Could he be Emma’s older man? Irene Whelan had been a nurse at Glen Gen at the same time as Metcalf worked there. Might Emma and he have crossed paths during that time? The night of Emma’s attack, there was an unaccounted for hour or so when Nadine Ryerson was asleep on Metcalf’s couch and William Ryerson was still at the charity event. Had Metcalf been the man who’d attacked Emma?
Jamie greeted him at the door. He almost kissed her, but Emma and Harley and Duchess, wriggling between them as if she knew what he had in mind, were behind them. “Sorry I’m late. I have some things I want to talk about,” he whispered.
“You’re not late and I have things to tell you, too.”
“After dinner, maybe we can sneak out for a little while?”
“Yes,” she said simply.
* * *
I didn’t want to kill Gwen, but she was too close. She was going to say something to Jamie. Maybe she already did. I didn’t want to poison her, but she could sense things. She was teetering, ready to tell. She started to write the note and I realized how I could make it work for me. I had to do what I did. I had to. I knew she’d had some trouble with her heart and the tea was a perfect delivery system.
It worries me that Jamie might know.
I don’t want to kill her. It’s Emma who deserves to die. Yet, if I killed Emma now, would she even know why?
But Jamie . . .
I can’t wait long.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Friday morning, and luckily, Jamie didn’t have to substitute because she’d had so little sleep it was almost criminal. And she wouldn’t trade it for the world.
She’d tiptoed back into the house at around two a.m. after spending the night in bed with Cooper, making love and talking and touching and loving. She felt like a teenager herself, reliving the past, indulging herself. But it was effing incredible.
In between lovemaking, they’d brought each other up-to-date on everything they’d learned over the past few days. Cooper took in everything Jamie said about Emma’s boyfriend and came back with his own theory, that the man in question might be Alain Metcalf.
“It’s a hunch,” he told her. “I wasn’t sure there was somebody, but hearing from the security guard that Metcalf favored teenagers made me think back to that night. Nadine Ryerson fell asleep on his couch. When you think about it, does that read right to you? She was that tired?”
“Or she was given something,” Jamie said, jolted at the thought.
“Maybe he wanted her to sleep through everything. She was adamant that nothing happened between them, but that was just to prove that William was the cheater, not her. I don’t think she really knows what happened.”
“You think he went to see Emma.”
“I think he had opportunity. I’m not sure about motive. He could easily have had something that put Nadine out.”
“You think he attacked Emma. But why?”
“I don’t know. Emma told Dug she was getting married. Practically threw it in his face. Was she even eighteen yet that fall?”
“No.”
“Then she was underage. How does that look for a physician?”
That gave Jamie pause. She couldn’t remember Emma being involved with anyone at all, but she hadn’t been paying close attention either.
“What do you think about asking Emma?” Cooper asked.
“I might get a circular answer, but I could try. I wonder if he liked pasta. . . .”
In the light of day, Jamie wasn’t so certain Cooper’s hunch was correct. She watched Emma make herself some toast and carefully smear it with jam. Jamie had washed the dish towels and stacked them on the counter, and Emma had looked at them while she ate, growing ever twitchier until she had to quickly wash her hands and then line up the towels so they hung perfectly.
Jamie hadn’t been able to pull the trigger on asking her about Metcalf. Recalling her reaction to Allen, the dishwasher repairman, she wondered if he resembled Metcalf.
Or maybe it wasn’t Metcalf at all. He would have had to drug Nadine, drive to the Ryersons’, confront and attack Emma, and head back and wake up Nadine so he could take her back to the scene of the crime. For all he knew, Emma could rise up, point a finger at him and reveal what he’d done.
Unless he thought he’d killed her.
Cooper had gone on to tell her about Metcalf ’s murder and the overarching theory that the reason he was killed had something to do with drugs. It was believed he was somehow making money on the side. Writing prescriptions under fake names and then selling the pills. He’d apparently had quite a healthy bank account when he died.
Jamie pretended to be up and at ’em when she took Harley to school, hoping to hide the effects of her late night, but she hadn’t fooled her daughter.
“If we didn’t have Duchess, I would be really pissed that you left us alone last night,” she said as she was hauling her backpack out of the car.
Jamie hadn’t even tried to refute her comment, though she was a bit embarrassed. “By the way, I’m babysitting the Ryerson twins at their house on Saturday.”
Harley had been about to slam the door behind her, but now she peered in at Jamie. “I could do it. I’m not scared.”
And you would tell Greer Douglas and God knows what would happen.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Okay . . . I know I just said it’s good to have Duchess, but do you think your friend Camryn would come over if you’re not going to be home? It’s almost Halloween. I don’t really care. I just kind of want someone, maybe. Never mind.” She slammed the door before Jamie could answer.
In any event, she called Camryn, who jumped at the chance, and Jamie realized she seemed to feel she’d let her down
