FRIDAY, 3:33 P.M.
ST. JOHN MEDICAL CENTER
Just when Harper thought things were moving in the right direction . . . Oh, Em . . .
Dr. Malus sat on a stool near the bed. Heath leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
An issue had been discovered.
Harper had to be strong for her sister. She held Emily’s hand, grateful her sister had come out of the coma. Harper had spent all of Thursday with Emily. Then today after Harper had finished processing the crime scene, she’d come directly to the hospital. At least she could be here with Emily to hear what Dr. Malus would say.
She was so grateful she could look Emily in the eyes, though they were filled with fear. Squeezing Emily’s cold hand, Harper hoped to reassure her.
Emily’s head was wrapped in white tape, so it looked like she wore a cap. At the base of her cap, electrodes protruded and twisted together, then extended over to connect with a computer that recorded brain wave activity. Harper stared at the waves on the monitor and waited for Dr. Malus’s prognosis.
Dr. Malus delivered her news with kindness. “You’re doing well, but we need to watch you over the weekend.”
“Why?” Harper asked for the both of them.
Dr. Malus looked at Emily. “You’ve had a few seizures, which isn’t unheard of after a head injury or in the case of a coma, but they’ve continued even since you’ve been awake. They’re non-convulsive, meaning we can’t see any physical signs. We considered putting you on analeptic medication for control”—Dr. Malus looked at her notes—“but this could resolve in a couple of days. Even if it does, I’d still like you to see a neurologist when you return home. In the meantime, I saw in the electronic medical records that you’re supposed to be on lithium, so we’re going to restart those meds.”
Confused, Harper stared at Emily.
“Ana—” Emily started.
“Anti-seizure medication.” Dr. Malus rose from her stool. “Clinically speaking, you look great. You’re improving. Can I answer any more questions?”
“No.” Emily stared at her hands.
“Wait . . . Lithium?” Harper asked.
Tears leaked from Emily’s eyes. “I didn’t want to tell you.” She glanced at the doctor. “Can I talk to her alone?”
She nodded. “Of course. I’m on tonight if you need anything or have more questions.”
Harper waited until Dr. Malus left the room before lifting her gaze to Emily.
Heath cleared his throat. “I’ll be right outside the door.”
“Thanks,” Harper said.
She waited for Heath to step out of the room. “Why didn’t you tell me you were taking lithium?”
She and Emily hadn’t been all that close until after college when they both lived near their mom until she died. They’d grown closer on this trip. They didn’t keep secrets. Or at least Harper had thought they didn’t. Even so, how could she have missed this?
“Mom was so focused on you after what you went through. Being there when Dad was killed. Getting you therapy. I had to deal on my own. Finally, a boyfriend persuaded me to see a counselor at school who urged me to get help—it was more serious than I thought. I’ve been on lithium for a few years for mild bipolar depression.” Emily swiped at her cheeks. “I know we talked about staying, but as soon as I can leave, I want to get out of here. It’s not like we have to pack up the Airstream.”
Emily choked on the words.
A hollow ache throbbed behind Harper’s ribs. “You put so much into renovating. We can do it again. We’ll get another camper and start over. Okay?” Harper had no idea what she was saying, but she would say anything to get them through this. This whole time she had thought there must be something wrong with her to struggle so much with the past, but Emily had been struggling too.
It hurt that her sister hadn’t confided in her, yet Harper could see that Emily had only wanted to stay strong for her. She hadn’t wanted Harper to know about her struggle.
Emily nodded. “Sure, we can do that at some point. But before I leave, I want to see the old house, Harper. Like we talked about. I might never get another chance to see it. I know part of what you’ve gone through—the survivor’s guilt—has to do with what you experienced as a child there. So I have to ask—are you good with that? Can we at least drive by?”
Harper was still reeling from everything new she’d learned in the last half hour involving Emily. Why did Emily always press her on the house? “I would do anything for you, Emily, but . . .”
Emily’s eyes glistened.
“Oh, Em, I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just a stupid old house.” She had no idea why Emily wanted to go back. If it were up to Harper, she would never look at it again. Still, she wanted to be there for her sister, who she’d almost lost forever.
“Thanks.” Emily squeezed Harper’s hand.
Harper took this moment to bring Emily up to speed on today’s photographs of the camper and truck.
Harper had intended to stay in town, but now with Emily’s potential neurological issues, she didn’t see how she could. “We’ll go home as soon as you’re released.”
“No.”
“What?”
“You’re not going anywhere. I want you to help them find who did this to us. Find who killed that woman. You have to do this. I see that now, and I’m sorry for trying to persuade you otherwise. Since you took this on, I can see how it’s helping you overcome the fact you didn’t face things before. This is good for you and it’s the right thing to do. And besides, you have Heath the cowboy to watch over you. I won’t worry about you so much. I’m so proud of you.”
“You’re proud of me?”
“For seeing this through. You’re ready for what comes next.”
Harper wasn’t so sure she agreed with Emily, but it seemed life wasn’t giving her any choices. While photographing the wreckage of the truck and camper, Harper realized she actually missed being part of the crime-solving process.
The door creaked open. Heath. “Okay if I come in now?”
Harper wouldn’t tell him she had forgotten he was out there. “Sure. Sorry about that.”
“No problem.”
She hated leaving Emily, but her sister looked tired. “Is there anything I can get you before I go?”
“No.” Emily stared at her hands, then glanced up. “Wait. You can take the clothes I had on. Burn them. Wash them. I don’t know. Maybe they’re not salvageable. Bring me new clothes for when they release me.”
“You got it.” Harper pulled the plastic bag containing Emily’s clothes out of a small closet. “Okay. Anything else?”
Emily swiped at her eyes. “I’m glad I turned my book in already.”
“Should I call your editor? I didn’t even think of that.”
“No, it’s fine. Maybe bring my lap—” Emily stopped midsentence. Put her hand to her mouth. “Oh. It’s gone, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so.” Harper glanced to Heath, who nodded. “But we’ll get you a brand-spanking-new one. You can download from the cloud or wherever you store your files.”
Emily smiled the biggest smile Harper had seen in days. “I’m so glad I have you.” She glanced to Heath. “You keep her safe or I’ll have to kill you.”
He didn’t even blink.
“In a book, Heath. She’d have to kill you in a novel. Emily’s pen name is L. E. Harper. The L stands for Leslie, our mother. I’m not sure you would know her as an author.” Harper angled her head and sent him a wry grin. “You’d have to read.”
He pursed his lips. “I can read fine, thank you.”
“No.” She chuckled. “I mean, you’d have to read mysteries to know. You look more like a Louis L’Amour kind of guy.”
Heath grinned, and the room tilted just a little.