Chapter 25

I awoke to the scent of disinfectant, a nasty headache, an IV in my arm, and oxygen flowing up my nostrils. I didn’t have the strength or desire to open my eyes, but it didn’t take an abundance of brain cells to figure out I was in the hospital. I struggled to remember how I’d gotten here. Whispers in the otherwise silent room reached me, and I forced open my eyes. 

Running my tongue over my dried lips, I croaked, “What happened?” 

Sister Alice appeared by my bedside. I was aware of someone bigger standing just behind and to her left, but I didn’t have the energy to turn my head to see who it was.

“You don’t remember anything?” Sister Alice asked. 

“Sister, go get the nurse.” Detective Griffin’s voice. 

I squinted as he came into view. “Why am I here?”

Sister Alice patted my hand. “I’ll be right back.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Detective Griffin asked.

I closed my eyes again, a hazy recollection of Ivan’s murder and some events that had occurred since then: being a suspect in a murder investigation—Holy wicked whiskey. Two murder investigations. Is Detective Griffin arresting me? A monitor beeped at my increased heart rate. A lady in blue scrubs rushed toward my bed and fiddled with the monitors, then laid her hand on my shoulder. “Ms. Kaczmarek, try to relax.” She patted my shoulder before whisking out of the room.

“Easy for you to say,” I mumbled under my breath. I recalled Sister Eunice working in the kitchen at the inn and Tony’s resistance to Izzy. And then I remembered Brad, the coffee shop, and Luka.

Something was missing. “Aspen.” I pushed myself to a sitting position. “Where’s Aspen? Is he okay?”

Sister Alice laid a firm hand on my shoulder, nudging me to lie back down. “He’s with me and he’s fine.” 

I looked around and frowned. “Where?”

“Before I came here, I dropped him off at the inn with Jade and Frank. Thought he’d be more comfortable than at the house with Sister Ida.”

I reclined back again. “I was at Hallowed Grounds,” I said, willing my brain to recall more of the missing pieces. “Yes. I was at Hallowed Grounds with Brad.” My gaze traveled the room. Why wasn’t he here? “What happened after that?”

“You passed out. Two people called an ambulance, and here you are,” said Detective Griffin.

“But what happened? I can’t remember.” Frustration crept across my chest and stuck in my throat.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” he said. “All we know so far is the blood work showed signs of a toxin. We analyzed your cup and found it was in there. You’d ingested a significant amount.”

I squinted at him again. “What kind of toxin? And why was it in my cup? Who put it there?”

“And that’s the million-dollar question,” said Sister Alice.

Detective Griffin asked, “Do you remember who you came into contact with while you were at Hallowed Grounds?”

“Where’s Brad?”

“He left when the ambulance arrived. I’ve left messages for him, but he hasn’t returned them yet.”

“Do you have the right number? He’s always on his phone for work.” How sad that’s the one thing I recalled with such certitude.

He nodded. “We haven’t been able to locate him. I put out an APB. An all-points bulletin.”

“Not Brad. He wouldn’t—I remember he wasn’t happy with me, but we have a lot of history.”

“A witness saw him with your coffee cup while you were away from the table. Unfortunately, sometimes it’s the ones closest to us. The ones we’d least likely suspect.”

My mind became less foggy, and the book popped into my head. “The Unlikely Suspect,” I said. Tears escaped my eyes and trickled down the sides of my face and onto my pillow. Before sobriety, I was a muddled hot mess. But since I’d been sober, except for the first year, I wasn’t a crier. But these were unusual circumstances, to be sure. 

“I’m so sorry, dear,” Sister Alice said. “I’m just glad you finally turned down that man’s proposal and that he finally accepted it.”

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. The lingering headache now felt like an ice pick in my brain.

“I’m not sure I’m so glad. That’s what landed me here. Refusing his proposal. Can I please get a pain reliever for this headache?” I groaned, then winced. “Ouch.”

An irritatingly cheery—and too loud—woman breezed through the door, this one in green scrub pants with a Betty Boop top. “Shift change. I’m your nurse for today. How’s our patient doing?”

“Better a minute ago.”

“She wants some ibuprofen,” Sister Alice said. “Headache.”

She looked at the computer screen in front of her and blinked. “Huh. Looks like you have had nothing for pain yet. Is the headache new?”

“Since I woke up, yes.”

“Well, darlin’, let’s take care of that pain.”

“Got any whiskey?” I didn’t have the strength to dodge the proverbial arrow from Sister Alice. “Kidding. And no narcotics. Only acetaminophen or ibuprofen.”

“We have something stronger that works better.”

“No narcotics,” I said adamantly, visually pleading with Sister Alice to back me up.

“You heard what she said.”

Nurse Betty Boop tsked. “All right,” she sing-songed. “I’ll put in the order, and it will be here shortly.” She glanced at Sister Alice and Detective Griffin as she typed into the computer. “Perhaps the two of you should leave so she can get some rest.” 

Sister Alice leaned over, murmured a prayer, and thumbed a cross on my forehead.

“When will the burning start?”

“The what?” Detective Griffin asked. 

“She’s going to be just fine,” Sister Alice said, slowly shaking her head. “She’s back to her Catholic resistance.” 

As soon as the two of them left the room, Nurse Betty checked my vitals and the IV bag attached to the stand and wrote on a chart. “On a scale of one to ten, where is your pain?” she asked. 

“A twenty,” I said.

She frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want—” 

“Yes, I’m sure I don’t want anything stronger. Please stop pushing drugs on me. Twenty is an obvious exaggeration.”

“Just trying to help, dear.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I sighed. “Other than this headache, it’s more fatigue than anything. My stomach upset has even all but disappeared.”

She winked at me. “That’s good to hear. Get some rest so you can get out of here, okay?”

She probably wanted me gone even more than I wanted to leave. I thought of Aspen and the inn. Nah.

An orderly appeared, holding a tiny cup with two white oblong pills and a cup of water. He tipped the pills into my hand and set the water on the tray next to me. I examined the pills.

“Acetaminophen,” Betty Boop said.

I popped them in my mouth and swallowed them with metallic-tasting water.

“I’ll come back to hook up a new saline bag.”

“Thank you.” I laid my head back and yawned, the weight of my eyelids pulling them closed. Nurse Betty patted my shoulder and said, “Get some sleep, honey. Hopefully, the pain reliever will help kill all your ailments.”

“Kill,” I mumbled through a yawn. “I don’t like that word so well.” Using the last of my energy, I ran my fingers through my tangled mop of hair and winced when the IV needle stung my elbow pit.

“I’m sure you don’t, sweet thing,” she said as she closed the door behind her. 

For a fraction of a second, I entertained changing my mind and asking for the stronger medication she’d offered. If only there was something to make the emotional pain disappear from knowing Brad tried to kill me. Something other than booze.

As tired as I was, sleep wouldn’t come. My thoughts were too active, memories firing rapidly. As unlikely as I thought it was, I could identify his motive for killing Ivan and trying to kill me. But Mike? I wasn’t even aware they’d known each other. Had Mike been spying on me for Brad? Could Brad be the one blackmailing Ella and Mike? An Unlikely Suspect. As I tried to process and make sense of it all, the wheels ground in my head, making it ache like a vise. 

Finally, I fell into a light sleep, dreaming of Brad. He was holding The Unlikely Suspect above his head with both hands, waving it in front of me like he was not only advertising the fact that he was the killer but also proud of it. His face held no expression. Suddenly, it turned into a look of horror. His mouth tried to form words that wouldn’t come out. A clatter beside my bed woke me, and I stirred. A moment of panic that someone was putting a narcotic in my IV caused my eyes to flutter open. When I realized it was only a nurse changing my saline IV bag, I allowed gravity to take control, closing my eyes again. 

“Thank you,” I mumbled before trying to recover the dream. I had to find out what Brad was trying to tell me. The pain cooperated and completely disappeared. Who knew simple saline was a painkiller? 

The door to my room squeaked open, and then the latch clicked as it closed. I fell back into the dream. Brad was in Hallowed Grounds, but he’d turned into an apparition, then back to himself again. He pointed toward the counter. Smoke billowed from the kitchen. I couldn’t smell it, but the smoke alarm went off, getting louder and louder, becoming deafening, the room hazy. Someone was trying to get me out of there, pulling, pushing, prodding, but I couldn’t move. Suddenly it was still, and Honey stood beside me, holding my hand. She leaned over and kissed my forehead.

“Not yet, dear,” she said. Comforted by her touch, I stared into her eyes, longing to go with her. A woman’s voice rudely yanked me from Honey’s gaze until I stared into eyes I couldn’t recognize.

“She’s back.”

Desperate to find some kind of familiarity, my gaze shot around the room. “Back where?” I barely recognized my voice.

“Andie Rose?” Sister Alice. “Thank God.” She touched her forehead, then below her chest, to the left side, the right, then bowed her head.

The vision of Honey faded into nothing, and I remembered the fire, sending me into a panic. “Brad—someone needs to get Brad out of the fire.” I choked and coughed, wincing at the pain that sliced through my head. 

“Brad is safe,” Sister Alice said before a blue gloved hand pushed her aside to shine a light into my eyes, one then the other. I lifted a hand to push it away, and looked around the room, confused when I recognized the hospital room. I wasn’t in Hallowed Grounds at all. “What happened? Where’s Aspen?”

“You’re one lucky non-Catholic,” Sister Alice said. “You had an unwelcomed visitor in your room.”

“Aspen,” I repeated. 

“Aspen is fine. Misses you, but he’s fine. He’s bonding with Jade and Frank again.”

The fog slowly lifted. “Was the visitor Brad?” I looked at Sister Alice through squinting eyes.

She shook her head slowly. “We don’t know yet.”

A nurse checked my vitals, switched out my IV, fluffed my pillows, and fixed a wire or cord of some sort. I tried to look around her as she hovered over me.

“Then who? What happened?”

“Don’t get yourself worked up.” She placed a hand on my shoulder, encouraging me to lie back. “The who we don’t know yet. Detective Griffin will find out. For some reason, he has a soft spot for you. God only knows why.”

“Nice try. I’m a pain in his backside.”

“Well, he does, but I sure can’t figure out why.” She smiled.

The nurse, not Betty Boop, thank God, finished fussing with my equipment and pillow. “You have that way about you. I’ll leave you two ladies alone to beat the police in solving your mystery. In the meantime,” she gestured toward the door as someone poked his head around the corner and waved, “there’s an officer posted outside your door.”

After she left, I said, “I remember someone by my IV. Is that who it was? The killer?”

She shook her head. “That was probably a nurse. But someone subjected you to a dangerous amount of fentanyl. When you flatlined, the medical team saw patches on your arm and knew what they were. Thank the good Lord you were in the hospital where Narcan was readily available, or you’d be a goner, back in the lovely company of Ivan and Mike.”

The severity of the incident drew close, and I shivered. “Someone wants me dead awfully bad.” I thought for a moment. “Brad would never have done this.”

“We know nothing for certain,” she said reluctantly. “They still haven’t been able to find him.”

“I need to get back to the inn,” I said. Although, I didn’t have the energy or desire to go anywhere right now. I settled back against my newly fluffed pillows.

“What you need to do is relax. Everyone is pulling their weight, and then some. Things are running smoothly.”

“Tony and Izzy?”

“I think Tony has grown to like the girl. Or at least accept her.” 

The news perked my mood. Izzy’s age was a huge drawback for me, but with the references everyone seemed to have about her cooking and baking skills, I’d try to get past that if Tony could. 

I closed my eyes and tried to process everything, struggling to focus on the dream I’d had. Nothing came to memory. But now I was surer than ever that the truck that nearly hit me was no accident. If only I could remember something about it other than it was dark blue. 

I pushed myself to a sitting position. “I need to get out of here.” A crucifix hung on the wall across from my bed. From spending time with Grandpop and Honey, I knew to a Catholic, they’re a powerful visual reminder of God’s love, and they served as a witness of hope to the world. But right now, it only served as a reminder of sickness and death. Of course, it could be an exquisite floral painting, and after the events of the past few days, my brain would twist it into looking like dead plants.

****

The next morning, Sister Alice stopped by my room on her rounds.

“Wow,” I exclaimed. “To what do I owe the honor? I’m not even a Catholic and I still get a visit?” I held up a hand as if protecting my eyes from the glare from her eyewear—a combination of green, yellow, red, and purple.

She glared at me from behind the smudged lenses. “There’s hope for everyone.”

A nurse whizzed into the room. “Since your vitals all look perfect, it looks like you’re getting discharged this afternoon. Considering it stays this way and barring any more unwelcome visitors.”

I looked at Sister Alice. “You’ll have to leave now.”

Sister Alice snorted, and the nurse laughed. “You’re just fine, I see.” Then she leveled her gaze at me. “You don’t fool me, Ms. Kaczmarek. You’ll need to take it easy for a few days. No running marathons. Do you promise?” 

Determined to be released to find out who wanted me dead—and why—I was willing to say anything I had to. So I did. “I promise I’ll behave.”

Sister Alice coughed, undoubtedly covering a retort. She strutted toward the door. “I’ll be back in a while to pick you up.”

“I’ll call Tony.”

“You’ll take what you get, which is me.”

At three o’clock, my discharge papers went through. Sister Alice was there, along with Aspen, to take me home. Seeing Aspen was the best medicine ever. He jogged over to me and jumped up on the bed beside me, licked my hand, then my face. I burrowed my nose in the soft indent just above his nose and between his eyes.

I grinned. “How’d you get him in here?”

“I know people who know people. Ready to go?” 

I groaned. “They told me to take it easy. That means I’m not allowed to ride in the sidecar of your moped contraption.” Aspen lay down, one paw on top of the other, and buried his nose beneath them, staring at me. “He’s afraid, too. You didn’t bring him here in that thing, did you? I’ll have to get him into therapy.”

She waved a hand in dismissal. “Relax. I have Father Vincent’s car.”

“Where’s mine, by the way?”

“Your what?”

“My car.”

She did that weird quirking thing with her eyebrows and looked at me over the top of her frames. “Why do you need to know that? Planning to go somewhere?”

“No,” I lied. “I just want to know it’s somewhere safe, and it didn’t get towed.” 

“Tony picked me up and drove me to the coffee shop to get it, and I drove it back to the inn.”

“How’d you get back home?”

“You worry about the smallest things.”

I smiled. “It’s curiosity. And it’s what is going to solve this case.”

“Or get us killed.”

Nurse Frieda pushed a wheelchair into the room, her eyes zeroing in on Aspen. She planted a hand on her hip, not breaking her gaze from mine.

“If it makes a difference, he’s a certified ESA,” I said sheepishly.

Sister Alice came to my rescue. “The higher up has approved it.” She tilted her head up, then back, insinuating the Big Guy upstairs.

Nurse Frieda fought a smile. “I’m sure it was, Sister.”

“This isn’t any different from the therapy dogs brought in for patients.” She looked at me. “I’ll go get the car and bring it ’round up front to the door.”

When she left, an orderly came through the door. I looked at the wheelchair and frowned.

“I’m not an invalid. I can walk.”

“Hospital policy.” His tone told me he wasn’t a rule breaker.

I shook my head and scooted into the wheelchair, keeping Aspen by my side. The man pushed me toward the elevator. It stopped on the second floor; the doors creaked open, and in walked Tom. I was grateful I wasn’t hooked up to the heart monitor any longer.

He nodded at me and said, “I see you’re feeling well enough to go home.”

“Yep.” I placed a protective hand on Aspen. “What brings you here, Tom?”

“Business. I would have stopped in to see you, but I didn’t have time.”

“Thanks for the thought.” When the doors opened, I said, “Tom, do you own a pickup truck?”

“Used to. Why?”

The orderly pushed my wheelchair outside the elevator doors and stopped while Tom and I talked.

“What color?”

“Dark blue.” 

“When did you get rid of it?” 

He squinted. “Why all the questions?” When I didn’t answer, he breathed a sigh of irritation. “I sold it to Deacon Molotov about two months ago.” He began walking away and said over his shoulder, “Have you ever thought that your nosiness is what almost got you killed more than once?”

The orderly gasped.

“It’s fine,” I assured him, praying to God I was right.