Lethal Legacy: A Novel (Guardians of Justice) (4 page)

“That’s cool. I assume you’ll be hitting the hiking trails to get ideas and take photos, as usual?”

“Yep.” Kelly smiled and sipped her mocha.

“You could look at photos in books, you know.”

“And miss out on the chance to commune with nature? Hiking’s half the fun of those kinds of jobs.” She speared another bite of her cinnamon roll.

“For you, maybe. For me, it would be hardship duty. Give me a courtroom any day.”

“That’s because you’re more theatrical than I am.” She washed the cinnamon roll down with a long swallow of her mocha and lifted the cup. “The perfect drink for a cold day. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome again. Any luck at your father’s house?”

“No.” She continued to sip her mocha. “I’ve been through his office and the kitchen drawers and cabinets. Now I’m starting on the closets. But I don’t know what I might find that would produce a lead for the police to follow. Alan Carlson, the original detective on the case, called to say he reviewed everything again but didn’t come up with any new insights, either. The detective I talked to while he was gone called too, and encouraged me to keep looking, but I think he was just being nice.” She dug a tissue out of her pocket and swiped at her nose.

“Hey.” Lauren reached over and touched her arm. “Don’t get discouraged, okay? If there’s anything to be found, you’ll find it.”

“And if there isn’t?” Kelly’s throat tightened, and she sniffed. “You knew my dad, Lauren. Do you honestly think he’d have considered suicide?”

Lauren caught her lower lip between her teeth and sighed. “It
is
hard to believe. But being in law, I understand the power of evidence. And the evidence in your dad’s case, along with the lack of suspects or motives, puts the police in a difficult position.”

A wave of nausea suddenly swept over Kelly, and her lips began to tingle. She’d assumed her sudden runny nose and the tightness in her throat were due to the emotional roller coaster she’d been on since her father’s death, but all at once she suspected it was more than that.

“Kelly?” Lauren touched her arm again, her tone uncertain.

Fumbling for the shoulder purse she’d hung on the back of her chair, Kelly rose. “I need to get to the ladies’ room.”

She tried to take a deep breath.

Couldn’t.

Please, God, no! Not an allergy attack!

As she stumbled toward the ladies’ room, she groped through her purse for her auto-injector of epinephrine. Her fingers closed over it, and she pulled it out. Lost her grip. Watched in dismay as it hit the tile floor.

Before she could stoop to retrieve it, Lauren was beside her. She bent and swept it up, then propelled Kelly into the ladies’ room.

“Tell me what to do.” Her friend’s voice was tight. Edged with panic.

Kelly was wheezing now. Fighting for air. She grabbed the edge of the counter as a wave of dizziness swept over her.

“Take it . . . out of the . . . carrying case. Grab it . . . around the middle . . . with the black tip . . . down. Pull off the gray . . . safety release.”

After Lauren did as she was instructed, Kelly took the injector. Holding it perpendicular to her outer thigh, she swung her arm away from her body and then back against her leg. She maintained the pressure as she counted to ten. After she pulled it back, she checked to make sure the needle had fired while she massaged her thigh.

“Are you going to be okay?” Lauren hovered beside her, her face pasty.

She checked the viewing window. It was red. “I should be.”

But she wasn’t.

As the seconds ticked by, her wheezing grew worse. And the waves of dizziness were striking with more force instead of receding.

Something was very wrong.

The room started to fade, and she gripped the edge of the sink, gasping for breath.

The last thing she remembered was a sensation of tumbling into a dark, deep hole.

Cole stepped out of the ER treatment room at St. Luke’s Hospital, checked his watch, and expelled a frustrated breath. Interviewing an injured witness in an armed robbery had
not
been on his agenda for Saturday. And now half the morning was shot. For no reason, as it turned out. The vagueness of the witness’s description rendered it almost meaningless.

So much for his plans to join Jake for a round of one-on-one basketball.

As he started toward the exit, the wide ambulance doors swung open, and he moved aside to allow the paramedic crew to enter. Reaching for his cell phone, he cast a quick look at the stretcher as they wheeled it past. Maybe he could reschedule Jake to this afternoon, if his brother and Liz didn’t have . . .

He froze as he caught a glimpse of russet-colored hair against the white sheet.

The same color hair as Kelly Warren’s.

The stretcher disappeared into a treatment room, the paramedics and the nurse on their heels blocking his view of the injured woman.

He stared after them.

No way.

Kelly wasn’t the only woman with hair the burnished red of autumn leaves.

Still, he eased toward the door, craning his neck for a better view. He arrived just in time to watch the paramedics transfer the woman to the hospital gurney in one smooth motion. She had an oxygen mask over her face, but he could see enough to make a positive ID.

It
was
Kelly!

His heart stalled, then slammed into double time. Adrenaline propelled him into the room, where he collided with the nurse at the foot of the bed.

“Whoa, Detective.” She steadied herself with a hand on his chest—and kept it there when he tried to edge around her. “I thought you were done here.”

“I thought so too.” He kept his gaze fixed on Kelly’s face. The oxygen mask obscured much of it, but he could see that her eyes were closed.

Not good.

“What happened?”

“Are you family?”

“No. I’m . . .” What was he, exactly? The answer eluded him, and he gave up trying to figure it out. “But I know her.”

A guy in a white coat shouldered into the room, aiming for Kelly.

“Sorry.” The nurse increased the pressure of her hand on his chest, edging him toward the door. “We have work to do in here.”

“There’s a friend of hers in the waiting room who can fill you in,” one of the paramedics offered as he maneuvered around Cole.

He shot the guy a grateful look. “Thanks.”

With one more glance at Kelly, he exited and wove through the ER toward the waiting area. Halfway there, he realized he hadn’t asked the paramedic if Kelly’s friend was a man or a woman.

Stymied, he paused near the door. Huh. For whatever reason, it had never occurred to him she might have a man in her life.

And the notion didn’t sit well with him.

A nurse hit the release button on the wall beside him to admit a patient’s family, and as the security door to the waiting room opened, he walked through. If her friend was a guy, and he didn’t like Cole butting in, tough.

The waiting room was half full, and he did a quick sweep. Most of the occupants were clustered in groups of two or three. Two women and a man were sitting alone. The lone male appeared to be about forty. He was slouched in his chair, yawning as he paged through a newspaper.

Cole hoped that wasn’t Kelly’s friend. She deserved a guy who’d be pacing the halls and demanding answers, not checking out sports scores.

The solitary middle-aged woman was reading a form, glasses balanced on her nose. The other woman, a stylish blonde, was closer to Kelly’s age. She was perched on the edge of her chair, legs crossed, foot jiggling while she talked on a cell phone. Her posture and demeanor spelled distress with a capital
D
.

He decided to start with her.

As he approached, she looked up. “I don’t know, Shaun. We just got here and they relegated me to the waiting room. As soon as I get an update, I’ll let you know. Hold on a sec, okay?” She removed the phone from her ear. “Can I help you?”

“Are you by chance here with Kelly Warren?”

“Yes.”

“When you’re finished with your call, I’d like to talk with you.”

“Okay.” She put the phone back to her ear. “Shaun, I need to go. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.” She removed the phone from her ear, punched the off button, and slipped the cell into her purse as she eyed his sport jacket and tie. “Are you a doctor?”

“No. My name is Cole Taylor. I’m a St. Louis County police detective.”

A beat of silence passed. “Are you the one Kelly’s been talking with about the note from her father?”

“Yes.”

The woman held out her hand. “Lauren Casey. Kelly and I are old friends.”

He took her cold fingers in his and gave them a firm squeeze. “I was in the ER interviewing a witness when she was wheeled in. Can you tell me what happened?” As he released her hand, he took the chair beside her.

“She went into anaphylactic shock. Kelly’s highly allergic to peanuts. Even half a peanut can be fatal if she’s not treated immediately.”

The bottom fell out of his stomach. “Was she?”

“No.” The woman clenched her hands on her lap. “She carries an epinephrine injector with her, but for some reason it didn’t work. The coffee shop we were at called 911 right away and the paramedics got there fast, but she’d already passed out and her lips were turning b-blue.” The woman’s voice hitched, and her knuckles whitened. “I don’t understand how this happened. She’s a regular at the Perfect Blend, and she’s checked out all their stuff.”

The word
fatal
was still strobing across his mind. They could determine the cause of her medical crisis later. Right now, he just wanted information on her condition.

“Do you know who has authority to make decisions in an emergency, now that her father is gone?”

“Yes. Me and her minister.”

“Good.” He stood, took her arm, and drew her to her feet. “Because we’re going to get some answers.”

Her lips had stopped tingling. And she could breathe again.

Thank you, God.

“Are you with us, Kelly?”

At the question, she opened her eyes. A middle-aged woman wearing a scrub top was fiddling with an IV beside the bed.

“Yes.” Her voice sounded funny, coming through the oxygen mask.

“Welcome back. You had a close call, but the doctor says you’ll be fine. Shall I let your friends come back?”

Friends? Plural? “Who’s here?”

“A blonde-haired woman and a dark-haired St. Louis County police detective.”

She frowned. “Why is a detective here?”

“He was in the ER when you were brought in. I think he was interviewing a witness in some case. He said he knew you and joined your friend in the waiting room.”

As the woman leaned over and removed the oxygen mask from her face, Kelly puzzled over that. The only detectives she knew were Alan Carlson and Cole Taylor, and Carlson was blond. It had to be Cole. But why would he be waiting around to see her? After he’d called on Tuesday to tell her Carlson was reviewing her father’s case, she hadn’t expected to hear from him again.

“So are you up for visitors?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

The nurse disappeared, and three minutes later Lauren appeared at the door, the man in question close on her heels.

“Oh, Kelly.” Lauren crossed the room and leaned down to give her a hug. “How are you feeling?”

“Not bad. Anaphylaxis is easy to treat as long as you catch it in time.”

“We almost didn’t.”

Kelly didn’t want to think about that. Instead, she transferred her attention to Cole, who stood just inside the door, holding a cup of coffee. “Hi.”

At her greeting, he moved beside the bed, across from Lauren. Twin lines creased his forehead as he scrutinized her. “You had an exciting morning.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I can think of better places to get my kicks than the ER.” She plucked at the blanket, trying to come up with a backdoor way to find out why he’d hung around. “I heard you were here interviewing a witness.”

“Yeah. Half the department is working a double homicide, so everyone else is filling in where needed on other breaking cases.”

“Are you still on duty?”

“No.”

That was all he offered, leaving her in limbo about his motives for staying. Was he simply being a good Samaritan—or did he have a more personal interest in her well-being?

Lauren looked from Kelly to Cole and back again before she spoke. “So what happens next? Will they admit you?”

“I can answer that.” The nurse in the scrub top came back in. “Your vitals are all back to normal, but we want to keep you for four hours from time of arrival in case there’s a biphasic reaction.”

“What’s that?” Cole asked.

“A second wave of symptoms. It happens sometimes.” Kelly turned to Lauren. “You need to go home and get ready for that twinless date with your husband. I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it. I’ll be fine. It’s just a waiting game now.”

Lauren gave a dismissive flip of her hand. “We can reschedule. Besides, you’ll need a ride home after you’re released.”

“That’s what cabs are for.”

“I’ll be happy to give you a lift.”

At Cole’s offer, Kelly turned back to him. From her prone position, she had a perfect view of an endearing dimple in the middle of his chin that she’d missed in their previous encounters. Her heart skipped a beat—and her sudden breathlessness had nothing to do with peanuts.

“That’s a great idea!” Lauren enthused.

Kelly stifled a groan at the speculative gleam in her friend’s eyes. Lauren was shifting into matchmaking mode, and subtlety wasn’t her strong suit.

Time for evasive maneuvers.

She refocused on Cole. “That’s too much of an imposition. What will you do for three hours?”

“Keep you entertained?” He gave her a half-hitch smile that set off a tingle in her stomach.

“Perfect!” Lauren buttoned her jacket and squeezed Kelly’s fingers. “I can see you’re in very capable hands. I’ll call you later tonight.” Slanting a grin at Cole, she lifted her hand in a wave and disappeared out the door.

In the wake of her departure, silence descended. Cole remained by the side of the bed, and Kelly gave him an apologetic glance. “Look, you don’t have to stick around. I have to believe you have better things to do on a Saturday morning than kill time waiting for me to be released. But I appreciate the offer.”

He took a sip of coffee, watching her. “If you’d rather not have visitors, I’m fine with that. But if you’d like the company, I honestly don’t have any other plans. Work already nixed my one-on-one basketball game with my brother.”

Her heart warmed. So his reasons for staying were personal, after all. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” He slid the hard plastic chair in the corner closer to the bed and sat. “So tell me what happened this morning. Your friend was very upset, and I didn’t get a clear explanation.”

“That’s because there isn’t one.” She sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. “I have no idea what went wrong. She told you I have a peanut allergy, right?”

“Yes. Severe, apparently.”

“Very. A fraction of a peanut, or eating foods cooked in or containing peanut oil, can lead to anaphylactic shock. That’s what happened today. But I don’t understand why. I’m very, very careful to verify the food I order at restaurants has had no contact with peanuts. I even talked to the owner of the coffee shop on my first visit. He assured me they didn’t use any peanut products in their pastries, which they bake on-site, and I’ve had that cinnamon roll many times.”

“What did you drink?”

“Same as usual. A white chocolate mocha.”

Cole took another sip of coffee, his expression thoughtful. “Okay, putting aside the cause for a moment . . . your friend said you had a drug with you that didn’t work?”

“Yes. I always carry an auto-injector of epinephrine. It did fire—but I also dropped it as I pulled it out of my purse.” She frowned and shook her head. “Still, I can’t believe all the epinephrine would have leaked out that fast.”

“Have you ever dropped it before?”

“Not that I recall.”

“What happened to the injector?”

“The paramedics probably brought it in. Why?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t like mysteries. Maybe if you saw it, you could tell what happened.”

“We have the injector.” The nurse in the scrub top joined their conversation as she entered the room. “It’s completely empty. When did you check it last?” She directed that comment to Kelly as she adjusted a setting on the IV.

“Six or eight weeks ago, I think. I’ve been a little distracted in the past few months.”

“I’d like to see it,” Cole said.

“Sure. I’ll round it up for you.”

Kelly watched the nurse exit, feeling like an idiot as she gave Cole a sheepish look. “I usually check it every week or so. It must have leaked and I never noticed.”

“You’ve had plenty of other things to worry about.”

She appreciated the empathy in his eyes. “Thanks for being nice about it. And I’m still sorry about ruining your morning.”

“It’s not ruined.” He moved on without giving her a chance to dwell on that remark. “But even if you weren’t as diligent as you should have been about monitoring the injector, that leaves us with the question of why you had the reaction in the first place.”