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I followed the sounds from the kitchen, my tummy growling in anticipation of Mom’s baked goodies.
“Hey,” I said, entering the room and smiling at the woman covered in flour.
Mom wiped her hands on her once-black apron decorated with tiny apples, then warmly embraced me.
“Hi, honey. I’m stress baking.” She stirred the mixture in the stainless-steel bowl and glanced at me.
“Is it helping?” I leaned against the tan granite counter, staying out of her way as she continued to whip up a batch.
Mom turned to me and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Nothing helps, but you know that.” Her voice broke with the weight of the situation. “I’m losing the love of my life, and you’re losing your father.” Tears welled in her eyes, and her shoulders sagged.
“Mom, it’s why I wanted to see both of you today. Is he awake?”
Confusion clouded her expression as she walked over to the kitchen table and peered at the camera that she’d set up to watch Dad when she wasn’t in the same room as him.
“I think so, but maybe tell me what’s going on first?”
“Sure, but it’s nothing bad, so don’t worry. It might actually be an answer we’ve been searching for.” I offered her a sincere smile. “A few days ago, a friend told me that he has access to a new clinical trial that’s in its testing phase. It’s not even available yet, but the success is astronomical. There are also some political and financial issues going on behind the scenes, slowing the process of the treatment, but it’s doing really well with minimal side effects.”
Mom stilled, staring at me. “Are you saying that your friend can get your father in?”
“Yeah. He gave me the doctor’s name, and I reached out to him on Monday, but it took him a few days to get back to me. We had a nice chat. I told him all about Dad and what he’d been through. Dr. Magna said if we can get him to California, then he can work with him. He thinks Dad has a good chance of beating the cancer, Mom.”
To my surprise, she burst into tears, her thin body shaking with her sobs.
“This is wonderful news. Why are you crying?” I strode across the kitchen and wrapped her in my arms.
“I’m scared to hope. We’ve tried so many things, pumpkin.”
“I know. It’s been a messed up emotional roller coaster. We see some hope, then the rug is jerked out from beneath us again. I have a good feeling about it this time. We just need to get him on board.”
She broke our embrace and wiped the moisture from her face. “If you think this will give him a chance to live, then if I have to, I’ll knock him out and throw him in the car.”
Unable to suppress my laughter, I hugged her again. “I would love to be involved with a kidnapping.” If she only knew I was an accomplice to so much more.
“Are you at a place to take a break from baking so we can talk to Dad together?”
She glanced at the ingredients that were scattered across the kitchen island. “Yeah, now is good, then I’ll finish this batch of banana bread. I promised Cami that I would make some pumpkin muffins for her too. She’s been such a sweetheart, stopping by several times a week. I’ll give your dad a pot brownie while we have fresh muffins and milk.” She cracked a grin at me. “Never in my lifetime did I think I would be happy about getting your father high, but here we are.”
“If things go well, it won’t be for much longer. Let’s stay as positive as possible for him. You and I can talk in private and say anything that we need to.”
Mom took a deep breath. “Can you tell your friend that we want to accept his offer?”
“Of course. I’ll let you know when I talk to him, and we can plan for you to take time off work and stay in Mount Shasta, California. We’ll figure out the money.” My stomach churned at the idea of having to work online again, but then Death’s words tapped me on the head. No one else was viewing them. He had put a stop to that.
Shit! I would have to think of another way to cover the medical costs. Inwardly I shuddered. I was still paying off Dad’s other bills. It was time to see if I had enough equity in my home. If so, maybe it would be enough to cover the trial. I would do anything to save his life.
Exhausted, I let myself into my house and set the alarm. I wasn’t sure why I bothered anymore—nothing would keep Death out when he wanted to see me.
After tossing my handbag on the couch, I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a whiskey and Coke. The rest of the afternoon had gone well, and Dad seemed hopeful about the trial. Since he had nothing to lose, it was worth one final shot. As soon as I saw Death, I would make the arrangements.
I sank into the sofa and rubbed my temples as I attempted to sort through my feelings.
“I’m so fucked up,” I muttered. “I’m falling for a serial killer, and I have no clue who he is.” Or did I? When I was cuffed to my bed and Death talked, something about his mannerisms piqued my interest. Unfortunately, as soon as the thought popped into my head, it was gone again.
My phone chimed in my purse, and I rummaged around until I retrieved it from the bottom. The screen announced a call from “unknown,” but I had a sneaking suspicion I knew who it was.
“Hello?”
