Officer Stokes sized her up for a moment, then said: “You’re cold. And I need a cup of coffee. Come on.”
Juniper hadn’t expected to be invited into his house, but he was right—she was freezing. Her fingers were numb and her eyes were watering. She longed to put her hands around a mug of something hot, or at the very least get out of the icy wind for a moment. Mandy was expecting her at the hospital by lunchtime, but a quick stopover wouldn’t throw anything off. Besides, now that she was here, Juniper couldn’t shake the feeling that befriending Everett Stokes was the smartest thing she could possibly do. She had snuck a peek at his ring finger and noted it was bare. Not that she was even remotely interested in him romantically, but it certainly simplified things that she wouldn’t have to deal with a jealous wife.
He led her to the side door, through the garage like they were old friends instead of relative strangers. “I haven’t shoveled the sidewalk in a while,” he said by way of explanation. What he didn’t need to say was that he either didn’t receive many visitors, or those who came by weren’t the front door type.
Officer Stokes’s house was tidy inside, so carefully kept that Juniper was instantly convinced he hired a cleaning service. She had never met a man so fastidious. The tile in the entryway-and-laundry-room combo looked like it had been scrubbed with a toothbrush. Even the grout was white and clean. And the whole place smelled of fresh citrus, lemony with just a note of cut grass.
“You don’t have to do that.” He seemed embarrassed that she was unlacing her shoes, but Juniper wouldn’t dream of soiling his floor.
“It’s fine, Officer Stokes,” she said. “I’m a good Dutch girl. I don’t wear shoes in houses.”
“At least call me Everett,” he said, flipping the coffee maker on and turning to lean against the counter. “How’s your brother doing?”
“Okay. Stable. I’m actually on my way to Des Moines. I was just driving past…”
They were silent for a moment, studying each other across the tiny kitchen table. Then the radio at Everett’s shoulder crackled, fragmenting the silence. He reached for it and turned it down, appearing almost surprised to find that he was still in full uniform.
“Give me a sec, will you?” Everett asked, patting his holstered gun.
“Of course.” Juniper waved him away. “Where are your mugs?”
“In the cupboard above the sink. There’s creamer in the fridge if you’d like some. I’ll be right back.”
Everett disappeared down a hallway. Juniper lifted two mugs from the cupboard he had indicated and positioned the creamer between them. In the quiet kitchen she could hear the tick of the clock above the stove and the low hum of the radiator. She wished she had her phone—it was in the cupholder in her car—but just as she was about to distract herself with the newspaper on the table, she became aware of the sound of running water. No, not running. Burbling like a brook; a happy, bubbly sound. Curious, Juniper peeked around the archway at the far side of the kitchen and into a small, bright living room.
There was a giant fish tank against the far wall, a monstrosity with what looked like an elaborate coral reef climbing up one side. Mesmerized, Juniper tiptoed into the living room for a closer look. The fish were far too vivid to be freshwater, and the gently waving anemones looked too real to be plastic. It was an exotic salt water tank.
For a few minutes, all Juniper could do was admire. Then she realized that she was essentially snooping in a stranger’s house uninvited and turned to hurry back to the kitchen. But something caught her eye as she left. A door with opaque glass panels beside the fish tank had been left ajar. Behind it was a study: a scratched, obviously secondhand desk; an ergonomic chair; a stout, practical filing cabinet. But none of those things had grabbed her attention. It was the wall behind the desk that pierced Juniper like a hook.
The wall was filled with photos and clipped newspaper articles, Post-it Notes scrawled with words she couldn’t read at a distance, and a handful of bold headings printed on stark white paper: Tate Brothers, Franklin Tate, Carver Groen, Transient, Murder/Suicide, Jonathan Baker. For a moment Juniper felt like she was falling, and she put a hand on the doorframe to stop herself from tipping into the sharp edge of the fish tank. A hinge groaned, but she hardly noticed. Everett had turned the wall of his office into a crime board: a scrapbook of clues and motives, suspects and alibis that rivaled her own. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was taking another look at the Murphy murders.
Did he know about what was happening now? The calls and drive-bys, the insidious harassment of the most likely suspect? More important, what did Everett know that she didn’t?
The room spun when Juniper turned from the door, but she was already calculating how quickly she could race back to her car to grab her phone. Would she have time to get it and snap a few pictures before Everett was done changing out of his uniform?
She was nearly in the kitchen when Everett emerged from a room down the hall. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a plain navy sweatshirt. His hair was mussed from when he pulled the crewneck over his head. Everett’s thin smile made Juniper painfully aware of the wild knock of her heart, but she forced a grin and said, “You have a fish tank! Is it salt water?” She hoped she didn’t sound breathless.
“You’re welcome to take a closer look,” Everett said. His voice was light, but he stared at her for a moment as if searching for something in her gaze. Did he know? Could he tell that she had looked inside his study? Clearly his interest in the Murphy murders bordered on obsession.
“I’ve lost track of time,” Juniper said. “I’m so sorry, but Mandy’s expecting me, and I don’t want to keep her waiting. I really just stopped to see if you could squeeze me into your schedule sometime soon.”
“Call the police department,” he told her. “Susan will be able to take care of you.”
He was blowing her off again. Juniper forced one last smile and chatted about the weather while she pulled on her shoes and zipped up her coat. Everett’s goodbye was friendly enough, but as she pulled out of the driveway, Juniper could see him in the window, watching her.
* * *
It was almost noon when Juniper arrived at the hospital. Worry prowled in her gut as she steeled herself for what she would face inside. Reb had told her in unnecessarily great detail what Jonathan looked like, what machines he was hooked up to, and how the ICU was laid out. ECMO, or extracorporeal membrane oxygenation, was a form of cardiac and pulmonary life support that cycled Jonathan’s blood through his body because his heart and lungs weren’t capable of performing the necessary functions on their own. It was a lifesaving measure that would afford him time to rest and recover, but it felt like a last-ditch effort. A Hail Mary. The thought was terrifying.
Juniper hurried through the cold parking garage, coat clutched tight against her throat, and waited in silence as the elevator carried her up to the third floor. When the doors slid open, she followed the signs down the hallway and lifted the red receiver outside the locked ICU. She carefully stated her name and the patient she had come to see, and after a log was checked and double-checked, the metal lock clicked open and she finally stepped inside.
The ICU smelled of antiseptic and recycled air. Just like any other hospital. But unlike other hospital visits, a nurse was waiting on the other side of the locked door to escort her to a small family waiting room where Mandy was slumped in a chair, head tipped back against the wall and eyes closed.