Chapter 21
21
Karen hurried into the office. She had taken Olivia to school after the dentist appointment. She preferred to take the girls at the same time, but Laura had protested, claiming she had a paper to present in her English class. Karen had rescheduled for a later appointment, hoping there wouldn’t be another conflict. She could only imagine that as the girls’ educational needs and extracurriculars increased with age, the next few years would be a whirlwind of activities.
Once inside, she smiled at the receptionist.
“Everything okay at the dentist?”
“Yes. Just a checkup. I know Olivia hates going, but I insist the girls go twice a year.”
As she walked past the front desk, the receptionist said, “Oh, Sharon is out with a patient, but she said some detectives were in earlier. They wanted to talk to you but talked to Sharon instead. She didn’t say what it was about but left soon after they did and hasn’t been back. I think she must have gone to lunch between her clients.”
“Thanks.” She smiled as she continued to hurry into her office. Tossing her purse and her jacket onto the top of the filing cabinet, she sat down and turned on her computer. Even though she’d known she would be out of the office for part of the morning, she felt behind in her work. She placed her phone on her desk, checking to see if she missed any messages, then sighed when there were none.
Rolling her eyes, she pinched her lips together. Mark doesn’t text or call one night after we’ve only had one date, and I’m disappointed. Get a grip, girl! Shaking off the ridiculousness of her own thoughts, she forced her attention back to her emails. To her relief, there wasn’t as much to catch up on as she feared. Only one new referral had come in, and she could easily return the call later in the afternoon.
Still, her mind kept drifting, this time to Roscoe and the kids. She planned to drop off some cookies on her way home and check in on Zannie and Marty, who had been on her mind lately. Their situation continued to tug at her heart. It didn’t matter that the words from her nursing program always rang in the back of her head— “You can’t save everyone.” She still wanted to make sure they knew someone was keeping an eye on them.
Just as she was in the middle of an email response, the receptionist stepped into her doorway. “Ms. Drummond? Um… there are two detectives who want to talk to you. They might be the same ones who were here earlier.”
Karen nodded, her pulse quickening as she wondered if Mark was popping in to see her. Brad walked into her office as the receptionist stepped back. Smiling, she greeted, “Brad. This is a surprise. How are you?—”
Instead of Mark following, a female stepped in behind Brad. Karen didn’t recognize the woman, dressed in slacks, a blue shirt, and a navy jacket. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. Dropping her gaze, Karen spied the detective badge clipped to the woman’s belt.
“Oh, hello,” Karen said, still smiling, wondering why Mark wasn’t with his partner. Oh shit… he didn’t answer her texts last night… maybe he’s hurt or ? —
“Hello, Ms. Drummond. I’m Detective Elizabeth Perez.”
“Yes?” Karen knew her voice was breathy but fear for Mark made it hard to speak.
“Hey, Karen,” Brad greeted.
"Is Mark okay?" The question tumbled out before Karen could stop it, her stomach twisting. Brad’s surprised expression didn’t go unnoticed, so she pressed on. "He’s not with you. Is he okay?"
For a moment, Brad’s face softened with understanding before it morphed into something unreadable, something that set Karen on edge. "He’s fine," Brad assured her, though his voice lacked its usual warmth. "But he’s back at the station. Karen, we’re investigating the recent thefts in the area, and we need to ask you some questions."
She blinked, remembering the receptionist’s mention of the detectives coming earlier. “Oh… um… okay. Sure.” She couldn’t imagine why they needed her input or why Mark wasn’t with Brad, but she relaxed in her seat nonetheless. “Would you like to sit?” She waved her hand toward the two chairs in front of her desk.
“Actually, we’d like you to come with us if you would,” Elizabeth said.
Karen blinked again. “Come with you? To…”
“To the station, please,” Elizabeth clarified.
“Come with you to the station?” She realized she sounded stupid repeating what the detective was saying, but it didn’t make sense. Suddenly, a cold jolt of panic shot through her, and her body tensed. "The station?" Her gaze darted to Brad, and the uneasy look on his face only made her stomach tighten further. "Am I under arrest?"
"No," Brad said quickly, his voice urgent.
"No, Ms. Drummond," Elizabeth echoed calmly. "But the station offers more privacy, and since this is an ongoing investigation, we want to make sure we gather the information we need in a secure environment."
“But… you didn’t need that this morning. I heard you came here.”
“That’s true,” Brad said, nodding. “Mark and I came?—”
“Mark was with you this morning?” Karen cut in, her heart sinking as she pieced together more of the picture.
Brad hesitated, swallowing hard, but it was Elizabeth who answered. “Detective Robbins was here this morning, yes. But with new information, it was determined that you’re the person who could best answer our questions.”
A cold, heavy weight settled in her gut. Mark was here. Now he’s not. They want to question me at the station. And he didn’t come. He didn’t tell me. Karen’s chest constricted, and she exhaled slowly, trying to calm the storm brewing inside her.
“Karen.” Brad’s voice broke through her thoughts, but it was strained and apologetic. “Please, let’s go to the station. We’ll get through the questions, and you’ll be free to leave.”
The brutal cold now reached her bones. “Do I need an attorney?” Harsh steadiness punctuated each word as she held his gaze.
“That is your right,” Elizabeth carefully said, her gaze irritatingly neutral. “You are not obligated to come with us to answer questions.”
“I have nothing to hide, but I won’t be marched out of here like a criminal under arrest.” She stood and reached for her coat and purse. Sliding her shaking arms into the sleeves, she tried to steady her nerves. Once her coat was fastened and her purse strap was slung over her shoulder, she faced them again. “Since I’m not under arrest, I will drive myself.” She had no idea if that would be allowed, but she hoped her bravado would hide the quivering of her hands.
The three stood in silence for a moment, and Elizabeth nodded. “We’ll follow you in our vehicle.”
Karen snorted, refusing to thank them for the courtesy. She could only imagine what was going through the staff’s mind when she walked out with the two detectives. Holding her head high, she hurried past them and out the door. Seeing the receptionist’s raised eyebrows, she plastered on her best smile. “I have to go to the station to give confidential information about a case. Please cancel my afternoon patients, and I’ll return as soon as possible.”
The receptionist smiled and nodded. Karen was fairly sure that the longtime receptionist, who had probably seen and heard just about everything, wouldn’t talk about Karen’s departure since she’d emphasized the word confidential.
Climbing behind the wheel of her small SUV, she pulled out of the parking lot and checked to see that Brad and Detective Perez were behind her. Why is Mark not here? Do they suspect me of something? Is that why he didn’t come? Or call last night? How long has he suspected? Was it before our dates?
Once parked at the station, she walked in behind Brad with Elizabeth just behind. Caged in. Where the hell do they think I’m going to run to? She held her head high as they walked through the reception area, down a hall, and then down another. Entering a room, she nearly laughed… or cried. It looked like every police interrogation room from every movie or cop TV show she’d ever watched. Tiled floor. Metal desk. Metal chairs. The walls were painted a pale, lifeless grayish-blue, designed to drain any warmth from the space. And in the corner, a small camera was mounted, its lens pointed directly at her. And who is watching from the camera? Mark?
Swallowing hard, she stepped to the desk but didn’t sit until Elizabeth waved her to one of the chairs. She slid her coat off her shoulders and was hit with the memory of Mark’s hands lingering on her shoulders when he assisted with her coat on their date. His touch had been warm, lingering just long enough to make her pulse quicken. But now, the memory felt out of place, intrusive, in the stark coldness of the interrogation room. Draping her coat on the back of the chair, she sat down and placed her purse in her lap, forcing her mind on what was happening and not her memories.
Schooling her expression, she held Brad’s gaze before shifting it to Detective Perez but remained silent. It was their show, and she was determined to do what she could to assist their investigation even though she had no idea how it involved her.
Brad’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, his tone gentle but professional. “Karen,” he began, his eyes searching hers, “we need to understand how patients are selected for Eastern Shore Home Health’s services.”
She blinked, the question catching her off guard. They needed me to come into the station for this? Her mind raced, trying to make sense of why this routine question required such formality, such tension. She forced herself to focus, meeting Brad’s gaze before shifting to Detective Perez, who sat silently beside him, her eyes steady and unreadable.
She placed her forearms on the table and clasped her hands together. Karen breathed, composing her expression into something calm, though her heart raced beneath her composed exterior. “Patients are usually referred by hospitals or their primary care doctors. Once we get the referral, I do an initial evaluation—go to their homes, assess their needs, and coordinate services from there.”
She paused, searching their faces for any hint of why this mattered, but they gave nothing away. Elizabeth’s steady gaze remained on her, waiting. Brad seemed almost apologetic as if he knew more than he was letting on.
“Can you give us examples of your typical patients?”
“I don’t know that we have anything typical , but if you mean more prevalent, I suppose it would be after surgeries such as knee and hip replacements, or stroke patients might make up a higher percentage than others. I would have to check our annual records to be able to give you the specifics. I could have done that if we were in my office,” she added pointedly.
“And are all the patients seen in their home?”
“No.” At her one-word answer, she thought she had detected a slight jerk of surprise from Brad. Pressing her lips together, she battled the urge to keep talking to explain her job. Not knowing what they were looking for and hating that they were being so elusive, she decided just to answer what they asked.
Brad nodded, and she wondered if he could read her stubborn mind.
“What other places would be involved besides the home?”
“The services can also be accessed in skilled clinical care facilities.”
“And who provides the services?” Brad prodded.
“There are nurses, nursing aides, physical therapists, occupational therapists, speech therapists, and trained therapeutic aides. Oh, and we also offer counseling services.”
“Are you in charge of all the services?”
She shook her head. “No.” She hesitated, then sighed. This interview will never end at this pace. “The ESHH has a board that oversees the process. It is reviewed annually and is accredited by the Community Health Accreditation Program. There is a director of all services, Emily Klein, and she reports to the board.”
“And what are your job duties and requirements?”
“I’m the lead nurse for the ESHH North Heron County division. I take the referrals that come in for this county. Once I have the physician's orders and reviewed the need, I set up a visit at the home. I always check blood pressure, temperature, and, if necessary, weight. I review the physician’s recommendations to ensure the patient agrees. We consider their needs as far as physical, occupational, or speech therapy is concerned and if assistance with the household is needed.”
“When you are in a house with the patient, how do you assess the home?”
Karen pinched her lips together. “You know, it would be easier if I knew what you were looking for,” she grumbled, then felt foolish when Brad and Elizabeth remained quiet. Sucking in a deep breath, she replied, “I visually assess the cleanliness of the home. Is there a family member or other person who is readily available? Do they have the necessary equipment if it’s needed? Shower chair. Walker. Cane. Toilet handles. Bed rail. Wheelchair. A recliner that also lifts. Are there rugs that can be tripped on? Do they have access to food? I review everything with them to see what they have and need.”
“Is there someone with you when you move about the house?”
At that question, her chin jerked back. What do they think I’ve seen? Or done? “It depends. If able, I have the patient with me to explain what I am doing or looking for. Often, a family member or caretaker goes with me.”
“What about the others who provide services? Do they do some of the same things? Assess the home, for example?”
Her brow furrowed. “Well… yes. The therapists would be in the home more than I would for all their appointments and would continue to check for the proper equipment and safety of the home. I, or another nurse, would visit weekly or every other week as needed. The therapists report to me if they find any issues. And if they have needs such as cleaning, dressing, mobility, bathing, eating… a nursing aide would visit daily if a friend or relative would not be available to take on the tasks.”
At this point, Brad glanced toward Elizabeth before fixing his gaze on Karen. A familiar, sickening sensation twisted in her gut, the same cold, hard rock that had hit her the moment they’d asked her to come into the station. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, but she kept her expression neutral, locking her emotions into a tight box. No way would she let them see how rattled she felt.
“Detectives, I’ve answered all of your questions to the best of my ability. And I’ll say that they are uncomfortably similar to Detective Robbins’s questions during a personal visit. Can you please tell me what is going on? Was he actively questioning me at that time?”
Brad dipped his chin, trying but failing to hide his wince. When he returned his gaze to her, he cleared his throat. “Detective Robbins has been actively involved in the investigation, but I have no reason to think he was questioning you on his personal time. When investigating the rash of break-ins that have occurred over the past several weeks, they appear to have a commonality. Every one of them has been involved with the ESHH. We need to know who can access confidential information and how it might have been misused.”
At that, Karen's eyes widened. She had heard of two of their clients being burglarized but had not heard mention of any others. Her mind grappled to understand the significance of what Brad was saying. Suddenly, she jolted upright in her seat. “And you think I had something to do with it?” she squeaked, no longer worrying about how her fear shone through.
“Right now, we don’t have any evidence that points to you other than you were in each of the houses.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she shook her head in disbelief. “I have often been alone in a patient’s house! Some of our patients live alone, and that’s why they need our services in the first place.”
“No one is accusing you of stealing,” Brad said softly.
Still shaking her head, Karen scoffed. “Then why am I here?”
“Because unwittingly or unknowingly, someone from the ESHH would have information on these homes that could be provided to someone else who is breaking, entering, and stealing.”
“Oh my God!” She dropped her head into her hands. Suddenly, lifting her head back up, she said, “I do not believe for one moment anyone on my staff would steal from somebody. Or… or… tell someone else what was in the home.”
“That’s why we needed to bring you here so that there were no listening ears in your office regarding what was being discussed. I know you found this embarrassing and uncomfortable, but it was the only way for us to find out the workings of the ESHH and who might have access to confidential information.”
Karen let his words sink in, her mind rebelling against the idea that anyone she knew would knowingly betray patients’ trust. But even if it had been done unknowingly, the breach of confidentiality was a serious matter. She rubbed her forehead, trying to dispel the pounding headache that now throbbed behind her eyes. With a heavy sigh, she met Brad’s gaze. “I assure you, I have no idea what’s going on. But I also realize you have no reason to just take my word for it. I’ll offer any assistance I can to help you figure this out. But… I’m still a suspect, aren’t I?”
Brad’s hesitation was brief but noticeable. “I wouldn’t say suspect,” he answered, his tone careful.
“I find that answer to be evasive, but I’m assuming you’re using legalese. Am I a person of interest? I believe that’s the term I hear on TV.”
Brad’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but it was Elizabeth who spoke. “The investigation is ongoing, Ms. Drummond. The North Heron Sheriff’s Department appreciates your cooperation, and we may need to come back to you for more information.”
As the full weight of their words settled on her, Karen’s thoughts turned immediately to Mark. The reality of their situation hit her like a sledgehammer—there wouldn’t be another date. How could there be? He was investigating her, for God’s sake. How could a relationship continue under those circumstances? And worse, how could she trust someone who hadn’t warned her this was coming?
Letting out a long, slow breath, she nodded, then looked between the two detectives and asked, “Is the interview over? Am I free to leave?”
“Yes, you are,” Elizabeth said, and if Karen wasn’t mistaken, she heard a touch of sympathy in the other woman’s voice. She felt the female detective knew exactly where her thoughts had gone when it pertained to Mark. “We ask that you not discuss what was talked about here. The investigation is ongoing, and we may need to follow up.”
Karen stood, feeling the tremble in her legs despite her best efforts to remain composed. With deliberate movements, she slid her coat over her shoulders, taking time to button and belt it. Every movement was slow and methodical, as though doing so might stave off the overwhelming urge to flee the station. She picked up her purse and turned toward the door, waiting for Elizabeth to open it.
“I’ll walk you out,” Brad offered, though his halfhearted smile barely touched his face.
Karen didn’t even hesitate. “I’d prefer if Detective Perez walked me out. If that’s allowed.”
A flash of regret filled his eyes as her request seemed to catch Brad off guard. Elizabeth quickly stepped in. “Of course,” she said, and with that, the two women walked in silence down the hallway.
As they approached the door leading into the parking lot, Elizabeth stopped and turned to Karen. “Ms. Drummond?”
Karen looked at the pretty detective. Her age was indeterminate, but Karen would guess she was in her early thirties. For a moment, Karen thought about what it must be like for a young, attractive female to work in law enforcement, a male-dominated field. As much as she hated being blindsided by the entire interview, she was glad that Elizabeth had been in the room with her. She strangely hoped that Elizabeth was happy with her career choice because, for the few minutes that Karen had been with her, she could see the women’s professionalism as well as empathy. “Yes, Detective Perez?”
“For what it’s worth, Detective Robbins?—”
Karen’s hand jerked up quickly. “No. Please, just… no. He has a job to do, and so do I. And right now, those two are at odds with each other.”
“I know that he feels?—”
“I’m not sure what he feels, and frankly, I don’t want to hear it right now. Not from you, not from anyone. I’m not in the right frame of mind to discuss Mark, especially with someone else.” Karen’s voice shook slightly as she spoke, but she quickly swallowed back the tears threatening to rise. Elizabeth’s face tightened, clearly reading the turmoil behind Karen’s words, and for a moment, Karen thought the detective might say something more. But instead, she just nodded.
“I understand,” Elizabeth said quietly.
Karen inhaled deeply, steeling herself. “Thank you for your kindness, but I’m leaving now.”
As she turned, her gaze shot down the hall and landed on Mark. He was standing with Brad, his normally calm demeanor frayed at the edges as he waved his arms, his expression stern and unreadable. His jaw was clenched, and his face… God, his face looked pained.
For a moment, their eyes met, and the intensity of his gaze hit her square in the chest. She could see the plea in his expression, but it wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between them. He was investigating a crime, and somehow, she was entangled in it. Whether she was a suspect, a person of interest, or something in between, it didn’t matter—what mattered was that he hadn’t told her. He hadn’t given her the courtesy of a warning.
Without so much as a wave or a smile, Karen broke eye contact and turned on her heel. She walked out the door with her head held high, leaving Mark behind.