Creeps, Cache, & Corpses by Mary Seifert

Author:Mary Seifert
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: series, women sleuths, amateur sleuths, cozy mystery series, pets in mystery stories, murder mystery series books for adults, mystery series for women
Publisher: Columbine Publishing Group, LLC

TWENTY-FOUR

The muscles in Galen’s arms strained against his shirt sleeves as he cradled Carlee to his chest. “She won’t answer. She won’t wake up.” His huge eyes looked black in his ashen face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

Patricia quickly fit the pieces of what she saw together and tapped Kindra’s arm, signing forcefully. At first Kindra shrugged her off. When Patricia persisted, Kindra concentrated on the finger spelling, nodded, and said, “I’ll call 911.”

“Tell them we’re bringing her in.” Jane snagged jackets from the entry and headed for the door. “I’m driving,” she said in a tone no one in their right mind would dispute.

CJ reached for his daughter, and Galen hugged her tighter. “Go. I’ve got her, sir.” CJ briefly rested his hand on her arm, pivoted, and shuffled after Jane.

Adding the number of bodies and coming up a few spaces short in either vehicle, I palmed the keys I’d yet to return to CJ and said, “We’ll follow in the truck.”

I secured the dogs in our room, grabbed my bag, and raced down the stairs where Lauren stood, hands on hips. “What’s all the commotion?”

“We’ve got to go,” I said. Kindra bolted for the door. I tugged at Patricia’s sleeve, tearing her attention away from Lauren.

My insides burned and I felt the tips of my ears turn red. “We’re taking one of my girls to the hospital.” I glared at Lauren and choked out the words. “She won’t wake up.”

Lauren gasped, and her hand covered her heart. I yanked open the front door and we dashed to the truck. A small receding voice called out from behind us, “Be careful.”

The truck fired to life, and I shifted into gear, but my hands circled the steering wheel and came together at the bottom, numbing in a tight clutch. I had no idea which direction to take to the hospital.

Patricia increased the volume on her phone. She threw a questioning glance at Kindra who nodded, and the voice began dictating turns. I signed thank you and hit the gas. As we followed directions down Main Street toward the beautiful church, words of prayer tumbled over and over on my lips, and my eyes flicked toward heaven.

Our GPS dictated an unexpected turn. The truck squealed into the roundabout to the first exit, and I leaned heavily on Patricia, squishing her against Kindra as if we were on a Tilt-a-Whirl carnival ride. Scores of lights from our destination cast chilling shadows on the athletic field behind the Catholic school and illuminated the adjacent parking lots packed with vehicles. The girls jumped out at the ER doors, and I went in search of an empty space.

I drove onto a side street, stopped, engaged the parking brake, and ran two blocks to the hospital, jacket fluttering, heart pumping, arms swinging.

CJ just found his daughter. He can’t lose her.

The doors whooshed open in front of me, and I came face to face with a glowering security guard. His right hand rested on his belt, threateningly, and I came to a screeching halt.

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