Chapter 13 - R
Instead, he found Rosa on the floor.
Unconscious.
Vivian was awake, staring toward the bathroom.
Security searched it.
Empty.
A nurse checked Rosa.
"She's breathing."
A half-full cup of coffee sat beside her.
Drugged.
"If Rosa was working with Martin, why drug her?"
"She wasn't."
The contact R had to be someone else.
Stronger now.
She pointed toward the whiteboard.
Grant handed her the marker.
She wrote one letter.
R.
Then another.
E.
Then B.
E.
C.
C.
A.
Grant frowned.
"Rebecca?"
Rosa woke twenty minutes later.
When she heard the name, she went pale.
"Rebecca Lane."
"Who is she?" Brooks asked.
"Vivian's private nurse."
"Vivian didn't have a private nurse."
"Not officially."
Rosa explained.
Three months earlier, Vivian began having migraines.
Thomas recommended Rebecca, a nurse from the Mercer Surgical Center, for occasional home visits.
Rebecca checked blood pressure.
Prepared supplements.
Sometimes brought IV fluids.
"Why didn't I know?"
"Mrs. Holloway said you were already worried about work."
Another secret meant to protect him.
Another opening someone used.
Brooks pulled Rebecca's employment file.
She had resigned the day after Vivian was pronounced dead.
Address vacant.
Phone disconnected.
Then officers searched Thomas's accounts.
Rebecca had received $80,000 from the Mercer Medical Foundation.
Martin had texted her.
Thomas had scheduled her.
And Adrian had unknowingly signed out the paralytic from inventory under a surgical case number.
Rebecca had the drug.
The access.
The timing.
Brooks issued a statewide alert.
Vivian wrote again.
CABIN.
"What cabin?"
Vivian wrote:
ELISE.
Elise had a lake cabin inherited from their mother.
Police searched property records.
The cabin was two hours north.
A patrol unit drove there.
No answer at the door.
Then the officer looked through a window.
A woman was inside.
May you like
Rebecca.
And she was holding a gas can.
