“I didn’t even step out of the room for coffee,” Hannah said. “The nurses brought me food. No one was in her room except the nurse and doctors, and only the nurse administered medication.” Her eyes narrowed. “I watched.”
“It had to be the saline.” Lance dragged in air, his lungs shaky. He felt like he’d lived three days in the last fifteen minutes. “Tampered with out in the hall. I need to call Stella or Brody. They can pull the hospital surveillance tapes.” He glanced through the glass wall. Nurses and doctors still surrounded his mother.
“I’ll call Brody,” Hannah said. Phone in hand, she walked down the hallway.
The doctor emerged from the room. “She seems to be stable.”
“How much of a setback will this be for my mother?” Lance asked. She’d already been at risk for organ damage.
“We can’t say just yet.” The doctor yanked his gloves off. “I don’t know how this could have happened.”
A woman walked by, her hand over her face. Sobbing, she entered the room next to his mother’s.
The old man.
“Did you have a code earlier?” Lance asked.
The doctor followed his gaze. “Yes. Not long ago. But he’d been sick for a long time. He’d been here for weeks. His death was not a shock.”
“But codes are chaotic,” Lance said.
“They are,” the doctor said turning back toward Jenny. “Excuse me.” He went back into her room and checked her vital signs on the monitors again.
Morgan’s face went grim. “A code would provide a convenient distraction.”
“They should check the old man for opioids,” Lance said. “In case he was murdered.”
Hannah returned. “Stella is coming with Brody. They’re going to request a police guard for your mother.”
But the saline had been tampered with before it even entered his mother’s room. This killer had murdered by strangulation, hanging, shooting, and poison. He was using whatever method would get the job done.
“I’m going to call Sharp and tell him what happened.” Morgan moved down the hall.
Who knew how long it would be before his mother woke up? And if she would be able to identify her poisoner . . . Lance pushed that thought away. He couldn’t deal with the possibility of her sustaining brain damage. Not now. Tonight, he had to keep her alive.
Brody and Stella arrived and took charge of the investigation. Lance gave them a summary. As he described the events of the night, the numbness retreated like a shadow at noon, leaving anger as bright and clean as winter sunlight in its place.
He would find the man who did this.
Maybe he was the same man who’d killed Lance’s father. Maybe not. But Lance knew that whoever had hurt his mother would have those answers.
“A patrol officer is bringing up a drug field test kit,” Stella said. “We’ll be able to tell you in a few minutes if the saline was contaminated.”
Lance paced while the officer arrived and opened his notebook-size case in the corner of Jenny’s room. While the ICU staff attended to Lance’s mother, the officer selected a pouch from his kit. He took a small sample of the saline solution. Police officers often needed to test substances for the presence of narcotics. Lance had performed enough field tests in his career. It was far better to identity a random white powder in the field than to arrest someone for possession of crack cocaine when the powder was actually baking soda.
In five minutes, the officer looked up from his mini chemistry kit. “Positive for opioids.”
Jenny had been poisoned. Twice.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Morgan watched the scene unfold as Sharp’s cell switched over to voice mail. She left a quick message, her attention on Lance, pacing the hallway near his mother’s doorway. Confirmation of the poisoning triggered a quick response both from the investigators and Lance.
The cops switched into high gear.
Tension radiated from Lance like heat from a furnace. His body remained in perpetual motion, as if his emotions were too turbulent for him to keep still.
As if he were barely keeping himself in check.
He was a man of action. His natural inclination was to funnel fear and sadness into a battle plan.
Brody and Stella questioned hospital staff, retrieved the surveillance videos, and called for a forensic team.
Morgan’s phone buzzed. She pulled it from her purse. Her grandfather’s cell number displayed on the screen. A quick burst of nerves scattered her pulse. Grandpa didn’t call her without a good reason. Were the girls OK? She stopped at the end of the corridor and answered the call. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine.” He paused.
Her spine straightened. Something was wrong. “But?”
“I was reviewing Jenny’s e-mails and phone records today. She doesn’t get many calls that aren’t from Lance, you, or Sharp, but yesterday, she received a call from a strange number. I thought it might be a telemarketer, but I thought I’d dig. Took me a while to get the caller’s identity. Things have changed a bit since I ran investigations. You’ll never guess who called Jenny.”
“Who?” Morgan asked.
“Stan Adams.”
Morgan’s mind connected dots.
“I thought you’d want to know right away,” Grandpa said.
“I do.” Morgan told him what had happened to Jenny.
“No.” Grandpa swore, a rare event. “I wish I could be more helpful.”
“You’ve been very helpful.”
“Keep me updated,” Grandpa said. “Love you.”
“Love you back.” Morgan ended the call.
She caught Lance’s gaze.
He strode down the hall. “What is it?”
“That was my grandfather.” Morgan swallowed. “He reviewed your mother’s e-mail and phone records. Someone called her yesterday.”
Lance’s attention sharpened to a knifepoint. “Who?”
“Stan Adams.”
They knew Stan had lied about his whereabouts the night Vic disappeared, but they hadn’t had a chance to question him again.
Lance turned and headed for the door.
Morgan hurried after him. “Where are you going?”
Whatever else happened tonight, she would not let him go off on his own. He was wired.
“To talk to Stan,” he said over his shoulder.
“Stop,” she called.
Lance turned.
“We need to tell Stella and Brody.”
Lance shook his head. “They’ll have to pull their own copy of the phone records, but that will take time, and they’re going to be tied up at this scene all night. It’ll be morning before they’re free to interview Stan.”
“You can’t cut them out of this.”
“No. We’ll message them the information from the Jeep.” Lance pivoted and strode away.
“Don’t you think we should call the sheriff too?” Morgan asked, falling into step with him.
Lance pushed out of the ICU. “No. He’ll just tell us to stay away from Stan.”
Morgan hurried to keep up. “He is going to blow a vein if we don’t share this with him.”
And won’t that make working with him in the future fun.
“Let him stroke out.” Lance stalked to the elevator and stabbed the button. “We’ve played by the rules, and where did that get us?”