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“At Atlantic Memorial, waiting on a pickup with Doreen. ” Doreen was the latest in this week’s parade of assistants. “She’s still with us. ”

“The pickup?”

“Doreen. What’s going on?”

Her throat felt tight with panic. “I had a weird phone call. I think it was someone Fairview … you know. She’s in trouble. ”

“All right, give me the address; I’ll send people. ”

“No. Joe … Joe, she called me. She needs help. We’ve got supplies, right? I want to give her the shot. ”

“Bryn, you can‘t. The syringes are ID coded. You know that. ”

“Then come back and go with me. ”

“You want me to leave Doreen here alone to do the pickup? Even if I did, I’m a couple of hours away. ”

“This can’t wait, Joe. It can’t. ”

“She’s not going anywhere, right?”

Her eyes were burning now with unshed tears. She couldn’t explain why she felt so oppressed by this; she couldn’t understand it herself. “She needs help now. I’m going. ”

“Tell me where you’re going first. ” She read him the address. “Seriously, wait for me. I’ll be back as soon as I can. ”

“I can’t leave her like that. ”

He was silent for a second, then said, “You know what you might have to do. She’s probably too far gone to dose. ”

“I know,” she said. “I can’t let her suffer, Joe. That’s why I have to go. ”

“As long as you know what you’re getting into. I’ll get Pat to meet you there; he’s not far. No arguments, boss. This is how it’s done. ” The boss was ironic; Bryn was almost sure. She was no one’s boss, not even her own. He hung up before she could tell him not to call McCallister—not that he would have listened.

She hadn’t spoken directly to McCallister since they’d parted ways in that uncomfortable fashion at the mansion, and she wasn’t looking forward to it now. But mostly what she dreaded was what she was going to find at Violetta Sammons’s house. Where was Violetta’s husband? McCallister will have the shot, she thought. We can do this. We can make it right and figure it out from there.

I have to make it right.

She grabbed her preloaded removal bag from the locker room, added a few things, and took one of the mortuary vans—freshly cleaned out and smelling astringently of bleach. Either I smell like dead people, or I smell like cleaning products. Annie was right: boyfriends were probably out of the question at this point—presuming, of course, that she had any right to think about such real-life issues anymore.

She tried not to think about that, or anything, as she followed the navigation system’s directions to Violetta’s address up in the La Jolla hills. It was in a very posh neighborhood, with big, expansive houses and a breathtaking view. Not Patrick McCallister’s price range, but even the smallest of these properties must have gone for a couple of million.

No wonder Fairview had chosen Sammons for his scam.

Bryn parked the van and got out, carrying her black canvas bag, just as Patrick McCallister’s tinted black sedan closed in behind like a shark. He stepped out, and they looked at each other for a few seconds. His bruised cheek had mostly healed, and his suit looked clean and impeccable, as always.

He had a black bag, too. She didn’t think his held the same things hers did.

“Bryn,” he said, in a very careful, neutral tone. “What’s the emergency?”

“I think she’s one of Fairview’s,” Bryn said. “And I think she’s been without a shot all this time. I couldn’t just … I have to help. I have to. You understand?”

McCallister hesitated, then nodded. “Let me go first. ”

“No,” she said. “I have to do this. ”

“Not alone,” he said. “We do it together, then. ”

That felt better, because she was terrified and trying not to show it. The house looked completely normal, nothing to sound alarms. Bryn rang the doorbell, then tried the front door, but it was locked.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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