Buch lesen: «Countdown to Death»
“The B and B’s on fire.”
Luke tried the front door. Locked.
He raced to the back of the house, tried the knob and was ready to crash through when he raised his eyes.
A woman stood in the second-story window, frantically pounding her hands against the glass.
Climbing onto the porch railing, Luke shimmied up the column, then hoisted himself onto the ledge. Reaching the window, he pounded on the glass.
“Move back,” he warned. She stepped aside, and Luke twisted his jacket around his hand, raised his fist and shattered the glass.
He grabbed the woman and guided her to the windowsill.
“I’ve got you. We jump on three. One. Two. Three.”
They jumped just before the room exploded, spewing a ball of fire into the night.
DEBBY GIUSTI
is a medical technologist who loves working with test tubes and petri dishes almost as much as she loves to write. Growing up as an army brat, Debby met and married her husband—then a captain in the army—at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Together they traveled the world, raised three wonderful army brats of their own and have now settled in Atlanta, Georgia, where Debby spins tales of suspense that touch the heart and soul.
Contact Debby through her Web site, www.DebbyGiusti.com, e-mail debby@debbygiusti.com or write c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.
Countdown to Death
Debby Giusti
MILLS & BOON
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May your kindness, O Lord, be upon us
who have put our hope in you.
—Psalms 33:22
To all medical laboratory professionals,
especially my former coworkers at
Peachtree Regional Hospital
To Tony, Liz, Joe, Mary, Katie and Eric
Your love and support mean so much to me
To Darlene, Annie and Anna
To Emily Rodmell, Jessica Alvarez
and Deidre Knight
Thank you!
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
Allison Stewart’s future hung in the balance. Her job. Her research. Her attempt to make a difference.
Two years working on a new laboratory test to detect blood-borne pathogens, and the board still couldn’t decide if she deserved additional funding.
Pulling in a calming breath, she slipped her hands into the powdered latex gloves and snipped off a segment of tubing from three units of blood.
Collected at a South Georgia blood draw earlier in the week, the units had been transported to Magnolia Medical’s laboratory in Atlanta for processing. Ensuring the blood was safe for transfusion was top priority.
The units had passed the routine battery of tests.
They’d flunked Allison’s.
She spun the segments in the centrifuge, then transferred the top layer of golden serum into the analyzer.
The test was a semiautomated procedure. Rapid, if not reliable.
Given time, she’d work out the kinks.
The instrumentation clicked into operation.
If she believed in the power of prayer, this would be the time to ask for help. But God had turned His back on her years ago. No reason anything would change today.
Discarding her gloves, she wiped her damp palms against the side of her lab coat. Behind her, footsteps sounded across the polished tile floor. She turned as Veronica Edwards, the research department’s laboratory manager, entered the special projects area.
“I thought you’d be tied up all afternoon with the directors.” Allison noted her supervisor’s drawn face and furrowed brow. Evidently, the meeting hadn’t gone well.
“The board cut your funding.”
Allison’s chest tightened. “Did you tell them I’m optimistic about perfecting the procedure?”
“They’re focused on cost reduction, not sinking more money into a laboratory test that, with time, may detect a rare prion disease.”
“A rare but fatal prion disease,” Allison corrected her.
“Which has never posed a significant problem in the U.S.”
The muscles in Allison’s neck tensed. “Great Britain didn’t think it had a problem until the prion outbreak there. Remember the havoc mad cow disease caused? We’re still restricting donations from people who lived in Europe during that time for fear they will infect our blood supply.”
Veronica sighed. “I understand the significance of your research. If we can find a way to identify the dormant prion protein, we can lift the European restriction.”
“And end the blood-shortage crisis. Magnolia Medical would control the patent on a test sure to be adopted in every blood-donor center throughout the country. The revenue alone would—”
“But two years with no hint of success, Allison. It’s over.”
The analyzer stopped. Thirty seconds and the results would feed to the monitor.
Time to come clean. Her supervisor needed to be brought up to date.
“I ran random specimens yesterday from that last blood draw, expecting the units to be negative. Three reacted so I tested them again this morning with the same results.” Allison tried to smile but knew she fell short. “They say the third time’s a charm. I repeated the procedure just now.”
Allison glanced at the monitor as the results rolled across the screen. “The levels are identical to the first two runs.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning three donors will soon develop neurological symptoms that will eventually lead to death.”
Veronica stepped closer. “The likelihood of picking up a single positive specimen—let alone three—in one blood draw is—” her eyes widened “—unheard of.”
“We never had a rapid, cost-effective test to screen donor blood before.”
Veronica held up her index finger. “A test that’s still in the experimental phase.”
Do or die. Allison was gambling everything on the next bit of information she needed to share.
“The three positive specimens came from donors who live in the same small town—Sterling, Georgia.”
The lab manager’s eyebrow shot up. “You accessed their personal donor data?”
Allison nodded. “According to the information I found online, the area is a haven for deer hunters. Maybe the men ate venison from deer with chronic wasting disease. I’ll drive to Sterling after work tonight. If I talk to the men, I may find a common link.”
Veronica shook her head. “I don’t like it.”
“Three days and I should have an answer.”
Veronica caved. “Two days. But watch what you say. I wouldn’t want anyone to be told they have a fatal disease because of a questionable result from a test that’s far from ready for clinical use. And no contact with the media. We don’t want any wild stories about an outbreak of mad cow disease in Georgia. Invalid test results would blacken Magnolia Medical’s good name.”
“But the test is valid,” Allison said with conviction.
“Then find the connection with infected deer.”
Veronica headed for the door, but Allison’s next comment caused her to pause. “Venison may not be the source of infection.”
Veronica held up her hand. “If you’re thinking contaminated beef is the problem, you’re jumping to a conclusion I’m not willing to consider. Find the reason for the positive reactions. See whether they tie in with a diseased deer population.”
“And if not?” Allison asked.
Neither of them gave voice to the obvious. If the test were valid and if eating or handling contaminated venison had not infected the men, then an even more serious situation was raising its ugly head in South Georgia. A situation that could impact the entire southeast, if not the nation.
“Then God help us,” Veronica said as she turned on her heel and left the lab.
After all that had happened, Luke Garrison was riding on empty. His sister’s handicap, the trauma that had pushed her farther into a world of isolation, their father’s tragic death. Ten years ago, yet the memories were too real, too fresh. Any hope for the future seemed as elusive as the moonbeams filtering through the cloudy night sky.
Luke pulled his eyes from the long stretch of highway that led back to Sterling and glanced at his sister, Shelly, sleeping in the backseat of his SUV.
“Poor thing, she’s worn out,” his aunt said from the passenger seat.
“So are you.” Luke noted the fatigue that lined the older woman’s face. Even her vibrant red hair seemed limp and lifeless in the half-light coming from the dash. “Shelly’s trips to the doctor in Atlanta take their toll on you, Bett.”
“You worry as much as I do about her. If only the doctor would offer some encouragement.”
“We’ll keep praying for a miracle,” he said, hearing more optimism in his voice than he felt.
A decade of pain remained heavy on his heart.
Letting out a frustrated breath, he forced his gaze back to the road, determined to send the memories scurrying into the night.
The lights from town glowed in the distance.
Bett’s eyes began to droop and her head rested on the seat back as she drifted into a light slumber.
At the fork in the road, Luke veered left onto the desolate two-lane that skirted Sterling—the route he had routinely chosen since his father’s death. No need to give the townspeople more fuel for their insistent chatter. As far as he was concerned, the less time he spent in town the better.
Up ahead, the old Wallace Bed and Breakfast stood out against the cloudy sky, the only structure on this stretch of lonely back road.
What a shame to let such a beautiful place go so long without upkeep. If repairs weren’t done soon, even the few travelers who meandered through Sterling would find lodging elsewhere.
Thank you, Cooper Wallace. So much for greedy lawyers who always thought of the bottom line.
Luke glanced again at the once-stately Victorian. A light flickered in the upstairs hall window. The glass shimmered in the night.
Shimmered like—
Realization hit him full force. Fire!
He swerved to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes.
Bett’s eyes flew open.
“The B and B’s on fire. Call for help!”
Before she could find her cell, Luke was out of the car and running toward the shingled structure.
He tried the front door. Locked.
“Fire! Open up! Everyone out,” he screamed, pounding the brass knocker against the thick oak.
Please, God, if anyone’s staying the night, let them hear me.
The kitchen entrance might be open.
He raced to the back of the house, tried the doorknob and was ready to crash through the door when he raised his eyes.
A woman stood at the second-story window, frantically pounding her hands against the glass.
Heart in his throat, Luke slammed his full weight against the kitchen door, relieved when the aged oak gave way. Inside, the smoke rolled through the house, thick and black.
“Fire,” he screamed again.
A middle-aged man coughed as he staggered from the darkness.
“How many people are staying here?” Luke asked.
“A guy and his wife are in the back bedroom. They’re headed this way. But someone’s trapped upstairs. The fire’s raging at the top of the staircase. There’s no way to reach her.”
“Where’s the night manager?”
“He left hours ago.”
Before the man finished speaking, a young couple stumbled into the kitchen. The woman gasped for air.
“Get outside,” Luke ordered. He reached for the woman’s arm and guided the three of them to safety.
As they scurried away from the house, Luke looked up once again. An increased sense of dread slipped over him. Unable to break the window, the woman stood outlined against the deadly glow from the fire that filled the room.
Climbing onto the porch railing, Luke shimmied up the column holding the drainage spout to the overhanging roof, then hoisted himself onto the ledge that rimmed the second story.
Adrenaline coursed like lightning through his veins as he scooted toward the window, aware of the growing crackle of the flames coming from within the aged structure. A section of the narrow railing broke. His foot gave way. He grabbed the rough shingles, holding on with his fingertips, and hugged the wall to maintain his balance.
His rapidly beating heart seemed as loud as the sirens wailing through the night. Fire trucks would arrive soon, but not in time to save the woman.
He inched forward. Sweat trickled down his back and dampened his shirt.
Reaching the window, he pounded on the glass.
She turned at the sound, her face wrapped in terror.
“Move back,” he warned, shrugging out of his jacket.
Had she heard him?
As if his words had finally registered, she stepped aside and covered her face with her arms.
Luke twisted his jacket around his right hand, raised his fist and jammed it against the window. The pane shattered.
With a series of sweeps, he cleared away the remaining shards of glass.
Fueled by the increased oxygen, the fire burned bright, the roar deafening.
Luke grabbed the woman and guided her over the windowsill. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his flesh.
“I’ve got you,” he assured her. “We jump on three.”
She shook her head. “I…I can’t.”
“You have to,” he insisted. “One…Two…”
He wrapped his arm protectively around her waist.
“Three.”
They jumped just before the room exploded, spewing a ball of fire into the night.
A clump of overgrown azalea bushes broke their fall. Together they rolled and came to rest on a mound of thick pine needles.
Luke groaned as he pulled himself to a sitting position.
Lights flashed. The fire chief appeared, yelling orders to his men. A scurry of activity surrounded them as hoses stretched toward the flames. Water hissed from the nozzles.
The woman lay on the ground, eyes closed, golden hair streaming around a face pale as death.
“Ma’am?” Luke nudged her shoulder. “Ma’am?”
When she didn’t respond, he touched her neck. No pulse.
“She needs help,” he shouted, hoping to attract attention.
Knowing every second was critical, Luke tilted her head back. With swift, sure movements, he blew two quick puffs of air into her mouth, then, intertwining his fingers, he pressed down on her sternum.
“And one, and two…” He counted the compressions.
Where were the medical personnel?
“And three, and—”
“We’ll take it from here.” A team of EMTs scurried to his aid.
Luke edged back to let them do their job.
Bett raced toward him. “Someone said you went into the burning building.”
“I’m fine,” he assured her as he stood and looked around. “Where’s Shelly?”
“In the car. Mrs. Rogers heard the sirens and stopped by to help. She’s with Shelly. I was worried. They told me you pulled a person from the fire.”
He pointed to where the EMTs clustered.
Bett grabbed his arm. “You’re hurt, Luke.”
For the first time, he noticed the gash on his forearm and the blood that matted his shirt.
“It’s a small cut.” He shrugged off her concern while his eyes fixed once again on the woman he’d tried to save.
The spotlights cutting through the night, the frantic rush of the emergency personnel and the acrid stench of the smoke took him back, and for a moment he saw Hilary’s lifeless body lying on the ground.
A lump filled his throat. Lord, don’t let another woman die.
Chaos. Allison felt the swell of confusion and panic surround her. She gasped for air.
A mask covered her mouth and nose. She tried to push it aside.
Someone restrained her hand.
“Breathe, lady.”
Her chest burned.
“Come on, lady. You gotta breathe.”
She pulled in a shallow breath, expecting smoke. Instead her lungs filled with life-giving oxygen. She gulped, sucking in the pure air.
“She’s coming ’round,” the voice announced. “Tell Luke. Only way he’ll calm down is if he knows she’s okay.”
A few moments later, a hand touched her shoulder.
She blinked open her eyes and saw the man who’d saved her life.
His cheeks were covered with soot. Blood streaked through his thick chestnut hair where he’d wiped his arm across his forehead.
Dark eyes searched her face. “Are you okay?”
“You saved my life,” she managed to whisper.
“I thought…” Concern wrinkled his brow. “When you didn’t respond, I was worried you wouldn’t make it.”
She smiled, or at least tried to smile through the oxygen mask.
An EMT tapped his shoulder. “Sorry, Luke, but the county medical van just arrived. The doc wants to examine her.”
Before she could say goodbye, the man who’d saved her disappeared into the crowd of onlookers.
To Allison’s surprise, the medical van was state-of-the-art and the doctor’s exam thorough. Irritated lungs, which improved after the breathing treatments that the EMTs administered, and a strained back were her only injuries.
“You’re one lucky lady,” the fire chief said to her later as she sat outside the medical van and watched the men roll up their hoses. The front of the house and kitchen had been saved. A gaping black hole was all that remained of the room where she’d been staying.
She refused to think of what might have happened.
“B and B’s the only place that rents rooms in this area,” the chief continued. “The gentleman who was staying downstairs plans to drive seventy miles to the next town where a motor lodge has vacancies. Younger couple moved in with someone they know in Sterling.”
He stared at her, evidently waiting for an answer to a question she never heard him ask.
“Are you telling me I need to find a place to stay?”
“We’ve got an empty cabin.” A middle-aged woman with a weatherworn face, warm eyes and flaming red hair stepped forward from the group lingering close by. “Be happy to offer you lodging for as long as you’re in town.”
The woman patted Allison’s hand. “Bet you’re worn-out after everything that’s happened. We’ll take good care of you, honey.”
Hearing the compassion in the older woman’s voice, unexpected tears stung Allison’s eyes. She tried to blink them back.
Must be letdown after all that had happened. Either that, or the meds the doctor had given her.
“I thought you folks closed up the cabin.” The fire chief rubbed his hand over his chin. “After that boarder of yours—”
“Don’t need to focus on the past, Chief.” The woman cut him off, her voice sharp. Then she dug in her pocket, pulled out a clean tissue and handed it to Allison.
“The place is neat as a pin and ready for my new friend. My name’s Elizabeth Garrison. Folks call me Bett.”
Allison blew her nose and tried to smile at the second person who had come to her aid that night. Then, remembering her car, she rummaged in the shoulder bag she’d had the presence of mind to wrap about her neck as soon as she’d smelled smoke.
Keys in hand, she tried to stand and grimaced as the pulled muscles in her back responded to the shift in position.
“I’ll take those,” a deep voice said behind her.
She turned and looked into her rescuer’s eyes.
“Did I overhear my aunt say you’re coming home with us?” He took the keys with his left hand and stuck out his right, a thick square of gauze taped to his forearm. “Seems we didn’t have time for introductions earlier. I’m Luke Garrison.”
She slipped her hand into his, feeling a connection. After all, he’d saved her life.
“Allison Stewart,” she mumbled, suddenly light-headed. Probably the medication taking effect.
“I’ll drive your car,” he said, then glanced at the older woman. “Bett, you take Shelly home in the SUV.”
“I hate to impose after all you’ve done,” Allison insisted, not wanting to be a pest.
His lips eased into a smile, but his eyes were serious. “I need to make sure nothing else happens to you tonight.”
Bett and Shelly pulled onto the two-lane street, heading home, as Luke settled Allison into the passenger side of her car and slipped into the driver’s seat next to her.
The cloud cover broke, exposing a crescent moon and stars twinkling in the sky. Venus, named after the goddess of love, hovered low on the horizon, reminding him of the Greek mythology he’d studied in college. He shook his head ever so slightly. Probably the close proximity of an attractive woman that had him thinking of love.
Or maybe it was due to the sweet floral scent that lingered in her car and contrasted sharply with the acrid smoke that clung to his clothes.
Today’s weather report forecast the first October frost, and over the past few hours, the temperature had dropped to near freezing. Luke reached for the heater control and turned to his passenger, still wrapped in a blanket the EMTs had given her. She looked bone-tired.
“Cold?”
She rubbed her arms and nodded. “Maybe a little.”
He adjusted the thermostat until warm air flowed from the vents.
“I’ve got a cell phone, if you’d like to call family to let them know you’re okay.”
“Mine’s in my purse.” She patted the small shoulder bag still draped around her neck. “I’ll call my laboratory manager tomorrow in case the fire makes the Atlanta news.”
“Where do you work?”
“Magnolia Medical. It’s a health-care facility. Clinical labs, physical and occupational therapy, that type of thing. I’m in the research branch.”
After the endless battery of tests Shelly had been put through, medical personnel didn’t rank high on Luke’s list of important people. Bett had insisted extended therapy in Atlanta would help. He’d never told his aunt, but he wondered if Shelly’s recovery had been delayed because the specialists had pushed her too hard.
“Surely you’re not here because of your research?” he asked, surprised by the edge in his voice. “Something to do with the local wildlife?”
She turned to stare at him. “Why do you ask?”
He could see the question in her blue eyes even in the dim reflection of light from the dashboard controls.
“A couple guys were talking while you were being treated by the doc. They said you stopped by the Roadside Grill on your way into town and quizzed the waitress about the wild game on the menu.”
“Folks in Sterling like to talk.”
“It’s a small town.” He shrugged. “News travels.”
“I didn’t expect them to serve venison,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “PETA or anti-gun?”
“Pardon?”
“Sounds like you’re against hunting.”
“I never said that.”
“But you insinuated it. At least that’s what the men led me to believe.”
“And you believe everything you hear?”
She had him there.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said.
“And so am I.” She pulled her hair back from her face and sighed. “The fact is, I’m working on a laboratory test to ensure the safety of our blood supply. It’s in the developmental stage, and I picked up some unexpected results.”
“If they have to do with the deer population, you might want to notify the game warden.”
“It’s a little too early to involve him. At this point, the results of my test are questionable.”
“Then you don’t think there’s a problem with the venison?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
Neither did he. Allison looked as confused as she sounded.
What had he read about diseases humans could get from deer? He thought of the article he’d written on hunting safety. “Only thing that comes to mind involving infected venison is chronic wasting disease. We’ve never had a problem in Georgia.”
Allison’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mention the name of the disease.”
“No, you didn’t. But I wrote an article for a hunting magazine a few months back on the danger of infected game.”
She rolled her eyes and groaned. “You’re a journalist?”
“Actually I run a manufacturing company and do a little farming on the side. In my spare time, I pen articles for a regional hunting magazine.”
“Time-out, okay?” She put one hand over the other to form a T. “The doc gave me a muscle relaxer that’s making me talk too much. Do me a favor and let’s change the subject.”
Typical for medical types. Throw out information, then refuse to discuss the situation fully. Shelly’s doctors had done the same thing numerous times, causing Luke undue frustration.
Although frustration wasn’t what he was feeling tonight. More like concern.
He didn’t know a thing about the woman sitting next to him, but he knew about the danger wasting disease posed to hunters. Even if they didn’t eat the infected venison, handling the carcass—especially if they had cuts on their hands—could increase the risk of exposure. Yet Allison had admitted her results were questionable.
He made a mental note to call the game warden in the morning. Luke hadn’t seen any sickly animals on his property, but it wouldn’t hurt to notify the authorities to be on the lookout.
They rode in silence for over a mile until Allison tilted her head back against the seat. “Your aunt seems like a nice lady. What about the rest of your family?”
He shrugged. “Not much to tell. Bett’s helping me raise my sister.”
“So Shelly’s not your daughter?”
The look on her face caused him to chuckle. “Do I look like an old married guy?”
“No, but—” She smiled. “I told you I’m not thinking straight. And your parents?”
“They’re both dead.”
He heard the finality in his voice, and to her credit, Allison didn’t push for more information. Instead, she mumbled a few words of sympathy and closed her eyes.
Pretty, even with the soot that smudged her face. No matter why she’d come to Sterling, Luke would let her stay in the cabin for a day or two while she tracked down the information she needed. She’d probably be on her way by the end of the week.
Doubtful she’d disrupt his routine in that short time. After all, he’d worked too long to build a protective cocoon where his sister could live without being reminded of the past. Despite the doctors’ prognosis, Luke believed Shelly would eventually have a breakthrough. He wouldn’t let anything set her back again.
Even an attractive scientist who seemed to need protection herself.
Allison knew when to keep quiet. The tone of Luke’s voice had made it clear his parents’ deaths were off-limits as a topic of discussion. She understood limits. She’d placed boundaries on her past as well.
Besides, she didn’t feel like talking. Her back ached and a heavy weight sat on her chest from the amount of smoke she’d inhaled. Common sense told her she should have followed the doctor’s advice and gone to the hospital for observation. But the facility was seventy-five miles away, and she didn’t have time to twiddle her thumbs while the doc on duty determined she could be released in the morning.
She needed to find the reason for her test results before someone in Atlanta decided to release the three units for transfusion.
“It’s over, Allison,” the laboratory manager’s words echoed through her mind.
Allison had worked too long and come too far to have her research dismissed so quickly.
The hum of the tires along the country road, the warmth of the heater and the darkness lulled Allison into a light slumber.
She blinked her eyes open when the car came to a stop in front of a small log cabin with a wide porch, where Luke’s aunt waved a greeting. Two wrought-iron lights illuminated a glider swing and rocking chair.
Rounding the car, Luke opened the passenger door and held out his hand. Placing hers in his, she felt the strength of his grasp, grateful for his support as her stiff muscles refused to readily comply.
“Shelly’s in bed and waiting for you to tell her good-night,” Bett said to Luke, then, wrapping her arm around Allison, she ushered her toward the cabin. “I’ve got everything ready for you, dear.”
“Take good care of her,” Luke said as their hands parted.
“Now come on, honey. I’ll get you settled.” Bett opened the cabin door. Before Allison stepped inside, she glanced back at Luke, who walked purposely toward a large, sprawling farmhouse about fifty yards away.
What was it about Luke Garrison? He’d saved her life, for which she’d be eternally grateful. Both he and his aunt seemed welcoming with their offer of lodging and attention to her needs.
He had seemed friendly enough until she’d mentioned his parents. Death was hard. Something she knew firsthand. Evidently, Luke was a private person who kept his feelings to himself.
But his tone of voice sent a question niggling at the back of her mind.
Was there something he wanted to keep secret about their deaths?
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