Betrayed (Rosato & DiNunzio, #2)(64)
“Call them … I want you to call them … I want to know … I want to know what happened to Iris … I owe that to her…”
“Now?” Judy asked, off-balance. “You really want to know that now?”
“Barb, I can’t stand to see you in pain.” Her mother thrust the morphine cylinder toward Aunt Barb. “Please press the button. You’ll feel better. This isn’t the time to be worrying about Iris. This is the time to be worrying about yourself.”
Judy added, “Aunt Barb, I wonder if they’re even there. It’s after business hours.”
Judy’s mother pressed the green button for the morphine. “Here, let me help. This will make you feel better. Calmer.”
Judy looked over, as the clear morphine ran down the tube. “Mom, she should do that, not you. Don’t you think?”
Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Why? I want her to be comfortable.”
“Call them … Call them … they have to be there…” Her aunt shook her head in confusion, and whether it was the effect of the drugs or she was really concerned, Judy wanted to placate her.
“Okay, Aunt Barb. I’ll go call them and be right back.” Judy released her aunt’s hand, dug in her blazer pocket for her phone, and passed through the opening in the privacy curtain. Signs were posted prohibiting the use of cell phones, so she hurried from the recovery room, through a swinging door past the reception desk, and into the waiting area. Most of the seats were filled with people on phones and e-readers, plus reading some actual books, so she scrolled through her recent phone calls, located the number, and pressed CALL.
“Chester County Coroner’s Office,” answered a young woman’s voice.
“I’m Judy Carrier, and I spoke earlier to the assistant deputy coroner. I’m wondering about the results on the autopsy of Iris Juarez. Would you happen to know if those results are in?”
“I’ll try to find out, bear with me,” the woman answered, and in the background came the clacking of computer keystrokes. “This isn’t usually my job. I’m filling in because we’re shorthanded.”
“I understand.”
“I see a notation that you called earlier and that you’re an attorney with Rosato and DiNunzio, representing the family.”
“Yes, that’s me.” Judy wasn’t about to bother with technicalities. “Do you have the results?”
“No, sorry, I don’t know how to open the file from the pathologist. I don’t have the password. Like I say, this isn’t my job.”
“When can I get the results?”
“It will have to wait till tomorrow. Call or come by. Are you local?”
“Kind of.”
“Sorry about the inconvenience. Everybody’s out at a job tonight, a high-profile case. It’s very sad, you’ll probably see it on the news. One of our local priests, Father Keegan, was killed tonight in a hit-and-run.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Judy walked down the glistening hallway, her mind reeling. Hospital staff and families with get-well flowers and Mylar balloons passed her, but she avoided eye contact. Father Keegan had been killed, when she had just talked to him this morning. She didn’t know how to react, or what to do, or whether to tell her aunt. She spotted a restroom down the hall and hustled there.
She pressed open the door, crossed to the sink, and splashed cold water on her face, trying to recover. The ladies’ room was empty and small, only three sinks and stalls. The chill of the water woke her up, but she couldn’t deny the growing realization that something was really wrong. She reached for a paper towel and dried her face, but her thoughts kept churning. Father Keegan’s death struck her as too coincidental. The coroner’s office had said it was a hit-and-run, but maybe it wasn’t an accident. Maybe it was connected to Iris’s death. And Daniella’s disappearance.
Judy tossed the paper towel in the bin and tried to gather her thoughts. She knew she was speculating, but she couldn’t help herself. She replayed her conversation with Father Keegan in her mind and couldn’t fight an increasing sense of guilt for what happened to him. She leaned against the white tile wall, closing her eyes in pain. She had told the priest that Iris was involved in wrongdoing. He hadn’t believed her; he’d found it inconceivable. What if he had started to dig and one of the conspirators had found out? Would they kill him to stop him from digging further? Was it the same people who had attacked her last night? What was going on?
Judy slid her phone from her pocket and pressed FAVORITES. The call rang twice, and she said, “Mary, do you have a minute?”
“What’s the matter?” Mary asked, alarmed. “Is Aunt Barb okay?”
“She’s fine, but I just found out that Father Keegan is dead, in a hit-and-run.”
“The priest? Oh no.” Mary moaned.
“I feel so terrible.” Tears came to Judy’s eyes. “It’s my fault. I didn’t know, I didn’t think—”
“What are you talking about? How can it be your fault?”
“I told him about the money today and that I thought Iris was dealing drugs. He didn’t think it was true. What if he started digging and they killed him?”
“That’s possible, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”