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“Why, Father? Emily, Keiffer, and Marissa all left of their own accord. I didn’t fire them.Theyleft me on the lurch. Why would they want to kill me? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I have no idea, but I say we sort them—Sarah’s team. We went to them. We sort their expertise. Let them do their job. The best thing we can do is stay out of their way.”
“This looks like a fishing expedition to me, Father.”
“It might very well be, but if casting a wide net means we catch our fish with the other, I say ‘cast wide.’ Bring everything in; we will throw the good ones back in the water. The most important thing is to catch the killer.”
"Thank you, Father," I say again, my heart heavy with gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"God has put us in each other's lives for a reason, Liam," he replies, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Let’s find out what it is."
Chapter thirty-two
GOODBYE, MAMA. YOU FOUGHT A GOOD FIGHT.
TONY
The special chime I have on my phone for the house phone sounds, and I lunge forward to grab my phone without warning, startling my hair stylist.
“Girrrrl, what’s with you? Lucky I didn’t have scissors or something sharp,” She shrieks, dangling a piece of fake “human hair” from China.
I ignore her, glancing at the screen, and my stomach churns at the image of my mother’s face on the screen. This can only mean one thing . . . trouble. There are just two people at the house, and one of them can’t make calls, and the other would only call out of need. I snatch the phone up and hit the green button, fire ants crawling all over my skin.
"Tony, it's Lucinda. You need to come home now," Lucinda says, her voice thin with stress. "Your mom—she's bad."
"Tell me what's happening, exactly," I demand, an icy dread seeping into my veins.
"Her breathing's rapid and shallow. She's burning up—fever through the roof—and she's . . . there's this yellowish stuff oozing from her mouth. Her eyes, Tony, they're rolling back like she can't focus."
"Is she conscious?" I ask, already knowing the answer, feeling the tight braid against my scalp loosen as I sit up straighter.
"Yes, but her skin's turning dark. Everything is happening so fast."
"Lucinda, listen to me," I say, the words coming out steady despite the tremor in my hands. "Get Mom ready for transport now. I'm calling an ambulance."
"Okay, Tony." Lucinda's voice is a thread of calm in the chaos. "I've got her. What should I tell them?"
"Tell them she's in respiratory distress, high fever, possible sepsis. They'll know it's urgent."
"Got it."
The phone feels like a lifeline as I dial 911 with practiced precision. My fingers don't fumble; they can't afford to.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"End-stage pancreatic cancer patient at 54 Crescent Lane. Respiratory distress, high fever, altered mental status, and possible bleeding. She needs to be transferred to Miami Comprehensive Cancer Center immediately."
"An ambulance is on the way, ma'am. Stay on the line—"
"Thank you," I cut across, ending the call. There isn't time for protocol.
Next, my fingers find Lola's number, another anchor in the storm that's threatening to sweep us all away. She picks up on the second ring.
"Tony? What's wrong?"
"Mom's bad, Lols. Really bad. I just called an ambulance. Can you reach Dick and Jenny? Tell them to get to Miami Comprehensive if they can."
"Of course, Tony, I’m on it right now. Is she—"
