Lost Souls (A Caitlyn O’Connell Novel) (6 page)

“Think I’m a rookie? I wasn’t gonna let anyone go until they’d been questioned.”

“But I think they need to stay at the hotel even after they’re questioned. Just not anywhere near 323.”

“Fine.” He gave a crisp nod and his gaze narrowed. “I’ll get uniforms going room to room. Anything other than the usual you want them to ask?”

“I need to know whether they’ve ever detected odd smells and where. Also, have any been living or working here long? That’s all I can think of.” She pushed up again. “I need to go…”

Sam and the EMT pushed her back down. “We’ll handle it,” Sam said, his voice firm. “You’re going to the hospital to be checked out.”

“No time,” she croaked with a shake of her head.

“Cait, now’s not the time to get stubborn.” His eyes flashed. “You need a mirror. You look like hell.”

She pushed out her lower lip. “I’ll get a brush.”

Sam stood and fisted both his hands on his hips. “Do I have to sit on you in the ambulance to make sure you behave?”

Her face felt tight, but she managed to wrinkle her nose. “You’re not the boss of me.”

A glint of heat sparked in his eyes. “Sometimes, I am.”

She laughed, and then moaned, because the sharp action hurt her diaphragm enough to reconsider. “All right,
but don’t leave me there long. I’ll need a ride to wherever we’re headed next.”

His eyebrows formed a single disapproving line. “If they release you, you’re going straight home.”

Rather than argue the point, she clamped her lips tight. And he expected full disclosure? Soon as her feet hit the floor at the hospital, she had an errand to run. If he didn’t want to accompany her, it was just his tough luck. This investigation had been blown wide open. Even though she’d seen plenty of strange shit, this one was beyond her level of expertise.

Too bad he was playing the heavy. She would have liked having his support when she sought out the one man who might shed some light on what they were facing.

But then again, maybe going alone was just as well. The last time she’d seen Morin, they’d both been naked and locked in an embrace. Something Sam hadn’t liked one little bit.

“Any more arguments?” This came from the EMT. His green eyes danced with humor.

Did this handsome wannabe doctor think he was going to play boss like Sam?

She gave him a withering glance, but maybe her face wasn’t working right because he didn’t even flinch.

Just great. All out of mean, and aching head to toe, she lay back and let herself be lifted onto a gurney, Sam watching all the while, his laser-blue eyes glinting with satisfaction.

She’d let him have his moment. Hell, she was too tired to fight. Her body ached, and her eyelids felt like they weighed a couple of pounds each. On the ride to the emergency room, she’d take a nap. Then all bets were off.

When next she opened her eyes, Cait stifled a sharp gasp.

An old woman with slate-gray hair and a wart on her nose stood over her bed, staring down.

Ignoring her for the moment, Cait gave her surroundings a quick glance. She was in a treatment room at Methodist University Hospital. A place she’d visited too often in the last few months not to be intimately familiar with. Same sterile walls and cabinets. Same hard foam mattress on a narrow cot. Same glaring fluorescent lights above. The astringent smell of rubbing alcohol was oddly reassuring.

A faint beeping sounded beside her, and she turned her head, still ignoring the woman standing beside her bed. The beeping must have had something to do with the wires running from the machine and attached to her chest with stickers. Were they running an EKG?

She glanced back at the old woman, whose rheumy brown eyes blinked in surprise but then quickly narrowed.

“You the ghost whisperer Gladys Digby was talkin’ about?”

Ghost whisperer? Digby? That name rang a bell. Cait’s senses sharpened, and she pushed up on her elbows to give the nosy woman a scowl. This time her expression succeeded because the other woman leaned away. Her shoulder passed through the IV stand.

Another question answered. “Is this Gladys five feet tall, with white hair, and pushing an oxygen cart? Dead as a doorknob?”

The old woman folded her thick arms over her substantial belly. She was dressed in a faded green hospital gown, no robe. Cait hoped she’d remembered to close the ties in the back.

“That’s her.” The grumpy woman nodded. “Haven’t seen her since she left with that blond cutie. She find her house?”

“I assume so. I’ve been a little too busy to go check. But my partner Jason drove her home.”

The woman’s scowl deepened. “I’m asking because her husband Frank’s here and I haven’t seen Gladys. Worried about the dingbat. She forgets things on account of the Alzheimer’s.”

“Frank’s here?” Well, damn. She’d thought she was done with the elderly dead woman she’d dubbed “Miss Daisy.” Eyeing the ghostly menace beside her, she asked, “There something you expect me to do about it?”

A curt nod expanded the woman’s double chin. “Find her. You’re a detective, ain’t ya?”

Cait wondered if she fluttered her eyelashes and pretended to faint whether the woman would leave her in peace. But the stubborn set of her jaw and hawkish glare
told her that the ghost standing next to her hospital bed wouldn’t be fooled. Cait sighed. “What room is Frank in?”

“They have him in the ICU. Old fart’s not gonna make it. Gladys should be here.”

She remembered something Miss Daisy had told her about a pushy woman who guarded the most critical patients. “By chance, you wouldn’t be Mrs. Klein, would you?”

“That’s me. Been here thirty years now. Gladys mentioned me?”

The old woman’s widened eyes held a note of hope, and Cait’s irritation faded. Mrs. Klein missed her friend. “She did. She said you were an angel of mercy, ringing the bells when the comatose patients couldn’t do it for themselves.”

Mrs. Klein sniffed, and then shored up her expression, lifting her chin. “I’d like to hire you. To find her, that is.” When Cait raised an eyebrow, she continued. “Can’t pay you, of course, but I’ll owe you a favor. Someday, you might need one.”

The number of times she’d been in the emergency room these past months, Cait didn’t doubt her. “I’ll find Gladys. But I have something else I have to take care of first. Will you mind Frank in the meantime?”

“I’ve been hovering over the old goat, waitin’ for him to pass. If he does, I’ll make sure he stays planted.”

Cait flipped off the blanket covering her legs, then, at the cool breeze on her skin, quickly pulled it back over her. They’d taken her pants. Shit.

“Your clothes are in the third cupboard,” Mrs. Klein said, pointing.

Cait pulled the stickers off her chest and then sat on the edge of her bed, keeping the white sheet covering her hips
and thighs while she removed the IV from her arm. At the sting, she winced and sucked in a breath.

Mrs. Klein chuckled. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“You try getting electrocuted. Everything hurts.” And her body did. All her muscles felt stiff and achy. Her head throbbed. She pushed off the bed and hobbled to the cupboard, relieved to find her clothing neatly folded in a clear plastic bag. She dressed quickly, and then went to the treatment room door, which she pushed open a crack.

“Coast is clear,” Mrs. Klein barked in her ear.

“Shhh!” Cait turned her head, shooting her a glare.

“Like anyone’s gonna hear me? And why should you care if they see you? You’re perfectly within your rights to leave.”

“Have to check no one’s here to make sure I stay put,” she muttered.

But the hallway was indeed empty of people. She slid out the door and made her way to the exit doors. Just as she pressed on the round automatic door button, she heard someone
tsk
behind her.

She angled her head to look behind her and saw the EMT who’d been at the hotel standing there. The exit doors closed again with a hiss.

“Something tells me you didn’t bother waiting for a doctor to give you the all clear.”

“What’s it to you?” she snarled grumpily. “Gonna narc on me?”

His green gaze swept her frame. “Don’t think it’s me you have to worry about. Your detective friend looked pretty mean.”

Cait rolled her eyes. “Don’t suppose you’re on your way out of here?”

“I am. Whatcha need?”

“Can you drop me off somewhere?”

“Only if it’s on my route.”

“Anywhere but here would suit me just fine.”

“Figured that.” He grinned and reached past her to hit the button again to open the door. “After you?”

She glanced at his brass nameplate. “Thanks, Bradley.”

“First name’s Eddie. Have a feeling we’re gonna be on a first-name basis,” he murmured, still smiling.

She followed him to his truck and climbed into the cab. “Anywhere near a trolley stand will be fine.”

He started the engine. “No one said, back at the hotel, but how’d you manage to get yourself electrocuted?”

Cait smiled. “A demon living in the walls of the hotel hit me.”

“Uh-huh. I can see why he wanted to sit on you all the way to the hospital. He your boyfriend?”

One look, and she knew he was angling to find out if she was available. Which had her reaching for her hair. It was still poofed out like she’d stuck a finger in a light socket. “You always this flirty?”

“Only when the girl’s a spitfire.”

She laughed and turned to watch the streets they passed.

When she neared the trolley stop on Union, she tapped the dashboard. “You can drop me here.”

“Got cash for the trolley?”

Her brows lowered, and she felt in her pockets. Her wallet was gone. So were her keys.

“Boyfriend took them. I think maybe he was trying to make sure you stayed put.” Eddie fished into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed her a five. “Now you owe me. Meet me for drinks sometime?”

Cait sucked in a deep breath. Rather than the setdown the situation called for, she found herself saying, “I like O’Malley’s. If I see you there sometime, I’ll buy you a drink.”

He gave her a lopsided smile as she scooted off the seat to the pavement.

As his vehicle pulled away, she wondered what the hell she’d just done. Last thing she needed was an excuse to drink. But maybe that was the point. She wasn’t ready to quit. Although she’d been sober for almost two months, she wasn’t past wanting a drink. The smell of rubbing alcohol assailed her again, and she ran a hand over the skin exposed above the edge of her tank. The smell intensified.

Maybe when this case was over, she’d treat herself. One last swig of her favorite scotch. Eddie wouldn’t rag on her about it.

But the image of Sam’s stern expression shimmered into her mind. The thought of disappointing him again, of giving him a good reason not to trust her, caused a welling up of guilt that ate at her stomach.

She needed something to eat. That was all this burning was.

Sam closed his phone and cussed. Cait had escaped the hospital. Not that he was truly surprised, but they were supposed to be working this case together. He had every right to keep tabs on where she was and what she was doing. He’d have to sign off on her time sheet.

Or at least that was the excuse he made to himself for his irritation. She’d been buzzed, knocked right on her ass. Her
instinct might have her running to a bar for a stiff scotch—for medicinal purposes, he was sure.

“Don’t tell me. Cait disappear?”

Sam aimed a glare at Jason, who sat beside him at the long scarred metal table in the break room where they’d been interviewing a steady stream of hotel guests. So far, they hadn’t come across anyone who’d seen
or smelled
anything. He tapped the last names on the list Mr. Lewis, the hotel manager, had given him. The Reel PIs crew.

This ought to be good.

“Hey, if you want to go find her, I can handle this.”

Feeling edgy, Sam almost agreed. But he decided he’d see this through, then go hunt her down. He’d give her just enough rope. Someday he’d have to learn to trust her again or they’d never work as a couple. Sam didn’t dare let his imagination roam any further than that. Memories of their marriage, of their constant fighting about her drinking and the secrets she kept, had left him feeling pretty hollow for a long, long time. Being back in her life now, he was satisfied taking their relationship slow.