“Plus, I’m on maternity leave,” I deadpanned, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Yeah, but you’re living at the crime scene. You have to be here anyway. And we both know you’ll be poking around.”

  The desperation in his eyes tugged at my heart. I knew that sense of desperation, that sinking feeling that someone I loved was being framed for murder.

  “Does Deb know about Renee?” I asked.

  He hissed through his teeth. “No.”

  “All right.” I crossed my arms. “Here’s how this is going to go. You need to tell Deb about your connection to the case, and officially recuse yourself from it. Then, you and I can work together on our own time, alongside the police investigation. That will keep you from getting in trouble or jeopardizing the official investigation, and I’m sure that, between the two of us, we can figure out who did this and clear Renee’s name.”

  If she is, in fact, innocent. And if she’s not, I’m going to have to break McNearny’s heart.

  About an hour later, my phone buzzed with a text message from Deb, jolting me from a half sleep. Can I come talk to you?

  All clear, I replied, yawning and trying to shake the cobwebs out of my brain. No one here but me.

  Fifteen minutes later, she opened the door, and I sat up, finally wide awake.

  “Hey,” she said, pointing up at the clock, which read 9:59 and fifty seconds. “I’m just about off my shift. Promised myself I’d quit at ten if there weren’t any urgent leads to follow. And at this point . . . there are not.”

  “Four, three, two, one!” I cried, counting down the seconds.

  She dramatically reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a flask of liquor.

  “Deb!” I crossed my arms.

  “What?” She grinned. “I waited until I was off-duty.”

  “I worry about you sometimes, you know that?”

  She shrugged off my concern and took a swig. “Wanted to come talk to you about the case, and I preferred to do it after I’d clocked out. Had an interesting conversation with Sergeant McNearny this evening.”

  “What’d he tell you?”

  I didn’t want to betray McNearny’s confidence, but I also wanted to make sure he’d told Deb the truth . . . or at least enough of it.

  “That he’s been dating my top suspect for like four months! I wanted to slap him upside the head! Anyway, I know he’s my boss, but he made me the lead detective on this case, and I asked him to keep himself off it.”

  She took another swig from the flask, then tucked it back into her pocket. “It’s one thing for a PI to be too close to a suspect. It’s entirely another for a police officer to be. That could open up all kinds of accusations, get evidence thrown out in court . . . even if he’s right, and his girlfriend is innocent, that sort of conflict of interest could mean our real killer gets off on a technicality.”

  I nodded solemnly.

  “So,” she said, “I want to thank you for giving him the advice that you did. He and I talked it over, and we decided he’s going to take some paid vacation this week.” She studied me. “He’s still a police officer, on department payroll. He can’t talk directly to any suspects. Except his girlfriend, of course, but he can’t talk to her about the case at all. But he can come here to visit you, as a friend, and if he happens to notice anything interesting, well . . . the two of you can confer, and you can bring it to me. Got it?”

  Warmth filled me. “Got it.”

  She nodded brusquely. “Now that we’ve got that settled, I guess it’s my turn to be grumpy like McNearny and tell you to stay off my turf and out of my cases.” But her eyes sparkled, and she gave me a wink. “I think that’s what a lead detective is supposed to do.”

  “Understood, Detective,” I replied with a smirk. “Off the record, do you have anything interesting for me? Is there anything tying the two murders together?”

  She chuckled. “I’ll say. Two stabbings in twenty-four hours in the same hospital is probably enough to tie them together in and of itself—and the victims were both stabbed in the carotid artery, which is another big piece of evidence.”

  “Okay.” I scribbled a few notes.

  “Aaaaaand,” she said, drawing out the word, “the killer left a note at the second crime scene.”

  “Whoa!” I gasped aloud, delighted by this stroke of luck. “Really? What did it say?”

  Notes could be gold mines of evidence! Fingerprints, handwriting, turns of phrase, hints about motive and identity.

  “They’ll never hurt anyone again,” Deb replied, rubbing her temples. “That’s it. I’m having it checked for prints, ink, that sort of thing. We’ll see if we can find out anything else.”

  “Hmm.” I chewed the end of my pen. “That hints at a motive, but doesn’t spell it out. But certainly suggests the same person was responsible for both deaths.”

  “It makes sense with my working theory, which—I’m sorry to say—is that McNearny’s girl is the guilty party. Both men hurt her—one jilted her and the other betrayed her.”

  It made sense as a theory, but McNearny’s anguished face flashed through my mind. I know her. And I know murder cases, he’d said.

  I hesitated, my thoughts circling back to Nurse Bindi.

  I’d do anything for my little NICU angels.

  “What are you thinking?” asked Deb, slumping back against the wall.

  “I do . . . have one other theory,” I said slowly. “I hate to say it, though.”

  “Say it.” She scooted back up onto the counter. “We’re just tossing around ideas here, not storming out to arrest anyone.”

  “It’s seemed like there’s some . . . professional tension around here.”

  Deb chuckled darkly. “Looks like it.”

  “Renee hinted to me that it was a possibility some NICU babies had died due to Samuel’s negligence. And Dr. Phillips hadn’t endeared himself to the other staff. Did I tell you about the fight my NICU nurse had with Dr. Phillips while I was in labor? Before Samuel died?”

  She squinted at me. “Yeah, that sounds familiar. Refresh me on what she said, exactly?”

  I closed my eyes and summoned the memory. “Cory, I swear on my great-uncle’s grave, you’re going to burn in hell for all the wreckage you leave in your wake. You and Samuel both. I’m sick of looking at you!”

  Deb whistled and tossed the flask in the garbage can. “Well, maybe I’m back on the clock, after all. That’d be quite a coincidence for her to say that so soon before both men were murdered. Do you have any idea what kind of wreckage she was talking about?”

  I rubbed my eyes, exhausting overtaking me. “What . . . what if something happened to a patient? Either a new mom or a NICU baby, or both. Maybe Bindi got too close to them and blamed Samuel and Dr. Phillips for their death?”

  Deb nodded slowly. “All right. If we find out about any suspicious NICU deaths, we should probably look into family members, too.”

  “But the cameras malfunctioned,” I pointed out. “We don’t have any footage from the time of the murder.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Deb waved a hand. “Which means it was an inside job. Either the killer works here or the killer paid off someone who works here. What’s the name of the nurse that seemed to have beef with the doctor?”

  “Bindi. I . . . I don’t remember a last name.”

  “First name’s fine,” Deb grunted. “Her name’s Bindi—how many of those can there possibly be in the NICU?”

  With a chuckle, I said, “It’s not like she’s a Jessica or a Lindsay.”

  Deb rubbed her temples. “All right, I’ll look into some background on her tonight or first thing tomorrow, depending on how sober I feel when I get home.”

  “I’ll see if I can get Bindi talking next time I visit the babies.” I tapped my pen against the notepad and yawned. “Maybe she’ll let her guard down and say something important . . . something that incriminates her or that points to a particular case that she might want revenge for.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I slept solidly that night—no doubt thanks to the steady supply of pain medicine. One advantage to a C-section.

  When I woke up close to noon, an idea sparked in my mind. If I eased back into my maternity clothes and walked confidently, would the nurses stop me from leaving the maternity ward?

  Could I sneak into the NICU to visit Jim and the babies—and maybe even Nurse Bindi?

  Worth a try.

  It’s not like this was the highest-stakes sneaking I’d done while investigating a case. If I could skulk through the French ambassador’s house, surely, I could sneak through a hospital.

  Carefully, I pulled on a loose-fitting dress and stuffed my feet into my flip-flops.

  I peeked out my door, hoping to find the hallway momentarily empty. But instead, Mama Tina was walking past my room, holding a box.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed. “Hi, Mama Tina!”

  She smiled at me. “Hello, dear. How are you feeling today?”

  “Still sore, but doing better every day—and even more importantly, the twins are doing better every day! I’m hoping we’ll be discharged tomorrow.”

  If I were being completely honest, I wouldn’t mind one extra day in the hospital . . . if it would help me solve the case, plus it was nice to have the extra help taking care of the babies.

  But at the same time, I ached to be home with the boys and Laurie.

  She shifted the box to her hip. “I’m so glad. It’s always a relief to get moms and babies back home to normal life, and”—concern washed over her face—“especially now, with all this bad business going on.”

  I seized my opening. “Yes,” I said, affecting a distant expression. “It’s been so tragic and strange. Two doctors murdered!”

  She nodded grimly, opened her mouth, and closed it again.

  “Are you afraid?” I asked softly. “That the killer’s not done?”

  She tilted her head, as if surprised by my question. “I don’t think I’m afraid, no. At least, not for myself. No one with a grudge against Dr. Hall—I mean, Samuel—or Dr. Phillips would have a grudge against me.”

  That caught my attention. I leaned back against the wall and studied her. “Does that mean you have an idea of who might have had a grudge against them?”

  She grimaced, looked up and down the hall, and whispered, “Let’s not do this here.”

  Why does she want to talk to me in secret? As far as she’s concerned, I’m just another patient. But I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip away.

  I raised my voice a little louder and said, “Would you mind taking me out to the hospital gardens, Mama Tina? I’m going absolutely crazy in here. I think I need some contact with nature and some sunlight.”

  She beamed at me. “I’d be delighted. Let me go get a wheelchair for you.”

  A couple minutes later, she returned with a wheelchair instead of the box she’d been carrying. She wheeled me past the receptionist’s desk and out the automatic doors to a lush garden.

  I lifted my face to welcome the warm beams of sunlight and let out a happy sigh.

  We reached a fountain with a statue of a horse in the middle, and she parked my wheelchair and sat down heavily on the lip of the fountain. The fragrant smell of flowers blew past us on a sudden breeze.

  “The running water should cover our conversation,” she said softly, her voice husky. “I . . . I’m sorry, this is intrusive, but when I was passing by your room, right before I took you to the NICU that time, I overheard you talking. You’re a private investigator.”

  My heart pounded a little faster. So that was why she’d wanted to talk.

  “Yes,” I replied softly. “Well, not officially—I’m still in training, getting my required hours, but I’ve solved a few cases.”

  “I . . . looked you up online last night—I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have. But it sounds like you’re one of the best in the city.”

  I bit my lip, trying to decide how much to tell her. “I’ve learned to trust my instincts at this point.”

  No point downplaying my record, since she’d looked it up.

  She let out a sigh and wiped a hand over her face. “Everyone’s afraid, Miss Kate. Everyone’s jumpy. I’m worried that patients are getting substandard care because the doctors and nurses are afraid the killer is lurking around every corner.”

  I pursed my lips. “We’ll solve the murders as quickly as we can. Was there . . . something you wanted to tell me? About someone here at the hospital who might have held a grudge against the victims?”

  She hesitated and scrunched up her face. “This feels so wrong . . . like I’m ratting out my coworkers.”

  I leaned forward, wincing a little at a twinge of pain in my surgery site. “Mama Tina, we’ll investigate any leads you give us, but just because we get a name doesn’t mean they’re guilty. We look at a lot of people as a case unfolds. Besides, the killer has struck twice already. What if they strike again? You might be protecting your coworkers by telling me about your suspicions.”

  She let out a long sigh. “Well, if you’d told me a week ago that two men would be murdered in the hospital, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out it was those two. They were friends, although I think it was more about the fact that they liked chasing skirts together than that they really felt deep friendship for each other. You know what I mean?”

  I tilted my head, frowning, thinking back to my C-section, when we’d found out about the first murder. Docta C had seemed to go a shade pale, but he hadn’t dropped his brusque professionalism except to express concern for Nurse Renee.

  That made sense if Samuel was a distant friend or a friendly acquaintance but not someone the doctor really felt close to.

  Mama Tina continued, “Now, they weren’t the best-liked doctors here, not by a long shot. And there’s more than one way they might have angered someone. I imagine you’ve already found out about the whole situation with Miss Renee, your nurse.”

  “That she used to date them?” I asked.

  With a nod, Mama Tina said, “And they were terrible ladies’ men. The worst of anyone here. So, I’m sure you’re following those leads . . .”

  “Do you know why Samuel’s medical license was suspended?” I blurted.

  “DUI,” she said, her lips pursed in disapproval. “On his way home from a double shift at the hospital. But”—her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper—“everyone’s assuming he was drunk at work, and that’s never made any sense to me. He admitted the DUI to people and let them assume it was alcohol, but why would he have been drinking on a double shift?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It seems like it had to be drugs,” she said, folding her hands together. “Wouldn’t you think? Like . . . amphetamines or something. An upper, not a downer. There was a long period of time—six months or so—where we were short-staffed in the NICU. He picked up a lot of extra shifts . . .”

  She glanced side to side and whispered, “To be honest, I think more than was safe for patients. Sometimes it seemed like he was here as much as the baby doctors were—I don’t mean pediatrics; I mean the residents just out of med school.”

  “I see.” I tilted my head, thinking. “Residents work a lot of hours, don’t they?”

  “They used to work twenty-four hour shifts sometimes,” said Mama Tina, shaking her head. “That’s not allowed anymore—and it’s been a few years since it was—but they still work them too many hours, and it’s bad for patients. Sixteen-hour shifts are pretty common.”

  I whistled. “I don’t think I’d want a doctor who’d been on the clock for fifteen hours.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t,” said Mama Tina. “Anyway, a while back—a few months before the DUI, maybe? I don’t remember exactly—a baby died in the NICU that probably shouldn’t have died.”

  My heart flew to my throat, and I wanted to puke. The sudden panic squeezing my heart wanted reassurance that my babies would come home safe and sound with me.

  She continued, “The parents settled with the hospital. I don’t know all the details, but I’m under the impression that the hospital’s insurance paid out some money without admitting to any particular negligence, because of how short-staffed we’d been. They didn’t want it to go to court.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly.

  “There was a NICU nurse who’d just loved that baby. She wasn’t at work when he died, and I think she blamed herself for not being here. But she also blamed Samuel.”

  My ears perked up. This fit perfectly with my theory! “What nurse?”

  Mama Tina bit her lip, and she said, “Bindi Love. Now, I like Bindi. I don’t really think she’s a killer. But . . . the whole thing troubles me, and that was one idea I had.”

  Nurse Bindi! Who is taking care of my babies right now!

  Despite the suspicions I’d been harboring, my voice came out strangled. “Did Bindi Love hold a grudge against Dr. Phillips, too?”

  Mama Tina chuckled darkly. “Like I said, Dr. Phillips didn’t endear himself to most anyone here. I know Bindi thought he tried to keep recovering moms of the NICU babies in the maternity ward too much, especially after C-sections. Didn’t allow them enough time with their newborns.”

  “Wow.” I let out a long breath that sounded like a hiss. “Is there anything else you think I should know?”

  She looked down at the concrete walkway. “This isn’t the best work environment—but don’t let the hospital know I said that, or they might fire me—and everyone’s competitive with each other. Sometimes it feels like I’m on the set of Grey’s Anatomy rather than in a real healthcare setting with professionals who are bound to take the best care of their patients. There’s another doctor . . . Dr. Hobbs.”

  “An OBGYN?”