Greedy Bones by Carolyn Haines

touches into the hospital for Tinkie. The families of the other sick people had left for a few hours, and I found my partner tilted back, her eyes closed, an OttLite reading lamp on beside her, and Mary Saum's latest book sprawled across her lap. Tinkie had aged in the last week.
    I tiptoed to the window where I could view Oscar, Gordon, and the women. They were all four lined up, and it struck me that forty years ago, or less, they'd all been in a hospital nursery in tiny bassinets, arranged before another window for their parents to look on with pride. It just about broke my heart to think of the joy the earlier scene had provoked. Now, despair was the overriding emotion.
    Gordon had no real family to watch over him, so Iconcentrated on him for a while. His chest barely moved as the ventilator pushed oxygen into his lungs. The sores that covered his face and neck and arms--which was all I could see exposed above the sheet--had begun to scab over. Was the absence of fresh ones a good sign? I had to believe it.
    Two hazmat-suited nurses entered the isolation ward and began a check of vitals and the administration of some clear fluid into the drips that ran into the arms of each patient. As I watched the process, I realized Regina and Luann had fewer sores and better color. They were on ventilators, but they seemed, somehow, more alive.
    My attention turned to Oscar.
    "Doc says he may not wake from the coma."
    I spun around to find Tinkie in the same pose, but her eyes were wide open.
    "Doc has never been accused of being an optimist. Tinkie, he has to tell you the worse-case scenario. He's like an older relative. He doesn't want to lead us to believe--" Where the hell was I going with this? No place Tinkie needed to follow.
    "To believe in a miracle," she finished softly. "But I do, Sarah Booth. I've had my own miracle."
    "You did indeed." What ever happened to her breast lump--whether a piece of scar tissue, a bruise, a fibroid, or a cancer--it was gone. That was miracle enough for me to cling to for now.
    "Have you found anything?"
    "A lot of drama in the Carlisle family, but nothing solid enough to report."
    "You will."
    Her faith in me was humbling. "I'll try. That's for sure. Tinkie, can I take you home for a bit?" I knew the answer already.
    She shook her head. "Mother will relieve me in a while. You hunt for clues. I'm fine. I want to be here when Oscar wakes up."
    "Chablis and Sweetie are having a blast, but your baby misses the two of you."
    "We'll be home soon." She picked up her book. "I think I'll read for a while longer. This keeps me from thinking about Oscar too much."
    I bent and kissed her forehead. "I'm going to check with Coleman and see if the EIS agents found anything at the Carlisle estate."
    "You'll call me?"
    "You don't even have to ask."

6

    When I pulled up beneath one of the budding white oaks that lined the court house square, I realized that news of the strange illness had broken with the media. Cece had honored her word and kept mum about it, but news vans from regional television stations in Memphis, Jackson, and Atlanta cluttered the public parking spaces.
    The source of the leak could have been anyone in the hospital or the bank, and it was bound to happen. It was incongruous, though, to see the gathering storm of media on a day that had been gifted by the gods. The courthouse lawn was a riot of color, from the fuchsia-hued azaleas to the yellow, purple, and red flower beds that local gardening clubs tended.
    Johnny Reb stood guard over the growing crowd, a bronzed soldier walking from the past into the present. As I passed the statue, I thought with a pang of the wonderfuldays I'd spent with my father in the court house. Protected and adored, I'd never considered that an accident or illness could steal the ones I loved. Now I knew how vulnerable we all were.
    "Ms. Delaney, may I speak with you?" Peyton Fidellas emerged from behind one of the huge white pillars that supported the second-floor