2 Multiple Exposures (12 page)

Chapter Thirteen

The ringing bothered me, and I moaned, wishing it would stop. When it did, I sighed in contentment and started sinking down into oblivion. I had been having a wonderful dream where everything around me was roses and sunshine. If you really want to feel gaggy, I should tell you there were also kittens and butterflies. There really were, and I lay in the midst of it being fed strawberries. Have I said how much I love strawberries?

The ringing started up again, cutting across the lovely warmth and blotting it out. I frowned in my sleep, but at last the fog began to lift. I opened my eyes to a darkened room. My sheets were on the floor where I’d kicked them, and my cell phone was still ringing.

Something crashed to the floor as I waved my arm, but I found the cell and answered. “It’s got to be the middle of the night,” I growled, “or so early I wouldn’t dream of getting up. Who is this?”

“Makayla?”

I was instantly alert. “Lissa? Is that you?”

“Makayla, I’m at the clinic,” she whispered.

“Why in the world are you there?” I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Have the police released it to the family or whoever owns the property?”

“Dr. Bloomberg owns the building, and I don’t know if he has a beneficiary, but I’m sure his lawyer will handle it. Listen, that’s not important. I need to show you something. Can you come down here?”

Trap
, my mind shouted, and the scenarios ran through my head of how the foolish heroine goes out into the dark of night only to get herself killed. I was not a foolish heroine, thank you very much. I was, however, one concerned about Lissa and curious about what she’d found.

“What is it?” I asked. They always behaved as if they couldn’t tell you over the phone. Nonsense!

“Wait, hold on.” She left the phone, and I strained to hear. No sounds came over the line, and the silence almost hurt. I danced about the room, debating between pulling on some clothes and putting her on speaker to text Spencer. Fearing I’d somehow lose the connection, I kept the phone pressed to my ear and waited with impatience. At last, she returned. “Are you there?”

“I’m here.”

“I thought Hardy Joe followed me. He fell asleep out in the back, and usually when he does that, he doesn’t wake up until all hours.”

“The back?” I didn’t really want to know. The question tumbled out. Good thing she ignored it.

“I have to hurry up before he wakes. I’ve been here longer than I meant to be, and I don’t want anyone happening down the street and seeing a light on.”

“Nobody’s awake this time of night,” I half complained, yawning. “I do beg you to get to the point, Lissa, and get back home where you’re safe.”

“I will, but I was thinking about what I told you, that Dr. Bloomberg had a partner.”

I stiffened, recalling the information and that I had forgotten to mention it to Spencer because the conversation Lissa had overheard just wasn’t that conclusive. “You know who it is?” I asked, gripping my cell phone tighter.

“Yes! I never would have believed it’s—”

She cried out, and my stomach lurched. My fingers went limp, and I dropped the phone. Panicked, I fell to my knees and scrambled for it with hands that refused to work properly. I couldn’t get a grip. The phone kept falling away, and when I at last got control, the line had been disconnected. My throat constricted. I stabbed the phone emblem on the Home screen, and the dialer came up. Uttering a shriek, I swiped to get to Recent and pressed connect. I waited. The phone rang and rang. No answer.

“No, no, no,” I muttered. If anything had happened to her, and I could have alerted Spencer sooner, could I forgive myself? I dialed him, and he answered on the second ring when I was ready to scream in frustration. “Spencer!”

Something crashed on his end. “What is it, Makayla? What’s wrong?”

“Get over to Dr. Bloomberg’s office. I think something’s happened to Lissa.”

“Why would she be there at this time?”

“Please, hurry!”

I dropped the phone without even disconnecting and ran across the room, looking for clothes. Within moments, I was dressed. To stay home and wait didn’t occur to me. I snatched my keys from the counter separating the kitchen from the living room and scooted out the door.

Most of Briney Creek being in proximity with everything else and Spencer probably driving at break neck speed, I arrived seconds after he screeched into Dr. Bloomberg’s office parking lot. Two other squad cars followed Spencer’s SUV, and the officers jumped from their vehicles, guns drawn. I froze inside my car, eyes wide, hands gripping the steering wheel. Part of me wanted to run in after Spencer. Another part realized one, I had no training to be of help in any way, shape, or form. Two, I might get in Spencer’s way and cause him or one of his men to be hurt. So I sat there, praying,
hoping
Lissa was fine. All I could think about was her husband and family and how she had sacrificed not just for them but for the many women that were Dr. Bloomberg’s and this mystery person’s victims. She just had to be okay.

When more officers arrived, undoubtedly pulled from wherever in Briney Creek they had been, some by the look of them, from bed, my worries increased. Then Pete came walking out of the building with his head down and hands pushed into his hair. He stopped and stared at nothing. I unlocked my door to push it open. Someone pushed it closed again, and I looked into Jeff’s concerned face. He shook his head. I knew what it meant. Something had happened to Lissa, and they weren’t sure the premises were clear yet.

Time ticked by at a snail’s pace. Pete disappeared. I wasn’t sure to where. The blue and red lights from the police vehicles seemed about ready to hypnotize me. My eyes ached, and so did my head. Then the front glass doors to the building opened, and Spencer appeared. Jeff backed away from my door, and I jumped out to run to the sheriff.

I started in on him right away. “What about Lissa? Is she okay? Spencer?”

He frowned, tightlipped. “You shouldn’t be here, Makayla.”

“She called me,” I insisted. “She said—where is she?”

He walked to his SUV and reached in to the radio, but he paused before speaking into it and sighed. “I’m sorry. She’s dead.”

Another death. Another?
My mind went numb. I stared, unblinking, and Spencer’s arm came around my shoulders as he drew me to him. I rested my face against his chest, but comfort refused to come.

A bellow, and I lifted my head. “Oh no,” I whispered, “Pete must have called Hardy Joe.”

“Lissa!” He shouted so loud, his voice almost hurt my ears. Hardy Joe ran full tilt at the doors to the doctor’s office, and when an officer stepped into his path to stop him, the man was almost barreled over. He came close to losing his footing as he struggled to hold Hardy Joe back.

“You can’t go in there, Hardy Joe. I’m sorry. This is a crime scene.”

“That’s my wife, you idiot,” Hardy Joe bellowed and pushed harder. Two other officers came over to hold him back. The group swayed one way and then the other as Hardy Joe tugged them along. Multiple feet shuffled on the lot as if they did some crazy dance. If my heart were not breaking, it might have been comical.

“Hardy Joe,” a feminine voice this time, and the big man stilled. The tiny figure of Reeza appeared as she jumped out of a car just pulling into the lot. I had the irrelevant thought that she appeared no bigger than the last time I’d seen her, despite Allie Kate’s complaints that she was letting herself go.

Hardy Joe spun back toward Reeza, and he cried like a poor, pitiful teddy bear. Even Spencer turned his head and cleared his throat. The officers were silent while Reeza rocked the big man, sobbing her eyes out. Pete hovered near his wife, at a loss. I sniffed and wiped my own wet face before raising my chin.

“We have to catch this guy, Spencer. Lissa said—”

He touched a finger to my lips and cut his eyes over toward the sobbing couple. I fell silent. Neither of them needed to know at this time what happened when I was speaking with Lissa on the phone. The horror of it shook me, and I wished with everything inside that I didn’t know.

“Come to the station,” he said. “Unless you prefer to wait until daylight.”

“I appreciate the thought, but there’s no way I’m going to sleep anymore tonight.” I glanced down at myself and realized I had mis-buttoned my coat. At least that was the worst of it. I was exhausted. “Do you have coffee?”

“I’ll have someone bring some in. Whosever turn it was to restock failed to do it.”

I nodded dumbly, and soon we sat in his office with me in a chair, sipping on passable coffee someone had found at an all night convenience store and Spencer behind his desk sorting through folders. Tension around his mouth and eyes told me a second body pushed him to the edge. He glanced up and found me watching him. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch him.”

“I don’t doubt you.”

His expression changed, and I had the feeling he was thinking of where my doubt did lay. I refused to think about that right now, and his gaze hardened. “We didn’t find any fingerprints the first time, nothing that gives us a clue to go on. You and I have gone through half our list.”

We had over the last few days, marathoning it. I felt like I didn’t want to ask another question or watch another woman’s devastation over this case. Every time I had to, I admired the police more. Who was guilty? I believed everybody, but I knew that wasn’t smart. Someone had done this, and that someone had heard Lissa on the phone with me and didn’t care.

“She called me saying she knew who Dr. Bloomberg’s partner is,” I explained.

Spencer’s countenance darkened. “Partner? Why is this the first I’m hearing about this, Makayla?”

“Because I didn’t believe her. I mean from what she told me, the doctor was just ordering drugs or at least that’s what I assumed. There was no other evidence that there was someone else working with him.”

Spencer surged to his feet and slammed a hand on the desk. “When did you become an officer of the law?”

“You’re being dramatic, Spencer.” My tone was offhand, but guilt was killing me.

“When?” he snapped.

“I didn’t.”

“So who gave you the right to interpret what is evidence and what isn’t?”

My lips might as well have been glued together for all my ability to speak. I seethed. He might be right, but to speak to me that way, I refused to accept it. I turned my head away from him and folded my arms, counting under my breath to calm down. Spencer growled in frustration and sank into his chair. When he spoke, he sounded steadier and apologetic. “Tell me everything she said previously and earlier tonight.”

I told him, and he processed it all, his fingers steepled before him. I could tell the wheels turned in a different way in his head than they had in mine. Spencer did not dismiss anything out of hand when it came to a case.
“Ever,”
he explained to me. “When we don’t have all the facts, we don’t know which part of what we do have
is
a fact.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling quite small.

“It’s not your fault, Makayla.”

“If I had told you sooner, she might be alive.”

“Lissa was determined to do all she could to help the investigation because she felt guilty for doing nothing for so long. Is that what you want? To act out of guilt?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then forgive yourself. We have a case.”

I frowned at him. “You can be so harsh, Spencer Norwood.”

“I’m trying my best to do my job and keep everyone safe. As of right now, you’re done.”

“What?” I jumped to my feet. “But you just said we have to get through the list. We’re halfway there. If we split the names, we’ll get through it faster.”

“This isn’t up for discussion. I don’t want to get a call in the middle of the night telling me something has happened to you.”

“Spencer, I appreciate your concern, but I can hardly get into trouble questioning the patients with you.”

“Yet, you just suggested we do it separately.”

“Hm, you recalled that part, did you?” I thought it over. “Well, we can keep at it together.”

“Have you told me everything you know, Makayla?”

“Yes, I promise I have.”

“Good. I’ll have an officer take you home, and you can pick up your car later. Good night.”

“Spencer!”

“You look like you’re about to drop, Makayla. It’s late, and I’m tired too, but I have a lot of work to do. It’s better that you go home and leave this to the professionals.”

I took my time standing up. “In other words, I’m off the case? Not even interviews?”

“Nothing. Go home. That’s an order.”

“You can’t order me. I’m not one of your officers, remember?”

He said nothing, but his expression voiced a mouthful. I spun on my heel and stomped toward the exit. As the door shut and I reached the waiting squad car outside, I acknowledged to myself that I was scared out of my mind. I wanted to bury my head in the sand and pretend I had never had anything to do with Dr. Bloomberg’s murder case. In fact, I would love to bring up that warm and fuzzy dream I had been having before I left my bed. No dice. Butterflies and kittens were on leave until the murderer was caught, so like it or not, sheriff, I had to see this thing through.