Sara K. Parker - Security Measures

“This is the place to be when you can’t live on your own anymore,” Triss commented.

Hunter agreed. “Mom seemed to enjoy it. She started in Silverwood until she moved into Emerald.”

His voice had lowered, his gaze roaming over the property as they walked. “How many of the deaths were at Creekside?” he asked.

“All of them.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Exactly.” The deaths might not have been as worrisome or noticeable if they’d happened between the three homes, or mostly in Silverwood and Emerald, but all the residents had died at Creekside—where no one required nursing care. In fact, there had only been one other death since Triss had moved in, and it was over at Emerald in September.

A car parked nearby, a young family climbing out, likely coming to visit parents and grandparents, and Triss figured she and Hunter probably shouldn’t discuss murder suspicions out in the open.

“How long did your mom live here?” she asked, moving into more neutral territory.

“Four years. She passed away when Josie was two.”

“Young for dementia, right?”

He nodded. “Sixty-three at onset. She was never the same after my dad died. He was twelve years older, a smoker. Died of lung cancer.”

Triss knew loss. She also knew that Hunter had been an only child, and she could read the latent grief in his eyes. She was scrambling to think of something to say other than “I’m sorry,” but the doors flew open in front of them and Kaye Lawson emerged, her bright red lipstick matching her wide smile and fiery hair. Kaye had moved into Harmony after a stroke, determined not to burden any of her six children, and despite her nearly full recovery, she’d stayed.

“There you are!” Kaye was a thin woman, but tall, and she wrapped Triss in a motherly hug. Triss had finally stopped avoiding Kaye’s hugs several weeks ago. She couldn’t remember what it felt like to be hugged by her own mother, an addict who had been in and out of jail for decades, bringing home questionable men and leaving for days at a time. Kaye claimed that Triss needed more hugs, and Triss was starting to think she may be right.

“Sorry I’m late,” Triss offered, not mentioning the accident. She didn’t want to draw the attention away from the celebration of Frank’s life and onto her.

“We were starting to worry about you.” The woman’s observant gaze seemed to inspect Triss with a question, but she didn’t ask it. Instead, she glanced curiously toward Hunter. “Now, who is this handsome young man?”

Hunter flashed his disarmingly charming and dimpled smile at Kaye. “Hunter Knox.” He held out a hand, but Kaye laughed.

“I only accept hugs.”

Hunter laughed, too, hugging her in greeting and sending a good-natured wink at Triss. She felt a smile tugging, her pulse suddenly racing. She looked away. This was exactly why she was trying to get some distance from him. All her defenses were useless when he was nearby.

“Hunter and I work together at Shield,” Triss said as they all walked inside. “Hunter, this is my friend Kaye.”

“Are you helping set up?” Kaye asked him.

“He doesn’t have much time,” Triss answered for him, helping him off the hook. “You have to get home for the kids, right?”

“I have time.”

“I like you already.” Kaye smiled broadly, her face a map of lines that showed she lived a life bent toward joy and maybe adventure.

“So, you have kids,” Kaye said, leading the way through the common area. “How old are they?”

“My daughter, Josie, is about to turn six. And my son, Levi, is two.”

“Oh, and I’m sure they keep you on your toes. If your wife’s at home holding down the fort, you’d better not stay here too long,” she said with a grin.

Kaye’s gaze flicked to Triss, and Triss groaned inwardly. Knowing Kaye, she’d already searched for Hunter’s wedding band, found it missing and decided she’d found Triss a husband.

“Their very young and energetic nanny is home with them, and she’s paid very well,” he said warmly. “My wife passed away after our son was born.”

Kaye’s smile fell. “Oh, dear. How sad.” She touched his arm. “I’m sure you’re a wonderful dad.”

“Thank you.” He smiled ruefully. “Some days I do better than others.”

“That’s parenthood for you. You should bring them by some time. We love kids around here. So much energy.”

“I’ve been meaning to for a while now, actually,” he said. “We’d visit sometimes when my mother was here a few years ago.”

“Well, Brandon’s over there setting up the microphone.” She pointed to the front of the room near the fireplace, where a white-haired gentleman was crouched in front of a microphone stand, his back to the room. “He’s our activities director. You should talk to him.”

“Sounds good. I’ll catch up with you two in...?”

“The kitchen or dining hall,” Triss suggested, and then followed Kaye.

“Let’s get the waters filled on the tables,” Kaye said. “Then we’ll light the centerpiece candles.”

“Got it.”

The dining hall was quiet, and a handful of residents were starting to trickle in. Triss glanced around as she filled water glasses, her focus returning now that Hunter was out of the picture. What had happened with her car had heightened her suspicions. She shifted her gaze to each new guest that entered—residents, caregivers, custodial staff, her fellow grad students. No one seemed to be paying her much attention. If anyone knew she’d been in a life-threatening accident, they weren’t letting on.

Her pitcher ran out again and she headed to the kitchen, standing at the fridge to fill it with filtered water.

“How’s it going out there?”

Triss glanced over at Barb, Creekside’s live-in chef, noting that she’d exchanged her trademark blue apron with smiling cartoon bananas for a plain black one more appropriate for the occasion.

“Good. People are starting to arrive. Need any help in here?”

Barb shook her head. “I’ve got it under control. The family wanted chicken alfredo, though—sorry, there’s not much of a substitute for that.”

“I’ll stick with the salad,” Triss said. “You know I’ve told you not to worry about me.” She had a pretty serious dairy allergy that had necessitated an EpiPen more than once in her life, and Barb couldn’t stand the idea of anyone missing out on a meal.

“I made a couple of chicken-and-rice meals for you. They’re in the fridge if you get hungry later.”

For a split second, Triss wanted to set down the pitcher and hug Barb. But that would be awkward for both of them, so she just said, “Thank you,” knowing that Barb couldn’t possibly understand how touching her thoughtfulness was. More days than she could count, there had been no food in the Everett household when she was younger. Luke was forever scavenging leftovers from restaurants and grocery stores for the three siblings to split, and a well-meaning neighbor sometimes dropped groceries by. It was a wonder Triss had survived those years. She learned many years later that Luke had scoured ingredients labels on the grocery leftovers and had made friends with two local restaurant owners, who saved dairy-free extras regularly for them. They’d had one scare, when she was six, but Luke had managed to get her to a hospital. They’d left with two separate foster families, Triss with an EpiPen. It was the first time they’d been split up—Cal and Luke to one home, and Triss to another. They’d been more careful after that.

With the pitcher topped off, Triss turned from the kitchen, pushing the swinging door open with her arm as Hunter walked in.

She stopped short, water sloshing from the pitcher onto his white button-down.