High-Caliber Holiday (12 page)

TWELVE

M
organ went about her day as usual at PEA, with Brady remaining closer than before. She appreciated his presence, but his protectiveness reminded her of the black rose. The note. The torn picture. Brady in danger as he cleared the building.

She suspected it was the cause of her current nausea and the headache now heading toward unbearable. Not that she'd tell anyone. Brady would call Darcie and they'd both drag Morgan to the doctor. Her clients needed her to help them locate gainful employment. After missing work this morning to meet with Rossi, she wouldn't take off for the doctor or go home sick. Aspirin was all she needed.

She started for her cubicle without telling Brady, hoping he wouldn't see her grab the pills. Unfortunately, he stayed on her heels and leaned against the wall to watch as she sat at her desk. His body language was relaxed, as if he was bored, but his eyes were intense—warrior-like—and she knew he'd put his life on the line for her without a second thought. He was a remarkable man and she wanted to give him a hug. Maybe hold him close and warn him to take care for himself, too.

Focus. Aspirins. Now.
She dug them out and turned away to swallow the pills.

He took a breath and let it out slowly before saying, “Why don't we take a break from the gym tonight?”

“Why?” she asked, making sure she didn't convey the throbbing pain pounding her head.

He pushed off the cubicle wall, his eyes now holding the strain of the day and the barest whisper of concern. “After this morning, I'd like to have you safely in your apartment before dark.”

“Oh... I...” A vision of running in the dark from her assailant took the rest of her words.

Brady stood taller, his shoulders back, his hands wedged on his hips just above his holster. “It's easier to assess potential threats in daylight.”

The caution in his tone made Morgan's chest ache.

He held her gaze for a long moment. “You can finish up with the clients who are waiting for you, but then I'd like to leave.”

She could argue with him, but in the end, they would reach the same conclusion. As soon as Morgan helped her clients, she was going home. Without a word, she gathered her things so when she finished, they could leave right away.

Brady stood aside at the doorway but raised a cautious hand. “I don't like taking you out in the open like this, so please be aware of your surroundings. Anything seems off, let me know. And listen to my directions. Okay?”

She nodded, but a commotion down the hallway grabbed her attention. Her coworkers were shouting, and she thought she heard crying. She started in that direction.

Brady stepped in front of her. “Let me check it out first.”

Had she dragged her mess into the workplace? She chewed her lip and waited, each second feeling like an hour.

She hadn't thought Brady's expression could get more serious, but when he returned, his eyes were dark with unease. “One of your coworkers—a guy named Fred—collapsed. He's not breathing.”

“Fred?” she muttered as she processed the information. “He has a heart condition. I know CPR. I have to try to help.”

“Someone is already doing CPR and the ambulance is on the way.”

As if called up by Brady, sirens wound closer.

“Your clients are waiting, right?” Brady reminded her.

Not wanting to leave without making sure Fred was fine, she took another look down the hallway.

“Fred's in good hands and you need to think of yourself right now. Remember. It'll be dark soon.” Brady cupped her elbow and urged her to move toward the resource room.

Brady was right. She had to think of her safety. Before sitting down with her first client, she texted Lacy and asked her to provide an update on Fred as soon as possible. For the next few hours, Morgan worked with her clients, but she was distracted. When Lacy stepped through the door, Morgan quickly excused herself. Lacy's face was pale with shock and Morgan was thankful when Brady crossed the room to join them.

“What happened? Is Fred okay?” Morgan asked.

Lacy bit her lip. “He didn't make it.”

Morgan's heart constricted and tears threatened. “Was it his heart?”

“I don't know. He had lunch with a bunch of us, and he was complaining about dizziness.”

“Did he have a headache, too?” Brady asked.

Lacy glanced at Brady. “Yes, why?”

“Wait.” Morgan switched her focus to Brady. “You're not going to try to compare my symptoms with Fred's and insist I see a doctor, are you?”

Lacy's eyes widened. “Are you having the same symptoms? Is there something going around here that we need to know about?”

“She's been dizzy and she has a headache right now,” Brady answered for her. “I saw you take the aspirin.”

“Of course you did,” she snapped when he didn't deserve such an attitude from her. “I've also been nauseous, and Lacy didn't mention that about Fred.”

Brady ignored her and faced Lacy. “Did Fred have any other symptoms?

“He was confused and his speech was slurred before he collapsed.”

“See,” Morgan said. “I have neither of those symptoms.”

“Fred didn't have them, either,” Lacy said, meeting Morgan's gaze. “Until it was too late.”

* * *

Brady stepped from his truck near Morgan's apartment and checked the surroundings. The sun was rapidly dropping toward the horizon, but he wouldn't let Morgan get out of the truck without doing a thorough threat assessment. Once confident the area was clear, he opened her door. A cold, blustery wind howled down the street, the sky was gray and dark like it might snow any minute. They'd had unusually cold and snowy winters of late. Of course, two snowfalls in one season in no way compared to his Minnesota upbringing.

They walked down the street in silence. She was still irritated at him for trying to compare her symptoms to Fred's. Brady was likely overreacting. After all, Darcie had said Morgan's symptoms could be something or nothing. They were too vague to let any doctor pinpoint her problem without a lot of time and expensive tests.

It didn't alleviate his concern for her. He was good and worried. Sure, this Fred guy had other symptoms, but Brady couldn't shake the feeling that Morgan's nausea and headache were indicators of a serious problem.

They approached her apartment building and found Darcie at Morgan's front door. Though her shift was over for the day, she wore her uniform under a heavy jacket and held a medical bag with a bright red Christmas ornament key chain. She stomped her feet to keep warm.

Morgan looked up at Brady and sighed, her breath a white vapor swirling up and over her head. Brady hadn't mentioned that he'd called Darcie before they'd left work. He couldn't. Morgan was so independent, she would have ordered him not to. Maybe he'd made the wrong decision, but he did it for Morgan's well-being.

“I had to call Darcie,” he said preempting any complaint she could raise. “Please try to understand. I'm worried about you.” He reached for her hand but she climbed the steps before he could touch her. She greeted Darcie, then marched straight to the elevator.

“I take it you didn't tell her I was coming.” Darcie thumped Brady on the forehead. “You guys are so boneheaded, at times I wonder how you ever make it to adulthood.”

He didn't bother defending himself. They all boarded the elevator in silence. Once they entered the apartment, Morgan went straight to her kitchen and Brady heard the water running.

Darcie closed the front door. “Any idea why she's reacting so strongly to this? Like maybe someone close to her died recently and now she's afraid of doctors?”

“I hadn't thought about that, but honestly, I think she sees it as a sign of weakness if she doesn't do everything on her own. So she doesn't like anyone making decisions for her.”

“Who does?” Darcie asked.

“Lots of people don't mind,” he said with a grin. “You, my friend, are not one of them.”

“No need to tell me that.” She laughed as Morgan slammed a cupboard door. “Morgan could've been in a bad relationship where the guy was overly controlling. Maybe abusive.”

The thought of anyone striking Morgan put a ragged hole in his heart. “I met her former fiancé. He's a real tool, and it's not far-fetched to think he's controlling, but I didn't get an abusive vibe from him.”

“Let me talk to her. See what I can find out.” Darcie winked. “Assuming she doesn't toss me out of the kitchen.”

“I'll come with you.”

“Not unless you're a glutton for punishment.”

“Fine, I'll be out here.”

When Darcie disappeared into the kitchen, Brady sat on the small sofa and dug out the ornament he'd been whittling. He was getting used to Morgan's delicate furnishings, but he didn't feel comfortable making a mess so he shoved the ornament back in his pocket.

“Brady,” Darcie called out, her voice unusually tight. “You're gonna want to get in here.”

He charged down the hallway. Found Morgan sitting on the kitchen floor. Her arm was clutched around her waist, her face pale and sweaty. She doubled over in pain and grabbed Darcie's hand.

Darcie looked up. “I think she has kidney stones.”

“Thank You, God, that it isn't more serious,” Brady shouted.

“Um, Brady,” Darcie said. “Kidney stones hurt almost as bad as childbirth.

“I mean Fred wasn't breathing, this is better. People don't usually die from kidney stones, right?”

“Barring an infection, no. I've called for a rig. You need to let the medics in.”

“You meet them.” Brady pushed past Darcie and dropped to the floor. When Morgan's pain receded, he picked her up and settled her on his lap. She curled into him like a newborn kitten cuddling its mother.

“Shh,” he whispered. “I'm here, honey. It'll be okay. I promise.” He rested his chin on her soft hair and looked up at Darcie. “What are you waiting for? Go meet the medics.”

She arched a brow, opened her mouth as if she planned to say something, then turned and left. Brady knew she wanted to comment about his behavior with Morgan. About the way he was holding her. About the need to remain professional if he was going to do his best to protect her. But he didn't care what Darcie thought. Holding and comforting Morgan as she writhed in pain was more important than anything right now, other than keeping her stalker at bay.

* * *

“Poisoned? They think I was poisoned?” Morgan cried out as pain tore at her belly. She couldn't believe these words were coming from her mouth.

“The medical examiner suspects Fred was poisoned and your symptoms mean you may have been, too.” Brady's words tumbled over each other to get out.

A fresh wave of pain radiated through her stomach. The pain meds had yet to kick in fully, and she'd been doubled over since she'd collapsed in her kitchen. Brady had been by her side in the ambulance and ER, but he'd stepped into the hallway to take a call from the ME and had just returned.

She didn't know what to say. How to put words to her thoughts. Maybe it wasn't true. “The ER tests proved I have kidney stones. Nothing else.”

“Antifreeze poisoning is so rare your doctor wouldn't have even begun to consider looking for it, but the ME says that the oxalic acid in antifreeze could form kidney stones. That, combined with your other symptoms, points toward antifreeze poisoning.” Brady's eyes were wild, his hands unsteady as he reached for hers. He was her tower of strength and this vulnerable, uncontrolled side of him was scaring her. “Fortunately, they can do a blood test to confirm the diagnosis and get treatment started.”

She still couldn't believe it. Refused to believe it, because that meant someone had tried to kill her. “If that's true, why did Fred die and I didn't?”

“The stones don't form overnight. You'd have to ingest the antifreeze over a long period of time and at doses far lower than the level that killed Fred. As your body adjusted, it would take a larger dose to produce the nausea, headaches, dizziness and vomiting that you're now experiencing.”

She shook her head, but stopped when dizziness assailed her. “So if it takes that long to form stones, I could have been poisoned for months and not known it. This is...wow...just wow.”

“I've already talked to your doctor. He's on his way to get your consent for the test. Then he'll rush the lab.”

Her thoughts tumbled over each other, nothing making sense right now. “How could this happen?”

“The ME said the antifreeze would have to be put in your food or drinks to mask the taste.” He grimaced and held her hands tighter. “That means it's someone close to you.”

Close enough to get the poison into her food. The stalker? “Can't be the stalker, right? His messages claim he loves me, so why would he want to kill me?”

“That's the same question I've been asking myself.” Brady's eyes narrowed, but she saw the distress in them before they did. “And it's the question we'll need to answer if we're going to keep you safe.”

THIRTEEN

B
rady sliced long slivers of wood into the trash can by Morgan's bed. He'd made a complete snowman ornament while they waited for the blood test to come back. Pain medicine had allowed Morgan to fall asleep nearly an hour ago. Likely the best thing for her.

A knock sounded on the door and she shot up as if terrified. Brady dropped the ornament into his lap and planted a hand on his gun. The doctor poked his head around the door. Brady relaxed and Morgan seemed to deflate with a sigh onto her bed.

The solemn-faced doctor carried a tablet computer under his arm as he approached Morgan's bed. Brady didn't need to hear the doctor say she'd been poisoned. It was there in his somber expression.

Brady had expected this news, had told himself over and over not to react and add to Morgan's pain when the confirmation came, but he couldn't stop himself from shooting to his feet to pace. She'd actually been poisoned. Not just once, but for months now. Someone had poisoned the woman he'd come to care for far more than was good for him.

“The results confirm the poisoning,” Dr. Vincent stated. “Antifreeze, as we suspected. Your levels are high. Extremely high for someone not on a slab in the morgue.”

She gasped, and Brady stopped to glare at the doctor for his lack of tact.

“Guess that was as bit blunt, sorry,” he said sheepishly. “The good news in all of this is that you developed kidney stones. If you hadn't, we might never have discovered the poison before permanent damage was done.”

“Damage? I didn't think of that.” Morgan's worried gaze flew to Brady, and he stepped closer to her.

Dr. Vincent held up a hand. “Not to worry, Ms. Thorsby. We'll begin an alcohol dehydrogenase–blocking therapy right away, along with dialysis, and we hope you'll make a full recovery.”

“Hope?” Brady asked, his insides churning.

“I wish I could say a full recovery was certain, but we won't know for sure until we see how she responds to the treatment.” He turned his focus back to Morgan. “You'll need to remain hospitalized for a few days so the treatment can run its course, and we can monitor your organs.”

She looked up at Brady, fear now rampant in her expression.

“Don't worry.” He squeezed her hand. “I'll make sure the hospital allows me to stay right here with you.”

“Okay, then we'll get started.” Dr. Vincent tapped the touch screen on his computer. “Let me call up your file so you can authorize the procedure, and I'll write the orders.”

As Morgan and Dr. Vincent discussed the treatment, Brady paced the room trying to come to grips with the fact that he'd been with Morgan for the last three days and during that time, someone was poisoning her right under his nose. Some protector he turned out to be.

He shoved his fists into his pockets. Kept walking back and forth, back and forth, his mind whirling with questions. Who could have had access to both her and Fred's food? And why poison Fred? How did he fit into the picture?

Brady stopped to look at Morgan, lying in the bed. Small. Vulnerable. Afraid.

His heart twisted with her pain and he wanted to hold her the way he had in her kitchen. Whisper into her ear that everything would be okay. But, honestly, they were dealing with a murderer now. The stakes had been raised, and Brady needed his full focus to catch the killer.

* * *

Poisoned.
The word continued to echo through Morgan's mind as the doctor left her room. She wanted to believe she was going to be okay, but she couldn't think straight enough to make sense of any of this.

Brady crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed. He was tentative and unsure as he reached for her hand. “You scared me. After Fred died I...” He looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “Then you were in so much pain. I thought...” His voice fell off in a tortured whisper.

The raw, unfettered anguish on his face, in his tone, brought tears to the surface that had threatened since she'd collapsed, and she could no longer control them.

“Don't cry, honey,” he said, and patted her hands.

His kindness made it worse, and she started sobbing in earnest.

He muttered something under his breath and drew her into his arms. She forgot all about her medical problems and relaxed against him, clinging tightly. He stroked her back and whispered comforting words, helping her to gain control of her feelings.

She pushed back. Her tears had dampened the fabric of his shirt and she touched the spots. “I got you all wet.”

He smiled, but it was weak and forced. “No problem. I won't melt.”

And he wouldn't. He was strong. Tough. A protector.

She looked into his eyes. He was here for her. Holding her now and in her kitchen when she didn't know if she would live through the pain. Watching over her. Protecting her. He was quite a man, and she'd somehow let him get through the thick armor she donned after her father had insisted she couldn't make it on her own. Brady was a threat to her independence. A big one. He could break through all her defenses if she wasn't careful. That she couldn't afford. Not now. Not when she was establishing herself and had found a fulfilling life. A good life. And she wouldn't do anything to lead him on. Maybe they shouldn't even be spending any time together. She had to give him a chance to gracefully back away.

“I appreciate everything you'd done for me—being here for me—but maybe it's best if we contact Rossi to take over now.” She smiled and gently removed her hand to eliminate the warm physical connection. “I'm sure you have better things to do anyway.”

A curtain fell over his eyes and he leaned back. She'd hurt him, and wanted to take his hand to erase the damage, but that wouldn't help either of them in the long run. He ground his teeth together and watched her for long uncomfortable moments. She resisted squirming under the intensity.

He crossed his arms, a scowl on his face. “I'm not going anywhere until this is resolved.”

“I appreciate that, Brady, really I do, but I've imposed on you enough.”

“You're not imposing,” he ground out. “This is what I do. My job. I'm committed to keeping you safe. Just because you're in the hospital doesn't mean your stalker can't get to you.”

His comment sent a bolt of shock through her. “I didn't think about that.”

“No need to. I've got it covered.” His expression turned even stonier.

“But I...”

“No buts, Morgan. I'm with you until we find the stalker. End of discussion.” He blew out a breath. “Now, do you want me to call anyone? Like your parents?”

Her parents? No.
She shook her head.

“I'm sure they'd want to know.”

She frowned. “Yes, but my dad would be here in a flash. Questioning the doctors. Bossing them around. Pushing until people did as he commanded.”

“I'm sure he'd have your best interests at heart.”

“I'm not sure he even knows what my best interests are. It's all about what he wants. The trial proved that.” Memories of her father's demanding behavior came flooding back, to suddenly be replaced by the peace and comfort she'd found in God. Peace and comfort she'd let disappear from her life this week.

Forgive me, Father. Let me lean on You more and not on myself and Brady.

She looked at Brady. “I've really been a bad example, haven't I?”

“In what way?”

“Every time something bad has happened, I've lost it and haven't relied on God.” She shook her head again. “The thing is, the trial taught me where true peace is found and I know better.”

Brady didn't speak but continued to look at her, his expression sour as if he'd discovered something unpleasant. Maybe he thought she was one of those Christians who professed faith but didn't live it. Well, if he was thinking that, he was right.

She twisted her hands. “I guess unless you've gone through something like this you wouldn't understand.”

“Oh, I understand all right. God got me through my tours in Afghanistan, but...” Brady paused and shrugged. “I have to admit, my life has been pretty calm since I joined the team, and I've kind of let my faith slide.”

Had she done the same thing? After her life had settled into a routine, she hadn't asked God for direction as much and was often too busy to consult Him. Just like Brady.

“Who knows,” she muttered to herself. “Maybe God allowed this stalker in my life to get my attention.”

“You think He does that?”

She shrugged. “During the trial, one of the pastors at our church told me to thank God that I was in that crisis as God was trying to get my attention. He said that no matter how hard and how far I tried to run, God wasn't going to let me get away until I caught on to what He was trying to tell me.”

“Interesting.” Brady furrowed his brow and sat back, his expression saying he was a million miles away.

They fell silent for a long time when suddenly a look of resolve passed over his face. “We need to get back on point and figure out how you and Fred both ingested the poison.”

Her stomach plummeted at his change in subject.

“Did you ever share any food?”

She thought back.
No. Oh, no.
It was her fault. “Fred always teased me about my energy drinks. Sort of the way you reacted to them. So I told him he could help himself to one anytime he wanted. When I went to clean up today, I found an empty bottle on the counter. I just figured I'd forgotten to take one home.”

“We can test the bottles for the antifreeze.”

She shook her head. “I washed them as soon as I got home so I could make more.”

“Do you have other drinks from the same batch?”

“No.” She let the implications of their discussion settle in. “Since this happened at work, does this mean it's Nantz, after all?”

“Could be, I suppose.” Brady lifted his face in thought. “When did you make this batch?”

She thought back. “Saturday afternoon. I dropped off the bottles for the week at the office on Sunday when I went to the office to get ready for the job fair.”

“Was Nantz there?”

“Yes,” she answered. “In fact, he locked up after we all left.”

“Okay, good. He's top on the list. What about Saturday, after you made the drinks? Were you home the entire time until you took them to the office?”

“No. My parents had an anniversary party that night.”

“So someone could have broken into your apartment and added antifreeze to the bottles then. Means it could also be Eckert.” Brady shook his head and added, “Or not. We just don't have enough evidence yet to point the finger at anyone.”

And that's what scared her most. She had a stalker, one who they now knew wanted to kill her, and they had no more proof of his identity than the day she found the first rose and picture.

* * *

Brady stepped into the hallway to wait for Darcie, Archer and Jake to arrive. Brady had phoned them to discuss the poisoning, but instead of a lengthy phone conversation, they agreed to meet in the hallway outside Morgan's room. Brady would like to have added Cash to the mix, too, but he was on duty.

Brady leaned against the wall and caught a whiff of Morgan's perfume lingering on his shirt. He could still feel the warmth of her body pressing against him. The urge to kiss her that had lingered until she'd told him to go away.

Ha! Like that was going to happen. She may not want him around, but he was going to keep this monster away from her. This man who'd systematically poisoned her for months.

Brady pushed off the wall and paced down to the nurses' station that was decorated with a small tree and blinking lights. He flicked a quick look at the tree and instead of thinking about the upcoming holiday and embracing it for what it truly was about, all he could think of was whether Morgan would be alive at Christmas. How was that for putting his trust in God, as Morgan was saying?

Failure, buddy. Big failure.

Angry with himself for letting his emotions take over his faith, he stormed back down the hall. When he turned, his teammates rounded the corner. Snow peppered the shoulders of their black FRS jackets. Jake was empty-handed, but Archer held a tray with coffee and Darcie carried her knitting bag in one hand while the other held a stuffed bear with a Band-Aid on its paw. She'd offered to keep Morgan company so Brady could talk to the team.

Darcie stopped in front of Brady, her gaze immediately appraising him. “How's Morgan doing?”

“Still nauseous, but the doctor said that should disappear soon.”

“And you? How are you holding up?”

“Fine, why?

“This isn't just another case for you,” she said eyeing him as if challenging him to deny it. “You care about Morgan. That makes it more stressful.”

“That it is.”

Archer handed a cup of coffee to Brady. “I figured it was going to be a long night and we can use help staying awake.”

“I'll go sit with Morgan,” Darcie said. “Maybe you guys should head down to the lounge.”

“No,” Brady said adamantly.

Jake eyed him. “If the stalker tries anything, which is unlikely at the hospital, Darcie's carrying and we've all made sure she knows how to use her gun.”

Darcie patted her purse. “A break will do you good.”

“Not like I'm much for sitting around.”

“Fine,” Darcie said. “Then take out your whittling and keep busy that way. Just take a break from always being on guard.”

“I doubt I can do that until after we catch the stalker.”

“Then you're at risk for burning out.” She squeezed his arm. “Let us help, Brady. We want to.”

“Fine,” he finally said. “I'll go to the lounge and try it for a few minutes, but call me if anything happens.”

Darcie rolled her eyes and pushed through Morgan's door.