“What’s wrong?” Becket’s voice was harder now, with a dangerous edge.
“I’m with one of the hospital staff. She’s been shot, and Clara’s not answering her phone. Jesse’s on his way but—”
“I’ll be at her place in less than five.”
A siren sounded. The ambulance. Thank God.
He hung up and when the paramedics finally ran in, Holden lifted his hand and let them take over. Then he was running. Sprinting out of the house, toward his truck.
He sped out of the drive, a bad feeling in his gut that was just getting worse by the second.
If Clara was okay, she would have answered her phone.
He tried her again, already knowing what was going to happen.
She didn’t answer.
He pressed his foot to the floor, forcing his truck to move faster.
Who had shot Deb? The same person responsible for the other deaths and sick patients? She and Malcolm had been the top suspects. If it wasn’t them, then who?
When he reached Clara’s house, her car was gone and only Becket’s was in the drive.
Both he and Jesse climbed out of their vehicles at the same time while Becket came out the front door, Glock in hand.
“She’s not here,” he growled. “But there are signs of a struggle. Bullet hole in the kitchen wall tile, a broken bowl on the floor, and someone smashed her phone.”
Anger pulsed through Holden’s veins.
Needing to see for himself, he ran inside the house.
And he saw it. The broken tile. The smashed bowl. The phone.
It was true. But it felt like a fucking nightmare.
Jesse and Becket stepped inside, Jesse’s gaze sweeping the area before he pulled out his radio and put out an APB on Clara’s car.
“The dimmed lights and music are on in the studio,” Becket said. “Looks like she had a client.”
Holden shook his head. “No. Today’s the street party. She was closed to appointments.”
“Someone was definitely in there,” Becket pushed.
“All the evidence pointed to Malcolm or Deb,” Jesse said as he scanned the room. “But it wasn’t Deb in this house, and if this person tried to frame Malcolm before killing him, then it’s someone whoreallywanted to hurt him.”
“Someone who works in the same hospital,” Holden said. “Who knows all his shifts and patients. Someone with opportunity and motive.”
“What motive?” Becket asked.
Holden frowned. “Deb said he was a womanizer. Slept around. What if he did that to someone at the hospital? They wanted a relationship, he didn’t, and it pissed them off. They still worked with him though, so they had to watch him date everyone else. Maybe it tipped them over the edge.”
“But no one else’s shifts match all the events,” Jesse argued.
Footsteps sounded near the door, and all three of them turned and aimed their guns.
Mildred stepped in, only to stop and gasp. “Oh my!”
Holden lowered his Glock. “Mildred, what are you doing here?”
