Page 80 of Chosen Path
“No, ma’am,” he said. “Nobody came to the council about Doc.”
She and Bodhi exchanged a look. Perhaps Doc had made his own determination.
She gave a slight shrug and continued, “Doc, for reasons best known to Doc, never mentioned this … tradition … to me. But, shortly after I came to town, people started dying at an alarming rate. I can tell you that your friends and neighbors did not die peacefully in their sleep.”
From her spot at the closest table, Hope made a soft cry of anguish.
Kimberly finally spoke, and her voice was fierce. “We had to do something! George Alden was in a bad way. He came to us right after Doc died. Doctor Hart wasn’t here yet, so we took matters into our own hands.”
“You forged a prescription for insulin using Doc’s provider number. Why insulin?” Bodhi asked.
“We didn’t know the exact prescription Doc used, but Corrine knew that if someone who wasn’t diabetic took insulin, they could die. She had a husband and a son with diabetes, you know.”
“So once the four of you got a taste of killing, you couldn’t stop?” Molly asked.
“No,” Greg answered in a weary voice. “It wasn’t like that. The executive council was split. We didn’t have unanimity anymore. Two of us wanted to keep helping people, but two of us didn’t want to make the decisions without Doc. And the rift grew.”
“Nikolas and Corrine were the ones who wanted to stop.”
“Yes.”
“So they had to go?”
“Things got out of hand,” was Greg’s answer.
Dozens of people began to talk over one another. Several women were crying. It appeared that Frank and another man were about to come to blows. Bodhi locked eyes with Officer Booth, who strode to the front of the room.
She raised her voice and shouted, “Enough! Officer Perth, take Greg and Kimberly into custody for the murders of Nikolas Lundgren and Corrine Wolf. The rest of you, settle down or I’ll start making disorderly conduct arrests.”
Perth hustled Kimberly and Greg out of the room before the mood grew any more restive.
Molly gave Bodhi a sad smile. “I guess we were right.”
He tilted his head toward Hope, who was crying openly. “She’s not okay.”
They made their way to her table and crouched on either side of her.
“Hope?” Molly said her name in a gentle voice.
She raised her tear-stained face. “Does this mean my mom killed herself?”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
Friday evening
Jenny Booth climbed the stairs to Molly’s porch with slow, weary steps. She rang the bell and suppressed a yawn.
“It’s open,” Bodhi said from the porch swing.
She gasped and spun toward his voice, planting her feet in a shooting stance. She didn’t have a weapon, but he raised his hands anyway.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, Officer Booth.”
She exhaled and trudged across the porch to join him on the swing. “Jenny. I’m off duty.”
They swung, back and forth, back and forth, in silence. Bodhi closed his eyes, rested his head against the back of the swing, and gave himself over to the gentle rocking motion.
After several silent oscillations, she spoke again. “How’s Hope?”
