Free Snow Blind-J Collins 4 by Lori G. Armstrong

answered on the second ring.
    I said, “I’m done at Prairie Gardens.”
    His sticky silence competed with the static from my cell phone.
    “Kevin? You still there?”
    “Yeah. Look. About what you saw yesterday—”
    “Save it.” I craved a goddamn cigarette. But I couldn’t smoke, talk on the phone, and drive in a snowstorm all at the same time. “Is there any way you can get Amery to come in, in the next hour? As far as I’m concerned, this case is done.”
    “That won’t be a problem. She’s . . . ah, already here. We were having lunch.”
    I so did not need the mental picture of what Kevin meant by having lunch.
    “Good. I’ll be there in ten. Bye.”
    “Julie, wait.”
    “What?”
    “Be nice when you get here.”
    “Why the fuck would I wanna do that?”
    “Because I’m asking you to, all right?”
    “Whatever.” I hung up.
    People parked like idiots downtown the second they saw white fluff. The leased lot was closed. There wasn’t an open spot within two blocks of the office.
    By the time I’d hoofed it upstairs, nearly twenty minutes had passed. I unwrapped my scarf, peeled off my 78

    gloves, unbuttoned my coat, and jammed a lit cigarette between my lips before I’d made it into the haven of my office.
    I slammed the door, needing a minute to find my
    “nice” persona. I’d probably left it in my bottom desk drawer next to my spare box of rainbows and butterflies.
    Give me a fucking break.
    By the time I’d finished Marlboro #2, I’d shed some of my abominable snowman attitude.
    Kevin knocked. “Can we come in now?”
    “Yeah.”
    He opened the door for Amery and pointed to the buffalo skin chair to the left of my desk. How sweet.
    Amery looked to Kevin before she spoke to me.
    He gave her an encouraging smile. How nauseating.
    “Kevin said you were just at the retirement center.
    Did you find out anything else?”
    “Yes. But I’m not sure it’s what you want to hear, Amery.”
    Another panicked doe-eyed look at Kevin. “I don’t understand.”
    “How much time have you spent with your grandfather recently?”
    “Not much. I told you—”
    “That he has Alzheimer’s, yeah, I know. I had no idea how bad it was until I talked to him this morning.”
    She blinked those big blue eyes. “You talked to him? What did he say?”
    “Nothing but gibberish. He thought I was your 79

    mother. Then he told me he’d hidden her away because
    ‘they’ were trying to kill her, and he begged me not to tell ‘them’—whatever the hell that meant. He babbled about paying more money to keep her safe, trying to find his car, and by the time I left, he was ready for a straightjacket.”
    Amery gasped softly.
    “Julie, that’s enough,” Kevin warned.
    I ignored him. “So here’s what I think. All this polite bullshit aside. You’re damn lucky Luella is taking care of him. At least someone is. Whatever she’s getting paid is not nearly enough. With what I saw today, and what you’ve told me, I think the best thing you could do for him is move him to the acute care wing.”
    “But that’s not—”
    “—what you wanted to hear?”
    “No. That’s not why I hired you. You’re supposed to be finding out who is taking advantage of him.”
    I lit another cigarette. “No, Amery, you hired us because you were concerned about your grandfather’s well-being. And I’m telling you that your original concerns were legitimate. But the only way to make sure he’s not taken advantage of again—financially or emotionally—is to have him moved to a unit where qualified staff can keep an eye on him at all times.” I filled my lungs with smoke. Exhaled. My cynical side counted on her outbreak of tears; my other cynical side hungered for her show of temper.
    Amery took a deep breath. “All polite bullshit 80

    aside, Ms. Collins, I thought you were a professional investigator. You suggesting that I lock him away, when we all know there are illegal activities going on in that facility, is