“Yeah, I think Henrietta is ninety next year and Charles is a few years younger.”
Mark let out an impressed noise. He’d never thought he’d live that long. Forty would probably be pushing it. He didn’t have a reason to, really, other than pure stubbornness.
“Okay, so drive there to check up on them when I have time? Weekly?” Mark made a thoughtful face, wondering how it would fit his schedule and if the Grahams would appreciate it more if there was a set day and time when he’d go.
“Let’s aim for once a week, but twice wouldn’t go amiss, I don’t think, if you just have the time and are willing. She seemed worried. For real this time. I wouldn’t like to see them be left on their own too long. People that age, they can get worse really fast if the stars align, so….” Sheriff Newman winced a little, and Mark could understand. Most people were more or less afraid of growing old, after all. Even those who claimed they were fine with it.
“All right. I’ll drive up there once I’ve finished my coffee and if there are no calls.” Then he thought of something. “Might want to coordinate with the home nurse, take the days she’s not there.”
“Good thinking. You figure it all out, I’ll email Mrs. Pritchard that you’re handling it.”
“Thank you, sir,” Mark said automatically, thrown by the casual praise and the trust the sheriff was showing.
Since he was obviously being dismissed, he left the office and went to his desk. Like he’d anticipated, Erin sidled up to him with her cup and gave him the puppy eyes.
“More regular welfare checks on the Grahams,” Mark said, making sure he didn’t sound too sharp.
She didn’t look surprised. “Oh yeah? The daughter called again?”
“And emailed, apparently. For some reason they like me, so I get to do it.”
“Well, I’d go talk to them rather than go check up on someone like Barry,” Jason said from his desk, having overheard them.
Both Erin and Mark nodded. Barry was the alcoholic who lived alone, way off in the middle of nowhere, pretty much at the northern point of their jurisdiction. Every time someone called them to go check up on Barry—mostly his nephew who lived in Kenosha, five hours or so away—the deputies and, on one memorable occasion, Sheriff Newman, rock-paper-scissored it. There was no telling what they’d find there, especially after Barry had gotten into making his own moonshine a few years ago.
The couple of times Mark had been the one to check up on Barry, he’d ended up coming to contact with various bodily fluids just to check if the man was breathing. Yeah, he’d rather take the elderly, even if they were feeling grumpy, over Barry any day.
Fifteen minutes later, Mark sat in one of their patrol cars and set off toward the Grahams’ house. They lived in a nice, big house that Charles and his brothers had built for Henrietta and him to start their family in. Sadly, they’d only had one child, so most of the house had gone to waste—something Henrietta liked to say to anyone who would listen.
Then, when young Moira had grown up a bit and it had become obvious she was some sort of a child prodigy in something-or-other, she’d moved out early to live with relatives. It was sad, in a way. Charles and Henrietta were nice people. To think that they’d wanted a big family but now lived alone in an empty old house… just showed how things turned out sometimes.
Mark parked the cruiser in front of the house in the neatly plowed parking space. There was already a smaller vehicle with a home care company’s logo on the back window parked nearby.
Good, it would save Mark some time to have her there instead of having to get her number and play phone tag. Suddenly the thought of gendering the nurse like that entered his mind and he stumbled a little while walking up the steps to the front porch. It felt odd how naturally he’d assumed that the nurse would be female, when in fact, Francis was a nurse as well, and there was nothing feminine about him.
He was frowning at himself—something he did a lot—when the front door opened and a woman in nurse’s uniform peered out. She was pretty, around his age, and didn’t look familiar to him.
“I thought I heard a car! Is everything okay?” She seemed worried, which was understandable.
“Everything is fine, Ma’am, I’m just here for a welfare check. I’m glad I caught you so we can coordinate. Maybe have a chat, too?” he asked, trying his best not to look too serious, which was his regular expression, he’d been told.
“Absolutely,” she said brightly, then held out her hand. “I’m Cassie Grey, and I’ve been assigned to the Grahams for the time being.”
He shook her hand and smiled. “Deputy Forrest, nice to meet you.”
She let him inside, and as soon as the door closed behind them, Henrietta called from the living room. “Who was it, Cassie?”
Mark took the lead and entered the room before Cassie. “Good morning, Mrs. Graham,” he said, smiling at her expression. Henrietta Graham had been reading a book, because it was open on her lap, and she looked mildly annoyed at being interrupted.
“Deputy Forrest, what on earth are you doing here?” she breathed out the words, sounding exasperated. “No, don’t tell me, it was Moira who called you and here you are.”
“That would be correct, Mrs. Graham.” Mark stepped away from the door and Henrietta gestured at an armchair nearby.
“Please, do sit now that you’re here. Would you like anything to drink?”
“No thank you, Ma’am, I just had coffee.”
A shuffling sound preceded Charles Graham’s approach. He was holding onto a wheeled walker and the sound came from his slippers on the old wooden flooring.
