Sky High (A Nicki Valentine Mystery Book 2) by Susan O'Brien Page A

suffering. Some doctors see these transplants as a last resort, so I had to wait until now, after trying almost everything else, to get this done.”
    She and Liz seemed unusually comfortable talking about such a difficult subject.
    “There’s another option,” Mia said. “But I don’t know if you want to discuss it.”
    All eyes turned to Lydia, who thought for a moment before saying, “It’s okay.”
    Mia bit her lip. “Well, the transplant can be done at home, without a doctor. That means it could be done without testing, so it could happen more quickly. But obviously, there are different risks.”
    “Who would be the donor?” Liz asked.
    “Lydia wanted a close biological relative, but right now, that’s not possible. So if worse comes to worst, I’ll do it,” Mia said. “It’s what Bruce would want. He was so close to being approved and doing it himself. I already made an appointment for testing, in case we can wait for my results. If not, we’ll do it without them. I just hope everything comes back normal. You don’t have to be a match, like with other transplants. You have to meet certain health criteria, though, even to get tested.”
    “You’re perfectly healthy, sweetheart,” Liz said.
    “Well, some people carry C. diff and other stuff without symptoms,” Mia said. “I’m worried about that.” She rubbed her temples and wiped her eyes, which were filling with tears. “This is really too much. I’m sorry, Lydia.” She sniffed. “We need Bruce.”
    At this point, “we” included me. Where are you? I asked, as if Bruce could hear me or respond. After meeting Lydia, I wasn’t so sure that was impossible.

      
    Before leaving Bruce’s condo, I suggested that Mia gather certain things any investigator would want, much of which she’d already given the police, such as the best possible description of Bruce when he was last seen, including clothing, accessories, tattoos, or other body marks; personal information, such as bank accounts, credit card numbers, medications, and general health; details about his family, friends, associates, possible enemies, and anyone at all suspicious; his computer, social media accounts, and related passwords; locations he frequented and places they’d researched for travel; recent photographs; and names and numbers of anyone involved with the investigation, including hotel security.
    I also encouraged her to be forthcoming about any problems in their relationship or Bruce’s life, no matter how hard that might be—or how trivial they might seem. And I gave her and Lydia my business cards.
    When Lydia took our lunch remains to the kitchen, I carried what she couldn’t, hoping for a moment in private. She apologized for the interruption, and before she could say “J,” I reemphasized my concern for her, Frank, Mia, and Bruce and asked if she sensed any trouble before the wedding.
    She busied herself with cleaning, eyes downcast.
    “He was juggling a lot, including my illness, and I feel guilty about it,” she said. Our eyes met. “Maybe he got overwhelmed. I wouldn’t blame him.”
    “Do you think that’s what happened? That he got overwhelmed and needed an escape?”
    “I wish that was it. Then I’d know he was okay.”
    “What does your gut tell you?”
    She put one hand on her stomach and rested the other on the counter, and I sincerely regretted my choice of words.
    “I told the police that Bruce has a mind of his own,” she said. “But leaving Mia and me on purpose? That’s hard to believe.” She cleared her throat and used a crumpled paper towel to dry her eyes.
    “Lydia, this is hard to ask, but if something happened to you, is there anyone who could benefit?”
    “You’re asking if anyone would benefit from stopping or delaying my transplant? No. I can’t think of anyone. I don’t have much, and Bruce helps me more than I help him. I’m just so afraid something awful happened.”
    “I’m so sorry. The police here are