Chapter 26
26
Jeremy stood just outside the sterile morgue door, watching through the small window as Cora spoke softly to Dick Snodgrass. Despite the clinical environment, her tone was tender, and her gestures were patient. Dick, Hank’s son, had been called over from Suffolk to identify his father’s body formally. Jeremy had witnessed this side of Cora before—the professional shell softening just enough to let her compassion shine through. It was one of the many things about her that fascinated him.
She glanced up mid-sentence, her gaze finding him through the glass. Their eyes locked, and the unspoken understanding they shared flickered between them. He gave her a slight nod, and she returned her attention to Dick.
“Mr. Snodgrass,” she said, her voice steady yet empathetic. “As I’ve explained, the medications your father should have been taking weren’t found in his system. Unfortunately, this isn’t an isolated case in our area. We’d like to ask you a few questions that might help us piece things together. Would you be willing to speak with a detective?”
Dick nodded hesitantly, his face a mix of grief and guilt. Cora offered a small, reassuring smile before rising from her chair. As she exited the room, her shoulder brushed against Jeremy’s, sending a spark of awareness through him. The brief touch lingered in his mind as he stepped into the room to take her place.
“Mr. Snodgrass, I’m Detective Jeremy Pickett, and my partner, Detective Pete Bolton, is assisting on this case. We’re very sorry for your loss. We aim to understand more about your father’s situation and ensure nothing like this happens to anyone else.”
Dick sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his graying hair. “I’ll tell you what I can, Detective, but I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be. My father and I weren’t exactly close.”
Jeremy nodded, silently encouraging him to continue. Dick’s words spilled out, a mixture of regret and frustration. “I last saw him about two weeks ago. I did what I could, but my dad was… independent to a fault. After my mom died, he refused any real help. Stubborn as hell. He insisted he could manage, even when he couldn’t. It wasn’t easy growing up with him—he was a hard man, not abusive, but distant. My sister left as soon as possible, and I followed her a few years later. I’d check on him occasionally, fix what needed fixing, but he wouldn’t let me do more.”
“Did he have anyone else in his life? A friend, a neighbor, someone who might have helped him with errands or appointments?” Jeremy asked, keeping his tone gentle.
Dick shook his head. “He didn’t have friends—not really. I think he liked being alone. Said he had people to drive him when he needed it, but he never gave me names.”
Jeremy’s mind ticked over the possibilities. “You mentioned he resisted help, but did you have any legal authority—power of attorney for his finances or medical care?”
Dick let out a dry laugh. “Not a chance. My dad wouldn’t give up that kind of control, even if it killed him. Which I guess it did.”
Jeremy and Pete probed further, eventually uncovering a promising lead—a video from the security camera Dick had installed on his father’s front door. As Pete scrolled through the footage, they spotted a sedan pulling into the driveway and a man coming to the door. A few minutes later, the man walked out with Hank and the sedan pulled away. Almost two hours later, the sedan returned, delivering Hank back home. The time stamp suggested it was within days of Hank’s death.
After thanking Dick for his cooperation, they walked down the hall. Cora was waiting for them, her lab coat still pristine despite her long hours.
“Did you find anything useful?” she asked, her voice low but curious.
Jeremy shared what they’d found, and Cora nodded. “According to his hospital records, Hank saw Dr. Mendez at the clinic. That might be worth checking out.”
“Thanks, Cora,” Jeremy said. His tone softened as he added, “We’ll look into it.”
As Pete moved toward the exit, Jeremy lingered momentarily, drawn by Cora’s presence. He stepped closer, his hand brushing hers as he leaned in. Their kiss was brief but electric, a silent promise between them. She smiled against his lips, her expression softening in a way that made his chest tighten.
“Kissing a smiling Cora,” he murmured as he pulled back, “is the best send-off I could ask for.”
Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t pull away. “Stay safe, Jeremy.”
With one last glance, he followed Pete out, the warmth of her smile lingering with him.
* * *
Jeremy tossed the pen onto his desk with a frustrated wrist flick. It hit the edge and rolled to the floor with a faint clatter. He groaned, bending to retrieve it, his shoulders tense with the weight of too many dead ends. When he placed it back next to the legal pad covered in scribbled names—all crossed out—his jaw tightened.
“Your list looks like mine,” Pete said from across the desks, his voice a low rumble that matched his weary expression.
Jeremy huffed a humorless laugh, running a hand through his short, dark hair. “We’ve run through every name. Six different churches, ESAAA, Cybil’s list from the bingo groups—nothing. Nothing connects them all.”
Pete leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Somebody knew all our victims. There’s no way they’re random. How many names do you have left?”
Jeremy glanced at his pad, dragging a finger down the meager list. “Four.”
“I have three more,” Pete replied, his tone heavy. “Let’s knock these out before lunch. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Cybil walked into the DTF pen and headed straight to Jeremy and Pete. “I might have something.”
Jeremy’s head jerked around, noting Pete was already looking toward her. She walked to them and placed a folder on his desk.
“I’ve gone through the lists of people who drive others to bingo, and one of the names that popped up was Mary Harborrow. Then one of the people I talked to said they’d seen Jed Harborrow drive. When I looked at his driver’s license, I noted he looks very similar to the man in the security camera for Hank Snodgrass.” She shrugged. “Might not be the same, but it was the only link I could come up with.”
“Deputy, we’ll take any lead right now,” Pete said, turning to his computer.
Jeremy looked up and grinned. “Damn, Deputy, you may have found the hidden key.”
He picked up his phone and dialed Mary’s number, his stomach tightening as the line rang. On the third ring, a soft, slightly quavering voice answered.
“Good morning. Is this Mary Harborrow?”
“Yes, it is.”
Jeremy straightened, instinctively polite. “Ma’am, I’m Detective Jeremy Pickett with the Eastern Shore Drug Task Force?—”
“Oh, my goodness!” Mary interrupted, her tone sharpening with suspicion. “This isn’t one of those scams asking for money, is it?”
Jeremy smiled despite himself. “No, ma’am, not at all. I’m not asking for money. I’m just hoping you might have some information that could help us. We’re looking for people who drive the elderly to appointments, bingo nights, church events—things like that.”
“Oh well, I used to,” she said, her voice softening with nostalgia. “When I retired, I hated feeling useless, so I offered rides to anyone who needed them. It was my way of giving back.”
“Did you ever drive Helen McCarthy, Robert Stewart, Henry Miller, or Fred Rudolph?” Jeremy asked, leaning forward.
Mary let out a lilting laugh. “Yes, all four of them! Let me think… I got Helen’s name from someone at her church, and Fred too, now that I think about it. Fred didn’t need rides often—he loved driving his truck, bless his heart—but he’d call me for longer trips. Robert and Henry, though, they were bingo folks.”
Her voice grew somber. “But they’ve all passed now.”
“Yes, ma’am, we know. Was there anything about them that seemed off? Anything unusual—like if they were struggling with their medication?”
With the phone on speaker, Jeremy glanced across the desk. Pete’s eyes locked on his, a silent exchange of hope tempered by caution. They might have a thread to follow for the first time in weeks.
Mary sighed. “I wouldn’t know about their medications. Last year, I had eye surgery and had to stop driving. But my son took over for me.”
His head snapped up, lifting his brows at Pete. “Your son?”
“Yes, Jed. He’s a good man. Works at the grocery store. When I couldn’t drive anymore, he stepped in to help.”
Pete straightened in his chair, interest lighting his dark eyes. Jeremy pressed on. “Would Jed be available for my partner and me to talk to?”
“Oh, he doesn’t live here anymore,” Mary said. “He moved over to Norfolk last month.”
“But he still drives people over here to appointments?” Jeremy asked, his pen poised.
“Why, yes. He’s such a good man,” she said with a smile. “He comes about twice a week to check on me, and he’ll provide transportation for a few people.”
“Would you happen to know who he drives?”
“Yes. I kept a little journal of everyone I drove. Old habits from my secretary days in Baytown. I wrote down everything—just in case. I still do.”
Jeremy chuckled, impressed. “That’s a good habit, ma’am. Would it be alright if my partner and I came to see your records?”
“Of course, Detective. Let me give you my address.”
Jeremy jotted it down, his pulse quickening with renewed purpose. After hanging up, he met Pete’s gaze. “I don’t know, man. This could be nothing, but I have a gut feeling we’re finally onto something.” He looked up at Cybil. “Thank you, Deputy!”
She grinned as she walked out of the room.
Pete stood and grabbed his keys. “Let’s go, partner.”
Jeremy followed suit, and moments later, they were out the door, the weight of disappointment easing as a flicker of hope took its place.
The drive to Mary’s neighborhood didn’t take long, and as the SUV turned into the quiet subdivision, Jeremy glanced out the window, taking in the scene. “Nice area,” Jeremy commented as Pete drove down the street lined with trees and new two-story, colonial-style houses.
Pete nodded as he navigated the vehicle slowly down the street. “Yeah, I think one of the newer detectives lives in one of these places.”
Jeremy turned to his partner, one eyebrow raised. “A new detective can afford one of these? Did I miss the department-wide pay raise memo?”
Pete smirked, his hands steady on the wheel. “He’s married to an accountant over in Accawmacke County. I guess together, they make pretty good money. Two incomes, no kids yet—it adds up.”
“Hmph,” Jeremy muttered, leaning his elbow against the window and resting his chin on his fist. He stared at the row of houses, his thoughts drifting. Would Cora like a place like this?
It hit him then—harder than he expected—that Cora, as a doctor, earned far more than he did. He’d never been the kind of man to feel insecure about income, but it made him wonder about her plans. Her lease on the tiny cottage she rented would eventually run out, and she might want something bigger, something permanent. He knew it was ridiculous to think about sharing a home with her when they’d only just begun exploring their relationship. But the idea stuck, taking root in his mind.
Before he could give it more thought, Pete pulled into a driveway, and Jeremy looked at the neat yard and the pale blue house with white trim. “Nice house.”
Pete shot him a knowing look, his grin sly. “Thinking of settling down, Pickett? Maybe a place like this with a certain medical examiner?”
Jeremy didn’t miss a beat, flipping his partner the bird as he opened the SUV door. “Shut it, Pete,” he muttered, though his ears burned as he climbed out.
Pete’s laughter followed him all the way to the front porch. Jeremy resisted the urge to roll his eyes, focusing instead on the woman who opened the door. Mary Harborrow greeted them warmly, her silver hair gleaming under the porch light. Her broad smile and sparkling eyes immediately put him at ease.
“Detectives, how nice to meet you,” she said, her voice bright and welcoming. “Please, come in.”
Jeremy followed Pete inside, relieved that they weren’t dealing with someone who resented their presence for once. The living room was cozy, with soft lighting and overstuffed chairs. Mary had even set out glasses of iced tea on the coffee table. She gestured for them to sit, settling herself into a comfortable armchair across from them.
“So, Detectives,” she began, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “How can I help you?”
Jeremy let Pete take the lead. “We’re investigating a series of incidents involving the elderly in the area,” Pete explained. “We’re trying to identify who might have had access to them—drivers, caretakers, anyone who might’ve come into regular contact.”
Mary’s eyes widened slightly, and she leaned forward, her expression curious. “Oh my. I see. Yes, of course, they do talk to us drivers when we take them to appointments or other activities.”
Pete nodded. “You mentioned you keep notes?”
Mary chuckled, reaching for a small notebook on the side table. “Yes, I do. It’s just a habit of mine to keep track of who gets a ride and when. I don’t mind you taking a look, but I’d appreciate having it back when you’re done.”
Jeremy smiled, taking the notebook from her hands. “Of course, ma’am. We’ll make sure it’s returned promptly.”
Mary settled back in her chair. “I drove for the past couple of years. My son, Jed, took over when I decided it was more than I could handle. In fact, he’s scheduled to take Mrs. Sarah Weldon to the dentist tomorrow morning. He’ll stop by here after he drops her off if you’d like to catch him.”
Jeremy glanced at Pete, then nodded. “We might try to catch him before he comes by. What time would you expect him?”
“Eleven o’clock,” Mary replied, her smile never faltering. “He’s a good boy, my Jed. Always willing to help. If you need to speak to him before he comes here, just let him know to call me. He knows I worry about him.”
They thanked her and made their way back to the SUV. As Pete backed out of the driveway, Jeremy flipped open the notebook, scanning the names and dates listed over the past six months. His brow furrowed as a pattern emerged.
“Damn,” he muttered. “Mary and Jed Harborrow have driven every one of our victims.”
Pete whistled low. “That’s something. You want to bring him in tomorrow or talk to him at his mom’s place?”
Jeremy considered it momentarily, his fingers tapping lightly against the notebook’s cover. “Let’s bring him in. We’ll meet him after he drops off Mrs. Weldon.”
“Sounds good. Maybe this is the break we’ve been waiting for.”
Jeremy nodded, his thoughts turning back to Cora for just a moment. He’d take whatever minor victories he could find—on the job or in the quiet moments he shared with her. Knowing the larger fight was still out there didn’t make the smaller wins less satisfying.