The Healer

  “That’s what I told him,” Cole replied.

  “What’s on your plan for the evening?” Gage asked. “If I buy the steaks, Cole offered to fire up the grill. Want to join us?”

  Rachel looked between the two men, her surprise that they were getting together showing. “Sure.”

  Cole understood her reaction. He and Gage respected each other, but their jobs had often put them working on opposite sides with his job in investigating arson fires and Gage’s to find news. It was slowly becoming a friendship. They both recognized that for Rachel’s sake it was important that the tension end. Gage had a story running this weekend about the flooding, and Cole was in the mood to be generous when asked to comment. “How do you like your steak?”

  “Medium. Not too charred on the edges. With a baked potato that is falling-apart done.”

  “Can do. Eight fit your schedule?”

  “I’ll make it fit.”

  Cole cut the French bread in thick slices. He could get used to this. Rachel sat at his kitchen table occasionally spearing a strawberry with a toothpick, keeping him company as he fixed Texas Toast to go with the steak and potatoes. The steaks on the grill were coming along to perfection under the watchful eyes of Gage and Hank. It was the kind of night that made memories.

  “You have a quart of 1 percent milk in the refrigerator, oatmeal in the cupboard, and enough vegetables to start a market, but we’re eating steaks and potatoes. I sense a contradiction. Now I wonder which one is really you?”

  He could get used to her teasing. She’d relaxed with him. “It’s called balance.”

  “I’d say you were trying to impress me with your discipline but you forgot to take down your shopping list, and it’s more of the same.”

  “One of the realities of a desk job is to adapt or pay the price. I don’t mind working the weights, but I’d rather not have to add another session to my workout schedule.”

  “I handle it by never being home to buy groceries.” She rested her head on her arms.

  “You’re falling asleep.”

  “You should feel flattered. I no longer feel like a guest. The days when I could handle the pace of keeping up with kids and doing a flood cleanup are long gone.”

  “Age teaches you to think more and act smarter. It’s good for you.” He set a glass of iced tea beside her.

  “Why didn’t you get married a decade or two ago?”

  She didn’t censor her questions when she got tired. He tucked away the observation, knowing it would be useful. “I was too young to realize what I was missing, too busy to make time, too stupid to take my mom’s advice. You would have liked her Rachel LeeAnn.”

  “I was hoping you didn’t hear Gage call me that.”

  “It’s not a bad middle name.”

  “What’s yours?”

  Cole chuckled. “Something worse.” He slid the toast under the broiler.

  “I’ll be nice and not ask.”

  He got out the fixings for the salad. She was idly moving her glass of iced tea on the table, watching the moisture form a circle.

  “What?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re biting your lower lip. What’s the question?”

  She glanced over and gave an apologetic smile. “Your middle name isn’t Clarence is it?”

  He burst out laughing. “Clarence? No, it’s not anything that bad. It’s Joseph.” He stepped back to the table, leaned down, and kissed her. He was smiling as he did so, intending it to be a casual kiss. He knew she’d been waiting for him to keep his promise from that afternoon, and he didn’t want the first kiss to become such a huge deal she got tense expecting it. Casual didn’t last, though. He wanted to linger in that kiss and deepen it. He let himself do so briefly. She was sitting at his kitchen table where he would love to have a chance to greet her with a kiss every morning. He reluctantly opened his eyes to find hers still closed.

  She curled her hand in his shirt rather than let him move back. “What was that for?”

  “You need a reason?” He had several, not the least of which was the fact that she was adorable and he fully intended to win her heart in the coming months.

  She blinked at him, and he loved the fact her eyes still weren’t quite focused. She shook her head slightly. “Come here.” She slid her hand around his neck, pulled him back down, and returned his kiss. The memory of their first kiss got swamped by the emotional wave from the second. “One to dream about,” she whispered. She smiled at him and slid her hand around to touch his jaw, her hand soft against the end-of-day roughness of his face. “Breathe, Cole. You want me to help fix the salad?”

  He took a deep breath. “Okay, sure, whatever you like.” Her smile was incredible when there was laughter behind it. He chuckled and pulled her from the chair. “You’re precious, Rae.” He wrapped an arm around her and hugged her, then stepped back and let her go. He held out the paring knife. “Not too many radishes.”

  Seven

  Lisa.”

  Hearing her name and having nowhere to set down the bloodstained shirt, she carried it with her to the door of the conference room. “Back here, Marcus.”

  So much evidence had been collected from the Carol Iles murder scene that Lisa had taken over the room to manage the processing of it all. She returned the bloody blouse Carol had been wearing to its plastic evidence bag.

  Her brother came to the doorway where he paused, looking around. “Detective Wilson called and said you needed to see me. How’s it coming?”

  She rubbed her forehead with the back of her arm trying to eliminate an itch, avoiding using her hand still in the rubber glove. “Since I haven’t seen much daylight because of this case, I suppose it’s relative. Wet stuff molds and my allergies have been going crazy. I hate mysteries.”

  “You’ve got one.”

  She nodded and walked over to the wall of enlarged photos she’d been using to try and recreate the crime scene from the evidence. “Tests are finally coming back on some of this stuff. It’s like a Chinese puzzle. You checked the federal court building and the office where she worked?”

  “I ran down the information for Wilson. Carol didn’t have access to anything classified, didn’t work on any profiled cases. Just routine paperwork in the criminal division. I sent over the box of personal stuff we found in her office. There wasn’t much.”

  “Wilson brought it over,” Lisa confirmed. “Thanks for sending over the fingerprints from her file.”

  “No problem. I figured it would save you some time. Any ideas at this point?”

  “Carol’s murder was either domestic, work related, or random. I’m ready to rule out random. It’s too neat of a scene and there are no signs of burglary or other violence. Wilson is getting nowhere on domestic. She’d been divorced about a year, shares joint custody of her son who primarily lives with his father. Her ex-husband and son were at a high school basketball game that night. I don’t have a good time line yet, but so far their alibis hold. And there is no indication Carol was dating anyone. That leaves work related, and you’ve pretty much ruled that out.”

  “Anything coming from the evidence?”

  “That’s why I wanted you to stop by. The bullet that killed Carol is in pretty good shape. No shell casings, so I’m limited in info, but it’s typing as a Smith & Wesson .38 caliber.” Lisa tapped two of the photos. “And my puzzle: I think someone else was there. This mail being opened at the dining room table had Carol’s prints on it. But this soda can on the kitchen counter? The prints are unknown.”

  “Her husband or son?”

  “They both offered prints and neither matched. One other thing.” She crossed to the table and lifted a plastic evidence bag. “This cosmetic bag? One of the officers cleared everything on the dining room table into a box, and this was in that set of items. You can see it on the table in that photo.” She lifted out the brush. “Long, blond hair. Carol was a brunette with a pageboy haircut.”

  “You’re looking for a
woman shooter?” Marcus asked, obviously intrigued at the idea.

  “Someone brought over a cosmetic bag, had a drink, and then shot Carol? No. I think Carol and another woman were going out that evening, shopping, dinner, something. Her guest brought in the bag to retouch her makeup and hair, and while she was there someone knocked on the door and shot Carol.”

  “Then there’s a second victim.”

  “We never explored the basement. It was flooded.” Lisa leaned against the table and tugged off her gloves. “Want to go play detective with me?”

  “I’m federal not state, remember?”

  “Wilson won’t be free for another three hours. He said I could draft you. And technically I don’t need company to go back to a crime scene, but even I have a bit of a problem walking down into a flooded basement with just a flashlight.”

  “I’ll go along, but I’m calling Quinn. If you’re going to get spooked by a ghost, I want him there to see it.”

  Lisa smiled at the idea of her fiancé going along. “Call him. But you two are going down into the basement first.”

  “This is creepy,” Quinn protested. The stairs creaked as he walked down them, his halogen flashlight peering into the darkness.

  Lisa tugged the back of her fiancé’s collar. “There’s creepy and really creepy. It doesn’t smell like a decomposing body’s down there,” Lisa mentioned, keeping her hand on his shoulder for extra balance as she came down behind him. “Let’s just get down there and get it over with.”

  Marcus went down ahead of them and hung the lantern he’d brought along on the staircase banister. It dimly illuminated the room. “We’ve still got some standing water down here. The pump lines dropped in those basement windows to pump out the water weren’t weighted to reach the floor. Walk carefully.”

  Quinn paused near the bottom of the stairs. “What is that?”

  Lisa leaned her head against his shoulder to see around the rafters and follow his flashlight. “A dead rat.”

  Quinn stepped off the last step and shone his light around. “Why don’t you stay right there, Lisa?”

  “And miss all this fun? How do you want to do this, Marcus?” It was her crime scene, but by asking the question, she knew Marcus would select the toughest part of the task for himself.

  “You two work clockwise from the steps; I’ll work counterclockwise,” he decided, taking the deepest segment of water. “Let’s get this done.”

  Lisa circled with Quinn, looking for anything that suggested evidence. They found a workbench, boxes of stored Christmas decorations, and a couple pieces of furniture Carol had moved downstairs that she didn’t need. Items that had floated ended up on the floor in strange places. Lisa knew from the lack of the distinct smell of decomposition that this idea hadn’t panned out. They finally met up at the other side of the room.

  “Ready to call this search done?” Marcus asked.

  She reluctantly nodded. Their search had been thorough. She led the way upstairs.

  The kitchen and living room still showed the rapid recovery of items they had made the night of the flooding. She looked out the kitchen window. “The body could have ended up in the river, but it’s going to take a lot of convincing before Wilson agrees to dredge.”

  “The river doesn’t hold things forever,” Quinn reassured. “You want to look around some more while we’re here?”

  “Let’s assume Carol’s company is in the kitchen when the gunshot goes off in the living room.” Lisa looked around. “She only has two options of escape: the garage or the back patio door. I want to walk the grounds.”

  She pushed back the vertical blinds on the patio door. It was unlocked, but she had to wrestle it open. Draining water had left a place mat, candle ring, saltshaker, and several pages of a wall calendar plastered against the glass. She pushed the items away with her foot. “See if you can find me a garbage bag, Quinn. If it looks interesting, let’s take it.” She stepped outside. “I bet the shooter threw the gun into the river as well. It’s close and it washes everything away.”

  “We’ll start walking the riverbanks,” Quinn offered.

  “We may have to.” Lisa rubbed the back of her neck. She wanted this case solved, but she had a bad feeling about it. So much evidence had been lost in the floodwaters.

  Marcus stopped beside her. “Let’s walk.”

  Lisa nodded and led the way into the yard.

  Eight

  Adam, listen to Rachel and help with Nathan. You’re a guest in her home so be helpful. Don’t just watch TV.”

  “Mom…”

  Rachel smiled at Ann and shifted Nathan against her hip. She was going to have a great time baby-sitting. “We’ll start with Battleship and then play Scrabble.”

  “We’re just going to pick out carpet and paint. We won’t be long.”

  It was Friday night. It had taken days, but the cleanup had finally turned the corner, and it was time to start restoring rooms. The electricians had been in; the furnace and ductwork had been cleaned out. Drywall had been replaced and new subflooring put in where needed. Stephen thought they could start painting Saturday and lay carpet down midweek. Ann’s home would feel new although rather sparse, as most of the furniture would have to be replaced. “Stay out as long as you like,” Rachel said. “I’ll page Stephen if I need you.”

  Stephen set down the backpack with things for the boys, Nathan’s now worn teddy bear poking out of the top. “Expect us about eight, Rae.”

  She nodded to her brother.

  “I appreciate this,” Ann said.

  Nathan reached for Rachel’s necklace, and she caught his hand, kissing it. “I’m glad you took me up on the offer. Say bye, Nathan.”

  The boy waved to his mom. “Go. Wanna play.”

  With a laugh Ann kissed her boys and said a final good-bye.

  Rachel closed the door behind Ann and Stephen and from years of baby-sitting experience immediately offered a distraction. “Adam, I’ve got a question for you.”

  The boy was looking around her apartment in a curious kind of way. Nathan could get into all kinds of things, and she could imagine Adam wondering if he would constantly have to stop his younger brother. Her apartment wasn’t very kid-proof. Knowing that, she held Nathan rather than setting him down. Adam turned to look at her.

  “Cassie brought over a box of stuff she found at an auction. She needs it sorted and items put into those plastic sleeves. She said if you wanted to do it for her, she’d pay you for your time—you can choose an item for yourself. There are a few comic books in the box.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Help me clear off the table and we’ll lay everything out. Does pizza sound good for an early dinner?”

  Nathan leaned back. “Pizza, yes!”

  “Can we come stay more often?” Adam asked.

  Rachel laughed. “I’d like that. Come on, let’s get this evening started.”

  The sounds outside the hospital room carried through the closed door. Evening rounds were being finished, medicines given. The hospital corridor was bustling. Jennifer reached to take hold of her husband’s hand. He interlaced his fingers with hers. She found such comfort in his strength. “I love you. Have I told you that lately?”

  “Yes, but you can keep saying it. I’m storing them up.” He smiled at her, the gorgeous smile that still turned her heart to mush. The first time she met him had been in an emergency room over a screaming two-year-old. Tom glanced up and gave her that smile, then returned his attention to her patient. She’d remembered him for that smile.

  Tom used the cuff of his sleeve to wipe her chin. “Cookie crumbs and icing.”

  “It’s pretty awful when homemade cookies don’t have much taste.”

  “Do you want me to call your family for you?”

  Jennifer felt like her heart was breaking. “It’s going to kill them. You saw how hard it was on Rachel and Kate to see me like this. If I call now and tell them this…”

  “Marcus is coming in on
Tuesday. He’ll take one look at you and tell the others to come. If you want to make the decision, you’ll have to make it soon. We’re out of time, honey.”

  “The doctors were wrong before. Why do they have to be right this time?” She so desperately wanted them to be wrong.

  “All they said was that your body needs a rest from the treatments.” He kissed the back of her hand where the morphine line had been removed. They had put her on a constant pump she now wore on her belt.

  “I don’t want them to be done.” She loved this man, loved her family, and she wanted something that could help her fight this cancer. Having her primary oncologist say that they recommended a break in treatment was terrifying. She didn’t want Tom to have to watch her die.

  “We’re not done yet, hon.”

  “Spontaneous remission is another name for a miracle,” she whispered.

  “So we’ll pray for a miracle.”

  “I’m losing faith that there will be one.” She’d been trying so hard to trust God through this. She knew God had a plan. The O’Malleys had turned to Him because of this cancer; only Stephen was left to make that decision. Time had been her ally, but now it was going against her.

  Tom turned her wedding ring around. “Does God love you more or less than I do?”

  “He gave me you.”

  “Good answer. God will give you all the faith you need. You don’t need to wish harder or do more.”

  “I trust Him. I just don’t want to die. And I’m dying.”

  He leaned over and kissed her. “Don’t cry, Jen. He hasn’t forgotten you.” Tom rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “Good-bye is still a long way away. I have today with you, and I plan to enjoy it. You want to sneak out tonight down to pediatrics and see a movie with your buddies?”

  She struggled to smile. “I’d love that.”

  “And the next days? We can do whatever you want, Jen.”

  “I could use some better scenery.”

  “Then let’s leave. This hospital is a lousy place for getting rest, and you’re just surrounded by germs. There are better places to spend our time.”