Last Licks

He heard Sunny’s voice. How dare she close the door on him, letting the She’s human get away! Shadow was so, so angry. With his back to the door, he hissed at her, one paw up and claws ready—

And then he remembered the scent of Sunny’s blood. He couldn’t do that again. Conflicting impulses all but paralyzed him. He jammed himself up against the door, the unyielding wood, right at the space where the faintest traces of outside air came in. But it didn’t bring the scent he most desired.

Sunny spoke, but she didn’t touch him. Maybe that was a good thing. Shadow couldn’t trust himself not to draw blood again. He just stayed where he was, letting out his feelings in mournful yowls.

*

“I’ve seen people going through detox who didn’t look or sound as bad as that,” Will said as he and Sunny sat back in the kitchen. “Looks as though Shadow has a real case for Rafe’s Portia.”

“I don’t know what to do about it,” Sunny said as another disconsolate moan came from the front door. “So I guess we may as well ignore him.”

They sat together, reading down the list of names Rafe had left. Will ran a finger down the page. “I count twenty-three people here. That’s like a third of the beds in Bridgewater Hall, isn’t it?”

“That shouldn’t be so surprising. My dad told me the other day that the average life expectancy for a person in a nursing home is about three years.” She held up a hand at the look on Will’s face. “Hey, those are the kinds of statistics Dad keeps dredging out of the newspapers.”

Will pointed to the lower part of the list. “So, for the past twelve months, there are seventeen cases. But in the six months before that period, I count only six deaths. If that held as the average for the previous year, we’re looking at a big jump, almost fifty percent.”

“Yes, but remember, you’re working with a universe of only seventy-five beds,” Sunny pointed out. “A couple of very old or very sick people would cause a big swing in the statistics.”

Will divided the files into two piles, and gave one to Sunny. “I think that’s all we can get from the deaths. Let’s see what the rosters tell us.”

By the time she got to the third sheet, she said, “I keep seeing the same names.”

“Well, that stands to reason—it’s the night shift. Bridgewater Hall isn’t like the Sheriff’s Department, where people move around every couple of weeks. Soooo . . .” Will drew out the word. “Maybe we should look for names that don’t turn up all the time.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Sunny said. “If the regular staff is a constant, regardless of when the mortality rate was low and when it got higher, we want to look for anomalies.”

Will nodded. “Pinch hitters who are hurting the team’s batting average.” It was boring work, looking over roster after roster, ignoring the names that were always there and marking the ones that stood out. The problem was that they didn’t really stand out. They were just tucked in among the same-old, same-old people.

They switched lists and went back to searching. It wasn’t exactly a needle in a haystack effort, but it was tedious.

The exciting world of plodding police work, Sunny thought.

After they had each gone through the entire set of lists twice, Sunny said, “Are you hungry? It just struck me that I never ate breakfast.” She put a hand on her stomach. “And Dad’s coffee, good as it is, is beginning to feel as if it’s burning a hole in my innards.”

She left Will to tabulate the results while she went to check the contents of the refrigerator. “Looks like I could do sandwiches, if you don’t mind the dreaded roast turkey with lettuce and tomato,” she reported, after seeing what Mike had picked up on his latest shopping trip. “I could put a little honey mustard on them.”

“Sounds good,” Will said, still staring at the papers.

“And to drink there’s seltzer, or I could make a new pot of coffee.”

“Seltzer, please.” A low rumble came from Will’s middle. “Maybe coffee on top of old beer wasn’t such a good decision.” Eventually, Shadow came back into the room, heading for his bowl of dry food. Sunny checked her impulse to go to the cat. If he wants company, he’ll show it, she reminded herself. Let’s see what kind of mood he’s in.

Shadow was definitely in a bad mood when it came to Will. He elaborately circled around, far out of reach, from the chair where Will sat working. Even so, Shadow kept a wary eye on his new nemesis—at least that was the way it seemed to Sunny, given all the tail lashing that was going on.