But I can’t accept it.
Most states have a statute of limitations on crimes—for fraud, armed robbery, assault. But there’s never a statute of limitations on murder. If you kill somebody, it’s never too late to prosecute you for that crime. Because the person you killed will never stop being dead.
“Listen,” I say to Peggy, “don’t tell April I was here.”
“You got it,” she says. She looks into Janet’s room and a shadow comes over her face. “And if you want to talk to her again, let me know. Maybe a couple of her pills could fall down the toilet that day.”
I thank her again and head out. I’m going to come back here and I’m going to take Peggy up on her offer. I’m going to get to the truth. I’m going to get justice for Courtney Burns and Janet Portland.
As I’m signing myself out in the lobby, I hear a voice behind me: “April’s friend, right?”
I whirl around, my heart pounding like it did when Keith walked in on me responding to Riley’s text messages. I come face-to-face with a familiar-looking middle-aged man with sexy silver hair.
“Hello,” I say. “Have we… met before?”
His eyes crinkle when he smiles. “I’m Joe Williams—April’s mother’s physician here at the nursing home. We met at her Christmas party.”
“Oh,” I say. “Yes. I remember.”
I feel distinctly uneasy, because I remember this guy very clearly now. I remember how I saw him and April talking together in the corner at the party. Her hand was on his shoulder. And at one point, she leaned in and whispered something in his ear, and he laughed.
Peggy might be willing to keep my visit here a secret, but this man is sure to tell her.
But then again, is it so wrong that I’m here visiting Janet? The poor woman is demented （or so April proclaimed）。 It stands to reason I might visit her to brighten her day.
“What brings you to Shady Oaks?” Dr. Williams asks.
I consider making up a fake relative, but all he would have to do was ask me the name and my cover would be blown. Better to stick close to the truth. “I thought I might pay Janet a visit. Brighten her day.”
“Well, how kind of you!” he exclaims. But the look in his eyes tells me otherwise. His eyes tell me he knows I’m full of it. It’s not just April who needs to protect their ass. “People with severe dementia like Janet really benefit from seeing familiar faces.”
“Yes, that’s what I was thinking. And I had some free time, so…”
“If you decide to come back,” he says, “let me know. We can have Janet arrange to meet with you in the dining area.”
“Will do!” I say cheerfully.
I get the feeling if I ever tell this man I’m returning, he’ll make sure Janet is so snowed with medications, I won’t be able to wake her up. And it occurs to me maybe that is the eventual plan. More and more medications until one day, she stops breathing.
The thought of it makes me ill.
Chapter 41
More than anything, I need to get to the bottom of this.
I didn’t even realize until I’m driving home how good it feels to be investigating a murder. Ever since I gave up my job at the DA’s office, it was like I had been in some sort of fog. Always trying to find more and more activities to substitute for the job I missed so badly. The one I was born to do.
I don’t know what to do next about April. I have to find time to return to the nursing home when Dr. Williams isn’t around. Peggy will help me. Next time I’ll record my visit, and I’ll call Riley if I manage to find out anything. Maybe there’s no chance of getting justice for Courtney Burns. But if I can get Janet Portland out of that nursing home, it will be worth it.
I stop off to get groceries on the way home. I still have some time before the boys’ karate class ends. April is supposed to be picking them all up and bringing them home. But I’m not comfortable with that anymore. I don’t want that woman near my kids.
I call her while I’m driving home from the grocery store, but the call goes to voicemail. I’ll have to intercept her at the karate school. Maybe I should call the karate school and ask them not to release the kids to her.
I walk into my kitchen through the back door with my bags of groceries. I’m carrying four bags, so I drop them on the kitchen counter and extract the handles from my wrist. Then I get out my phone and call the karate school. I look at my watch. Still twenty minutes left till pick up time. Just enough time for me to drive over there.
The karate studio answers after a couple of rings. A slightly accented female voice answers, “Hello? Teraoka karate studio.”
“Hi!” I say. “This is Julie—Leo and Tristan Bressler’s mom. I just wanted to talk to somebody about their pick up today.”
“Oh, yes, yes!” the woman says. “Your friend April already picked them up. No problem.”
“But… the class isn’t over yet…”
“She explained… there was a party…？” She sounds confused. “It was okay for her to pick up, right?”
“No!”
“But…” she sputters. “She always picks them up… I thought…”
“Don’t ever let her pick them up again,” I snap into the phone. And then I slam it down on the kitchen counter.
Why would April pick up my kids twenty minutes early? There was no reason for her to do that. Unless…
Unless she already knows I was at the nursing home with her mother. Maybe Dr. Williams called her right after I saw him.
I get a stab of panic in my chest. Oh my God, what is she doing? What is she planning to do to my children?
Okay, I need to calm down. So what if April has my kids? It’s not like she’s going to run off with them. I know where she lives—practically next door. And it’s not like she’s some sort of monster who would murder two young children.
Is she?
I call April’s number yet again. Again, right to voicemail. This time I punch in a text message:
Please give me a call back as soon as possible. I really need to talk to you.
I don’t know what to do. I can’t call the police. I gave April permission to pick up the kids. She would have been negligent if she hadn’t gotten them. The karate studio has written permission from me to allow April to pick them up. If I call the police, I’ll sound like a nut job.
I call Keith, but he doesn’t answer. Naturally. And then I call him again. And again. On the fourth try, he picks up the phone.
“What’s going on, Julie?” he barks into the phone.
“I…” I bite my lip, trying to figure out how I’m going to tell him what happened. “April has the kids—”
“So?” he interrupts me before I can get the rest of the sentence out.
“I’m worried they might be… in danger.”
“From April?” He snorts. “What’s she going to do—bake them into a pie?”
“I just… I’m worried she might hurt them.”
“Julie, have you been drinking?”
“No!”
“Look, I don’t have time for this.” Keith’s voice becomes muffled as he talks to somebody in the background. “Julie, I’m going. I’ll be home late tonight.”