was always a possibility.
Her steps slowed further as they drew near the bed and breakfast that Edith Potts and Bertie Meyer had purchased and turned into a profitable business. “Oh, Noelle, what’s Bertie going to do now? She still hasn’t recovered from Red’s death. Now Edith.”
Her sister’s trembling hand grasped hers. That tremor reminded Jill that Noelle, too, had just witnessed another horrible death. It brought back their past with such clarity—and they hadn’t had time to recover from all the darkness.
Edith had been a constant in their lives for so many years.
“It isn’t your fault,” Noelle said quietly. “You can’t take responsibility for this.” She paused, then, still more quietly, added, “Especially not for this.”
“That isn’t what I’m doing, I’m just—” Jill frowned, then stopped and looked at her sister, studying the beautiful lines of Noelle’s face. Especially not for this. “What do you mean?”
Noelle didn’t meet her gaze, and Jill felt a tingling of alertness.
Since childhood, Noelle had been gifted with a special intuition that had frightened Jill. Now that they understood it better and realized that this intuition was pure and of God, a simple spiritual gift, it didn’t frighten her as badly as it once had. Still, Jill had learned to take it seriously when Noelle experienced this special knowledge. It wasn’t a conjuring. Noelle would never have sought this gift for herself, and she continued to avoid addressing it whenever possible. For her to make that remark now meant something, Jill knew.
“Are you telling me there could be something else going on—”
“Do you have any idea what Rex Fairfield is doing here?” Noelle asked abruptly.
“I don’t want to talk about him right now. We need to—”
“I can’t go there yet.” Noelle tugged her hand away, and Jill realized she had been holding on too tightly—something she had often done to Noelle. “I’m the reason you broke up with him, aren’t I?” Noelle asked.
“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?
Chapter Five
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
