His interest stirred. “Good news, I hope. I’ve been meaning to call you for an update. With everything that’s happened, I kind of got sidetracked.”
“Yeah, getting shot has a way of throwing you off your game.”
“So what have you got?”
“We were able to confirm Betsy Dickerson’s romantic connection to Dr. Bernard Atwood, the physician in attendance when James Dickerson died. Motel receipts showed up on a credit card in Atwood’s name. His phone records showed text messages to Betsy arranging their rendezvous.”
“That’s a start, I guess.”
“Yeah, well, once we knew we were on the right track, I got to thinking, trying to figure out how we could connect the rat poison Betsy bought online—which we confirmed—to James Dickerson’s death.”
“DNA would have shown it,” Chase said, “but since James’s body was cremated, I figured that for a dead end.”
“I thought so, too. Then I remembered this case I read about. Guy named Graham Young. Medical examiner was able to extract DNA from Young’s cremated remains. Showed rat poison in Young’s system. His wife was arrested for murder.”
“No kidding.” Excited at the prospect of catching a killer, Chase started to sit up, but the pain in his chest had him lying back down. “Even so, Betsy must have spread James’s ashes.”
“She didn’t have a chance. Errol Dickerson picked up his son’s cremated remains at the funeral home, but instead of spreading them, as Betsy insisted, Errol had the urn stored in the Dickerson family vault. He was more than happy to hand them over to the police.”
“How long before you get the results back?”
A satisfied grin stretched across Heath’s face. “ME owed me a favor and put a rush on it. Got the call this morning. DNA test results showed traces of thallium in the victim’s ashes.”
In concession to the ache in his chest, Chase refrained from shooting a fist in the air. “Looks like the good guys are about to win one.”
“District attorney’s putting together an arrest warrant for Betsy Dickerson and Dr. Bernard Atwood. Once we bring them in, I figure we’ll have Betsy and the good doctor at each other’s throats in a matter of hours. Loyalty isn’t generally a character trait in people like that.”
“That’s good work, Heath. Keep me posted, will you?”
“You bet. I’m looking forward to sharing the news with Errol Dickerson.”
Chase nodded and closed his eyes as fatigue settled over him. “Tell him I won’t be sending him a bill. I just made a couple of stops and a few phone calls. You did all the work.”
“You’re the guy who figured it out, but I’ll be happy to tell him. Take care of yourself.”
Heath left the study and Harper came back in. She looked tired, worried and beautiful. “Everything okay?”
“Better than okay. Maddox and I are in the clear, and you remember that case I told you about, the client’s son who was murdered?”
“I remember.”
“Looks like Heath was able to find DNA evidence to prove the wife and her lover were guilty. The bastards killed him with rat poison.”
Harper sat down on the sofa beside him. “You got justice for the father. You’re a good man, Chase.”
He took hold of her hand. “Even good people make mistakes, Harper. I hope you’ll keep that in mind.”
Harper glanced away.
Chase turned her hand over and kissed the palm. “We’re going to make this work, honey.”
Troubled blue eyes swung back to his face. “I’m the daughter of a drug lord, Chase. You’re an ex-cop. Tell me how this is going to work.”
Harper stood up from the sofa and walked out of the study. Chase stared after her retreating figure, the doubt he’d felt before returning full force. He didn’t want to lose her.
But maybe Harper wouldn’t give him any choice.
Several times, Harper went into the study to check on Chase. He’d been sleeping fitfully off and on. When she’d examined his bandage and found it needed changing, she had brought in what she needed and done it right there.
