Fatal Reunion. Jessica R. Patch

Extract

       Copyright

       ONE

      “Tell me she’s still alive.” Piper Kennedy gripped Harmony’s hand as they rushed down the halls of Baptist Memorial East. The drive from Jackson, Mississippi, to Memphis had been eternal. The thought of losing her grandmother sickened Piper. Not Mama Jean. “This is all my fault.”

      “It’s not your fault. I knew you’d think that. Eventually, you’re going to have to stop looking over your shoulder. It’s over.” Harmony wrapped an arm around Piper as they made their way to the ICU. She’d always been a good friend even when they were up to trouble.

      But Piper wasn’t so sure things were over. Chaz Michaels hadn’t been found, and hadn’t turned up, since that last job they did ten years ago, the day after he’d threatened to kill her if she walked away. Her plans to escape that life had backfired, and the person she’d loved most had been caught in the cross fire. Piper had been waiting—and watching—every day for Chaz’s payback. Looked as though it might have come tonight.

      “And yes, she’s alive. I think they’d at least tell me if things went wrong in surgery, family or not.”

      Piper’s insides did a gold-medal-worthy gymnastic routine. She should’ve never left Memphis and Mama Jean. Too many regrets. Too much pain.

      They turned left down the hall toward the ICU; a wave of antiseptic burned Piper’s nose. “What could Mama Jean have worth stealing?”

      Harmony grunted. “I think that boarder of hers may have had something valuable...or drugs.”

      Piper frowned. She loved Mama Jean, but she never thought taking in boarders was smart. Guess Mama Jean thought if she couldn’t help her own daughter, she might as well try someone else.

      “Maybe. When Mama Jean’s pastor called, he said the guy had been murdered. Looked like a burglary gone wrong.” The irony that she’d been robbed didn’t fall short of Piper’s attention. “I’m just thankful Mama Jean’s life was spared. Maybe they thought she was dead.” Piper shivered.

      They reached the nurse’s station. “I’m Piper Kennedy. Here to see Jean Kennedy. I’m her granddaughter.”

      “She’s just out of surgery. Have a seat. Coffee in that room to your right. We’ll call you when you can see her.” The nurse smiled and returned to her charts.

      “I’ll get us some coffee. You sit tight.” Harmony handed her a magazine. “She’s strong.”

      “Harm, you don’t think... I mean...we...”

      Harmony gave a confident shake of her head. “Not a chance. We’ve been out of that sick world a long time. We don’t owe or have any money. My bank account will testify to that.” She chuckled. “This is in no way connected to us.”

      “But what if Chaz is—”

      “He’s not. End of story.” Harmony headed for the coffee room while Piper flipped open the magazine, then chucked it on the table beside the chair. She wrenched her canvas jacket around her. April in Memphis was chilly, and the hospital kept the rooms cold.

      A few families huddled together. A man with dark hair and a black leather jacket nosed through a golf magazine. Piper had no family to lean on while she waited. No one but Harmony.

      “Piper Kennedy?”

      Piper raised her head. “That’s me.”

      A nurse motioned for her. “You can see her now.” She led Piper through the halls. “She’s asleep. Surgery went well.”

      Doctors shuffled in and out of patient rooms. Monitors beeped, and with every step, Piper’s chest constricted. “Can you tell me what happened?”

      “I don’t know details of the circumstances that led to her injuries, but she received a gash on the back of her head. Her arm is broken in two places, and the femur is fractured.”

      Piper’s eyes burned. Who would harm an innocent old woman? People she used to call friends. Bile rose in her throat. The nurse opened the door and Piper froze.

      Her gaze flitted past Mama Jean to the man standing over her bed. Time had put a few crinkles around his blue eyes. Piper wasn’t close enough to see the flecks of green, but memory told her they’d be there. His hair was a little shorter now and a shade darker with a touch of gray at his temples. Too young to have gray but it worked for him. Piper’s stomach somersaulted, and she forced herself to breathe. Did he still despise her? Think about her?

      The suffering in Luke Ransom’s narrowed eyes—from that last night ten years ago—mirrored hers. He straightened his broad shoulders. Large and in charge. As always. Piper switched her attention to Mama Jean, lying feeble in the hospital bed. She shuffled closer and held her limp, wrinkled hand.

      Piper should have moved her out of the old East Memphis neighborhood a long time ago. She’d let Mama Jean down. A fresh streak of shame flamed over her. Like a branding iron to her bones.

      Luke stepped back and remained silent. Was he assessing Piper or simply giving her a moment to take in the sight before her? If history was any indicator, he was doing both. Always was considerate.

      After kissing Mama Jean’s hand and swallowing back the burning lump, she faced him. A flash of something flickered in his eyes, but Piper couldn’t be sure what it was. She fought the urge to take his hand for comfort, as she’d done so many times before.

      “What are you doing in here?” Piper needed to control this conversation and hope it didn’t lead to the past.

      “I wanted to make sure she was okay. When she wakes, I’ll have questions.” He cleared his throat. “I have a few questions for you.”

      “What could you possibly want to ask me? I just got here.” Piper had no answers but a slew of her own questions.

      Luke’s throat bobbed, and he swung his gaze across Mama Jean’s face. He’d always been fond of her, and Mama Jean had always adored him.

      “Did you know Christopher Baxter?”

      Piper shook her head. “Should I?”

      “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.” His jaw twitched. Was this as uncomfortable for him as it was for her?

      She never thought she’d see him again and especially not the second she blew into town. “I never met him. I haven’t been home in...” Dropping her head, Piper focused on the starched white sheet covering Mama Jean’s body. “Since—”

      “Fine.” The word was clipped. “Take a look.” Luke held out a photo of a young man, early twenties. Curly brown hair. “Familiar?”

      “No,” she rasped. “How did he die?”

      “Blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Much like Mama—like your grandmother’s injury. Several bruises indicate he fought back.”

      Piper compelled herself to stare Luke in the eye. He didn’t have the clean-shaven look anymore, or maybe he simply hadn’t shaved. The stubble covered the dimple on his chin. “What do you think they were after?”

      Luke shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t investigate thefts anymore. I’m here about Christopher’s murder. Homicide.”

      Piper nodded once. Guess they’d both abandoned anything to do with theft. “What do you know about him?”

      “I know he has a background in armed robbery and that he’s been in rehab twice. But the pastor from Jean’s church says he’s been clean for the last eighteen months. I also know it’s easy to be deceived, so I won’t believe it until I see the