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“Why did they take him?” Connor demanded.
The old woman shrugged. “Nurse Roxanne waited for you for as long as she could, but he was getting…” Her shoulders slumped as she sighed wearily. “He was stressed and lashing out, so she gave him a sedative and they put him in a room in the nursing ward—just until you let us go back to our apartments. Then they’ll put him in his own bed. Roxanne said they want him to wake up somewhere familiar. He’s not going to be able to talk to you all for a while. He was asleep when they moved him.”
Kit frowned. “When we walked by this room on our way to see Miss Evans, it was quiet.”
“He was asleep by then, I suppose. But he’d been swinging his fists and cursing and…” The woman swallowed hard. “I haven’t seen him like that in a long time. I couldn’t get through to him, nor could Nurse Roxanne. Miss Evans had to call Sam back in.”
Kit snapped her mouth closed. What the hell?
“Sam?” Connor asked. “You mean Dr. Reeves?”
“Yes, sir,” the officer on guard said. “I wasn’t going to let him in, but he suggested I call Lieutenant Navarro, who said he was free to talk to anyone in the facility.”
“I see,” Kit managed. “How long ago was this?”
“He was in there when you two got the call from the site director,” the officer said. “He left when you were in her office.”
“I see,” Kit said again. “Of course, whatever our boss says goes, but could you inform us next time?” She hated to be surprised.
“Yes, ma’am. Will do.”
“If you’re finished with your little pissing match,” the woman said crisply, “could you talk to me so that I can go?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Kit said. “This has been a shock for all of you.”
“Yes,” the old woman said, not appearing to be mollified in the least. “It has been.”
Connor cocked his head. “When was the last time Mr. Dreyfus became that agitated?”
“When his wife died. He nearly gave himself a heart attack that day. I think they were afraid of that today, which was why they had to get him quiet.”
“He has a heart condition?” Connor asked.
The old woman narrowed her eyes. “Not your business.”
Which was likely a yes.
“You’re Georgia Shearer, ma’am?” Kit asked.
“Yes,” Georgia said with a tilt of her chin. “Are you finally ready to talk to me?”
Kit ignored Georgia’s snark and gestured to the open doorway where she’d been waiting. “Yes, ma’am. After you.”
“I’m going to double-check that Mr. Dreyfus is asleep,” Connor murmured to Kit. “Be right back.”
Georgia’s sneer was glacial. “I can hear you. I’m not deaf, nor am I a liar.” She gripped the stroller and pushed the dog back into the room.
“Never said you were, ma’am,” Kit said to her back, following her inside and closing the door behind them. “I’m Detective McKittrick. My partner is Detective Robinson.”
Georgia’s gaze sharpened. “I’ve heard of you. Not him. Just you. Bagged yourself a serial killer last spring.”
“Yes, ma’am. But it wasn’t just me. Team effort, and all that.”
Georgia rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Tell me, Detective, what are you doing to find out who killed Frankie?”
“We’re following procedure, ma’am. That’s all I can say.”
Georgia rolled her eyes again. “Ask your questions. I haven’t got all day.”
