Code of Justice. Liz Johnson

fog had lifted in her brain, and she was able to quickly take account of the situation.

      The beeping monitor to her left and firm pillow beneath her head told her she was still in the hospital. Her leg still ached from the surgery.

      Her shoulder felt significantly more normal than it had the last time she was awake, and a quick rotation provided only a minor twinge.

      And the burning in her arm was gone. It tingled a little bit, but she couldn’t be sure that wasn’t just a memory of the pain of whatever had been injected into her arm.

      All seemed normal. Now. But it hadn’t been that way.

      Before.

      How long had she been asleep? When had that homeless man been in her room? What had he done to her? And why had she been his target?

      Why hadn’t she responded better? Years of training had gone down the tubes with a little bit of pain medication that made her feel blurry. She’d been useless. Like she had been during the crash.

      A phone rang, and a hand pulled out of hers. Had someone been holding her hand? She turned her hand over, squeezing it into a loose fist, trying to recall the shape and size of the absent hand.

      From the far corner of the room, came a deep voice. She recognized it, but couldn’t place it.

      “Nate?” she called, while trying to pry her heavy lids apart.

      The voice ended suddenly before resuming by her side. “No. It’s not Nate. It’s Jeremy.”

      Finally her eyes opened, and she looked into a handsome, if only moderately familiar, face. She’d definitely seen him before, but where? Suddenly a wheezing cough racked her body. He reached for a glass and held the straw to her lips, so she could greedily sip at it. When she finally leaned back, he put the cup back on the table and scooted a chair closer to the bed.

      “Jeremy Latham,” he said, reading the confusion in her eyes. “I’m a deputy with the Multnomah County Sheriff’s Office.”

      “Have we met before? You look so familiar.”

      He shook his head. “I’ve been here a couple times, but you’ve always been out. Except last time.”

      “When the homeless man was here.” It was a statement, not a question, as the veil covering that memory finally lifted. She nodded slowly, but it was like trying to put a puzzle together with missing pieces. She’d lost hours…maybe even days. “When was that?”

      He bit the corner of his mouth and leaned forward over his knees. “Two days ago.”

      “And I haven’t been awake since then?”

      “No.” His dark curls bounced as his head moved, but his eyes remained steeled against whatever he had to say next. And she was certain there was more to come. As silence reigned, she waited. He didn’t move, only stared at her with that unwavering gaze.

      “So why have you been coming to see me?” A swift glance at the window proved the sun had set long before. “And after visiting hours, I’d guess.” A longer look at the window, and she realized that her neck was free of the annoying brace she’d been wearing since the crash. She tested her strength and mobility with a couple of gentle stretches.

      “Are you stiff?” he asked.

      “Not too bad, actually.” She glared at him, then looked away, still testing the strength of her neck. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

      He followed her gaze toward the opposite wall, as a frown punctuated his mouth. “I guess it is getting late.”

      “You obviously know who I am, so you must know what I do. What do you want with me?”

      He tugged on the hair at his temples, his forehead wrinkling. His eyes moved back and forth, looking for anything else to focus on. “Well, as I said, I’m with the sheriff’s department.” He pulled out the badge attached to his belt. Probably a force of habit for him like it was for her. “I’m investigating the PNW Tourism helicopter crash.”

      Now it was her turn to avoid the topic at hand. “What did that man put in my IV? It burned.”

      “I know.”

      “How do you know?”

      His dark brown eyes softened. “I heard you screaming.”

      Heat rose up her neck, and she brought her hand up to her cheek to cover the embarrassing blush. How could she have been so weak? Trying desperately to change the subject, she asked again, “So what was it?”

      “That, I don’t know. The doctors wouldn’t tell me much. As best I can figure, it was a lethal combination of street drugs. The guys in the police lab have already started analyzing the sample, but they don’t have a final report yet. You did good pulling that tube out.” His admiration was genuine, and she felt the redness returning to her cheeks. When had she become such a ninny?

      A yawn cracked her jaw, but for the first time since the crash, she was able to fight off the tiredness. Pressing a button on her bed elevated her head until she felt less likely to doze off in the middle of their conversation. It also added an extra measure of pressure on her leg, and she groaned.

      “Is something wrong?” Jeremy’s eyes filled with concern, and he reached out to touch her arm. The familiar weight of his hand gave her small start.

      “Were you holding my hand?”

      Now it was his turn to look embarrassed. His deep tan kept his cheeks from turning pink, but his gaze bounced around the room. “The nurse said that it’s good to let someone know you’re there, even if they’re asleep. I was just…letting you know I was here.”

      “How long have you been here?”

      Jeremy glanced at his watch. “Not long. A couple of hours.”

      She couldn’t contain the snicker that came out of her mouth. “What have you been doing for a couple of hours?”

      “Thinking mostly.”

      “About what?”

      His lips pursed to the side, his eyes narrowing. “Just wondering what brought that helicopter down.”

      She stared directly into his eyes, wondering if they were thinking the same things about the crash. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t heard Kit’s last words, so how could they be? But what if he had other information? He’d probably seen the helicopter after the crash. He was looking into the reasons behind it. Maybe he could be useful.

      The leg in the brace spasmed violently beneath her blanket, reminding her of her own weakness. But it didn’t matter. She was going to find out what happened, what caused her sister’s death. After all, Heather had done nothing during the crash to save her sister. She’d been useless. And Kit deserved more than that. Solving this case was Heather’s only way to begin making up for that failure.

      What if she stayed away from the investigation like Nate had ordered and they never found out why Kit had lost her life? What if they lost crucial time thinking it was nothing more than an accident? What if they never named a true culprit?

      Heather couldn’t live with herself if she let that happen. And the only way to make sure it didn’t was to do her own investigating. Kit was too important to leave it up to someone Heather didn’t know.

      “How much do you know about the crash?” He looked around the room, trying to keep from meeting her gaze, so she pushed again. “I’m a big girl. I deserve to know the truth, don’t you think?”

      A little wobble of his head followed his shrug. Still not looking into her eyes, he said, “My contact at the FAA says it looks like the wires to the cyclic were disengaged.”

      “The cyclic?”

      “The joystick-type thing that controls the helicopter. It’s called a cyclic, and the wires to it appeared to be partially severed.”