by Rita Herron
“Ms. Weiss?”
She startled and jerked her head around, eyes wide and wary.
He held out a hand to let her know he meant no harm. “Are you all right?”
She rasped out a breath. “I dropped my keys, that’s all.”
That was not all. Blood dotted her lip, and her cheek looked swollen as if someone had hit her.
He pulled a penlight from his pocket and shone it on the ground. He spotted the keys, then reached into the bush in front of her stoop and snagged them. She started to stand but swayed again and he caught her arm to steady her.
A tear slipped down her cheek and lingered.
He didn’t speak, simply unlocked the door for her. She averted her gaze and stepped inside.
He didn’t wait on an invitation. He followed her. “What happened?”
Her eyes flickered with a look he didn’t quite understand. Fear? Worry? Secrets again.
He dropped her keys on the table by the door and trailed her into the living area.
“I tripped and fell.” She turned to face him, arms folded across her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to ask you some more questions.” Although the sight of her battered face raised his protective instincts, and he softened toward her. He stepped closer, removed a handkerchief from his pocket and lifted it to her lip to wipe away the blood.
She sucked in a sharp breath but caught his hand with hers as if his gesture was crossing the line into an intimacy she didn’t welcome. “Excuse me—let me clean up a bit.”
Without waiting for a response, she fled down the hall, ducked into the bathroom and shut the door. He heard the water running, then walked over to the refrigerator, found a cloth in a drawer and made her an ice pack.
While he waited, he glanced around her apartment. A decent blue sofa and comfortable club chair, farmhouse table, and a small fireplace gave the room a cozy feel. Nothing fancy or expensive indicating she’d accepted a bribe.
A photograph on the mantel drew his eyes, and he studied it. A woman with brown hair held two little girls on her lap. The picture had to have been taken years ago because Peyton looked to be about ten years old. The little girl beside her had jet-black hair, ivory skin and huge dark eyes.
Peyton’s sister?
The sound of footsteps made him jerk his head around, and Peyton entered the living area. She’d cleaned her lip and face, but she was going to have a shiner.
“What are you doing?” Anger laced her tone as if she didn’t like him looking at her personal pictures.
“Waiting on you.” He gestured toward the photograph. “Is that your sister?”
Her jaw tightened. “It was. She’s dead now.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“That’s what you do, isn’t it?”
This time belligerence. Under the circumstances though, he ignored the jab. Instead he offered the ice pack to her. “It’ll help with the swelling.”
She blinked and looked away but accepted the ice pack and pressed it to her cheek.
“What happened?” he asked again.
“I told you. I tripped and fell.” She walked over to the fireplace, lit the gas logs, then sank into the club chair beside the fire. Her body trembled as she pulled an afghan over her.
“It looks more like you had a run-in with someone’s fist.”
She winced and averted her gaze again. “I saw the resident cat by the gardens. He was limping and ran into the woods. I thought he was hurt so I chased him, but it was dark, and I tripped over a tree root. Face-planted into a rock,” she said as if daring him not to believe her.
While her story had a ring of truth to it, she was leaving something out.
“Do any of your patients ever get violent?”
She shrugged. “Not any of mine,” she said. “Now, what are you doing here tonight, Agent Maverick? I answered all of your questions yesterday.”
Liam decided she wasn’t going to change her story, so he let the question about her so-called accident go for the moment. “I heard something about Barry Inman and wanted to run it by you.”
She lowered the ice pack and set it on the table. Her cheek was bright red from the cold and the impact of whatever had struck her. For a second, she looked so young and vulnerable and innocent that he was tempted to pull her into his arms.
Get a grip, man. She was a suspect. Or perhaps a witness who was withholding information in the most important case of Liam’s life, his father’s murder.
She ran her fingers through her long wavy hair and plucked a crumbled leaf from the strands. “What are you talking about?”
“I received a tip saying that Barry Inman had had an affair. Do you know anything about that?”
A frown pinched her face. “No. The only time I met the man was when he rushed into the ER with his wife.”
“Was the wife alert when she was brought in?”
“Not really. She faded in and out of consciousness and complained of chest pains.”
“How did the couple seem together?”
She rolled her eyes. “Just as you’d expect when someone’s having a heart attack. Panicked and afraid.”
“No arguments?”
She leaned forward, then twisted her mouth in thought. “Agent Maverick, the woman was in critical condition. Her husband was distraught. That’s all I can tell you.”
“So, you didn’t think he acted suspicious, as if he’d hurt her?”
Peyton’s eyes widened. “You think Mr. Inman was responsible for his wife’s death?”
“I don’t know,” Liam said. “But we have to explore every possibility. If Mr. Inman was having an affair and wanted out of the marriage, he would have had motive. Or if his lover wanted him to leave his wife and he refused, she might have wanted Mrs. Inman dead.”
Shock streaked Peyton’s face.
“Did you see a strange woman lurking in the waiting room or anywhere near the ER?”
Peyton rubbed her temple. “Not that I recall, although there were several people in the waiting room and other patients in the ER. At one point, Barry was on the phone in the hall. He was pacing and seemed agitated, but I thought he was just worried about his wife.”
“Do you know who he was talking to?”
She shook her head.
He’d have Bennett request phone records. If his lover was on the phone, they could have planned Gloria Inman’s death together.
Chapter Eight
Peyton struggled to contain her anxiety at the way the agent’s gaze kept lingering on her face. He knew she was lying.
But she didn’t intend to share her personal problems with the man. Her sister’s drug issues had nothing to do with the reason he was here. Having him see the bruise on her face was humiliating enough without admitting that she’d failed to save her sister from a life on the streets.
His phone buzzed and he excused himself to answer it. She stared into the fire, her sister’s angry face etched in her mind. Maybe she should have told Val to come back to her place, that they could talk. She might be able to convince her to enter rehab again. Maybe this time it would work.
Her heart gave a pang. She’d been down that road so many times and ended up with the same result. It broke her every time.
The agent ended the call, then walked back to her chair. “My analyst texted a copy of a piece of the security footage from the night of the fire. He’s been looking for anyone suspicious, and also any commonality between that night and the night Inman’s wife died. You mentioned seeing a man who appeared to be homeless seeking drugs.”
She rubbed at the scrape on her knuckle from where she’d hit the ground earlier. “Yes.”
“Take a look at it. Tell me if there’s anyone you recognize or anyone who stands out.”
He removed a small ta
blet from inside his jacket, accessed the footage and angled it for her to see. First was footage of the ER the night Mrs. Inman died. Peyton watched as Barry Inman rushed in beside his wife. Barry looked shocked and terrified and Gloria was gasping for breath.
Two other people entered and went to the admissions desk. Another ambulance raced up and medics wheeled a pregnant woman inside. Then the man she’d thought was homeless. He wore a worn black hoodie, jeans and kept his head down as he approached the desk.
“Was that the man you mentioned?” the agent asked.
Peyton nodded. “You can see the nurse behind the desk looking at her computer. She must have recognized his face or name.” A second later, she called the security guard who appeared and escorted the man from the ER. He looked unsteady on his feet and jerked his arm away when he got outside.
She continued watching until the agent paused on a woman who entered wearing a dark raincoat and hat. Her head was bent, and she avoided looking at the camera. Her posture and rushed movements indicated she was nervous, and she gripped her phone and spoke into it as she ducked into the ladies’ room. Five minutes later, she exited the bathroom and hurried outside.
“If Inman had an affair, that could have been his lover,” the agent pointed out. “Do you recognize her?”
Peyton shook her head. “You can’t even see her face.”
The agent switched to show footage of the night of the fire. She watched people enter and be taken to the ER rooms, and two people who were discharged.
No sign of Barry Inman or the woman in the dark raincoat. Although another woman entered, her face shielded by a thick wool scarf.
She checked all around her as if she was afraid of something, then she hesitated for a second as she bypassed the waiting room and slipped down the hall.
“Do you know who that is?” the agent asked.
She shook her head, but one of the cameras caught a quick flash of the woman’s face.
Dear God. Peyton went still. The girl wearing the scarf was Val.
* * *
UNEASE DARKENED PEYTON’S EYES. What the hell was she hiding?
“Do you recognize that woman?” Liam asked.
She shook her head, but her breath sounded shaky. “If I’d seen something suspicious, I would have told you, Agent Maverick.” She stood. “Now it’s been a long day and I’m exhausted.”
The tension emanating from her was palpable. He had the urge to draw her into his arms and assure her everything would be all right. Although how could he do that when he was almost certain she was lying again?
“My analyst also learned the name of the drug seeker. When he was turned away from Whistler Hospital that night, he hit up an urgent care. He was found later and had OD’d in an alley.” So that was a dead end.
“I’m sorry,” Peyton said. “Drug problems, especially opioids, are rampant now.”
His phone buzzed. Jacob. “If you think of anything that can help, please give me a call.”
Peyton’s gaze locked with his for a moment. The wariness in her eyes troubled him. So did that damn bruise on her face. Made him want to comfort her. Promise her that if she was holding something back and was too frightened to talk, he’d protect her.
If she hadn’t fallen and he was right, someone had punched her.
A boyfriend? Lover? Another employee? A patient?
Dammit. Why would she cover for him?
“Peyton,” he said, as he paused at the door. “If you’re in trouble, I can help.”
A pained, frightened look darkened her eyes, then her lips curved into a forced smile. “Thank you, Agent Maverick. But I’m fine.”
He didn’t believe her for a minute. She opened the door and scanned the lawn and parking lot as if she was looking for someone.
He stepped outside and did the same.
Worry knotted his belly. She was scared. Of what, he wasn’t sure. But fear rolled off of her in waves.
His father’s mantra—Respect and Protect—echoed in his head. It was one reason he and his brothers had all chosen to become first responders. Another reason had been to honor their father’s memory.
His gut instinct shouted that Peyton Weiss needed his help and protection. But she was either too full of pride or terrified of something to ask for it.
“I meant what I said—call me if you need anything,” he murmured as his dark gaze locked with hers. “Any time night or day.”
She clamped her teeth over her lower lip, gave a little nod, then shut the door. He scanned the property as he walked back to his car. Everything seemed quiet.
Still, his gut told him Peyton needed a friend as he climbed into his car. His phone buzzed with a text. It was from Jacob.
Inman gave up the name of the woman he had affair with. Sondra Evans. Claims it was over, that he broke it off.
Liam responded with, Her contact info?
Jacob texted back an address.
Liam: I’m not too far from there now. Will swing by and talk to her.
Jacob: Thanks. Inman insists she had nothing to do with his wife’s death. Let me know your take.
Liam: Copy that.
Liam pressed the accelerator and headed toward Sondra Evans’s house. All along they’d assumed Inman’s wife’s death was connected to the fire. But if Gloria Inman had been killed by her husband’s lover or ex, it was possible they were unrelated.
Which put them back to square one. Then who had set the fire and why?
If Inman or Evans had killed Gloria, why would Inman have brought attention to her death with a lawsuit? That didn’t make sense. Unless Evans had killed the wife and Inman had no idea...
He’d drill Sondra Evans for the answers.
* * *
PARANOIA BUILT INSIDE PEYTON. She’d had no idea her sister had been at the hospital the night of the fire.
Had Val come to visit her mother? Or had she been there for another reason? Was she seeking drugs?
Tears blurred her eyes as she pressed a hand to her aching cheek. How had things gone so wrong with her sister? Many addicts turned to drugs or alcohol because of a trauma in their past. But as far as she knew, Val hadn’t been involved in an accident, or been the victim of a violent attack or abuse.
Dark thoughts entered her mind about Val’s motive, thoughts she didn’t want to entertain. The fire had started in a storage closet next to the records room. One of the pharmacy rooms storing drugs was located across the hall.
She closed her eyes and willed away the terror gripping her. Her sister was an addict, and she had stolen from her and her mother, but she wouldn’t set a fire as a diversion in order to break into the drugs cabinet.
Would she?
God, please no...
Peyton walked to the sliders, opened the curtain and peered outside. Regret for not listening to Val haunted her.
Tears blurred her eyes, and she searched the darkness. Was her sister lurking in the shadows waiting to show herself again? Would she try to break in during the night?
She phoned Fred, the head of security. “Please check around my mother’s cottage during the night. I thought I saw someone lurking out there earlier.”
“I’ll go right now and have Bobby swing by every hour.”
“Thanks. And Fred, tomorrow I’d like to look at the security footage near my mom’s place and for the gardens. I don’t like the fact that Mom said she saw a stranger in her room.”
“Are you sure she really saw someone? I hate to mention it, but she’s starting to see things. I tried talking to her a few times, and she forgot who I was.”
Pain tightened Peyton’s chest. “I know, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
He said softly that he would, and they agreed to meet in the morning, then they ended the call. The envelope in Peyton’s apartment proved her mother hadn’t imagined this m
an. He’d visited her mother as a warning to her. A reminder to keep her silence.
A movement near the bushes to the right caught her eye. She gripped the edge of the slider, her heart hammering as she watched. There it was again, just a flicker of something moving behind the bushes. Then it darted through the trees and disappeared.
She watched and waited, fear tightening her shoulder blades. Was Val out there? Had she seen Agent Maverick at her door?
She claimed someone was after her. Peyton assumed it was her drug dealer or someone she owed money.
A screeching noise echoed from outside. Peyton went still, searching the yard and woods beyond. The screech grew louder. Was it the wind whistling off the mountain? Or...someone who was hurt? One of the patients? Leon again?
Suddenly another movement, a shadow traveling toward her deck. She grabbed the fire poker by the fireplace and braced it to use as a weapon. The screech again.
Her breath caught, then puffed out as the resident cat lumbered into sight on her back patio. Just as she’d thought, he was limping. Her heart ached for him, and she removed the stick at the bottom of the door, then opened the sliders.
“Come here, buddy,” she murmured as she stooped to pick him up. If he was injured, she had to nurse him back to health. She lifted her hand and stroked his fur. “It’s okay, bud, you can stay with me tonight.”
Just before she scooped him into her arms, she sensed someone approaching from behind her. Then something hard struck her head. Pain splintered her skull. The world tilted and spun. Stars danced in front of her eyes.
Then the world went black.
Chapter Nine
Liam couldn’t shake the premonition that Peyton was in trouble as he parked at Sondra Evans’s town house in the hills of Pine Ridge. The townhomes looked fairly new and well-kept and boasted a walking trail around the man-made lake which attracted residents to the development.
Jacob had sent him background information on the woman. The thirty-four-year-old University of North Carolina graduate worked as a sales rep for a pharmaceutical company where she’d met Barry Inman, who had trained her on the job.
