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LISA’S CONDITION DIDN’T change. She was still in a coma and still hooked up to a machine to breathe. Maureen and my father visited Lisa every day, as did I—although I tried to time it so I didn’t have to share the space with my stepmother. The occasional dinner with her was enough. As bossy as she was in a normal situation, she was much worse when it came to family. Lisa’s doctor visits rarely coincided with my parents’, and I suspected the doctor’s dislike of Maureen was the reason.
We still hadn’t made progress on the Whitmore case, which was now tied to the DEA’s investigation of the spike in fentanyl deaths.
“We’re hamstrung.” I slammed the Whitmore file on the conference table for emphasis. Sam and I had just gotten off the phone with John and Ellen Whitmore. They were disheartened by the snail’s pace of our investigation, wondering why we couldn’t do more. Sam tried to explain that because Jason’s death was now part of a federal investigation we had to move carefully. The Whitmores would have none of it.
I couldn’t blame them.
Sam sighed. This wasn’t the first time I’d nagged him to let me do more.
“You know as well as I do, these things take time.”
“Yes, but why does that mean I can’t do my job?”
“You can. Look, I’m sorry that Lisa’s still unresponsive. That isn’t what any of us want. But there are reasons for events beyond our comprehension.”
I scoffed. “I thought you said you didn’t believe in the crap that shaman told you.”
Sam’s eyes darkened. “I never said that I didn’t believe. I said that I learned more as a truck driver and a cop. And I learned that by observing people and understanding their motives.” He walked to the sideboard and poured himself a cup of coffee. “The shaman taught me how to be in the world but not of it. He did it in such a way that he would withhold information from me, which I thought was unnecessary. I realized later he was ensuring that I found the answer for myself.”
“Then why should I not take things into my own hands? How else will I find the answer?” My frustration got the better of me, and I pushed out of my chair and stood. “Look, I understand that if we go out on our own we might disrupt Mac’s and the DEA’s investigation, but I think I know enough about what they’re doing to be able to stay clear.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the conference table. “I’m only going to nibble around the edges. I promise I won’t dive into the whole pie.”
Sam shook his head. “If this only affected you, then I’d say go ahead. But it doesn’t. It involves a lot of other cogs, and anything you do could put the people involved at risk.” His expression softened and he came over to stand next to me. He put his arm around my shoulders and drew me closer. “It’s going to be fine. There are enough people working on this that there has to be a breakthrough soon. Pull back and look at the big picture.”
Sam had a point. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders.
“Fine. I’ll do it your way. For now.” I kissed him and headed for the door.
“You want to take the new rig?” Sam had picked up a new Tahoe that morning, identical to the one I’d wrecked, except for being two years newer.
I shook my head. “No. I’m good with the Jeep.”
Pausing with my hand on the doorknob, I turned. “If I was in a coma because of some asshole’s decision to sell tainted drugs, what would you do?”
The look on his face told me he’d feel the same as I did now. Satisfied, I walked out the door and headed for the hospital.
***
My visit to Lisa left me even more frustrated. Hopelessness washed over me at the sight of her slender frame sprouting lines to monitors, an IV hookup, and God knew what else. I stayed an hour, reading from the book she’d left at the house, alert for a glimmer of awareness: the twitch of an eye, a frown, a slight change in her breathing, the infinitesimal pulse of a finger, anything.
There was nothing.
I rose from the bed and picked up my purse, the bleak feelings even more acute than when I’d arrived. “I’m going to find out who did this to you, Lisa. I promise.” I gave her hand a squeeze. Her skin was still cool to the touch, the sound of the respirator even and regular. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was only asleep.
Seized by an overwhelming need for fresh air, I made it to the visitors’ parking lot in record time. I leaned against the front door of the Jeep and inhaled deep, jagged gulps of air, fighting the tears threatening to derail my hard-won composure. An older couple walked by, sympathy plain on their faces. The woman looked like she was about to offer assistance, but her companion gave a terse shake of his head and they continued on. I held back until they were out of sight before giving my emotions their due. All the grief, fear, frustration, and guilt came pouring out. I gripped the door handle to keep from sinking to the concrete and cried until there was nothing left.
Drained, I slid down to sit on the running board and leaned my head against the doorframe.
I should have been there for her. But how? I didn’t know she’d been taking so many painkillers. It wasn’t like she ever let on. Sam hadn’t noticed either, and he was far more observant than I could ever hope to be.
Stop beating yourself up, Kate. She didn’t know what she was taking that night.
But Ian should have at least gone with her to the party. A flicker of anger ignited inside of me at the thought of him telling Lisa to hunt down some drug dealer on her own. If she knew there was fentanyl in the painkiller she bought, there was no doubt in my mind that she would have refused to take it. Lisa wasn’t a risk taker. Defying our older siblings to come out west to live with me had been a huge leap of faith for her.
With a heavy sigh, I stood and climbed into the Jeep. The long shadows from the late afternoon sun told me it was close to dinnertime and that I should be getting back home. I threw my purse on the passenger seat, and my phone slipped out and onto the floor. The fall must have inadvertently activated my contacts list, because the screen lit up. I glanced at the list. Ian’s name was at the top. I scrolled down one and came to Ian’s drug dealer contact. Momo. Without thinking, I hit dial.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Is this Momo?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“My name is Kate. Our mutual friend Ian gave me your number.” My heartbeat spiked.
What was I doing?
“Okay?”
His overly cautious tone told me the idea forming in my head might not be quite as easy as I thought.
“He, um, he said you could hook me up for my neck pain?”
“Ian, huh? Ian...” His voice trailed off as though he was trying to remember who Ian was. “Oh yeah. Ian. Tall hipster dude with a bad back, right?”
“Right.”
“Sure, sure. How ’bout we meet under the clock at Pike Place Market. Say, in an hour?”
“I can do that. How will I know you?”
“I’ll be the handsome dude in a bright purple ball cap.”
“Okay. How much—”
“We’ll discuss that in person, a’ight?” he said, cutting me off.
“Oh, sure. Right. See you then?”
Silence.
He’d already hung up. I put my phone away and shrugged off the fear of what I was about to do.
Don’t back out now, Kate. You don’t have to buy anything. Besides, I’d been intimately involved with people much higher up in the illegal drug world than Momo. Much.
What could happen?