It was after noon before Sabine was ensconced in a room at the hotel. It had been a relief to find that Beau had kept the Mudbug police’s destruction of her apartment to a minimum, but it was still going to take hours to get everything back where she wanted it. Since she wouldn’t be living there anyway for the time being, she supposed it shouldn’t matter. She’d endured almost an hour of Mildred’s puttering around the hotel room, bringing her some soup and crackers for lunch, fluffing her pillows, and generally treating her like an invalid, but Sabine understood that Mildred wouldn’t feel good unless she thought she was doing something to help.
Finally, Mildred had gone downstairs to balance the books, and Sabine was left in the peace and quiet she’d been waiting for. She grabbed one of the four tote bags she’d packed and pulled out the hospital files that Helena had stolen. Raissa had gladly agreed to loan her the scanner and would meet Beau somewhere in New Orleans so that he could bring it back with him that afternoon or evening, whenever he managed to finish up and return to Mudbug. Sabine figured as long as the files were already stolen she might as well get a copy of everything. If nothing else, it would save the trouble of ever having to break into the hospital records room again.
Sabine already knew what Maryse was going to say. Maryse had warned her nine ways to Sunday about Helena and her shenanigans, and Sabine was just starting to get a clear view of the problem. Helena was definitely a pro. She came out with these outlandish requests when she knew you were at a personal low and somehow made them seem completely logical and necessary. Then when the dust had settled, you were left wondering how you’d gone temporarily insane.
Sabine opened Helena’s folder and started to read the autopsy report again. She hadn’t been mistaken—Helena definitely had cancer, and it was very advanced. In fact, Sabine doubted the woman would have had more than six months to live. She flipped past the autopsy report and through the other papers in Helena’s file. This file only contained the last ten years, but it was a revealing ten years. Helena had asthma and her blood pressure was borderline, but otherwise, she’d been deemed healthy at every checkup. If she’d been sick with colds or the flu or the occasional virus, she hadn’t been to the doctor for them.
And there was absolutely no other note about the cancer other than the autopsy.
Which made no sense. Helena should have had some symptoms—dizziness, lethargy, pain. If the cancer had been caught soon enough, she most likely would have been given a round of chemo, then progressed to the radiation treatments. If that didn’t work, she would have been a candidate for a marrow transplant, like Sabine. But apparently, no one had known.
Sabine closed the file and bit her lower lip. Could Helena really have ignored the symptoms that easily? Or even stranger—could she have really lived with cancer advanced to the stage it had and had no symptoms at all? Was that possible? She was just about to open Hank’s file when Maryse burst into the room.
“Are you all right? What did the doctor say? What did the police say? Where’s that investigator and what the hell is he doing about all this?”
“Whoa,” Sabine said and laughed. “One question at a time or my brain might explode.”
Maryse grimaced and sat down on the end of the bed. “I know the feeling. Start talking, woman.”
Sabine spent the next fifteen minutes filling Maryse in on everything that had transpired, including her newfound ability to see Helena and their break-in at the hospital. Maryse listened closely, occasionally interjecting an “oh no,” “good Lord,” or “shit.”
When Sabine was finished, Maryse blew out a breath and stared at her for a moment. “You’ve got some nerve, Sabine LeVeche, trying to one-up me on this. Wasn’t one attempted murder enough?”
Sabine smiled. “Raissa told me Mildred yelled at you.”
“Yelling would have been polite. That woman scalded my eardrum over the phone. I snuck in the back door of the hotel to come see you. I’m not sure I can take another round.”
Sabine laughed. “I think that was stress and temporary insanity on her part. Mildred knows you didn’t have anything to do with this. If I hadn’t insisted on finding my family, none of this would be happening. I should have let this go years ago.”
“A week ago, I would have agreed. But things are different now. We need to find a donor and your family is the best possibility. Besides, the break-in at your house and the hospital happened before you found your family. Maybe the two aren’t related.”
“Someone stole all of my family’s medical records and you think that’s not related?”
“Okay, so maybe it’s related. But you still have no idea who did it or why. You say the Fortescues seemed surprised…what if there was a third party trying to connect the dots? A reporter or something. It will be a huge story. ‘Missing daughter of heir to millions finally found.’ I can just see the headline already.”
“Maybe, but it’s a stretch.”
“I think you should ask Beau to check into it. He might have connections that can get information we can’t. We can’t even ask without admitting we know what was stolen.”
“You’re right. I should probably ask Beau.” Sabine stared out the hotel window for a moment and sighed.
Maryse narrowed her eyes at Sabine. “You make that sound like such a chore.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I do. I mean, I did before you protested, but now I’m dying to. C’mon, Sabine. Luc’s been gone for days. Please tell me that one of us is getting some action.”
“I am not getting any action. I’m surprised at you. You know I don’t play fast and loose, and with everything else going on, the last thing on my mind is getting some action.”
Maryse raised her eyebrows. “Methinks she doth protest too much. Granted you have a lot on your plate, but I still don’t think sex is the last thing on your mind. Remember, I’ve seen the guy, and I know from experience that even attempted murder does not squelch the desire for a hot man—especially if the hot man is interested in you.”
“You don’t know he’s interested in me.” Sabine struggled to direct the conversation away from her. “He’s just doing his job.”
Maryse laughed. “I saw the way he looked at you in the café, and I’ve seen that look before. Thank God, I stayed alive long enough to see that look on a regular basis.”
“He kissed me,” Sabine blurted.
Maryse stared. “And…”
“And what? That’s it. He kissed me and I asked him to leave.” Sabine felt a flush start to creep up her neck.
“Oh boy!” Maryse bounced up and down on the bed like a child. “I remember the first time Luc kissed me. My whole body was on fire and I thought my head was going to pop off my shoulders and into outer space. I went stomping out of the office, mad, flattered, sexually charged, and scared to death.”
Sabine felt all her resolve crumble. “God help me, Maryse. I am scared to death. I’ve never felt this way about someone. I mean, I hardly know him. How can he have this effect on me?”
Maryse reached over and took her friend’s hand. “I don’t have an answer for you, even now that I’ve lived it myself. You were always the one that believed everything had intent and purpose—bad and good. Maybe people are linked before this life and if they find each other again, that link overrides everything lived this lifetime.”
“I don’t know that I believe in past lives,” Sabine said.
“Okay, so what if your souls were hanging out in the same office before they were assigned a mother? Whatever you want to believe. I just know that when I met Luc, I felt things I hadn’t felt before, and I’m not just talking about the sexual attraction—although certainly that was part of it.” She blew out a breath. “As a scientist, I want to think maybe it’s pheromones or some other biological draw that happens to fit Luc and I together better than I’d fit with others. Maybe he’s the first man I’ve met with the same biological imperative that matches mine.”
Sabine studied her friend. “You don’t believe that for a minute, do you?”
“No. I believe it’s love.”
Sabine squeezed Maryse’s hand, so profoundly happy for her friend and yet scared to take the same gamble herself.
“There’s no scientific explanation for love, Sabine, but we can’t deny its existence.”
“I barely know him,” Sabine argued.
“Yet you’re drawn to him.”
“It might just be lust.”
“What’s the downside if it is?”
Sabine stared down at the bed. “What if I die?” she whispered.
Maryse hugged her. “What if you don’t?”