure that was a good thing. For once he agreed with Dressler: he didn’t trust Pryor. For that matter, he didn’t trust either one of them.
He pulled out his cell and put through a call to Lincoln. “Can you send someone to my parents’ house to make sure Ro and my mom get back to the hospital safely?”
He’d brought Lincoln up to speed on the situation as soon as his father was stabilized.
Lincoln put his hand over the phone and shouted something; Billy couldn’t make out the muffled words. Then he said, “Done. Is your father still doing okay?”
“He’s hanging in there.” Billy headed back to the ICU, not wanting to be away from him any longer than necessary. “They’re going to transfer him to Huntsville. Rowan and I will be taking Mom, so I’ll be out of pocket for a while.”
“You do what you have to do,” Lincoln said. “Everyone here will have you and your family in our prayers.”
Billy sighed as he stood outside the glass entry doors. “I’m scared, Clarence. Scared to death.”
“I know you are, man. It’s going to be all right. We’ve got everything under control here. Your dad is in good hands.”
A loudspeaker announcement on Lincoln’s end of the line had Billy frowning. “What’s going on there?”
“Some kind of power outage. We’ve been without electricity for about half an hour now. Duck River folks are working on it. Somebody said something about a transformer blew and the backup generator didn’t kick in.”
“Damn. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full, so I’ll let you go.”
“Godspeed, Billy.”
“Thanks.” He ended the call and tucked the phone into his pocket, then pressed the button to get back into the ICU.
The lock clicked and the door opened. He walked straight to his father’s room, went inside and stood at the foot of the bed. Wyatt Brannigan looked so frail. So pale and fragile with all those monitors, the oxygen mask and the IV attached to him.
Billy closed his eyes and said another prayer. For his dad and for Rowan.
* * *
Rowan pulled into the driveway of the Brannigan home and a Winchester PD cruiser pulled in behind her.
“What’s wrong?” Dottie followed Rowan’s gaze and looked behind them. “Has something happened?”
The pitch of her voice rose in tandem with her obvious panic.
“I’m sure it’s just a security detail Billy sent.”
As the officer approached her window, Rowan powered it down. Before she could speak, he said, “I’m Officer Radisson, ma’am. Chief Brannigan asked that I provide security for you ladies.”
Rowan nodded. “Thank you, Officer Radisson. We’ll be inside for a few minutes, then we’ll be returning to the hospital.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right here.” He started back toward his cruiser.
Rowan opened her door and got out. Dottie did the same, moving quickly toward the porch.
“The sun feels good today,” Rowan said to make conversation while the older woman fiddled with her keys. “Your tulips are beautiful.”
Dottie’s porch was surrounded by colorful tulips. She flashed a faint smile. “Thank you. Wyatt helps me plant new bulbs every fall.”
The keys fell to the floor and Rowan picked them up. “Why don’t you let me do this?”
Dottie nodded. “I’m a mess. I’m sure they’re planning some sort of surgery.”
Rowan pushed the key into the lock. “Probably. The good news is—” she opened the door and waited for Dottie to go in before her “—these cardiologists get better all the time and Huntsville has an outstanding reputation in the field. He’ll be in excellent hands.”
“Hope so.”
Rowan closed the door and followed Dottie to her and her husband’s bedroom. “Do you have an overnight bag?”
“There’s a black one in the closet.”
“You start gathering what you need,” Rowan suggested, “and I’ll locate the bag.”
The closet was larger than Rowan had expected. She surveyed the overhead shelves and then the floor beneath the hanging clothes.
“There you are.” She grabbed the bag and headed back into the bedroom.
Dottie sat on the foot of the bed holding her husband’s pajama top. Probably the one he’d slept in last. Rowan sat down beside her.
“We’re going to see that he gets the best care possible.” Rowan squeezed her hand. “Let’s get you packed so we can make that happen.”
Dottie swiped at the tears on her cheek, then hugged Rowan hard. “Thank you.”
“You need a couple of really comfort
able changes of clothes,” Rowan suggested.
They packed a pair of worn soft jeans, Dottie’s favorites, and a pair of cotton slacks. Two sweaters since it would likely be cold in the hospital. Underthings and toiletries. She packed a change of clothes for Wyatt, then exchanged her house shoes for her most comfortable shoes.
Rowan considered the bag as they were about to close it. “Let’s grab some snacks and a couple of bottles of water.”
“Good idea,” Dottie agreed.
Some breakfast bars and peanut snacks along with the water went into the bag and they were ready to go. Rowan carried the bag out of the house. Officer Radisson rushed over and grabbed it. He loaded the bag into the back of Rowan’s SUV.
Rowan turned to Billy’s mother. “You have your and Wyatt’s driver’s licenses? Insurance cards?”
Dottie nodded. “And I have a little cash and my credit card.”
“Sounds like you have everything you need.” Rowan turned to Radisson. “We’re heading back to the hospital.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right behind you.”
Dottie appeared calmer as they made the return trip to the hospital. Rowan glanced in the rearview mirror and noted Radisson behind her. She checked the mirror again. Where was Pryor’s agent? She hadn’t noticed one on the way to Dottie’s house. No one had parked on the street or in the driveway as Radisson had.
Maybe Pryor had pulled his detail.
Rowan’s cell vibrated on the console. Worry seared through her. She hoped Billy’s father hadn’t taken a turn for the worse. She reached for the cell.
“Is it Billy?” Dottie’s terrified gaze collided with Rowan’s.
Rowan checked the screen. “No. It’s Lucky Ledbetter.”
Relief rushed through her, making her feel shaky. She imagined Dottie experienced the same. “Hey, Lucky.”
“Rowan, I’m at Evan Harrison’s house. His wife passed and he wants me to bring her to you. I heard Billy’s daddy was taken to the hospital and I didn’t know if you could take him today. Is Charlotte at the funeral home?”
Rowan remembered Mr. Harrison. He’d run the hardware store in town when she was a kid. His wife had always been there helping him. She kept lollipops under the counter for the kids who came in. “Let me call Charlotte. One of us will be there. Give me half an hour.”
“That’ll work. I’m a few minutes from finishing up here.”
“Okay. Thanks, Lucky.”
Rowan ended the call and put one through to Charlotte. Three rings and the call went to voice mail. “Charlotte, call me back if you can. Thanks.”
Frustration gaining a foothold, she turned into the hospital parking lot.
“Don’t you worry about going to Huntsville with us, Ro,” Dottie insisted. “You and Billy go on and do what you have to do.”
“We’re not letting you do this alone, Dottie.”
Officer Radisson parked and insisted on carrying the bag into the hospital with them. When they reached the ICU, Billy was already coming out the door.
“Perfect timing.” He looked to his mother. “You should go in and give Dad a hug before they load him up. We’ll head out when you’re back.”
Dottie hurried to the double glass doors and hit the call button.
Rowan tried Charlotte again. Still no answer. “Damn it,” she muttered.
“What’s wrong?”
Billy looked emotionally exhausted and she did not want to bother him with this. But she had no choice. “Lucky called. Evan Harrison’s wife died. He asked Lucky to bring her to DuPont’s and I can’t get Charlotte.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I need another mortuary assistant.”
“Why don’t you stay here and do what you have to do,” Billy suggested. “Officer Radisson will stay with you. As soon as Mom and Dad are settled, I’ll be back.”
“I want to be there with you.” Rowan rubbed at her forehead. “I can get him checked in and head that way.”
“No.” Billy shook his head. “I don’t want you coming alone. Stay here. I’ll call in backup for Radisson.”
“I don’t need two cops, Billy.”
“I do,” he argued.
“Fine. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.” She handed him her fob. “Be careful and keep me posted. Do not rush back, do you hear me, Billy Brannigan? Stay as long as you need to.”
He pulled her against him and kissed her long and meaningfully on the mouth. “I will stay as long as I need to. And you stay home. No secret rendezvous or taking any chances. You got that?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t have time for secret rendezvous. I’ll be plenty busy.”
Rowan waved goodbye to him and headed to the elevator. Officer Radisson fell into step with her.
She suddenly thought of all the little things she wished she had said to Billy. Like how much she loved him and, most important, yes, she would marry him.
Twenty
Winnifred Harrison was seventy-nine years old but until the day she died she never left the bedroom without her hair styled, her makeup properly applied and her outfit for the day just so. Her gray hair was cut in a neat bob and her dentures were white enough for a toothpaste commercial.
Rowan had donned her gloves and apron. No need for the face shield just now. She’d prepared the bathing concoction. Her father had preferred using his own personal recipe for the cleansing process. A good antiseptic but also a cleansing solution with a pleasant scent. The lady had nice skin; no matter that she was older and the ravages of age had taken their toll, the texture and elasticity were surprising youthful. Muscle tone was very good, and her figure was trim.
“Your friends will all be jealous at how good you’re going to look in your casket, Mrs. Harrison.” Rowan smiled and shook her head. How many times had she heard elderly ladies chatting about how so-and-so had looked in his or her casket? As time marched on, she supposed even the finality of death became a social event.
Growing up her father had taught her many things about the business of death. There were those in each community who felt it an obligation to show up for a viewing if for nothing more than to sign the guest registry. No matter that he or she might not have seen the deceased in half a lifetime, the act of making an appearance and signing that registry was a self-imposed social requirement.
Rowan recalled well watching the ladies huddle in groups at the visitations when she was a child. It was the perfect time to catch up on the latest gossip and to pass along thoughts and suspicions about neighbors. The men, however, passed the time discussing hunting season or some aspect of the latest harvest, politics or new businesses coming to the area. Children were always brought along, no matter how young. It was expected that every member of a family would make an appearance. Each and every one dressed to impress.
When Rowan had finished the cleaning and massaging of the body, she moved on to the next steps, setting the face, sealing and packing wherever necessary. She made the essential incisions and began the embalming process. While the pump did its work, Rowan made the usual notations on her whiteboard and in Mrs. Harrison’s file. Once the embalming was done, she would drape Mrs. Harrison and place her in the refrigeration unit until tomorrow. Her husband had requested to have the visitation tomorrow evening and the funeral on Monday. He had brought his wife’s preselected burial clothes. She’d chosen the dress at her favorite department store for just this occasion. A lovely rose-colored suit with a double-breasted jacket along with her favorite pearls. He and his wife had made prearrangements years ago with Rowan’s father, so the casket selection and the dozens of other little decisions had already been made. The step having been taken beforehand provided a good deal of relief during this painful time.
Mr. Harrison had been waiting patiently at the funeral home when Rowan arrived from the hospital. The two of them had gone over his wife’s wishes no matter that all were
documented in her file and then he’d asked a question never posed to Rowan before.
May I come by before I go to bed and kiss my wife good night?
What could she say? Yes, of course.
When the embalming was complete. Rowan closed the incisions she’d made for the hoses and put the finishing touches on Mrs. Harrison. When she’d clothed her in the provided underthings to include a full slip, she draped the lady in a sheet and moved her to the refrigeration unit. She would add the dress and pearls tomorrow.
It wasn’t quite six yet; she didn’t expect Mr. Harrison would drop by before nine.
Rowan cleaned up the mortuary room and scrubbed her arms despite having worn gloves and an apron for her work. She climbed the stairs up to the first floor rather than take the elevator. Officer Radisson had made himself at home in the lobby reading a magazine. Rowan noticed the soft drink can and snack wrapper on the table next to his chair. She was glad he’d taken her advice and checked out the lounge. Freud was curled up at his feet. He raised his head, spotting Rowan before the officer.
Radisson shoved the magazine aside and stood. “You finished up for the evening, Dr. DuPont?”
“I am. Mr. Harrison may be coming by later but until then I’m going upstairs to find something to eat. Would you like to join me?”
“Thank you, ma’am, but my orders are that once you’ve retired to the living quarters to continually patrol the first floor.”
“How about I bring you a sandwich?”
He couldn’t hide the smile her offer prompted. “If you insist.”
Rowan returned the smile. “I do.” She glanced at Freud. “Come on, boy.”
She climbed the stairs, the German shepherd on her heels. Tired didn’t begin to describe how she felt. She checked her phone again, hoping to have heard from Billy about his father. Nothing since the last text letting her know that they had arrived, and his father was being further evaluated.
