Chapter 23
Owen sat by the bed, watching over Leslie. He glanced at the time. Where did Dillon go for this doctor? Leslie lay too still for his liking. Her skin seemed as pale as the sheets on the bed.
Rising, he picked up the cluttered floor where someone rifled through the drawers and closets, throwing everything out. Owen needed something to distract him as he worried about his little brother and his son. What did his dad do to put them all in danger?
Dillon entered with a brown-haired, brown-eyed woman, still in a doctor’s coat.
She rushed to the bed, placed her bag on the floor, and took Leslie’s vitals.
Owen saw her check the wound, and her brows furrowed as she concentrated on it.
Taking out a swab, she scraped along the edges and put it in a glass container.
“We’ll need to start IV antibiotics, and she needs stitches. Has she come to at all?” she asked Owen.
“When I put her in the bath, she woke up for ten minutes. She didn’t like the cold water,” he informed her.
Placing a plastic sheet under Leslie’s arm, she took items from her bag and cleaned the cut, stitched it closed, and added an ointment.
“Dillon, set up the portable IV pole. She’ll need fluids, too. I’m Charlotte, by the way. You must be Owen,” she greeted as she worked.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry. Dillon hasn’t told me about you. What do you do exactly?” he asked, glancing at his brother.
“I’m a Nurse Practitioner and working on my MD. When did she last have anything for the fever?”
“The boys gave her acetaminophen about two and a half hours ago. Maybe three. I’ve lost track,” he admitted, running his hand over his hair.
“It’s fine. I expected to find her in worse condition than Dillon’s description,” Charlotte said, taking her temperature again. “We’ll start here. We waited for the CBC results. She definitely has an infection. I have everything I need. Do you have the money?”
Owen glanced at Dillon. “I’m not sure about the arrangement my brother made with you.”
“It’s a thousand dollars up front plus supplies,” Charlotte said, waiting for her payment.
Owen took out his wallet and counted out the cash. “How much for the supplies?”
“Eight hundred fifty,” Charlotte said without blinking.
“You mean to tell me it costs one thousand eight hundred fifty for the five minutes you checked her out and stitched her up?” Owen asked, raising his brow at her.
Charlotte pulled out the IV bag, a needle, and the tubing. “Don’t forget the antibiotics and the IV. Plus, I charged an extra five hundred for Dillon standing me up on a date.”
“He doesn’t live around here,” Owen exclaimed.
“It happened in high school. I’m known for holding grudges. I did a favor for you. It’s a steal, and I’m legit,” Charlotte reasoned.
“Yeah, you’re legit. Then why do you insist on charging me for a date he missed in high school?” Owen said sarcastically.
“You can add an extra hundred for the sarcasm. I dropped studying to rush this,” she argued.
“Dillon, I’m not paying for your lack of manners. Although I’m beginning to wonder if you made the right choice,” he muttered.
Dillon handed her some cash. “What if she gets worse?”
“Then, I suggest you visit the ATM first,” she said, stuffing the money in her bra. Taking an alcohol swab, she cleaned Leslie’s arm and started the IV. A few minutes later, she administered the antibiotic.
“I’m taking my books downstairs to study. Call me if she worsens or wakes,” she told Owen.
“Did you include it in your cost?”
She grinned cheekily. “It depends on what you’re having for dinner.”
When she left, Owen turned to his brother. “Where in the hell did you find her?”
“She’s here, isn’t she?” Dillon shot back.
“Forgive me while I question the sanity of you bringing your ex-girlfriend to work on mine,” he bit out.
“It’s the best idea. Charlotte won’t tell a soul, and she’s good. I’ve visited her a few times when I found myself in a scrape,” Dillon informed him. “Leslie’s like a sister to me. I’m not risking her with a stranger.”
“Fine,” Owen acquiesced. “For your sake, she’d better be good.”
Owen’s cell rang from across the room, and he turned to answer it. Taking the opportunity, Dillon slipped out quietly.
“Hello,” he greeted as he stared down at Leslie.
“Hello. I’m Sheila Cunningham, Dr. Harrison’s secretary. He wanted to let you know he released your father’s body to the funeral home. You’re welcome to pick up the death certificate,” she informed him.
“I thought he said it might take another week or two,” he said, surprised to hear the news.
“As you know, it’s a small town. It didn’t take him long to finish his examination,” she explained.
“May I ask what he listed as the cause of death?” Owen asked, already knowing the answer.
“It’s listed as a heart attack,” she informed him. “The funeral home will expect your call concerning the arrangements. Do you have their number?”
“Thank you. I have it,” he said, hanging up the call.
Tucking the pillow under Leslie’s arm, Owen went downstairs to talk to his brothers.
Mason sat on the couch while Wyatt nursed a glass of Whiskey, making Owen frown at Dillon and Cade, who set the table for dinner.
Charlotte sat on the floor with her legs folded under her, highlighting something in her book with earphones, jamming to music.
Nodding for his brothers to meet him in the study, Owen checked on the boys, watching TV.
“I heard from the coroner’s office. They finished their report and released Dad’s body,” he told them as Dillon closed the door. “I’ll call the funeral director to set up a date for us to make arrangements. They claim he died from a heart attack.”
“You don’t believe them,” Dillon said, leaning against the bookcase.
“No, I don’t. I haven’t introduced you formally to Conner and Tucker,” Owen said.
“I don’t know what Leslie has told them other than she made an excuse to explain why I didn’t come to see him.
When we’re finished, I want to talk to Tucker alone and then introduce all of you to our little brother.
At some point, we’ll have to decide what’s best for him.
Then, we’ll need to see how to handle Dad’s death. ”
“What will we do?” Cade asked. “If the coroner ruled it a heart attack, how can we prove him wrong?”
Dillon disappeared and a minute later, he returned with Charlotte.
“How can we have another autopsy done without alerting anyone?” he asked her once he shut the door.
She mulled it over for a minute. “What do you believe happened to him?”
“We have no idea. My dad drank until a year after my mom’s death.
Then, I know he changed his ways. Even drunk, he hiked this mountain in his sleep.
I don’t believe he suffered a heart attack and hit his head on a rock.
It’s too convenient. Then we have an intruder at Leslie’s, and men on the mountain searching the trails,” Owen pointed out.
She tapped her cheek and then gazed at each of them with her big, brown eyes. “I have a couple of friends. They know how to perform autopsies. If we can get access to the coroner’s report, we can confirm or rule out any false information.”
“Dad’s at the funeral home,” Owen said. “How can you do an autopsy?”
“In Colorado, next of kin can request a separate autopsy. You don’t need to make it a secret,” Charlotte said.
“You left the mountain. It’s obvious you haven’t heard the town gossip.
Half the town believes Leslie will inherit the mountain.
After all, she has Tucker and raised Conner.
Jeremiah loved her like a daughter. The other half believes you’ll show up like vultures demanding a portion of the proceeds.
Of course, you don’t know because the lawyer needs you together before he can read the will. ”
“How do you know?” Owen asked.
“There’s a local bar, and every Friday night, Attorney Williby likes to have a couple of drinks and boast how he knows more about the Wolfe Family than anyone else.
People buy him free drinks, hoping he’ll spill the beans.
Tonight, you need to have a public fight, and one of you will demand a private autopsy. ”
“How much will it cost me?” Owen muttered.
“Six grand,” she said, flashing a no-nonsense smile.
“What the… What does it get me?” Owen growled.
“Two grand each for my friends, five hundred to expedite it, plus the supplies,” she said thoughtfully.
“And how much will they cost me?” Owen asked, seeing the glint in her eyes.
“They’ll run about another five hundred,” she admitted.
“If I’m adding correctly, it comes out to five grand,” Owen said, smiling, catching on to her little game.
“Duh, the other grand belongs to me for Dillon starting a rumor in gym class, we slept together.”
Sighing, he leaned over and punched Dillon in the arm. “You’re paying her the grand.”
“How do you know I started the rumor?” Dillon asked, challenging her.
“Because I caught you watching me skinny dipping in Old Man Grover’s pond. The next day, the rumors started about you sleeping with me and mentioning my strawberry birthmark.”
“It proves nothing,” he said vehemently. “You can’t tack on fees for something which happened years ago,” he denied.
“You only wished for a chance with me,” Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “I never liked cliques, and you tried too hard to fit in with the popular crowd. I liked you before you manufactured the ginormous lie.”
Dillon seemed uncomfortable as he took out his wallet and counted out the bills. “Does anyone have another fifty?” he asked, holding up the cash.
“It’ll do for now,” she said, stuffing the funds inside her bra. “I’ll call my friends. The faster they claim his body, the better chance we have to collect evidence.”
She walked out of the office with her ponytail swinging behind her. “I’m checking on my patient. Whoever’s in charge of cooking, the chicken’s burning.”
Mason cursed and ran from the room. Smoke filled the hallway as Owen shook his head.