“She brought us these milkshakes,” Harry replied. “I haven’t seen her since. But then, I don’t remember stuff.” He looked at Zoe. “Have you seen her?”
Had she? Zoe blinked. “No.”
The nurse huffed. “Miss Eloise is due for her insulin, but her dose isn’t in the drug cart. I wanted to ask Jenna if she’d already given it to her and not charted it.” The nurse did a doubletake at Zoe. “Are you all right?”
Zoe looked at her nearly empty glass. Tried to think.
Insulin.
She felt shaky. Exhausted. She looked at Harry. He seemed okay. Worried. Her milkshake. Tasted funny.
Insulin. Missing insulin.
Franklin. Gina. Abby.
Panic struggled to swim to the surface. But thinking…coherence…felt out of reach.
Zoe looked up at the concerned nurse. Needed to tell her. Insulin. She opened her mouth. Wanted to tell her to call 911. She’d been drugged. Poisoned. But all that she could squeak out was, “Help.”
The nurse, the table, Harry…the world around her slanted.
And all went black.
Pete filled in the gaps for Baronick on the drive to Golden Oaks.
“You think Jenna hired the guy who became the DLK to kill Elizabeth?” the detective asked. “And then poisoned three more people, including my sister?”
“Maybe.” Pete couldn’t commit to a more decisive reply. If Jenna, that cute young woman who was now a happily married new mom, was indeed a murderer, he’d allowed her to walk free for nine years. Worse, he’d allowed her to be around his father, caring for him, ever since Harry had moved to the assisted living facility.
“You do realize that’s crazy,” Baronick said. “First, you don’t ‘hire’ serial killers. Hit men and serial killers are two different animals. Second, if this girl was out to kill her lover’s wife, why would she go after the others?”
As much as Pete loathed coincidences and unsolved murders, he found Baronick’s challenge of this newest theory soothing. They would locate Jenna. She’d have an alibi. They’d all laugh at the stupidity of his suspicions. And then he’d get back to tracking down the real killer.
As Baronick turned into the parking lot, an ambulance greeted them, idling at the front door. The presence of EMS wasn’t unusual. Golden Oaks was home to a population of elderly. Unfortunately, there were falls and illnesses requiring transport to the hospital as a matter of routine.
Still, fears that the patient might be Harry knotted Pete’s stomach.
Baronick maneuvered around the emergency vehicle. “There’s Zoe’s truck.”
“She mentioned stopping to visit Pop.” Pete’s anxiety about his father eased. Zoe was with him.
Baronick parked, and they trudged through a cold misty rain to the entrance and through the doors. A trio of residents gathered around the piano to the right as one managed a pretty fair rendition of a Frank Sinatra song. A half dozen more residents played bingo in the Bistro area. Life as normal.
The woman at the concierge desk looked up. Her worried expression offered the first indication of trouble.
“Where can we find Jenna Haggerty?” Baronick asked.
“Kidman,” Pete corrected. “Her married name is Kidman.”
“We’re not sure,” the woman replied quickly. “Chief Adams, you need to get upstairs. Now.”
The sense of dread slammed him again. “My father?”
“No,” she said. “It’s Zoe. Something’s happened—”
He didn’t wait to hear more. He took the stairs two at a time. Baronick on his heels, Pete charged down the hallway to the right, ignoring his sidearm, taser, and other gadgets on his duty belt slapping his hips. At the far end of the hall, near Harry’s room, two paramedics knelt on the floor, blocking Pete’s view of the patient. One of the staff stood off to the side, restraining a distraught Harry who clearly was trying to get to the person—Zoe?—on the floor. Other nurses and caregivers hovered nearby, watching the scene in front of them. They looked up as Pete and Baronick neared.
The sight of Zoe sprawled, eyes closed, confirmed Pete’s fears. The medics had her on oxygen and an IV. He dropped to his knees next to them. “What happened?”
“She collapsed,” one of the nurses said. “She looked ill and then fainted.”
“The flu’s been going around,” another nurse added.
He caught a glimpse of his father’s terrified face and wanted to comfort him. But right then, Zoe needed him more. He took her hand. Usually so strong—a hand that could rein in a runaway horse or throw a bale of hay or hoist a stretcher into an ambulance—the hand felt wilted and frail in his. “Zoe…babe…I’m here. I’m right here.”
The paramedics’ words seeped into his brain. Thready pulse. Arrythmia. Shallow respiration.
Pete looked at the nurse. “Where’s Jenna?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“We don’t know. She brought milkshakes to Zoe and your dad. No one’s seen her since.”
“Do you have anyone here who’s taking part in testing a new drug? An insulin taken orally?”
The nurse’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak.
“HIPAA laws be damned,” Pete growled. “Tell me.”
She nodded. “Miss Eloise.”
Baronick’s hand clamped onto Pete’s shoulder. “I’ll put out a BOLO,” he said, his voice husky, fierce. “You stay with Zoe. Leave Jenna to me.”
Pete caught the detective’s arm. “Check her residence. She has a baby.”
“Roger that.” Baronick broke into a jog back toward the stairs.
Still clinging to Zoe’s limp hand, Pete turned his attention to the paramedic next to him. “Treat her for insulin shock.”
“Is she diabetic?”
“No.”
“But then—”
“Do it.” He looked at the nurse. “You said Jenna brought her a milkshake?”
The woman pointed at the two cups on the table. “One for Zoe and one for your dad.”
He looked at Harry. “Pop, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, son. But Zoe isn’t.”
“I know.” Pete again looked at the nurse. “I believe Jenna slipped insulin into Zoe’s milkshake.”
“No.” The nurse shook her head. “Jenna wouldn’t make that mistake.”
“It wasn’t a mistake.” As realization crept into the woman’s eyes, he pointed at the cups. “I need those. For evidence.”
“I’ll make sure no one touches them.” She swallowed. “A dose of Miss Eloise’s insulin went missing right before Zoe collapsed.”
Pete noticed the paramedics swapping out the IV
