Chapter 11 June
JUNE
The sterile fluorescent lighting of Margo's hospital room cast harsh shadows across the pale green walls as June paced the small space between the bed and the window.
Her footsteps created a steady rhythm on the polished linoleum floor, the sound somehow both comforting and irritating in the oppressive quiet of the medical wing.
Margo lay unconscious on the narrow hospital bed, an oxygen mask covering the lower half of her face and various monitors tracking her vital signs with soft beeping sounds.
The steady rise and fall of her chest provided the only reassurance that she was going to be all right, but June couldn't shake the images of what she'd witnessed at the veterinary clinic just hours earlier.
Lucy was somewhere down the hallway, making her rounds and tending to a firefighter who had been injured while trying to force open the clinic's front door.
Dean was with Lacey in another room, and June had volunteered to stay with Margo so she wouldn't wake up alone and confused in an unfamiliar place.
But sitting still had proven impossible. June's mind was racing through everything she'd observed at the scene, trying to piece together the fragments of information she'd been able to gather while emergency responders worked to control the situation.
Unlike Dean, who had been able to get close to the building in his firefighter's gear, June had been kept at a safe distance by the police barriers. But she'd heard enough radio chatter and witnessed enough of the rescue operation to understand that this hadn't been a simple fire or accident.
Dean had mentioned that the clinic's front door had been barricaded from the outside. It wasn't so much the fire spreading that caused the rescue problems, but the gas inside the building that made it nearly impossible for the firefighters to gain safe entry.
Gas. Someone had deliberately gassed the veterinary clinic.
June found herself doing something she hadn't done since law school finals week, unconsciously chewing her thumbnail as she paced from the window to the foot of Margo's bed and back again.
The nervous habit was a throwback to her most stressful periods, and she forced herself to stop, folding her hands tightly together instead.
What on earth was happening in Sandpiper Shores? Her mind felt like it was spinning in circles, trying to make sense of the escalating pattern of attacks and incidents that had been building over the past week.
Initially, she'd been willing to consider that Victoria Morrison might be behind some of the harassment, driven by jealousy over Holt's attention or some twisted need to eliminate perceived threats to her relationship with Clive.
But this level of violence, this calculated attempt at what could only be described as murder, was far beyond anything a jealous woman might do out of romantic desperation.
Victoria might be capable of petty sabotage or intimidation, but gassing a building with people inside? Setting coordinated fires to block escape routes? That required a level of planning and ruthlessness that suggested something far more serious than personal vendetta.
So who was systematically targeting the people connected to their investigation?
June was now convinced that Lacey had been the primary target from the beginning.
The first incident, the car accident, might have been explained away as mistaken identity between the twin sisters.
But this attack on the clinic was different.
This was deliberate, coordinated, and specifically designed to eliminate both Lacey and Margo.
Once might be a coincidence. Twice was definitely a pattern.
June stopped pacing abruptly as Margo began to stir in the hospital bed, making soft sounds of confusion and distress. June immediately moved to the bedside, pulling the visitor's chair closer so she could reach out if Margo needed reassurance.
"Easy," June said softly as Margo's eyelids fluttered open. "You're safe now. You're in the hospital."
Margo tried to sit up immediately, her movements jerky and uncoordinated as consciousness returned and the memories of what had happened came flooding back. The oxygen mask had been removed at some point, and when she tried to speak, her voice came out as a harsh croak.
"Aunt Lacey," Margo managed to gasp, her eyes meeting June's with unmistakable desperation and panic shining in their depths. "Where is my Aunt Lacey?"
"She's fine," June said firmly, reaching out to gently press Margo back against the pillows.
"Lacey is fine, sweetheart. Dean is with her right now, and she's going to be perfectly okay.
Your mother will be here in just a minute.
She's attending to a few injured firefighters, but she'll be right in to check on you. "
The relief that flooded across Margo's face was so profound that June felt her own chest tighten with emotion. The young woman clearly adored her aunt, and the terror of not knowing Lacey's fate had been the first coherent thought to surface as she regained consciousness.
Margo sank back against the hospital pillows, her body going limp as the immediate panic subsided. But then she started coughing, a harsh sound that spoke to the damage the gas had done to her throat and respiratory system.
"Water," Margo whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please, I need water."
"Let me find out what you're allowed to have," June said, starting toward the door. "I'll go ask someone what would be safe for you to drink right now."
Before she could reach the doorway, Lucy appeared with the purposeful stride of a doctor who had been managing multiple medical emergencies simultaneously. She immediately crossed to the bed and gathered her daughter into a careful but heartfelt embrace.
"Oh, sweetheart, I’ve never been so scared in my life," Lucy murmured, her professional composure cracking slightly to reveal the frightened mother underneath. "I'm so glad you're awake. How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been breathing smoke and poison all evening," Margo replied with a weak attempt at humor. "And my throat feels like I swallowed sandpaper."
Lucy immediately began conducting a preliminary examination, checking Margo's pupils with a small flashlight and listening to her breathing with a stethoscope. Her movements were efficient and professional, but June could see the emotional undertone in every gesture.
"Isn't this against some sort of medical ethics code, you treating family?" Margo asked with a raspy laugh as her mother checked her pulse and blood pressure.
Lucy rolled her eyes and continued her examination without dignifying the question with a response. "Your vitals look good, and your oxygen levels are improving steadily. The important thing is that the firefighters got to you when they did."
"Can I get something to drink?" Margo asked hopefully. "I'm so thirsty I could drain a swimming pool."
"I have to go check on Lacey, who should be waking up any minute," Lucy replied, gathering her stethoscope and making notes on a tablet. "I'll send a nurse in with some ice chips, which will be easier on your throat than liquid right now."
She leaned down to kiss Margo's forehead with the tenderness of a mother who had come very close to losing her child. "I love you so much, and I'm incredibly grateful that you're okay."
Lucy turned to June and gave her a quick, fierce hug. "Thank you for staying with her. I can't tell you how much it means to me that she didn't have to wake up alone."
"Of course," June replied, understanding completely how she would feel if it were Willa in that hospital bed.
"I'll be back to check on you again soon," Lucy promised as she headed toward the door.
Before she could step into the hallway, Margo called out in her damaged voice, "When can I go home? I have to open the bakery tomorrow morning, and it’s delivery day at the inn tomorrow.”
Lucy turned back with the kind of expression that medical professionals perfected when dealing with patients who wanted to return to normal activity far too quickly after trauma.
"I'm not sure yet about discharge," she said with a slight smile. "Let me see how your breathing looks in a few hours, and we'll discuss it then."
"But the bakery—" Margo started to protest.
"The bakery will be fine. Now rest," Lucy said firmly before disappearing into the hallway.
"I can't stay here overnight," Margo said to June with obvious frustration as soon as her mother was out of earshot. "I have fresh bread orders for half the town tomorrow morning, and the Sandpiper Inn depends on my pastries for their continental breakfast service. There is just too much to do."
Before June could stop herself, the offer tumbled out of her mouth. "I could help you with the bakery tomorrow. Just tell me what needs to be done, and I'll handle whatever you can't manage from here."
"Oh, I couldn't impose on you like that," Margo protested, though June could see the temptation in her eyes. "You don't know anything about commercial baking, and some of those orders are quite specific."
"I insist," June said with determination. "Besides, it's not like I have a job to go to anymore now that the vet clinic can’t open." She immediately winced at her own words. "Sorry, that was probably too soon to joke about."
Margo laughed, which triggered another coughing fit, but she was smiling when she managed to speak again. "My throat is on fire," she admitted just as a nurse appeared in the doorway.
"Dr. Tanner will be back in about twenty minutes to do another evaluation," the nurse said cheerfully, carrying a small plastic cup filled with ice chips.
She began taking Margo's vital signs again while talking, and this time, checking her throat.
"These should help with the throat irritation, but go slowly with them.
You don't want to overwhelm your system. "
“I was just checked out by my mother,” Margo complained.