obviously know who I am, so you must know what I do. What do you want with me?”
He tugged on the hair at his temples, his forehead wrinkling. His eyes moved back and forth, looking for anything else to focus on. “Well, as I said, I’m with the sheriff’s department.” He pulled out the badge attached to his belt. Probably a force of habit for him like it was for her. “I’m investigating the PNW Tourism helicopter crash.”
Now it was her turn to avoid the topic at hand. “What did that man put in my IV? It burned.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
His dark brown eyes softened. “I heard you screaming.”
Heat rose up her neck, and she brought her hand up to her cheek to cover the embarrassing blush. How could she have been so weak? Trying desperately to change the subject, she asked again, “So what was it?”
“That, I don’t know. The doctors wouldn’t tell me much. As best I can figure, it was a lethal combination of street drugs. The guys in the police lab have already started analyzing the sample, but they don’t have a final report yet. You did good pulling that tube out.” His admiration was genuine, and she felt the redness returning to her cheeks. When had she become such a ninny?
A yawn cracked her jaw, but for the first time since the crash, she was able to fight off the tiredness. Pressing a button on her bed elevated her head until she felt less likely to doze off in the middle of their conversation. It also added an extra measure of pressure on her leg, and she groaned.
“Is something wrong?” Jeremy’s eyes filled with concern, and he reached out to touch her arm. The familiar weight of his hand gave her small start.
“Were you holding my hand?”
Now it was his turn to look embarrassed. His deep tan kept his cheeks from turning pink, but his gaze bounced around the room. “The nurse said that it’s good to let someone know you’re there, even if they’re asleep. I was just…letting you know I was here.”
“How long have you been here?”
Jeremy glanced at his watch. “Not long. A couple of hours.”
She couldn’t contain the snicker that came out of her mouth. “What have you been doing for a couple of hours?”
“Thinking mostly.”
“About what?”
His lips pursed to the side, his eyes narrowing. “Just wondering what brought that helicopter down.”
She stared directly into his eyes, wondering if they were thinking the same things about the crash. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t heard Kit’s last words, so how could they be? But what if he had other information? He’d probably seen the helicopter after the crash. He was looking into the reasons behind it. Maybe he could be useful.
The leg in the brace spasmed violently beneath her blanket, reminding her of her own weakness. But it didn’t matter. She was going to find out what happened, what caused her sister’s death. After all, Heather had done nothing during the crash to save her sister. She’d been useless. And Kit deserved more than that. Solving this case was Heather’s only way to begin making up for that failure.
What if she stayed away from the investigation like Nate had ordered and they never found out why Kit had lost her life? What if they lost crucial time thinking it was nothing more than an accident? What if they never named a true culprit?
Heather couldn’t live with herself if she let that happen. And the only way to make sure it didn’t was to do her own investigating. Kit was too important to leave it up to someone Heather didn’t know.
“How much do you know about the crash?” He looked around the room, trying to keep from meeting her gaze, so she pushed again. “I’m a big girl. I deserve to know the truth, don’t you think?”
A little wobble of his head followed his shrug. Still not looking into her eyes, he said, “My contact at the FAA says it looks like the wires to the cyclic were disengaged.”
“The cyclic?”
“The joystick-type thing that controls the helicopter. It’s called a cyclic, and the wires to it appeared to be partially severed.”
The pilot had said something about the cyclic losing power, hadn’t he? Apparently Jeremy knew about helicopters, and he had a contact with the FAA. Two things she didn’t have. Yes, he could definitely be useful.
But how to get him to share his information? The sheriff’s office probably wouldn’t like an FBI agent poking around in the case…especially since she didn’t actually have authorization from the FBI to investigate.
She choked on an unexpected breath, at the memory of Nate’s last words to her. She was supposed to let Deputy Latham and the FAA do the investigating on this case.
Not likely.
That was her sister who had been buried. And she wasn’t going to back away quietly. No matter what Nate said.
He just didn’t need to know. Which meant he didn’t need to know about the attack by the homeless man either. He’d go into overprotective mode and insist on having her guarded around the clock. She’d never get any investigating done that way.
“What are you thinking about the crash? Do you think those wires were cut on purpose? Was the chopper sabotaged?” she finally asked.
As though she hadn’t asked the last questions, he said, “I’m wondering why that homeless man was in here. Targeting you.”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
“Did he say anything?”
Heather dove into the foggy recesses of her mind until she could see and almost smell the man next to her bed. His lips moved, but what had he said? “Put the tube in the line. Get the fix.”
“Put the tube in the line? Get the fix? As in put the tube of drugs in your IV line and he’d get a fix?”
“His hands were shaking really badly. He had to have been in withdrawal. Someone must have told him that if he gave me the overdose, they would get him more drugs.”
Jeremy nodded in agreement. “That sounds about right.”
A coughing fit caught her off guard, and she wrapped her arms around her middle. The searing pain in her shoulder as she tried to reach for the water cup on her bedside table made her groan, and Jeremy jumped to help her.
“Here. Drink this.” He pressed the straw to her lips, and she gulped greedily. His hands belonged to someone who worked hard, and she studied his knuckles, worn and weathered. “Better?” he asked, pulling the straw away, but keeping it at the ready in case she needed another swallow.
“I think so.” She only managed a mumble, angry with her inability to care for herself. Her knee throbbed, and suddenly she ached all over. Bruises that she’d successfully ignored until now screamed at her. And her brain nearly mutinied under the pressure that was growing beneath her temples.
What
