Truth-Stained Lies

  Warren checked his watch. Another alarm went off in Michael’s head. He was checking the time when his nephew was in the next room coding?

  No, something wasn’t right.

  Finally, the doctor came out of the room. Juliet and Holly almost assaulted him. “Is he okay?” Juliet asked.

  “We were able to revive him. But he’s in critical condition. We’re going to put him in the ICU.”

  “Yes, okay,” Juliet said.

  “We need to get some papers signed. Which one of you is his parent?”

  “None of us,” Juliet said. “His mother died Monday. His dad can’t be here.”

  “We’re his family,” Holly cut in. “We’re his aunts, and this is his grandmother.”

  “Who has custody?”

  “I do,” the old woman said. “I can sign the forms. Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll have to wait for lab results and do a few more tests. I’ll let you know when they’re back. We don’t have any beds in the pediatric ICU, so we’re taking him to the adult ICU. But he’ll get excellent care there.”

  The doctor picked up his pace, heading down the hall. Michael left the others and followed the doctor, catching up to him. “Doc, can I ask you something?” he said, matching his stride.

  “I’m in a hurry,” he said. “Who are you?”

  “I’m a friend of the family.”

  “Then I can’t talk to you about this patient.”

  “No, I don’t want you to talk about him. I just want to make a suggestion. When you’re doing those blood tests, could you test for poison?”

  The doctor stopped walking, turned to look at Michael fully. “Poison?”

  Michael wondered how much to tell him. “I’m a former homicide detective. Michael Hogan.”

  The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “Oh yes, I remember you.”

  Of course he did. “So Monday this kid’s mother turns up dead, murdered. And today he’s so sick he’s near death. The timing just seems fishy. I want to make sure.”

  The doctor nodded. “I get it. Yes, we’ll test him. Was he at home when his mother was killed? Was she poisoned?”

  “No, she was shot. He was at day care. The killer is still at large. Don’t you think it’s a strange coincidence that he’s so sick that he codes a couple of days later?”

  The doctor looked back toward the room. “I guess it is. So he’s staying with his grandmother?”

  “Yes, and his uncle. The grandmother has stage four lung cancer. I guess we should also consider the possibility that he could have ingested some of her drugs.”

  “I’ll test for those too. I’ll call the lab now. I’m putting a rush on everything.”

  “Great. Thanks, Doc.”

  While they waited for Jackson to be moved to the ICU, the nurses allowed two people at a time to go into the room with him. Cathy stayed in the waiting room, letting Juliet go in. Warren wouldn’t cede his position next to the boy, not even for his mother. Cathy didn’t know what was taking them so long to transfer Jackson to ICU, but she supposed it was better that family members were able to be with him now. Once he was moved to ICU they’d probably be kept away from him.

  She wondered if she should call Jay at the jail. When she first got to the hospital, she had thought she would call him when they knew something, but now that Jackson had coded, it seemed his death could be imminent. Did they let murder suspects out if their children teetered on the brink of death?

  “You okay?” Michael draped his jacket over her shoulders. “You’re shivering.”

  She grabbed the lapels and pulled it tighter around her. “Michael, I saw you talking to the doctor,” she said in a low voice. “What was that about?”

  “I just thought of a few more things they should test him for.”

  “Like what?”

  “Just … different things.”

  She could tell he was evading, so she got to her feet. “Michael, is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “No, not at all. I don’t know any more than you do.”

  “But do you have one of your hunches?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Is it about Warren?” she asked in a whisper. “Because he’s creeping me out.”

  Michael should have known her instincts matched his. “I never have liked the guy that much. But we’ll know more when the test results come back.”

  “Do you think Jackson was poisoned or drugged?”

  “I don’t know,” Michael said. “If he didn’t want Jackson around he could’ve left him with Juliet.”

  “Unless this was what he planned all along.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Cathy glanced back at the others in the room. Mrs. Haughton sat in the wheelchair, her chin on her chest. Holly seemed to be drowsing too, slumped back against the wall with her eyes closed. “I don’t know,” Cathy whispered. “There’s just something not right about the way he’s acting. His stubbornness, his hostility. And it wasn’t his idea to call the ambulance; it was Mrs. Haughton’s. If it weren’t for Jackson having an accident in the bed, she wouldn’t have known how bad off he was. But Warren knew it was bad if he was the one taking care of him. Why wouldn’t he have taken Jackson to the hospital sooner, unless maybe … unless he planned it?”

  “That’s why I asked the doctor to check to see if there were any poisons in his system.”

  Cathy sank into her chair again, trying to work possible scenarios out in her mind. Jackson poisoned? Surely not.

  Michael lowered to the chair beside her and planted his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. She knew him well enough to know he was praying. She hoped he had God’s attention.

  After a while, the doctor came back up the hall. Cathy and Michael got to their feet, and Holly opened her eyes.

  As he stepped into Jackson’s room, Cathy touched Mrs. Haughton. She lifted her head and sat straighter. “The doctor … he’s in Jackson’s room.”

  Mrs. Haughton nodded and tried to roll herself, but Cathy took over and rolled her to the exam room, the others following.

  As they entered, Mrs. Haughton looked hopefully up at the doctor. “Do you have the results?”

  He turned to her, his expression grim. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

  “What is it, Doctor?” Cathy asked.

  He cleared his throat, rubbed his jaw. “I’m afraid it’s pretty serious. Jackson doesn’t have a virus. He has Escerichia coli.”

  Cathy sucked in a breath. “E. coli?”

  “How could Jackson have gotten that?” Juliet demanded.

  “It’s food-borne. It usually doesn’t get this severe until three to four days after eating the tainted food. Is anybody else in the family sick?”

  “No,” Juliet said. “They’re not. We would know.” She turned to Warren. “What did you feed him?”

  Warren grunted. “Did you hear him? He said it would take three to four days. I’ve only had him for two. Maybe it was what you fed him!”

  “He ate what my kids and I ate.”

  “Annalee died three days ago,” Cathy cut in. “Maybe it was something she fed him.”

  “We need to have everything he’s eaten tested,” the doctor said. “Can we get into the child’s house?”

  “It’s a sealed crime scene,” Michael said. “But I’m sure we can get the police to help us on this. But we’ll need to test the food at your house too, Warren.”

  “Give me the key to your house,” Holly said to Warren. “I’ll drive over there right now and get what’s in the fridge.”

  Warren sprang up then. “No, I’ll go. What do you need, Doctor?”

  “Anything he’s eaten while he’s been with you. Even wrappers that may have been thrown away.”

  “I’m the only one who knows what that is. He ate two McDonald’s Happy Meals. That was all we could get down him.”

  Mrs. Haughton finally spoke up. “He did have a few bites of a breakfast casserol
e … a friend brought it. We’ll need to test that.”

  “What about his school?” Juliet asked

  “Doubtful,” the doctor said. “We’d be seeing other sick kids.”

  “What can you do for him?” Juliet asked.

  “We’ve got to arrest the growth of the bacteria. Keep him hydrated. We’re going to get him to ICU in the next few minutes. Since he’s so young, we’ll allow one of you to stay with him. I recommend that it’s the person he’s closest to.”

  “That would be Juliet,” Cathy said.

  Juliet nodded, but Warren shook his head. “You people are so arrogant. Just because you think the world revolves around you does not mean that you’re the closest one to Jackson. He likes me. I’m staying with him.”

  “Look, we don’t have time to fight about this,” the doctor said. “Work it out. It’ll be about an hour before any of you can see him, so you should take that time to gather the food samples.”

  “All right,” Warren said. “Mom, I’ll be back shortly. Do you want to go home?”

  “No,” she said. “I’ll stay right here.”

  Warren pulled keys out of his pocket and headed down the hall.

  CHAPTER 33

  The ICU waiting room was full of anxious family members who looked like they had been up for days. Groups clumped together, their belongings spread out as if they were trying to make a home out of the vinyl recliners lined up in rows. Holly touched her stomach as she looked around the room, wondering what kind of parent she would be if she had the baby and something went wrong with her child. Would she be like these others, keeping vigil all night long?

  Yes, she would, came the answer. She was doing that for Jackson. She would do it for her own child, wouldn’t she? Maybe she did have a motherhood gene.

  She snatched her thoughts back and tried to focus on her nephew. Warren was with him in the ICU, so the rest of them were exiled here. Mrs. Haughton looked as if she might not make it through the night. Her breath came out in whistling releases, and periodically she would double over coughing, trying to catch her breath. She could barely hold her head up. She kept it leaned back against the wall behind her wheelchair, but now and then it would drop forward as she dozed.

  A coughing spell woke her, and Mrs. Haughton labored to catch her breath. Holly went to sit beside her and touched her bony knee. Mrs. Haughton looked at her with yellow eyes.

  “Mrs. Haughton, there’s nothing you can do for Jackson right now. They won’t let us see him until the next visiting time. Why don’t you let me take you home?”

  “I have my car,” she rasped out.

  “I know, but you could leave it for Warren since he came in the ambulance. I’m happy to take you home.”

  Mrs. Haughton looked around, as if trying to think it through. She clearly wanted to stay, but sitting here must be agonizing. Finally, she gave in. “Guess I’m of no use here.”

  Holly fetched Mrs. Haughton’s cane, which was propped against the wall. She hooked it onto the back of the chair, then grabbed the oxygen tank, still attached to the woman by a tube. Rolling the tank beside them, she pushed Mrs. Haughton down the hall. When Holly got her into the taxi with the oxygen tank at her feet, she put the cane in the back and returned the wheelchair to the lobby. As she came back to the car, she found Mrs. Haughton doubled over again in another fit of coughing.

  The woman’s condition was much worse than Holly had thought. She should probably be in the hospital, herself. She got into the driver’s seat, touched the woman’s shoulder, and waited until she finished coughing again. “Mrs. Haughton, are you all right?”

  Mrs. Haughton leaned back and took a long shallow breath. “No, I’m not all right,” she said. “It’s in my lungs, my liver …”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Mrs. Haughton managed to pull in a long, uninterrupted breath. “We should have let him stay at Juliet’s. I knew I wasn’t up to it.”

  Holly started the car. “Why do you think Warren wanted that?”

  Mrs. Haughton shrugged. “I think he just wanted to do something for Annalee … since he feels so helpless. Taking care of her boy … was the only thing he could think of.”

  Something about that didn’t ring true. Warren didn’t seem like the kind of person who would go out of his way for his sister.

  “It’s so hard to believe.” Mrs. Haughton paused to get a breath. “The day before she died … Annalee and Jackson came over for dinner. We ate in the dining room … like it was Thanksgiving or something.”

  Holly frowned. “Did Annalee cook?”

  “No, Warren did. It was a feast. Roast beef and potatoes … everything we all like. We talked about … whether I should continue treatment … or surrender to hospice. We decided on hospice care. I was so sure … mine would be the next funeral.”

  As her voice trailed off, Holly found her thoughts drifting back to that meal Warren had cooked. Today was Thursday, so that would have been Sunday, four days ago. Enough time for the E. coli to do its number on Jackson’s system.

  Her mind raced as she drove. Was it possible? Could Warren have infected Jackson? If so, maybe he’d also murdered Annalee.

  Holly got Mrs. Haughton home, helped her into the house, and got her settled on the couch. “Mrs. Haughton, do you think any of that food from Sunday is still in the fridge?”

  “You can look, dear,” she said. “He stores leftovers in those blue plastic containers. But he probably took them to the hospital … to be tested.”

  Holly went into the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator. It was almost empty. No blue containers. She’d have to find out whether he’d taken them in. She went back to the living room. “Mrs. Haughton, I would be careful with anything that’s left in the fridge. In fact, if you have friends who could bring you some food, that would be great.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I have some canned soup … that’ll be more than enough.”

  Holly nodded, hating to leave her alone. “Have you told your doctor yet? I mean, that you’ve decided to start hospice care?”

  “Not yet,” Mrs. Haughton said. “I was going to this week … but then Annalee died …” Her voice trailed off.

  Holly had assumed the woman was on chemo, fighting the cancer in her body. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s your prognosis?”

  Mrs. Haughton’s eyes grew dark again, and she stared at the oxygen tank. “Probably a few weeks, at best.”

  “Oh no. Shouldn’t you be in the hospital?”

  “I’m not going … to get better, Holly. Only worse. I hope I live … to see my grandson get better and see … justice for my daughter. But I’m at peace with dying. And Warren has really been here for me.” Tears pushed to her eyes, and she dabbed at them with dry, wrinkled fingers. “Jackson and Warren … are my only two left. I guess they’ll split everything I leave … when I go.”

  Holly fell into silence, her mind racing. So Jackson and Warren were the heirs to her estate. Of course.

  “How long has Warren been living with you?”

  “Six months,” Mrs. Haughton said. “Before that I hardly ever saw him … a blessing that he came home … to take care of me. Never thought I’d see that. He has problems … with employment and everything.” She coughed again, pulled in a breath. “He’s always been a special boy. But it’s nice to see him have such attachments … to me and his nephew. I just hope he doesn’t lose this job … because he won’t leave Jackson’s side.”

  Holly frowned, unable to match her picture of Warren with the one his mother painted. “Where is it he works now?”

  “At PC Labs. He cleans up. Janitorial work … is so much less than he’s capable of … but he has to work somewhere.”

  PC Labs? An alarm went off in Holly’s brain. “What is it they do there?”

  “They handle most of the … hospital’s lab work.”

  Holly’s throat closed. So Warren could have gotten samples of E. coli there?

  She suddenly felt dizz
y. She had to call her sisters … Michael.

  Holly’s heart pounded as she sprinted back out to her taxi. She got into the car, sat behind the wheel again, staring at the dashboard. Could it be that Warren was waiting patiently for his mother to die, and just before she did, had killed his sister and tried to kill his nephew, so that he’d get the whole estate for himself? Could the man be that cruel? That selfish?

  Was he a sociopath? If he didn’t have a conscience, if he could kill blood relatives for money …

  She started the car and headed back to the hospital, her mind racing ninety to nothing. If it was Warren, then he would have destroyed the tainted food. They’d been on the wrong track investigating the men who were angry at Cathy. Even Leonard Miller wasn’t to blame.

  Suddenly it hit her. She’d had the answer since he appeared at the post office yesterday.

  When she got to the hospital, she hurried up to the ICU waiting room, found Cathy and Juliet sitting with Michael. Michael had dozed off, and Cathy had her head on Juliet’s shoulder.

  Juliet was wide awake. “Holly, that was sweet of you to take her home. Is she all right?”

  Holly ignored the question and dragged her chair closer so she could talk quietly. “Guys, I need to talk to all of you.”

  Cathy nudged Michael, and he woke up, rubbed his eyes. “Hey.”

  “I need to tell you something I just thought of,” she whispered. “Something important.”

  “What is it?” Michael said, leaning forward.

  “Yesterday when I was staking out the post office, waiting for those men to show up, I never saw them. But guess who I did see? Warren.”

  Michael’s eyebrows shot up, and Cathy stiffened.

  “He shows up in the parking lot, knocks on my window, and says hello. Then he goes in.”

  “Did you follow him?” Cathy asked. “Did you see what box he went to?”

  “No, I was in the parking lot, waiting in my car. I was going to go in if I saw any of those other men. It didn’t occur to me to go in for Warren. He had some letters in his hand, so I assumed he was just mailing something. I mean, it makes sense that he would use that post office. He lives in the area.”