Hannah Alexander - Grave Risk

Karah Lee and Cheyenne waited.

“You might as well tell us,” Karah Lee said. “We’ll drag it out of you one way or another. What’s up between you and Jill?”

He had hoped to speak with Jill before sharing this information with anyone else. Especially considering the cool reception he had received from her this afternoon, he didn’t want her to feel as if he had betrayed her confidence.

However, he had never sworn to remain silent about their past together. She had done nothing to be ashamed of, though he had been ashamed of his words to her in the hospital cafeteria that one heartbreaking afternoon.

“Don’t even try to tell us you and Jill didn’t have something going on,” Karah Lee said. “I saw her reaction when she realized who you were.”

“We met over twenty years ago, when I was doing rotations in Springfield,” he said, still reluctant to explain. “Jill was doing her clinicals at St. John’s.”

When he was silent for a moment, Cheyenne prompted, “And?”

He was far too conscious of Edith’s still form. “Perhaps it isn’t totally respectful to be talking about this—”

“Spill it, Rex,” Karah Lee said. “Edith would totally approve.”

He glanced at the outspoken young doctor and grimaced. “Jill and I were once engaged to be married.”

Jill stood as if rooted into the grass at the side of the road. The heat of late summer blasted her face, and yet she felt cold. The graceful lines of her sister’s face blurred before her.

“Are you okay?” Noelle asked.

Jill blinked to clear her vision, feeling moisture in her lashes. “Your tone implied Edith might have died from something other than heart failure.”

“Yes, but—”

“Something other than natural causes.”

Noelle gave a quiet sigh, then nodded almost imperceptibly.

“But we were right there in the next room. She was fine.”

“I know.”

“And then I thought I heard her laughing. It probably wasn’t laughter, but…but she might have been clearing something from her throat, and then—”

“Jill, I can’t tell you any more than that right now, because I simply don’t know.”

“So if it wasn’t natural causes, then that means someone or something else caused her death.” Suddenly self-doubt attacked Jill. “Could I have made a mistake? Could I have been wrong when I thought she’d stopped breathing, and when I initiated CPR I actually caused her heart to—”

“Stop that.” Noelle seldom raised her voice at Jill, but the sudden intensity of those two words halted the painfully familiar sense of panic.

“Remember I told you that especially this time you aren’t to blame?”

“Then someone else is?” Jill asked.

“I’m not saying that, either. Don’t put words in my mouth. I just think there’s something else wrong here.” Noelle hesitated, her expression clouding. Jill wasn’t the only one in this family who had an overwhelming amount of self-doubt. “But with Edith’s heart, we knew it was probably just a matter of time.”

Jill felt another twist in her gut, in spite of Noelle’s reassurance. “I might have done something wrong.”

“No. You did everything right.”

“How can you know that for sure? You weren’t there the whole time.”

“Stop second-guessing yourself. You’re the best—”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have started CPR.” Jill paced across the grass a couple of yards. “Maybe her heart was fine before I—”

“Jill!” This time Noelle did raise her voice, and she grabbed Jill by the arm. “Stop doubting yourself. That’s the OCD talking.”

“What if this time it isn’t the OCD?”

“Even that statement suggests that it is. You know better.”

“I’m handling everything appropriately.”

“No you aren’t! You don’t need to be going to Bertie in the state you’re in right now. You’ll upset her in your condition, and you’ll feel awful about it later.”

Jill looked across the street toward the general store. “What about Cecil? He’s going to be heartbroken. He and Edith have been such good friends for so many years. Someone needs to tell—”

“Cheyenne will call her husband. Dane can talk to Cecil.” Jill knew better than to try to stop the wild ideas that bounced around inside her head like poisoned arrows that confused and clouded her mind. I’ve killed my friend…. I’ve made some kind of mistake that I can’t remember…. I’m a worthless nurse…. I destroy everything I touch….

“You could be wrong this time, Noelle,” she murmured. The weight of responsibility, already heavy enough to crush her, increased yet again. “There’s something you aren’t telling me. I can see it in your eyes.”

Noelle released her then. “Have you stopped taking your medication?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“That is the subject!”

When they were younger—when Jill, barely past childhood herself, felt the responsibility for Noelle’s welfare resting solely on her own small shoulders—she had been much worse. Caught up in the conviction that something was horribly wrong at their home in Cedar Hollow, she had feared for Noelle’s life if other members of their family discovered Noelle’s gift, and had slapped her to keep her quiet about it.

Something had been wrong then. How could Jill be sure something wasn’t wrong now as well? She and Noelle were far too familiar with the specter of murder.

“Have you stopped taking your medication again?” Noelle repeated.

“I’m taking it, just not as much. I’m titrating down.”

“Why?”

“I don’t need as much. I can get a handle on this thing without chemicals flowing through my body all the time. You know how much I hate that stuff.”

“But you hate the OCD more,” Noelle said. “Look what it’s doing to you right now, and this is a horrible time to reduce the meds. You need to increase the dosage, not cut back on it.”

Voices reached them from the bed and breakfast, and Jill glanced in that direction, barely a block away, to see another familiar figure stepping out onto the broad front porch.

“Noelle?”

“What?”

“Please tell me I’m not hallucinating.”

Noelle followed her line of vision, then caught her breath in a tiny gasp. “Depends on what you think you see,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If you think that’s Attila the Hun, you’re hallucinating. It’s just a distant descendant of his. He was in the spa earlier this morning.”

“What was Austin Barlow doing in your spa?”

“Paying a friendly visit.” The sarcasm didn’t abate. Noelle had never liked Austin.

“We need to suggest an autopsy for Edith,” Jill said, softly, so her voice wouldn’t carry to Austin.

“For what? You think anyone’s going to listen to us?”

“We can try.”

“As you said, Cheyenne is sure it was an MI that killed Edith,” Noelle said. “Myocardial infarction. Nobody’s going to listen to my hunch. Remember, Cheyenne’s the doctor. I’m not. So that’s exactly what they’ll call it—just a hunch.”

“They’ll listen to you before they’d listen to me,” Jill said. “Remember, I’ve been a little jumpy since last year. I’ve called the sheriff a couple of times about noises around the house.”

“Well, I’m the one who admitted to breaking and entering last year,” Noelle said.

Jill shook her head. “You were tracking a killer. The sheriff knows that.”

Noelle nudged Jill. Austin was glancing toward them.

“I’ll talk to the sheriff myself,” Jill said. “I’m telling you one thing now, though, sis. I’m going to run lab tests on that blood I drew from Edith.”

Noelle nodded. “That’s something we can take care of as soon as we’ve spoken with Bertie.”