Deadly Deception

by Cade Brogan

  “No, I’d say not. If I had to guess, he has a campsite at the F.D. Roosevelt State Park.”

  “Yep. Plans to do some geocaching. His new hobby.”

  “Good for him,” he said, his eyes taking on a sparkle. “Two more years and I might just do some myself.”

  Rylee made a face, her voice lifting in exaggerated disappointment. “Now, you’re retiring?”

  “I’ll have my thirty years in,” he responded, “and the older I get, the more I realize that there’s more to life than work. Especially when there’s next to no recognition of the sacrifices you make for it.” He had the look of a man who on this day felt the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  Rylee pushed dread out of her mind, knowing that one day Kenz would want her to turn in her badge, leave law enforcement. If, when that day came, what in the world would she do with herself? She took a breath, fully expanding her lungs. “So, what have we got?”

  “Initially,” he began, “it looked like a food-borne bacterium.”

  Claire scribbled a note. “Like salmonella or E. coli?”

  “Similar,” he answered, “clostridium perfringens, it’s a pathogen found in raw meat and poultry. And since all three had what appeared to be undercooked portions of meatloaf for dinner, the initial assumption was that it was the culprit.”

  “But after the first autopsy,” Rylee said, “the ME realized it wasn’t, and that’s when they called us.”

  Walt nodded. “And us.”

  “So, the virus is contagious,” Claire said, her eyes narrowing, “but you guys think the exposure was intentional.” It was the only reason she could think of that they’d have notified both the CDC and her division.

  “Extremely contagious,” he responded. “And yes,” he continued with a breath, “we believe the exposure to have been intentional, at least with regard to the first three victims.”

  Claire lifted her pen. “The first three victims?”

  “Yes, the patients,” he responded. “The subsequent four were mental health technicians. All but one expired between the time the ME called it in and your arrival.”

  “That quick?” Rylee asked, her mouth falling open. “I thought patient zero was just found this morning?”

  “She was,” he responded, shaking his head. “Viral strains, they get stronger each year.”

  “Superbugs,” Claire commented.

  “Similar in that both are quite deadly,” he responded, “but Superbugs are actually bacterial infections that have become resistant to antibiotics over time. But what we’re dealing with here,” he continued, “is a viral infection. The distinction between the two is that antibiotics are effective against bacteria, but they’re never effective against viruses.”

  “So, developing a vaccine is the best option?”

  “Containing it and developing a vaccine are the only options,” he responded. “When a virus enters the body it invades cells, taking over their replication machinery. Viruses need living hosts to multiply. Without them, they won’t survive.” He shook his head. “It’s beyond me why someone would intentionally release this monster on the population.” He swallowed, looking off. “The way it sweeps through the body. I’ve never seen anything like it, not in this country.” He pinched the skin at his throat, his voice becoming deadly quiet. “And we thought Ebola was bad with its ninety percent fatality rate. Dear God, help us.”

  “So, if this thing spreads,” Rylee said, “we’re all dead meat, is that what you’re saying?”

  “There would most certainly be potential for an explosive outbreak, an outbreak that could make our fight to contain Ebola look like a walk in the park.”

  “So, we’re dead meat.”

  “An Ebola vaccine was found to be effective during a recent West African outbreak,” he responded. “And we’re optimistic that—”

  “So, there’s hope, but while you work on a vaccine, the ones who get this virus, are all dead meat. That is what you’re saying.”

  “We have the building under quarantine,” he said, “and we’re hoping to contain the outbreak.”

  “But it’ll be an uphill battle as long as we’ve got the doer exposing people,” Rylee responded. “Can you talk a bit more about the intentional piece?”

  “I can,” he said, sliding a building diagram across the table, and pointing to a patient room at the center of a second-floor hallway. “So, the first victim was found here.” He moved his finger, pointing to a patient room at the center of a third-floor hallway. “And the second victim was found here.” He moved it again, pointing to a patient room at the center of a fourth-floor hallway. “And the third victim was found here.” He looked up. “All expired during the night, in their beds, within minutes of one another.”

  Rylee’s eyes narrowed. “Without having any contact?” She picked up the paper, studying the diagram.

  “Without having any contact,” he responded.

  Claire jotted notes, talking out loud. “No contact, on different wings, and on different floors.”

  Rylee released a breath, her brow furrowed. “And each victim sealed off from the others by airtight doors.” She moved her finger along the sketched corridor. “How about ventilation?”

  “Separate systems,” he said, pointing to the diagram.

  “Interesting,” Rylee responded, fingering back her hair.

  “But not that surprising,” Claire commented, “not with the size of the structure.”

  “No, not the number of systems,” Rylee responded, “but if you’re the doer, wouldn’t it have been easier to do three in a row?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was a modern structure with plenty of parking near the door. But Elizabeth passed by the empty spaces, pulling her white sedan into the last one in the last row. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she greeted, sweeping jet-black hair from her brow as she stepped through the door. “The traffic was horrendous. And then to make matters worse, I got trapped behind a police car going the speed limit for what seemed like miles.” She touched her nose, nudging glasses that were no longer there. Contacts, eventually she’d become accustomed to wearing them.

  “Things happen,” the director responded. “It’s not something you need to worry about. I just worked on my paperwork until you got here.” She shook her head. “Heaven knows I have a mound to get through. It piled up while I was off.” She was older with silver-streaked red hair, most likely of Irish descent. “It’s nice to see you again, Dr. Fields.”

  “Please, call me Elizabeth.”

  “As you wish, Elizabeth,” she said, smiling. “Welcome to Loving Arms. I seem to remember that we gave you our grand tour when you first visited, but I’d be happy to take you around again if you’d like.” She was a good representative for a facility known for friendliness and wholesome Christian values.

  “Maybe next time,” Elizabeth responded, smiling back.

  “Just let us know when,” the woman responded, sharing that Elizabeth’s grandmother was beginning to settle in. “But she still has some ways to go. She’s still begging staff to take her home. And the poor thing, she keeps calling out for her daughter, your mother, during the night.” She touched Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I didn’t realize that you’d just lost her. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth responded, stepping back as she intentionally softened her tone. “The Lord sees us through our darkest storms, does He not?”

  “Yes, He does,” the director responded. “We think it’s wonderful that you moved her so quickly. Not all granddaughters would have done that. I know in my heart that in time she’ll come to be happy at Loving Arms.”

  “That’s my expectation,” Elizabeth responded.

  “So, your grandmother should be in the dining room,” the director continued, tugging down her skirt, and closing her open jacket. “Oh, and we’ve arranged her room just as you requested. I think you’ll like it. We can take a peek on our way if you’d like.”

  “I’m sure it’s fi
ne,” Elizabeth responded, flashing a thin smile. “Maybe next time.”

  “Right, because you’re short on time,” the woman responded, moving at a snail’s pace down the corridor. “If you’d like, we can fix you a plate of food. I’m sure your grandmother would enjoy sharing a meal with you.”

  “Not today,” Elizabeth answered, irritation slipping into her tone. “I’m short on time.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s right,” the director responded, staying quiet until they entered the large dining area. “At Loving Arms, mealtime is about so much more than good food.”

  Elizabeth twitched her nose, catching a whiff of canned ravioli.

  “It’s about us helping our seniors to feel less isolated and building a sense of community,” the woman continued. “Did you know that they recently found a direct correlation between loneliness and high blood pressure?”

  “Is that right?” Elizabeth responded, paying minimal attention to the woman’s babbling. She was there for one reason, and one reason only, to check on her grandmother. She caught sight of her at a table with two others near the windows. “Grandma,” she called out, dodging wheelchairs and walkers. “My sweet grandma, what a pretty green blouse you’re wearing.”

  The director stepped closer, butting in on their conversation. “It seems to be her favorite.” She chuckled softly. “Why, according to my staff, she’d wear that blouse every single day if it didn’t have to be laundered.”

  Elizabeth smoothed the collar. “I’m not surprised. She always loves the things I bring her, don’t you, Grandma?” She smiled, handing the white-haired woman a bouquet of wildflowers.

  “Your mommy,” she said, laying them in her lap, and inadvertently knocking off petals, “where has she gone?” She touched her lips, her voice trailing off. “I haven’t seen her for the longest time.”

  “She’s fine, no need to worry about her,” Elizabeth responded, picking up the violet petals and re-handing her the bouquet. “Look, I picked these for you myself.”

  “Oh, they’re beautiful, honey,” the ninety-two-year-old woman responded, more petals fluttering to the linoleum tile. “But I’m worried about your mommy.” She laid the flowers on the table. “She hasn’t come in to lay out my nightgown for the longest time.”

  Elizabeth took a breath, releasing it loudly. “She’s fine, Grandma.”

  “I don’t think so,” she responded, reaching for the piece of chocolate cake that had just been placed in front of her.

  “Is that sugar-free?” Elizabeth asked, taking it from her.

  “No, I don’t believe so,” the director stammered. “I’m sorry. You see, we have new help in the kitchen—”

  “I don’t want excuses,” Elizabeth responded. “What I want is your assurance that my grandmother won’t develop diabetic complications on your watch.”

  *

  Diverse and artsy, Hyde Park was an interesting neighborhood, the best that Claire could afford. She parked in the garage, the one next to her building, and made her way up the stairs to the second floor.

  “Snuggles, I’m home,” she called out, her tone high-pitched as if speaking to a small child. “You want to go potty?”

  Her terrier, small and shaggy, leaped from the sofa and ran toward her.

  “That’s my little boy,” she cooed, collecting him into her arms to take him outside. When she returned, she set him on the sofa, switched on the six o’clock news, and stepped in to take a shower, neglecting to latch the front door.

  *

  Elizabeth collected her ticket, hating horns, sirens, concrete, and parking garages as much as anything in the world. The city seemed so much louder, so much more intrusive than before. She missed open spaces. She missed peace and quiet. She missed having her plants steps away from her door. She gagged on a puff of exhaust fumes. You’re doing penance. How you do it is God’s choice, not yours. Her stomach rolled, worrying that she’d misunderstood His instructions, concerned that she wasn’t abiding by His will. Oh, how she missed the flagrum. Perfect penance. She sucked in a breath. Perfect penance that brought you to orgasm. She sucked in another, remembering the intensity. Maybe it’s God’s gift. Maybe it’s His gift to those who are most faithful. She smiled. That must be it. God’s good with it. He’s good with penance being pleasurable. She stepped across the worn marble floor, climbing one flight of stairs. As she walked by, the first door on the left opened, a man collecting his newspaper. She looked away, avoiding conversation. The door on the right was ajar. She nudged, making her way inside and staring down the dog. “Don’t you dare do it,” she snarled under her breath, his look communicating that he planned to come toward her. He laid down, lowering his head to the sofa. Good decision, you scrawny canine nuisance. She licked her lips, listening to the sound of water. Mmm, how delightful. Nothing more arousing than a beautiful woman in the shower. She paused, peeking through the crack in the bathroom door—cocoa-colored breasts, small and round; nipples, tantalized to hardness under beads of hot water; and a nest of dampened jet-black curls between her thighs. Forbidden fruits, she wanted them. Carried away by her own response, she didn’t discern that the woman behind the frosted door had noticed her.

  “Hi,” Claire said softly, turning her head to rinse her hair. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “That’s because I didn’t have to use my key,” Elizabeth responded. “The door was open. You need to be more careful.” She moistened her lips. “Especially when you’re in the shower.”

  “Distracted, I guess,” Claire said, applying conditioner. “Long day.” She palmed her peaks, rinsing suds down the drain. “You’re home a day early; I like it.”

  “I am,” Elizabeth responded, smiling as she watched the water trickle down her body. “Everything fell into place, and we finished two full days ahead of schedule.”

  “I’d ask what went right,” Claire said with a wink, “but I know you wouldn’t tell me.”

  “No, but only because I can’t,” Elizabeth responded. All Claire knew was that she worked on projects that required the highest level of security. She’d guessed that she was the personal physician of a high-ranking official, probably because she often traveled with little notice, but she’d never confirmed it. “I picked up Chinese. You hungry?”

  “Starved,” Claire responded, sliding the door open, and stepping onto the rug. “Funny, you know that place you like so well? It’s my new partner’s favorite too.” She chuckled. “I guess her dog loves their crab rangoon.”

  “Does he, now?” Elizabeth responded, following Claire’s slight curves with her fingertips. She bit her lip, quivering in her innermost parts. “You’ll have to tell me more about her over dinner.”

  “I will,” Claire said, slipping on her terrycloth robe. “Maybe you could meet us for lunch sometime. I think you’d like her.”

  “I’m sure I would,” Elizabeth responded, lifting both eyebrows, “but you know that’s not possible. Just moving here so that you could take this job has compromised my safety and extremely sensitive projects. I shouldn’t always have to be the one who takes risks, has to bear the hardships.”

  “I know. I know, I’m sorry,” Claire said softly. “It was selfish of me to mention it.” She pressed closer. “It’s just that I’m so proud to have a hot woman on my arm. Sometimes I get carried away, wanting to show you off.” She palmed her cheek. “But you don’t have to worry; I didn’t tell her about you, won’t tell her about you.”

  “I’m not worried,” Elizabeth said softly, tiptoeing to kiss her lips. Claire had already proven herself, proven that she would omit details or even outright lie when necessary. “I know you’d never knowingly compromise my safety.”

  “No, never,” Claire murmured. “You know I’ll always protect you.”

  “I know,” Elizabeth cooed, “and I feel so secure, so loved.” She swallowed, her lower lip quivering. “And it’s a new experience for me.”

  “I hate that you’ve never been treated like you deserve,” Claire s
aid, gathering her into her arms. “I hate that.” She slipped her fingers inside the front of Elizabeth’s tapered- jeans, opening the fastener. “But I promise, you give me a little more time, and I’ll make up for it.” She licked her lips. “In fact, I could make up for some of it right now.”

  Elizabeth placed her hand over Claire’s. “Later.”

  “Three days is a long dry spell.”

  “I know, but—”

  When Elizabeth’s lips parted, Claire kissed her, pulled back, and kissed her again.

  “But what?” she asked, knowing without asking that the problem was broad daylight.

  Elizabeth shook her head gently. “Our dinner will get cold.”

  “I don’t care; I want you now.”

  “And I need to unpack before my clothing gets wrinkled.”

  “It won’t wrinkle that much.”

  “Any is too much. I said later.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Up here,” Kenzie called out, setting the emptied laundry basket on the floor of the master bedroom closet. She smiled as Rylee’s arms came around her from behind, moaning as her kisses trailed down the back of her neck. “Mmm, feels nice,” she murmured, leaning back into her arms.

  Rylee nuzzled her hair, teasing an earlobe with her tongue. “You smell good, good enough to eat for dinner.”

  Kenzie giggled, turning to kiss her. “It’s my new conditioner.”

  Rylee closed her eyes, inhaling. “Smells like coconut, maybe pineapple.”

  “You’re later than usual,” Kenzie said quietly. “I was beginning to worry.”

  “Hit a snag on the new case,” Rylee responded. “Sorry, I should’ve called you.” She always tried to remember to do it, busy or not, thinking that anything she could do to reduce Kenzie’s worries might prolong her career as a cop.

  “It’s okay; you call me a lot.” She walked to their bed, sitting down, and patting the seat beside her. “What kind of snag?”

  Rylee raked through her hair, holding it back, off her brow. “Just a complex case with multiple victims, that’s all.” She wanted to give more details but couldn’t. “Didn’t get back to the office until late afternoon. And it was a heater, so before we could call it quits, we had to update communications, in case the press got wind of it, and meet with the commander.”