by Rita Herron
“I can’t explain at the moment, but it’s important we verify the medication Mrs. Weiss has been given and compare with doctor’s orders.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “I’ll talk to the doctor ASAP.” She pulled her phone from her belt, called the attending in charge and relayed his request. When she ended the call, she gave a nod. “I’ll take the blood samples now.”
He caught her arm before she went into the room. “For now, don’t mention this to Peyton.”
Confusion marred the woman’s face. “She asked for the same thing yesterday.”
Surprise hit Liam. Then again, Peyton was smart and educated. She might be putting the pieces together in the same order he was.
“Do you still want me to run it?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Weiss could have been given something off the books in the past twenty-four hours. The fact that Director Jameson had been here after they’d spoken raised Liam’s suspicions. Although he still didn’t see how Mrs. Weiss was a threat to anyone. And if someone had hurt her because of Peyton, they’d made their point.
There was no reason to kill her.
The nurse hurried to draw blood and Jacob sent a text.
Traced Mrs. Inman’s scripts to a pill mill. I’m going to check it out.
Liam sent a return text. Swing by here, and I’ll go with you.
Liam hurried to tell Peyton and found her dabbing a damp cloth on her mother’s forehead. “We might have a lead,” he told her. “I’m going with Jacob to check it out. But you have to promise to stay here under the deputy’s watch.”
Emotions glittered in Peyton’s eyes. “I’ll be here with Mama.”
He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I mean it, Peyton. Don’t go anywhere. The deputy is outside the door. He’ll keep you and your mother safe until I return.”
The temptation to kiss her seized him. But that would have to wait.
First, he had to find a killer.
* * *
PEYTON WATCHED LIAM LEAVE with a seed of longing. The night before, his touch, his kiss, his tenderness had awakened desires that had been dormant for too long.
Desires she had no business thinking about with her mother on her deathbed.
Shaking herself back to reality, she squeezed her mother’s frail hand. “Mama, you have to keep fighting,” Peyton murmured. “It won’t be long until Thanksgiving. I was thinking I’ll make the sweet-potato casserole you like so much with the crumb topping. And if you’re up to it, you can make your homemade dressing and gravy. And how about an apple pie? It’s apple-picking season now. When you wake up, we can drive to the apple orchards and pick a bushel to make the pie with.” Her mother loved choosing from the selection of homemade jams and jellies, apple butter and apple bread sold at the stands on the property.
Memories flooded Peyton. “Remember when Val and I were little and you took us to the orchard, and they had that petting farm and the pig races.” On the weekends, the orchard hosted u-pick apple festivals, cow milking, wagon rides, mini golf, museums, an apple-tree maze and playgrounds. Once Val had gotten lost in the maze, and it had taken Peyton almost an hour to find her and lead her out.
Her phone dinged. She startled, her pulse clamoring as she read the text.
Meet me at the goat man’s house. And come alone. No cops. Remember, you can’t trust anyone. Val.
An image of the wiry little man with the white beard that hung down his chest flashed in Peyton’s mind. People in the mountains said he wandered the hills with his entourage of goats, living like a nomad. Sometimes, he appeared at the festivals and let the children pet the goats.
One day she and Val followed him to an old shack near the gorge. After that, they dubbed the shanty as the goat man’s house.
She sent a return text. Will come ASAP.
Although a seed of doubt crept in. How had Val gotten her phone number? Could she be walking into a trap?
Deciding she had to go anyway, that no one but she and Val knew about the goat man’s house, she snatched her purse, kissed her mother’s cheek and whispered that she was going to find her sister. Then she stepped into the hallway.
“Restroom,” she said when the deputy looked up.
He acknowledged her with a small nod, then she hurried down the hallway. She glanced back at him as she neared the corner, but he was facing her mother’s doorway, so she darted past the ladies’ room and into the elevator.
Knowing she needed a car, she called an Uber driver, then had him drive her to the rental-car business in town that was attached to the local garage. Twenty minutes later, she wove into the hills toward the goat man’s house, checking over her shoulder as she drove to make sure no one was following her.
Dark clouds rumbled, and rain began to drizzle down. A fog spread over the ridges, the gray skies dreary, adding to her frayed nerves. She switched on her wipers and the defroster, then the radio to listen to the weather. “Temperatures are supposed to drop into the low forties tonight,” the weatherman said. “With heavy rain at times, road conditions could get dangerous and flooding may occur in the lower areas of the valley.”
Her tires skidded, and Peyton slowed as she rounded a sharp curve. The next mile went uphill, the drop off the shoulder of the road at least seventy-five feet. She clenched the steering wheel with clammy hands, careful not to cross the center line as she maneuvered the switchbacks. Occasionally she passed another vehicle, but the area seemed deserted, not one of the usual tourist spots.
Three more miles, and the old shanty slipped into view. Rain slackened, but the wind battered the SUV, forcing her to work to keep it on the graveled road as she climbed toward the house. A dismal gray bathed the property and shanty as she made it over the hill, and she spotted a makeshift carport covered in brush. If Val had parked here, she’d probably hidden the car beneath those limbs. Her tires chugged over the muddy ground, gravel spewing as she parked to the side of the house. She tugged her jacket on, then climbed out. Using the flashlight on her phone, she crept toward the carport.
Twigs snapped beneath her boots, and the wind hurled leaves around her. She pulled a branch aside and found an old rusted pickup. She was just about to turn and go to the house when a sound behind her made her freeze.
“Val?”
“Run, Peyton, run!”
Suddenly she felt the point of something sharp and hard in her back. A gun. Then another voice, menacing and cold.
“You should have kept your mouth shut. Now you both have to die.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The old building looked vacant. Liam and Jacob approached slowly, guns drawn in anticipation that they were about to stumble on trouble. They divided up, Liam going right and Jacob inching around the left of the building so they could see through the windows.
The windowpane was broken, so Liam hoisted himself up and peered inside. Nothing. Just an empty room.
Jacob strode toward him, boots crunching gravel. “Appears to be vacant.”
“Let’s search it.” Liam strode to the back door, found it unlocked and went inside. As they entered, they did a quick walk-though. The building consisted of a front room, four smaller rooms, and another room in the back.
“I’ll take the front room. It was probably the reception area,” Jacob offered.
“I’ll start in the back, in what must have been the doc’s office.” Jacob’s boots clicked on the tile floors as he walked through the hall, and Liam yanked on gloves, then checked the desk against the wall. Except for a few pushpins and paper clips, the drawers were empty. He looked in the file cabinet, but it had been cleaned out, as well.
A piece of paper on the floor behind the desk caught his eye, and he stooped to pick it up. A phone number was scribbled on the sticky note. He pulled out his phone and called the number, but received a recording saying the number was no longer in service.
Satisfied nothing else was in the office, he moved to one of the four exam rooms. The counter along the wall that had probably held medical supplies was bare, so he checked the cabinet. A few sterile wipes. Nothing else.
Dammit.
He moved to the second room but found nothing helpful in it either. In room three, he searched the drawers. Inside the bottom one, he spotted a prescription pad stuck in the corner. He tugged it free.
Jacob was exiting the fourth exam room. “Did you find anything?”
Liam showed him the pad.
“That’s the name of the prescriber on one of Gloria Inman’s prescription bottles.”
“So she was getting her pills from a pill mill,” Liam said. “But why kill her?”
“Maybe she planned to expose the operation,” Jacob suggested.
That was a possibility.
Liam’s phone buzzed. Bennett. “You asked me to dig more into Director Jameson,” Bennett said. “I may have found something.”
“What?”
“Your instincts were right. Edna Fouts, Lydia Corgin and Hilda Rogers all signed over their life insurance policies in exchange for medical care.”
“Signed over to whom?”
“The money went into an account under the name of Benjamin Richards,” Bennett said. “One contact said he paid for free care for the patients and only took the policies to pay him back, that he did it out of the goodness of his heart.”
Liam cursed. Out of the goodness of his heart? The damn bastard was taking advantage of residents/patients because they had no family and was scamming the seniors out of their insurance policies.
“Did you locate this Benjamin Richards?” Liam asked.
“I did. His real name is Richard Jameson.”
Liam’s blood turned cold. “The director of Golden Gardens.”
“He was at Whistler the night Gloria Inman died, and the night of the fire,” Bennett said. “He gave Peyton her job. And now Leon Brittles died under his watch, and Mrs. Weiss is fighting for her life.” Liam snapped his fingers. “Get me a warrant for his arrest. This bastard is not going to get away with hurting anyone else.”
* * *
PEYTON FROZE, the gun stabbing in her back. The voice... Oh, God, she recognized it.
Joanna. Her coworker. Her friend.
You can’t trust anyone there, Val had said. But Peyton had never considered the fact that her closest friend would harm her or her mother.
“Move,” Joanna ordered. “Inside the shanty.”
Val clutched at her arm, and Peyton realized her hands were bound together with rope. “Peyton, I’m so sorry,” Val said in a shaky voice. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”
Peyton stumbled as she was pushed through the back door of the rotting old house. The stench of mold and a dead animal suffused her and made bile rise to her throat.
“In the bedroom,” Joanna ordered. “The corner.”
Peyton couldn’t hide the shock from her tone. “Why are you doing this, Jo? We were friends.”
A bitter laugh rumbled from Joanna. “All you had to do was leave things alone,” Joanna snapped. “Keep quiet. Not talk to the police.”
“I did keep quiet.” Anger bubbled inside Peyton. “Until someone hurt Mama.” She glared at Joanna in shocked disbelief. “You? You caused the gas leak. And you drugged Mama. I left you with her because I trusted you, and she hasn’t woken up because you drugged her.”
“That was your fault,” Joanna said. “You had to get chummy with that federal agent.”
“I wasn’t chummy,” Peyton said. “I was just trying to protect my mother.” She glanced at her sister who was shivering uncontrollably. Sweat beaded her skin and her eyes looked wild, glassy.
Was she high now? In need of a fix?
She rubbed her sister’s arm. “Val, how did you find out what happened?”
“The pills. I couldn’t help it, Peyton. I was desperate and I found this pill mill and at first it was all fine. The doc wrote me scripts, and I was okay. Then it got to where I couldn’t pay, and they cut me off.” Her voice slurred. “They did the same thing to Gloria. She didn’t want her husband to find out she was an addict.”
Peyton’s mind raced as she tried to follow Val’s explanation. “You knew Gloria Inman?”
“We met at the clinic. But when we couldn’t pay, they told us not to come back. Gloria was irate. Said she’d expose them if they didn’t give us what we needed.”
Joanna waved the gun around. “We couldn’t let her do that. It would have ruined everything.”
Rage at Joanna heated Peyton’s blood. “So, you killed Gloria. You shot her up with morphine and she OD’d. That’s what sent her into cardiac arrest.”
“Yeah, but her husband came in and had to call an ambulance,” Joanna said in a low whisper.
A deep feeling of betrayal cut through Peyton. “At the hospital, you gave her more morphine.”
“I couldn’t let her wake up and point the finger at me.”
“So, you framed me.” Peyton’s voice shook with anger. “You used my code to check out morphine and a second epi injection to make it look like I screwed up. You made Dr. Butler believe it was my fault.”
Joanna gave a sardonic laugh. “He didn’t want to believe it. Not that the great Nurse Weiss could make a mistake. That’s why he told you not to say anything. He wanted to protect you.”
“He was innocent in all this,” Peyton said. But she’d doubted him.
She’d never doubted Joanna though. That was her mistake. She’d trusted the wrong person.
And now her entire family was going to die because of it.
* * *
LIAM’S PHONE BUZZED as Jacob drove them back toward Whistler. Deputy Rowan.
He connected. “Something wrong, Deputy?”
“I’m supposed to be keeping an eye out for Peyton as well as her mother, right?”
“Absolutely. What’s wrong?”
“Well, Peyton came out of the room and said she was going to the ladies’ room, but that was half an hour ago and she hasn’t returned.”
Liam clenched the phone tighter. “Did you check the ladies’ room?”
“Yeah, I knocked and called out, then asked one of the other nurses to look inside, but she wasn’t there. I tried calling her phone, too, but she’s not answering.”
The hair on the back of Liam’s neck bristled. Maybe she’d gone to the cafeteria for a bite to eat. Or to the chapel to pray. “Ask the nurse to page her over the intercom. If she doesn’t show, let me know. I’ll wait while you do.”
He heard the deputy yell out to the nurse, then he returned. “That nurse wants to talk to you. Said she has the results of the drug screening you asked for.”
“Put her on the phone.”
She identified herself immediately. “The doctor reviewed the results of the screening, and something is definitely off. Mrs. Weiss was given heavy doses of morphine. But we did not have her scheduled for morphine.”
Liam’s breath rasped out. They had vetted every caregiver who was allowed to be in the room with Mrs. Weiss. And that was three. Director Jameson had also been there. “Did anyone else visit Mrs. Weiss other than Peyton or the three staff members on our approved list?”
“Just Peyton’s friend Joanna. She was here late last night and early this morning.”
“Listen to me,” Liam said, his gut knotting. “Do not let anyone, including Joanna or Director Jameson in to see Mrs. Weiss. Do you understand?”
“Yes, and I can assure you that we’ll monitor her medication extremely closely.”
“Did Peyton answer the page?” Liam asked.
“No, and I tried her cell, but it rolled straight to voice mail.”
Liam thanked her, then relayed the latest to Jacob, and pressed Bennett’s number. He
didn’t like where his thoughts were headed. “See what you can find on Peyton’s friend Joanna. She works at Golden Gardens.”
“Give me a minute. I’ll text you with my findings.”
Liam hung up, then turned to Jacob. “Drop me at the hospital and I’ll look for Peyton. Go ahead and pick up Director Jameson.”
“Got it.” Jacob flipped on his siren and sped toward the hospital.
Bennett’s text came through: Joanna Horton looks clean. Worked at Whistler at time of Gloria Inman’s death and the fire. One son, fourteen, has severe mental and physical disabilities. Lives in a group home that’s expensive.
Meaning she could have been motivated by money.
Bennett: Found a photograph of her and Director Jameson on social media at a fund-raiser. Appears they’re an item.
Then they could be working together.
Liam sent a return text. Peyton may be missing. Ping her phone for me and let me know her location.
On it.
Jacob reached the hospital and pulled in front of the ER entrance. “When you bring Jameson in, ask him about his relationship with Joanna. She might be involved in this.”
“Copy that.”
Liam jumped out and paced in front of the hospital. A minute later, Bennett sent another text.
Tracked her phone to a place in the hills. GPS coordinates following.
Cold fear swept over Liam, and he jogged toward his car. Why the hell had she gone off alone? She’d promised she’d stay put until he returned.
What if the killer had her?
* * *
“YOU HIT MY CAR and ran me off the road,” Peyton said.
Joanna shook her head. “No, that was Herbert. He had to protect the operation.”
“What operation? A pill mill?” Peyton asked.
“It’s more than that,” Val cut in. “They’re stealing people’s life insurance policies, promising to give free care to the seniors at the Gardens in exchange for becoming the beneficiary. They did it at another center before.”
Peyton stared at her sister in shock. “How do you know this?”
