Hannah Alexander - Grave Risk

“What makes you think I’m the one who broke it off?”

“Whoever did it, I’m the reason,” Noelle said. “I overheard the two of you fighting because you insisted on coming home every weekend. And I know you did that because I kept getting into trouble. If not for me, maybe—”

“I thought you said it wasn’t about you this time,” Jill snapped. “The reason Rex and I didn’t get married is because it wasn’t meant to be, so stop wallowing in guilt.”

“I’m not,” Noelle snapped back. “I’m just telling it like it is.”

Jill stopped and turned to Noelle then, softening her voice. “Honey, if not for you, I might have no sanity left. Because I knew I had to be responsible for you, I was willing to seek help for my compulsions.”

Noelle held her gaze for a moment, then nodded. Something cleared in her expression. She looked down at her hands. “Thanks. Glad I could be of service.”

Jill relaxed slightly at the gentle teasing. “Now, are you going to tell me what you know about Edith’s death?”

“Not yet. I’m sorry, but you understand how it is. I just believe all is not as it seems. We need to be watchful.”

Jill didn’t press for more, badly as she wanted to. What was not as it seemed? And who could be hiding something?

Rex designated a biohazard receptacle and a sharps container as he collected used needles and tubing from the massage-room floor around Edith’s still body. He had to make do with what he had here at the spa and would place all the items in a proper receptacle later when they returned to the clinic.

The rest of the makeshift code team had dispersed to other rooms in the spa to make arrangements for Edith’s funeral. The place was quiet, filled with the aura of shock and grief with which he had become familiar as an internist.

The feeling of loss after a code wasn’t something he missed about his former life. He did miss other things, however. He’d loved the interaction with patients and their families and the chance to have a meaningful impact on a patient’s quality of life. Internal medicine had given him opportunities for that. Still, if he had it to do over again—which he might, someday—he would have gone into family practice.

A general practice didn’t pay nearly as well as internal medicine. With the diminishing returns from health insurance, the number of uninsured patients and the high cost of professional liability insurance, many of his colleagues complained that they would soon have to pay their patients for the privilege of treating them.

Cheyenne Gideon and Karah Lee Fletcher didn’t seem to have that attitude, however.

When everything was collected from the floor, Rex sank onto the stool beside Edith’s body. She looked almost alive. If he didn’t know better, he would expect to see her chest rising and falling. There was something about her…“I’m sorry I didn’t get to talk to you again,” he murmured softly. “Go with God.”

Footsteps echoed from the hallway, and Cheyenne stepped through the open threshold, mascara smudged around her dark eyes.

“Rex, I’m sorry you were dragged into this, but thank you so much for your willingness to help.” There was a catch in her voice.

“Thank you for including me. It’s been a while since I last did a code.”

“Someone from the funeral home will be here soon.” She reached for an empty syringe and placed it in the receptacle. “You don’t have to wait.”

“I’d like to, if you don’t mind.”

With a nod, she sank into a chair, her dark eyes shimmering with more tears.

“You must have cared a great deal about her,” he said.

“Everyone did. Jill and Edith were especially close, and I hate to think what she’ll be going through in the next few days.”

“She’ll blame herself,” Rex said.

Cheyenne nodded, her eyes narrowing fractionally as she gazed at him. “Yes.” There was a hesitation in the word. It wasn’t quite a question, but he could almost hear her thoughts. Then her gaze returned to Edith.

“When I was practicing medicine,” he said, “I made it a habit to ensure that the deceased patient was never left alone before being collected by the hearse or taken to the hospital morgue.” It hadn’t always been possible, of course, but he’d tried.

She nodded. “You were in internal medicine? I guess that means you did intubations.”

“Quite a few.”

“When I was a med student, I heard horror stories about ER docs and internists who left their intubated patients alone after a failed code in a room, where the tube was moved by a careless staff member.”

“Which set the doctor up for a malpractice lawsuit when he couldn’t prove he had the tube in correctly,” Rex said. “I heard the same stories.”

“You didn’t do this intubation.” Cheyenne gestured to Edith. “Obviously, you’re not staying to protect your liability.”

He shook his head. “Somehow, it just doesn’t seem right to leave her lying here alone on the cold, hard floor. It’s always been a hang-up of mine.”

“A tender heart? I bet you got teased about that in med school.”

“Not so much in med school as when I was a resident.” He hadn’t minded the teasing. His little eccentricity had actually been the first thing that had drawn Jill to him. It had taken weeks to realize why she’d been so understanding about his quirks—because she had some pretty interesting quirks of her own.

Karah Lee joined them in the room and sank onto the recliner. “Sheena’s not handling this well.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Rex asked.

Karah Lee nodded. “She’s on the telephone with her mother now. You know Jill’s got to be in agony. I’m just glad Noelle went with her.”

“I need to talk to Bertie, myself,” Cheyenne said.

“You’ll get your chance,” Karah Lee said. “And don’t worry, Bertie can handle this. She’s a trouper.”

“Blaze and I were the ones who found her husband dead,” Cheyenne said. “Red was the sweetest old man, deaf as a flowerpot, as Bertie liked to say. After his death, Edith was always there for Bertie, even willing to risk her savings to go into business with her at the bed and breakfast.”

“She was a wise and kind lady,” Rex said.

Karah Lee’s eyes narrowed. “You knew her?”

He looked down and studied the elderly, waxen face. There seemed to be just a hint of pink still in her cheeks. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she was wearing makeup, but anything on her skin would have been removed with all that green stuff.

“You did know Edith?” Cheyenne asked.

“I met her years ago. I take it this was not completely unexpected? Heart failure?”

Cheyenne hesitated, watching him with those dark eyes, obviously trying to decipher the implication of his having known Edith. “She’s been struggling with chronic heart failure for the past year.”

“Was she taking her medication faithfully?”

“Yes, and I thought we were keeping a close eye on her numbers, so this was a shock.”

“You can’t place the human body on a schedule,” he said. “When the heart gives out, it gives out. You know that.”

“Yes, but when we’re especially close to the patient, we do tend to take on more responsibility for the outcome,” Cheyenne said.

“You’ve been in Hideaway before?” Karah Lee asked Rex.

He resisted a smile at the redhead’s evident curiosity. “Yes, and I actually stayed at Edith’s house a few times. Edith was one of the most hospitable people I’ve ever known. She not only fed me and gave me a place to sleep when I visited, but she invited me to return, even after…” He caught himself and fell silent.