Read Online Heaven Preserve Us by Cricket McRae - Free Book Online
Authors: Cricket McRae
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Detective and Mystery Stories, Mystery Fiction, Large Type Books, Washington (State), Women Artisans, Soap Trade
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I could hear the subtle whoosh of the machines all
around him, noted the tubes snaking into his nose, the IV dripping clear liquid into his arm. He looked up at me with a weak,
but sardonic, grin.
"What?" I said.
He shook his head a fraction. "I'm glad you're here."
"Me, too. What happened?"
"Don't know."
"What do the doctors say?"
"Don't know."
"You don't know what they say?"
"No. They don't know what's wrong with me."
My anxiety ratcheted up another degree. I pulled a chair up to
the edge of the bed and took hold of Barr's hand. "Sergeant Zahn
said you were dizzy?"
He closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. "Wasn't feeling
too hot at Heaven House tonight. Got worse."
A nurse walked in. "We should get some of the tests back
within the hour," she said, but I put my finger to my lips and nodded toward Barr, whose eyes were still shut. As I stroked his arm
some of the strain flowed out of his face and he slept.
"Visiting hours are long over," the nurse said in a low voice.
"I'm his girlfriend," I whispered. "I'd like to stay for a while."
"It really is best for him if you leave and come back in the
morning."
Philip had been ill in the morning and dead in the afternoon.
"But-" I raised my voice, and Barr stirred in bed.
"Please"
Frowning, I stood up. "How can you not know what's wrong
with him?" I whispered.
She hesitated, then gestured for me to follow her out to the hallway. At the nurses' station she turned, her eyes moving over my face
as if she were trying to read something there. Finally she spoke.
"Most of the tests they're running right now are to exclude
other diagnoses. If those come up negative, we think your man in
there had contact with botulism toxin."
Botulism?
I knitted my fingers together. "That's serious, right? It could kill
him."
"It can be very, very serious. But, if that's what it is, he seems to
have had relatively minor exposure, and the antitoxin is already on
its way from the CDC."
Stunned, I stammered out, "There was another man brought in
this morning." I looked at my watch. "Yesterday morning, I guess.
And then he died in the afternoon. Philip Heaven. He had many of
the same symptoms. Was that botulism, too?"
Her eyebrows arched. "I don't know. But I'll certainly look into
it. What was his name again?"
I repeated it, and she wrote it down. Then she smiled at me. "If
you're worried Mr. Ambrose is going to die overnight, you can stop.
If it's botulism poisoning, he'll make a full recovery eventually."
"And if it's not?"
She looked earnestly into my eyes. "Then you'll deal with that
when we know more. But for tonight he needs his rest, and it looks
like you do, too. If you stay, I'll have to insist you remain in the
waiting room anyway. Go home. He won't even know you're gone."
No woman wants to hear those last words, but she was probably right. What else could I do but leave?
I wasn't proud of the tiny flicker of relief I felt as I exited the
hospital into the fresh night air.
EIGHT
AFTER A FEW FALSE turns, I found my way out of the hospital
parking garage and back to the highway to Cadyville. I suddenly
understood what the phrase "sick at heart" felt like in real time.
It was late, but when I got home I found Meghan dozing on
the couch, a copy of MFK Fisher's How to Cook a Wolf open on
her lap.
I'd completely forgotten to call her.
A small fire crackled in the fireplace, and the room smelled of
cedar and cloves. Light jazz played at low volume on the stereo. It
was a wonderful atmosphere to walk into, welcoming and homey.
I struggled not to burst into tears.
Meghan started awake. "Oh! I didn't hear you come in." Alarm
flooded her features as her eyes met mine. "Is Barr okay?"
I shucked out of my jacket. "I think so."
She seemed to relax a little. "What happened?"
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
"Honey, what's wrong?" She got up and came over to me, put
her arms around my shoulders, and gave
around him, noted the tubes snaking into his nose, the IV dripping clear liquid into his arm. He looked up at me with a weak,
but sardonic, grin.
"What?" I said.
He shook his head a fraction. "I'm glad you're here."
"Me, too. What happened?"
"Don't know."
"What do the doctors say?"
"Don't know."
"You don't know what they say?"
"No. They don't know what's wrong with me."
My anxiety ratcheted up another degree. I pulled a chair up to
the edge of the bed and took hold of Barr's hand. "Sergeant Zahn
said you were dizzy?"
He closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. "Wasn't feeling
too hot at Heaven House tonight. Got worse."
A nurse walked in. "We should get some of the tests back
within the hour," she said, but I put my finger to my lips and nodded toward Barr, whose eyes were still shut. As I stroked his arm
some of the strain flowed out of his face and he slept.
"Visiting hours are long over," the nurse said in a low voice.
"I'm his girlfriend," I whispered. "I'd like to stay for a while."
"It really is best for him if you leave and come back in the
morning."
Philip had been ill in the morning and dead in the afternoon.
"But-" I raised my voice, and Barr stirred in bed.
"Please"
Frowning, I stood up. "How can you not know what's wrong
with him?" I whispered.
She hesitated, then gestured for me to follow her out to the hallway. At the nurses' station she turned, her eyes moving over my face
as if she were trying to read something there. Finally she spoke.
"Most of the tests they're running right now are to exclude
other diagnoses. If those come up negative, we think your man in
there had contact with botulism toxin."
Botulism?
I knitted my fingers together. "That's serious, right? It could kill
him."
"It can be very, very serious. But, if that's what it is, he seems to
have had relatively minor exposure, and the antitoxin is already on
its way from the CDC."
Stunned, I stammered out, "There was another man brought in
this morning." I looked at my watch. "Yesterday morning, I guess.
And then he died in the afternoon. Philip Heaven. He had many of
the same symptoms. Was that botulism, too?"
Her eyebrows arched. "I don't know. But I'll certainly look into
it. What was his name again?"
I repeated it, and she wrote it down. Then she smiled at me. "If
you're worried Mr. Ambrose is going to die overnight, you can stop.
If it's botulism poisoning, he'll make a full recovery eventually."
"And if it's not?"
She looked earnestly into my eyes. "Then you'll deal with that
when we know more. But for tonight he needs his rest, and it looks
like you do, too. If you stay, I'll have to insist you remain in the
waiting room anyway. Go home. He won't even know you're gone."
No woman wants to hear those last words, but she was probably right. What else could I do but leave?
I wasn't proud of the tiny flicker of relief I felt as I exited the
hospital into the fresh night air.
EIGHT
AFTER A FEW FALSE turns, I found my way out of the hospital
parking garage and back to the highway to Cadyville. I suddenly
understood what the phrase "sick at heart" felt like in real time.
It was late, but when I got home I found Meghan dozing on
the couch, a copy of MFK Fisher's How to Cook a Wolf open on
her lap.
I'd completely forgotten to call her.
A small fire crackled in the fireplace, and the room smelled of
cedar and cloves. Light jazz played at low volume on the stereo. It
was a wonderful atmosphere to walk into, welcoming and homey.
I struggled not to burst into tears.
Meghan started awake. "Oh! I didn't hear you come in." Alarm
flooded her features as her eyes met mine. "Is Barr okay?"
I shucked out of my jacket. "I think so."
She seemed to relax a little. "What happened?"
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
"Honey, what's wrong?" She got up and came over to me, put
her arms around my shoulders, and gave
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