Page 46 of Heart of a Hero

"No," Brad said quickly, his voice urgent.

"No, Ms. Drummond," Elizabeth echoed calmly. "But the station offers more privacy, and since this is an ongoing investigation, we want to make sure we gather the information we need in a secure environment."

“But… you didn’t need that this morning. I heard you came here.”

“That’s true,” Brad said, nodding. “Mark and I came?—”

“Mark was with you this morning?” Karen cut in, her heart sinking as she pieced together more of the picture.

Brad hesitated, swallowing hard, but it was Elizabeth who answered. “Detective Robbins was here this morning, yes. But with new information, it was determined that you’re the person who could best answer our questions.”

A cold, heavy weight settled in her gut.Mark was here. Now he’s not. They want to question me at the station. And he didn’t come. He didn’t tell me.Karen’s chest constricted, and she exhaled slowly, trying to calm the storm brewing inside her.

“Karen.” Brad’s voice broke through her thoughts, but it was strained and apologetic. “Please, let’s go to the station. We’ll get through the questions, and you’ll be free to leave.”

The brutal cold now reached her bones. “Do I need an attorney?” Harsh steadiness punctuated each word as she held his gaze.

“That is your right,” Elizabeth carefully said, her gaze irritatingly neutral. “You are not obligated to come with us to answer questions.”

“I have nothing to hide, but I won’t be marched out of here like a criminal under arrest.” She stood and reached for her coat and purse. Sliding her shaking arms into the sleeves, she tried to steady her nerves. Once her coat was fastened and her purse strap was slung over her shoulder, she faced them again. “Since I’m not under arrest, I will drive myself.” She had no idea if thatwould be allowed, but she hoped her bravado would hide the quivering of her hands.

The three stood in silence for a moment, and Elizabeth nodded. “We’ll follow you in our vehicle.”

Karen snorted, refusing to thank them for the courtesy. She could only imagine what was going through the staff’s mind when she walked out with the two detectives. Holding her head high, she hurried past them and out the door. Seeing the receptionist’s raised eyebrows, she plastered on her best smile. “I have to go to the station to giveconfidentialinformation about a case. Please cancel my afternoon patients, and I’ll return as soon as possible.”

The receptionist smiled and nodded. Karen was fairly sure that the longtime receptionist, who had probably seen and heard just about everything, wouldn’t talk about Karen’s departure since she’d emphasized the word confidential.

Climbing behind the wheel of her small SUV, she pulled out of the parking lot and checked to see that Brad and Detective Perez were behind her.Why is Mark not here? Do they suspect me of something? Is that why he didn’t come? Or call last night? How long has he suspected? Was it before our dates?

Once parked at the station, she walked in behind Brad with Elizabeth just behind.Caged in. Where the hell do they think I’m going to run to?She held her head high as they walked through the reception area, down a hall, and then down another. Entering a room, she nearly laughed… or cried. It looked like every police interrogation room from every movie or cop TV show she’d ever watched. Tiled floor. Metal desk. Metal chairs. The walls were painted a pale, lifeless grayish-blue, designed to drain any warmth from the space. And in the corner, a small camera was mounted, its lens pointed directly at her.And who is watching from the camera? Mark?

Swallowing hard, she stepped to the desk but didn’t sit until Elizabeth waved her to one of the chairs. She slid her coat off her shoulders and was hit with the memory of Mark’s hands lingering on her shoulders when he assisted with her coat on their date. His touch had been warm, lingering just long enough to make her pulse quicken. But now, the memory felt out of place, intrusive, in the stark coldness of the interrogation room. Draping her coat on the back of the chair, she sat down and placed her purse in her lap, forcing her mind on what was happening and not her memories.

Schooling her expression, she held Brad’s gaze before shifting it to Detective Perez but remained silent. It was their show, and she was determined to do what she could to assist their investigation even though she had no idea how it involved her.

Brad’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, his tone gentle but professional. “Karen,” he began, his eyes searching hers, “we need to understand how patients are selected for Eastern Shore Home Health’s services.”

She blinked, the question catching her off guard.They needed me to come into the station for this?Her mind raced, trying to make sense of why this routine question required such formality, such tension. She forced herself to focus, meeting Brad’s gaze before shifting to Detective Perez, who sat silently beside him, her eyes steady and unreadable.

She placed her forearms on the table and clasped her hands together. Karen breathed, composing her expression into something calm, though her heart raced beneath her composed exterior. “Patients are usually referred by hospitals or their primary care doctors. Once we get the referral, I do an initial evaluation—go to their homes, assess their needs, and coordinate services from there.”

She paused, searching their faces for any hint of why this mattered, but they gave nothing away. Elizabeth’s steady gaze remained on her, waiting. Brad seemed almost apologetic as if he knew more than he was letting on.

“Can you give us examples of your typical patients?”

“I don’t know that we have anythingtypical, but if you mean more prevalent, I suppose it would be after surgeries such as knee and hip replacements, or stroke patients might make up a higher percentage than others. I would have to check our annual records to be able to give you the specifics. I could have done that if we were in my office,” she added pointedly.

“And are all the patients seen in their home?”

“No.” At her one-word answer, she thought she had detected a slight jerk of surprise from Brad. Pressing her lips together, she battled the urge to keep talking to explain her job. Not knowing what they were looking for and hating that they were being so elusive, she decided just to answer what they asked.

Brad nodded, and she wondered if he could read her stubborn mind.

“What other places would be involved besides the home?”

“The services can also be accessed in skilled clinical care facilities.”

“And who provides the services?” Brad prodded.

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