Carolina Heat (28 page)

“Ma’am, I’m Detective Larimer. If you’re feeling better now, I have some questions I’d like to ask. But I’d prefer to do it back at your establishment. The forensics team is already there.”

Ashby put an arm around of his mother. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

“Perhaps you misunderstand. I’m not taking her into custody. I merely have a few questions.”

“You can ask them right here in front of me, or you can wait for us to contact our family lawyer.”

“Now, Ashby, I know you mean well, but…” Mrs. Haley protested.

“If Dad was here he’d say the same thing. Hell, call him and check. Someone has to look out for you.”

Mark shook his head and widened his stance, firmly planting himself in the hospital corridor. “We’re not doing anything until Detective Larimer fills us in. Or the doctor. I don’t give a damn who does the talking, but I’m tired of being in the dark. What the hell happened to Jonathan? And why are the police involved?”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Mark, Ashby and Jillian met her at the door. Instinctively she grabbed for Mark’s hand, and was steadied by his firm grasp.

“Annabelle, I’m so sorry,” said Jillian. She gave her a quick hug. “Jonathan’s right down the hall.”

“He’s safe. The police are here,” Ashby added, as he too gave her a squeeze.

Mark’s eyes were solemn. “Mrs. Haley just left. She told us he was pretty out of it while the doctors were working on him, but I think he’s starting to come round.”

“I can go rustle up his doctor for you,” Ashby offered.

She knew they were trying to be reassuring, but none of this explained what was wrong with Jonathan. “How is he?” Annabelle could barely get the words out, she was so petrified.

“They won’t tell us anything. Now that you’re here, we should be able to get some answers.”

“The crowd of doctors left his room a few minutes ago, so that has to mean he’s stable now, doesn’t it?” Jillian’s voice held a hopeful tone.

Annabelle paused in the doorway. Her hand flew to her mouth in surprise. Jonathan always sported the computer geek pallor, but she’d never seen his face so white. He was completely drained of color. Tubes sprouted out of both arms, and wires snaked up from his chest to beeping machines. A tap on the shoulder sent her whirling around.

“Miss Carlyle? I’m Doctor Robison. I treated your brother when he was first admitted.”

“He looks awful. How is he?”

“Your brother is a lucky man. If he’d been alone, unable to call for help, he’d be dead by now. Mrs. Haley undoubtedly saved his life.”

Annabelle closed her eyes in sheer relief. “So he
will
recover?”

“He should. We pumped his stomach, and he’s finishing a preventive round of dialysis to make sure we eradicated all the poison from his system. He’s going to have to stay here for a few days while we monitor his blood levels, but you should be able to take him home next week.”

Poison. She could barely wrap her mind around it. “And you’re certain he was poisoned?”

“Without a doubt. We’re waiting on the results of his lab work, but from the symptoms and sudden onset, our best guess is taxine poisoning.”

“What’s that?”

Ashby stepped forward, head cocked to the side. “From a yew tree?”

“Quite possibly.” The doctor shook Annabelle’s hand and promised to come back during his rounds.

“From what my mother described, every symptom fits. A yew tree—amazing.” Ashby scrubbed his hand across his eyes. “God, he really had a close call if it was taxine. That stuff’s lethal.”

“Ashby, should I be concerned that you seem to know quite a bit about whatever poisoned my brother?” Annabelle asked.

“What? No, of course not. This is what I do.”

“Poison people?” Jillian queried in an arch tone.

“Constructive addition to the conversation, Jilly,” Mark muttered under his breath.

“Annabelle, I’m a horticulturalist. Trees, shrubs, leaves—I know this stuff inside out.”

Annabelle braced herself with one hand on the door frame. She was dizzy with relief. “Calm down, Ashby. I’m not accusing you. It struck me as an unusually random piece of information for you to possess.”

“Not really. When you study the history of plants, you learn a ton of background about poisons. And you have to know which plants are toxic to humans and animals. Helps you figure out what you shouldn’t plant around a farm, for instance. For safety reasons, I learned to recognize symptoms of plant poisons.”

Mark added his two cents. “Over the centuries, poison’s been a murder weapon of choice because it was accessible to everyone, regardless of class or wealth. You could wander into any garden, mush up some leaves and have yourself a toxic cocktail.”

“Thank you, Professor Dering,” said Jillian, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now is not the time or place for a lecture.”

“It’s
Doctor
Dering, Jilly, and don’t you forget it,” Mark snapped. “A good part of my life was spent earning my title. I like to parade it around whenever possible.”

“Can we all focus, please?” Annabelle raised her voice over her sniping friends. “I know it’s late and we’re all tired, and a hospital’s the last place you want to be, but we need to figure out who did this to Jonathan.”

“Sorry, darlin’. I think we’re all feeling the stress.” Mark gave her an apologetic peck on the cheek.

“Trust me, I feel it too. Tonight is a turning point. This attack is a clue. If we dissect it, we’ll find something to bring us closer to the truth.”

“Turn our disadvantage into an advantage,” Mark said.

“Exactly.”

“Belle, is that you making all the noise?” Jonathan’s question caught everyone by surprise. Annabelle led them into his room and crowded up against his bedrails.

“Okay, who are these people? They look like they know who I am, but I don’t. Oh, man, do I have amnesia?” Jonathan looked at Ashby and Jillian in confusion, and then back at Annabelle. “But if I have amnesia, why do I know you’re my sister? And that you’re sleeping with the man standing next to you?”

“Just won’t let it go, will you?” Mark mumbled.

Annabelle was careful to avoid his IV as she laced her fingers through his. “You don’t have amnesia. At least, the doctor didn’t mention it. And the ones you don’t recognize are Ashby and Jillian.”

Jonathan gave a slight nod of recognition. “Heard about you two. We’re all going to the ball together tomorrow night, right?”

“Not anymore. You’ve been benched,” said Ashby.

“No sports analogies. He’s a computer geek—it’s like a foreign language to him,” Mark explained.

“How about this? Jonathan, you’re in a hospital. Which means no dancing or cramming yourself into a rented costume.”

“Have to admit, I’m not sure I could get out of bed if I tried. Why doesn’t one of you tell me what’s wrong with me?”

“The doctor thinks you were poisoned.” Annabelle didn’t think it was possible, but her brother actually turned paler. “As bad as it sounds, I don’t want you to worry. You’re going to be fine.”

“Are you sure? I feel like crap.”

Mark snickered. “Well, poisoning doesn’t exactly get good word of mouth. The important part is you’re alive enough to feel that way.” He bent over and rested his arms on the bedrail. “Tell us what happened.”

“I don’t know.”

“Think, Jonathan,” Annabelle encouraged. “Anything you tell us could help.”

“After you dropped me off, I followed the directions you gave me to your room. Didn’t look like anyone else was up. I was still too keyed up to sleep, so I ...” his voice trailed off.

“What is it?”

“The cookies on the dresser. There was a big plate of chocolate chip cookies on the dresser. They were covered up with saran, and had a note with your name on top. I brought the plate into bed with me and started surfing channels. I ate about five cookies before I started feeling sick. I remember falling on the floor, and then nothing till I woke up just now.”

“Bottom line is if you weren’t such a pig, you wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed right now.” Annabelle smiled at him. He was going to live. Her world steadied.

“I think I’ll find a way to keep a leash on my sweet tooth from now on.”

“What about the note? What did it say?” Mark asked.

“Hey, I may be a pig, but I’m not a snoop. I didn’t open it. I learned my lesson a long time ago. Annabelle caught me reading her diary when she was twelve and I had bruises for a week.”

Ashby cleared his throat. “The note’s a dead end.”

“What are you, psychic?”

“The police told us. They sent a crime scene unit to go over your room, and it didn’t take them long to figure out the poison was in the cookies.”

“The note was extremely vague.” Jillian took up the tale and turned to face Annabelle. “It had your name on the outside, and the inside said
Welcome to Charleston
. Mrs. Haley told the police they arrived on her doorstep this afternoon in a plain box. She put them on a plate and stuck them in your room for when you returned.”

“That’s why the police are so sure the poison was meant for you, Annabelle. There’s a strong chance it would’ve worked.” Ashby squared his shoulders. “We had to tell them what’s going on. I know you didn’t think they’d pay attention, but it’s different now.”

Annabelle hastened to reassure him. “Ashby, I wouldn’t expect you to lie to the police. I’m glad you told them. But it doesn’t change anything.”

“Of course it does.” said Jillian. “They’re putting a guard outside this room until Jonathan gets discharged, so you won’t have to worry about your brother’s safety.”

“It certainly puts my mind at ease. But I won’t sit on my hands and wait for the police to figure this out. I know we’re close. We have to be, or this attempt never would’ve happened.”

Jonathan waved a corner of his sheet to get Annabelle’s attention. “
Near miss
is a more apt description than attempt. Attempt makes it sounds like nothing happened, like the bad guys didn’t make any progress at all.” He rolled his head to the side and closed his eyes. “I know they say close only counts in horseshoes, but I feel like close counted for something this time around. If I could describe one tenth of how lousy I feel, I would.”

“And remember, now they’ve found Tad’s body, we know for sure whoever it is won’t stop at scare tactics to keep us away,” Jillian chimed in. ”Somebody is set on getting you out of the way permanently, Annabelle.”

“Guys, I hear you, honestly.” Annabelle patted her brother’s arm in reassurance. “I’m not discounting the danger. But whatever I know, whatever they think we may all know, doesn’t disappear if I go back to New York. Running away won’t solve anything.”

“Annabelle’s right. This has to end before anyone else gets hurt. The only way is to cut it off at the source,” Mark said.

A nurse bustled in before he could continue. “I believe we said Mr. Carlyle could have one visitor at a time. You’re too much excitement after what this poor man’s been through. He needs his rest. You can all come back tomorrow and visit him.”

Annabelle’s hand flew to her mouth. “Jonathan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think—I had to see you myself to know you were alright.”

“Wasn’t too disappointed to see your face either, Belle. But this seals the deal. I’m never leaving New York again.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Annabelle lifted her hair to let the breeze cool her neck. “It feels so good. And it blows away the awful hospital smell.”

“We’re about a block from the marina. There’s always a good breeze at night by the water,” Mark said.

“Only a block? Let’s go. We have to talk about our plan, and I’d rather not do it on the hospital steps.”

Jillian led the way, while Ashby wrapped up a phone call to his mother. By the time he hung up, Annabelle, Mark and Jillian were lined up on a bench at the water’s edge. He sprawled on the grass in front of them.

“She’s fine. Calmed down quite a bit. Offered to move all the guests into a hotel downtown, and every single one of them refused. Said they didn’t want to miss another shot at her cinnamon rolls. She sounded downright proud.”

What a relief. If she’d cost the Haleys any of their guests, Annabelle would feel even guiltier. And with the massive guilt she already felt over Jonathan, that would’ve been too much to handle.

“Are the police gone?” asked Mark.

“Yup. Wasn’t much for them to do once they scraped the cookies off the floor and bagged the note. They did mention wanting to get statements from both of you tomorrow.” Ashby handed over the detective’s card.

“Oh sure,
now
they’re in a hurry to talk about this. I think I’ll give them a chance to dig up the files on Tad and Vanessa before I check in with them. Actually, I can do one better.” Annabelle chuckled. Turnabout was fair play. No reason she couldn’t have a tiny bit of revenge on the Charleston PD. “I’ll call Ralph Paxton. He’d love the opportunity to point out how they screwed this up.”