Double Indemnity, page 21
Connor took a photo of the first pill and opened an app that analyzed medications by appearance. It was immediately identified as a 30 mg oxycodone tablet. He took a photo of the second pill and repeated the process. It took the app longer to respond. When he saw the result, Connor shook his head. It was most likely illegally manufactured fentanyl.
Not wanting to leave the pills in the guest bathroom, Connor considered throwing them away. Instead, he walked down the hall to the master bedroom. It was also neat and tidy. To the left was the master bath. The large room featured a massive walk-in shower, whirlpool tub, and as many cabinets as Connor had in his entire house. He carefully placed the two small pills on the counter beside one of the sinks.
* * *
It was still early when Liz arrived at the office. No one else was there. Her research revealed that it would take two doctors and a mental health worker to designate a patient like Elena for involuntary commitment. Otherwise, she would have to be discharged within forty-eight hours of admission. Liz didn’t see anything in the law about the three-day confinement Elena had mentioned earlier. She called Elena’s cell phone, but there was no answer. Liz’s cell phone vibrated, and Connor’s number appeared.
“I’m leaving Elena’s house,” he said. “The cleaning service had already been there to straighten up the kitchen and her bedroom.”
“She was probably confused about that.”
“Yeah. But the bed in the guest bedroom needed to be made. When I put towels in the bath, I saw a couple of pills on the rug. One was an oxycodone 30 milligram, and according to an app, the other was bootleg fentanyl.”
Liz sat up straighter in her chair. “What did you do with the pills?”
“Put them on the counter in Elena’s bathroom.”
“Are you going to say anything to her about it?”
“Probably not. What do you think?”
“I’m not sure. My number one job is getting her out of the hospital.”
Shortly after the call ended, there was a knock on the door, and Harold entered.
“I thought I’d be the first one to the office today,” he said.
“I was on the phone with a client around six this morning,” Liz replied.
She told him about the call from Elena.
“At your hourly rate that would have been the most expensive maid service Elena Thompson has ever paid for.”
“When I turned her down, she twisted Connor Grantham’s arm, and he went over there. He just called and told me he found an oxycodone and street-manufactured fentanyl on the floor of one of the bathrooms.”
“What did he do with the pills?” Harold asked sharply.
“Put them on the counter in Elena’s bathroom.”
“He shouldn’t have gone over there,” Harold said, shaking his head. “Or touched anything, especially a scheduled narcotic.”
“He went because he didn’t want to upset Elena and cause her to say something negative about him while he’s being scrutinized by the newspaper.”
“Trying to avoid one risk may have opened the door to a greater one. If Elena Thompson wants to get Grantham in trouble, all she needs to do is accuse him of planting drugs at her house.”
Liz swallowed. “Hopefully, that won’t happen.”
* * *
Connor took the elevator to the psych ward. Depression and anxiety were common maladies in every town, big or small, but during his years in Bryson, he’d never visited a member of the congregation who was receiving inpatient mental health treatment. He stopped at the nurse’s station outside the locked doorway and introduced himself to the woman seated behind the counter.
“Is Robert on duty?” he asked.
“No, he works second shift.”
“I’m here to see Elena Thompson. I’m Connor Grantham, her pastor.”
The woman hit several buttons on her keyboard while she stared at a computer monitor. “Okay, wait here. Someone will escort you to the patient’s room.”
It was several minutes before the doors opened, and an older man came out. “Reverend Grantham?” he asked.
“Yes.” Connor stepped forward.
“Sorry, but we have to monitor what enters the unit. Do you intend on giving anything to the patient?”
“No.”
As he followed the orderly, Connor was glad he’d not stuck the pills in his pocket to give Elena later. They neared Elena’s room.
“I know where it is,” Connor said to the orderly, who didn’t reply but continued to accompany him to the room.
“I’ll be waiting here by the door,” the man said.
Connor knocked.
“Yeah!” Elena called out curtly.
Connor entered. Still wearing a hospital gown, Elena was sitting up in bed with the TV on and the volume turned up loud. She was watching a reality show.
“Hi, Connor,” Elena said in a normal tone of voice as she pressed the button to turn off the TV. “I thought it was one of the hospital staff. They’ve really made me mad this morning. I’m ready to get out, but they want me to see another doctor first. I had no idea it was this easy to keep someone in the hospital against her will.”
“Hopefully they’ll get it straightened out soon.”
“They’d better.” Elena pulled the sheet up higher on her chest. “Liz is working on it for me from the legal end. Was anyone screaming when you entered the unit?”
“No.”
“It was terrible last night. I had trouble sleeping through the racket. It sounded like they were torturing one of the patients, which wouldn’t surprise me after what I’ve been through.”
Connor pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed.
“Did you go by my house?” Elena asked.
“Yes. Are you sure the maid service didn’t come?” he asked.
“No. They come on Thursday.”
“Yesterday was Thursday.”
Elena looked puzzled. “They’re supposed to call first.”
“Do they have a key?”
“Yeah, but they don’t know how to deactivate the alarm system.”
“The alarm wasn’t on when I arrived.”
“How did you get in?”
“You unlocked the door using your phone.”
“That’s right.” Elena shook her head. “The meds they’re injecting into my IV make me feel loopy. Thanks for straightening up the guest bedroom. I’ve been staying there some since Matt died.”
“I made the bed but didn’t change the sheets.”
“Tracy won’t know the difference.”
Connor cleared his throat. “There were a couple of pills on the rug in the guest bathroom. I didn’t think you’d want them there when Tracy arrives. I put them on the counter in the master bath.”
“What kind of pills? What did they look like?”
“Small and round,” Connor answered cryptically.
“Don’t be evasive. Be specific.”
“I scanned them on my phone. One was oxycodone, the other fentanyl.”
Elena was silent for a moment. “I had a few oxycodone in the house, but you’re wrong about the fentanyl. I wish you’d brought the pills to me. It’s not a good idea to leave medication lying around the house.”
“The hospital won’t allow a visitor to bring anything to a patient’s room.”
“The people who run this hospital are crazier than some of the people locked up in here.”
The door opened, and a female nurse entered. “Good morning, Mrs. Thompson,” she said.
“It won’t be good until I’m released from this place.”
The nurse ignored Elena’s comment and took her vital signs. “Did you eat your breakfast?” she asked.
“I sent it back. No one should have to eat that garbage.”
The nurse finished and left.
“That might not be the best way to interact with the staff if you’re trying to convince them to let you go home,” Connor said.
“It’s the truth,” Elena said and sniffed. “And doesn’t the Bible say that the truth will set you free?”
* * *
Liz grabbed her phone as soon as Connor’s name popped up.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Just leaving the hospital.”
“How’s Elena?”
“Cranky and upset. I ended up telling her about the pills I found. She wished I’d brought them to her at the hospital.”
“What?”
“Yeah.”
“I wish you’d left them on the rug where you found them, but I’m not going to bring it up again. Elena’s main goal is to get out of the hospital. There are technical hoops the doctors have to jump through to keep her as a patient. I suspect what the doctor told her early this morning was just a recommendation rather than a requirement, and Elena took it the wrong way.”
Connor stopped at a red light. “Does your boss know whether the newspaper is going to print anything else about Matt’s death in today’s edition?” he asked. “I’ve included something about him in my sermon on Sunday, but if new allegations or innuendos surface, that will have to change.”
“He’s not said anything. Are you still getting calls and emails from people at the church about it?”
“Not as much. Some of my supporters have been urging people not to jump to conclusions.”
“Would Bev and Sam Devon be supporters?”
“I hope so. I’ve not talked to either one of them.”
Liz was silent for a moment. “With all that’s going on, do you want to call off our hike to the waterfall tomorrow?” she asked. “I’ll completely understand.”
“No, spending time in the woods is exactly what I need to do. I’d sneak away by myself this afternoon if I didn’t have to wait around for the newspaper to come out.”
After the call ended, Jessica stuck her head into Liz’s office. “Good morning. May I come in to see you?”
“Not if it’s bad news.”
“Is there any other kind? Elena Thompson is in the hospital on the mental ward after a possible suicide attempt.”
“Yes, I’m the one who found her and called the ambulance.”
“You did?” Jessica’s eyes widened.
Liz told her what happened. “How did you hear about it?” she asked Jessica.
“From a friend who works at the hospital. I’m not going to tell you my friend’s name. Anyway, I thought you should be aware that Elena hasn’t been certified for involuntary commitment. I remember that being a big deal in a case Harold worked on a few years ago.”
Liz leaned forward. “That means she can walk out of the hospital even if it’s AMA,” she said.
“What’s AMA?” Jessica asked.
“Against medical advice. That’s a term I learned earlier this morning in my research. Elena needs to know her rights. I’m going to the hospital.”
* * *
Connor drove to the Hamilton home. Sarah opened the door.
“Sorry to keep dropping by without calling,” he said. “But—”
“Come in,” Sarah said, stepping to the side. “I’ll get Lyle. He’s in his shop.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Woodworking. His latest project is carving custom hiking sticks. There’s an outdoor store in Blue Ridge that wants to sell as many as he can make.”
“I’d like to see his work.”
“Go.”
Lyle’s shop was in a small building at the rear of their property. The door was propped open. Rascal appeared and barked sharply as Connor approached. The brown dog’s bark was deeper than the last time Connor came by the house.
“Quiet!” Lyle commanded. “Down.”
Rascal immediately lay at Lyle’s feet. His tail wagged against the concrete floor of the compact building.
“He’s getting to be a big boy,” Connor said as he held his hand down for the dog to sniff.
“Yeah. One thing about being home is that I have time to train him. He’s really smart and wants to please. He has some bird dog in him. That behavior has been coming out.”
“Sarah says you have a new project.”
Lyle reached over to a pile of wooden sticks, picked one up, and handed it to Connor. It was about five feet long with the bark stripped off, exposing the light-colored wood beneath. What caught Connor’s attention was the carving on the top of the stick. It was the silhouette of a face that looked familiar.
“Is this Reg Bullock?” Connor asked, turning the stick from side to side.
“Success.” Lyle grinned. “I didn’t get Reg to pose but used the photo in the church directory.”
“Does he know about this?”
“He knows I’ve been carving faces in some of the sticks, but not that I’m doing one for him.”
“Why Reg?”
“He’s quiet about everything, but he’s really helped us out since my injury. I want to do something for him.”
“He’s going to love it. There’s only one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a work of art, not something he can use when he goes for a walk in the woods. Reg is going to display it on the wall of his trophy room.”
“That’s up to him.”
Connor leaned against one of the supporting beams for the shed. “I’ve got the information for our trip to shoot clays with Josh,” he said. “Two dates are possibilities.”
Lyle checked the calendar on his phone. “Either one of those works for me,” he said. “Josh will be excited.”
“How’s Sarah doing?”
“She had a follow-up visit with the oncologist after they completed all the tests. They’re mapping out a program of chemotherapy and radiation followed by surgery. It’s depressing to me, but her faith is strong. She’s praying that she’ll be around for Josh’s wedding.”
“Could you take a break so the three of us could pray together?”
They returned to the house. Lyle rolled his wheelchair across the yard as fast as Connor walked. He barely slowed down as he ascended the ramp to the back deck. They entered the kitchen.
“Fresh coffee,” Sarah said. “How do you want it?”
“Black,” Connor replied.
“With two sugars for me,” Lyle said.
“I already know that,” Sarah answered with a slight smile.
They sat at a small round table at one end of the kitchen.
“Lyle told me about your visit to the doctor, and the recommended treatment,” Connor said. “And your prayer that you’ll be alive to see Josh get married.”
“Lyle—” Sarah started.
“I’m glad he told me,” Connor cut in. “And I want to pray the same thing.”
Connor took a sip of coffee. “But I’m also here for a selfish reason,” he said. “I guess you read the article about Matt Thompson’s death in the newspaper. The reporter described me as a ‘person of interest’ in the investigation. It’s stirred up trouble for me.”
Lyle and Sarah exchanged a look.
“We’ve been asking the Lord to sort it out,” Sarah said.
Connor was about to speak, but Sarah’s simple statement stopped him.
“Could you explain what that means to you?” he asked.
Sarah clasped her hands together in front of her on the table. “God knows the end from the beginning, whether the path in between is long or short, complicated or simple, and how everything fits into the destiny and destination he has for each person’s life. I learned that prayer from my grandmother. She also taught me not to stop there. It’s important to seek the Lord for any specific details that he’s willing to provide.”
“Has he shown you any details for me?” Connor asked.
“I’m still working on it,” Sarah replied.
Connor turned to Lyle. “Can you help me out here?” he asked.
“Maybe she wants to be around for your wedding too.”
All three of them burst out laughing. In the midst of deadly serious issues there was still room for humor.
“That will take great faith,” Connor said.
Lyle bowed his head. “Father, thank you for Connor. Because he loves you, I pray that you will cause all things to work together for his good according to your purpose for his life. And may he know that no matter what, Sarah and I have his back.”
Lyle and Sarah went back and forth for several minutes. Connor kept quiet. It was nice to be free from the expectation to lead the way. The heaviness he’d brought onto the Hamiltons’ property lifted. And when there was an opening, he poured his heart out for Sarah and Lyle. They opened their eyes.
“Thank you,” Sarah said. “Do you want me to warm up your coffee?”
“No, thanks,” Connor said, then paused. “I know it sounds odd, but when you were praying the whole room got hot.”
“Lyle, is the heat set too high?” Sarah asked.
“Still on 68 where we always keep it,” Lyle replied, turning to Connor. “Saves on the propane bill.”
* * *
Liz walked through the main entrance to the hospital and stopped at the information desk.
“Which floor is the psych ward?” she asked the older man on duty. “I need to see a patient. It’s urgent.”
“Four east,” the man replied. “Name, please, and I’ll need to see your driver’s license.”
“Elizabeth Acosta. I’m an attorney here to see a client.” Liz took out her license and handed it to him.
The man scanned it on a small machine beside his chair. “You’ll need this,” he said, reaching beneath the counter for an orange peel-off sticker.
“Will this give me access to see one of the patients?” she asked.
“No, but it will keep them from sending you back down here so I can record your name and scan your ID.”
Orange sticker prominently displayed above her heart, Liz took the elevator to the fourth floor and approached the station set up outside a set of double doors. A sign announced “Visitor Check-In.” There were two people on duty, a younger man and a middle-aged woman.
Liz introduced herself. “I’m the attorney for a patient named Elena Thompson. I’d like to see her immediately.”
