by Rita Herron
The lawns were well maintained, the brick fronts all consistent. He found Sondra’s unit, hurried to the door and rang the bell. A minute later, he heard her voice from inside.
“Our neighborhood has a no-soliciting policy,” she said curtly.
Liam glanced down at his slacks and button-down shirt. He hadn’t realized he looked like a salesman. “I’m not selling anything,” he said, then flashed his badge. “My name is Special Agent Liam Maverick. I need to talk to you.”
A minute passed, and he thought she was going to decline, but she opened the door. “You’re a federal agent? What is this about?”
Liam gestured toward the entryway. “Ma’am, can I come in? I’m not sure you want to discuss this on your doorstep.”
A debate warred in her eyes. Should she let him in or risk the consequences of not cooperating? She relented and stepped outside, then led him through the foyer to a den with leather furniture.
She gestured toward the wing chair and he sat, then waited on her to do the same. “What’s this about?”
“We recently located Barry Inman and brought him in for questioning regarding the Whistler Hospital fire five years ago.”
She swallowed and glanced down at her manicured hands. “I saw the news. You think he set the fire because of that lawsuit.”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
She lifted her head and looked at him. “I don’t know how I can help.”
Liam adopted a casual position. “You worked with Mr. Inman, correct?”
She gave a little nod. “Barry trained me at the pharmaceutical company.”
“How would you describe your relationship?”
She shifted and crossed her legs. “We were business colleagues. Barry taught me a lot about the business, and I was grateful for that.”
Liam arched a brow. “Grateful enough to sleep with him?”
Anger flashed across her face. “If you’re implying Barry pressured me or there was sexual harassment involved, you’re way off base.”
Liam raised a brow. She was certainly defensive of the man. “Then enlighten me. I know you had an affair. Were you in love with him?”
Her breath hissed out. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
Liam leaned forward. “It’s my business because his wife died under suspicious circumstances, and he’s a suspect in an arson/homicide investigation.”
“It was just one night,” she said in a low voice. “He was upset because he’d lost a big client and we were working late. We had too much to drink.” She shrugged. “It just happened. You understand?”
“But you wanted it to happen again?”
She jiggled her leg up and down. “I was attracted to Barry, and he was a nice man. But he was married, and he loved his wife.”
“How did you feel about his rejection?”
She cut her eyes away from him. “It wasn’t a rejection. We both agreed it was a mistake. He wanted to preserve his marriage, and we decided it wouldn’t happen again.”
But she wanted more. He sensed it the way she looked down at her hands, in the way her voice quivered.
A strained silence fell between them. He hoped she would fill it, but she seemed to clam up completely.
“Did you see or talk to Barry the night his wife died?”
She shook her head a little too vigorously.
“How about the night of the fire? Where were you?”
“I’d just flown back home after a business trip. I went straight home and to bed.”
“Alone or were you seeing Barry?”
Her mouth worked as she struggled with her reply. “Alone. I told you we broke it off.”
But she had no solid alibi.
She and Barry both had access to narcotics and other drugs through their work. He wanted to see that toxicology report. Perhaps the hospital hadn’t made a mistake.
Barry or Sondra might have murdered Gloria Inman.
* * *
PEYTON’S HEAD POUNDED as if someone was beating her skull with a hammer. She slowly opened her eyes, wincing as she realized she was lying on her back patio. The memory of being assaulted returned, and nausea rose to her throat.
Had Val come back and attacked her?
Or was it the man who’d threatened her?
Drawing in a breath to stem the nausea, she pushed herself to a sitting position. The land swayed, trees dipping and moving. The wind swirled dead leaves around her, blowing them inside through her sliders which were still open.
Choking back a sob, she glanced across the backyard, but didn’t see her sister or anyone else. Pushing up on shaky legs, she clawed at the door edge to steady herself and then stumbled inside. Wind howled through the open door and she pulled it shut, then turned to see if someone was in the apartment.
Pausing to listen, she held her breath and strained her ears for sounds of an intruder. A voice? Footsteps?
Nothing except for the ticking of the wall clock above the fireplace. Midnight. She’d been unconscious for over an hour.
She lifted her hand to the back of her head and felt sticky blood matted in her hair. She jammed the pole back into the doorframe and locked the sliders, then heard a sound. A low cry.
Val? Or...no, the cat.
Was he hurt? Was the intruder still inside?
Grabbing the fire poker again, she inched through the apartment, bracing for another attack. But she didn’t see anyone inside.
Her breath whooshed out, and she forgot about her throbbing head and went in search of the cat. Still dizzy, she gripped the wall edge until she felt steadier on her feet. In the kitchen, she found him hiding beneath the table.
Stooping down, she called his name. “Come here, Kitty. Come on, I won’t hurt you.”
Typically he came to her, but tonight his back was curled up, his hair standing on end.
“Looks like we’ve both had a rough day,” she muttered. She stood and retrieved the small bag of cat food she kept on hand from her pantry. He’d never ventured inside before, but she’d left food on the back deck. She poured a small handful into the bowl, then shook it and set it at the edge of the table on the floor.
Slowly he inched his way toward the bowl. She dropped down beside him and stroked his fur gently as he nibbled at the food. When he’d eaten a little, she picked him up and cradled him to her, then examined his paw. He was limping earlier, and he winced when she touched it. He had put some weight on it, so she didn’t think it was broken. And she didn’t find blood or see any cuts. If he wasn’t better in a day or two, she’d take him to the vet.
For now, she’d let him sleep and see if he felt better in the morning.
She settled him on a blanket at the foot of her bed and went to examine her own injuries. God, she looked battered and bruised.
Two attacks in one day.
She itched to call the police and report this one.
But what if it had been Val? Could she turn her sister in to the police?
* * *
LIAM’S PHONE WOKE him up at six in the morning. He rolled over and rubbed his bleary eyes. He’d barely slept for thinking about the case.
Peyton’s battered face haunted him. What had happened to her and why had she lied?
His phone dinged again. He snatched it and saw it was his partner, Bennett. “Maverick.”
“I’ve been running various programs to compare employees who worked at the Whistler Hospital with employees from other hospitals close by, looking for any instances of misconduct, wrongful death or suspicious deaths and fires.”
“Go on.”
“Anyway, I didn’t find any instances of arson, but I did some cases where patients died suddenly, and the families questioned the deaths. Two at Pine Ridge Hospital, Edna Fouts and Lydia Corgin. The third, Hilda Rogers, died at a n
ursing home called Serenity Now. I’ll send what I dug up so far on them.”
“People are lawsuit happy these days,” Liam said. “What happened in the cases?”
“They were dropped. I did some digging and it turned out they shared one thing in common. The same Physician’s assistant.”
Liam’s heart hammered. “Do you have a name?”
“Miller Conrad.” A pause. “He was also on duty at Whistler Hospital the night Gloria Inman died.”
Liam’s instincts kicked in, and he threw his legs over the side of the bed. “Send me his contact information. I’ll have a chat with him.”
“On its way.”
Liam shuffled toward the shower. If there was a link between Gloria Inman’s death and this PA, he’d find it.
Thirty minutes later, he wolfed down a breakfast sandwich, poured a travel mug full of coffee and headed out to his vehicle. Bennett had sent Conrad’s work schedule. It was the man’s day off, so Liam swung by his place.
He lived on the mountain in an older clapboard house that looked in disrepair. When Liam parked and got out, two big dogs ran up to him. He paused to let the dogs sniff him and to scratch their backs.
Before he made it to the door, it opened and a stocky guy with a goatee stepped outside.
He spotted Liam and his car and stopped, his brows climbing his forehead.
“Mr. Conrad.” Liam flashed his badge and identified himself. “I need to talk to you.”
“It’ll have to wait,” Conrad said. “I have to get my mother breakfast. She’s bedridden.”
The hair on the back of Liam’s neck prickled just as it always did when he felt something was off. “No problem. I’ll come in and wait.”
Panic flared on the man’s face, then he turned and rushed inside, slamming the door behind him.
* * *
PEYTON WOKE TO the sound of the kitty purring. She rolled over and rubbed his back and he snuggled up to her.
“You’re a sweetie,” she said softly. He reminded her of the cat she and Val had had growing up. “If you’re going to stay with me, I’ll have to buy you a litter box.” Although as soon as she said it, he hopped down. She slipped from bed and followed him. He lumbered straight to the sliders and scratched at the door.
“So that’s the way it’s going to be. You like your independence, don’t you?” She understood. She’d been alone a long time herself.
She knelt and scratched his neck again, then opened the curtain and glanced at the backyard. Last night someone had attacked her on her patio. But once they’d knocked her unconscious, they’d disappeared.
Why? Nothing had been taken. If it was the person who’d threatened her, why hadn’t he just killed her? Did he just want to toy with her, keep her living in fear?
She unlocked the door and let the kitty outside. “Come back tonight,” she whispered as he scrambled off toward the gardens. “Maybe we can be friends.”
She closed and locked the door, then rubbed at her temple. Her head was throbbing, so she downed some painkillers and showered. Last night, after cleaning up the blood, she’d felt a lump starting to form. Today the lump was still there, so she styled her hair to make sure it wasn’t exposed and left it loose around her shoulders instead of the ponytail she usually wore to work.
By the time she finished her coffee and ate a piece of toast, her phone was ringing. She rushed to get it and saw it was Joanna, so she punched Connect.
“Peyton, you need to come to your mom’s. I stopped by to give her her morning meds and found her unconscious. The medics are here now.”
Peyton’s breath stalled in her chest. “I’ll be right there.” Panic stabbed at her as she grabbed her keys and ran for the door.
Chapter Ten
“Mr. Conrad?” Liam said as he pushed open the door.
“I’m sorry—I need to tend to my mother.” A low groan sounded from the rear of the house, and Conrad disappeared down the hallway.
Liam quickly scanned the small den and kitchen. The place was a mess with dishes stacked everywhere and laundry piled in a chair in the corner. The groaning noise echoed again, and he headed down the hall.
Was someone hurt inside? Was that why the man had shut the door in his face?
He passed a small, cluttered office, then noted two bedrooms at the end of the hall. The scent of antiseptic and an acrid odor filled the air, one that smelled like death.
Senses alert, he glanced to the left. A bedroom that looked just as cluttered as the rest of the house. To the right, he spotted Conrad injecting something into an IV that hung on a pole by the bed. The strong smell of medication and sickness permeated the space. Prescription medications lined a stainless-steel rolling cart against the wall.
“It’s okay, Mama,” Conrad said. “I know you’re in pain, but the medication should kick in soon.”
Liam watched, his stomach churning as Conrad picked up a glass of water and helped his mother take a sip through a straw. The sight of the frail, ghostly pale woman twisted at his insides. Her hair was gray and thin, her bones poking through her skin. Blue veins stood out on her wiry arms in a crisscross pattern and age spots dotted her leathery hands.
Liam cleared his throat, and Conrad glanced over his shoulder at him, a pained expression on his face.
“Do you need help?” Liam asked. “An ambulance?”
Conrad shook his head no, then covered his mother with a blanket and patted her shoulder. “Rest now, Mama. I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit.”
He glared at Liam, then motioned for him to leave the room. Liam studied the woman, searching for signs of elder abuse, but didn’t see any visible injuries. And Conrad had been gentle with her.
“Are you okay, Ma’am?” he asked gruffly.
Perspiration beaded her forehead and her eyes were glassy with pain and medication. But she muttered something like her son was a good boy.
A vein throbbed in Conrad’s neck, and he pointed down the hall with a sharp look, clearly angry that Liam had invaded his mother’s bedroom.
Liam led the way back to the living room and to the front door. But Liam refused to be dismissed.
“Mr. Conrad, your mother is obviously very ill. Don’t you think she should be at the hospital?”
The man scrubbed a hand over his face. “There’s nothing else they can do,” he said in a pained voice. “She’s final stages, ovarian cancer. She fought it for as long as she could, but the last chemo wiped her out, and the cancer spread to her bones. All the doctors can do now is to make her comfortable.”
Liam couldn’t imagine watching your loved one die a slow and painful death. “I’m sorry to hear that. It must be difficult.”
He made a low sound in his throat. “You’d think I’d be used to seeing death and dying on the job, but it still gets to me.”
“It’s different when it’s your own family,” Liam said, sympathy nudging at his suspicions.
“Anyway,” Conrad said. “What are you doing here?”
Liam explained about his investigation. “I’m talking to everyone who was on duty the night Mrs. Inman died.”
Conrad heaved a breath. “I was working that night, although I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Except the man blew up when his wife died.”
“Blew up?”
“Yeah, I thought he was going to attack the doctor and Nurse Weiss.”
They hadn’t mentioned that they’d felt physically threatened. “Inman claims he heard Nurse Weiss say something about a mistake in the ER. Did she talk to you about that?”
Conrad shook his head. “No, but it was a madhouse all evening. One emergency after another.”
“What about the night of the fire? Did you see Mr. Inman in the hospital?”
Another shake of his head. “Sorry, I’m not much help.” He gestured toward the bedroom. “
I really should check on my mother again.”
“One more thing. You were questioned regarding suspicious deaths at another hospital two years before Mrs. Inman died. Edna Fouts and Lydia Corgin. You worked at Pine Ridge then.”
Conrad held up his hand. “Before you go any further, I’ve been down this road before. Both of those instances were investigated, and it was decided there was no wrongdoing on my part or the hospital’s. Besides,” he said, emphasizing the word, “in both cases, those were elderly patients who were already critically ill and at high risk when they were admitted.”
“But you were asked to leave the hospital,” Liam said.
Irritation snapped across the man’s beefy face. “The head of the hospital freaked out. So I left on my own. Found a place at Serenity Now. They appreciate me there.”
“Yet a patient named Hilda Rogers died on your watch at the nursing facility,” Liam said.
“Hilda was ninety-five and developed pneumonia,” he said, his tone taking on an edge. “When you work at a nursing facility you lose patients. Look at the statistics, Agent Maverick. Unfortunately, it comes with the job.”
“It does. As long as the patients aren’t helped along.”
Conrad rolled his hands into fists. “I do my job and make the patients comfortable,” he said in a gruff voice. “Now. I really need to check on my mother.”
He didn’t give Liam time to respond. He pushed Liam out the door, then closed it and locked it. Liam gritted his teeth.
The man might be innocent. But he’d planted enough doubt in Liam’s mind to warrant further investigation.
* * *
PEYTON RACED TOWARD her mother’s cottage, her heart in her throat. The attack from her sister yesterday, then another attack last night, and now her mother...
She had to be all right.
Lights from the fire engine twirled against the dark gray skies, and an ambulance was parked in front. The scene was chaotic with some of the residents gathering on the lawn to watch while firefighters raced inside. She threw her car into Park, jumped out and ran toward the cottage. Joanna stood, wringing her hands together and pacing.
