The Taint by Patricia Wallace

think,” Reverend Frey was saying behind her, “that the cook might serve chicken on Sunday night? Amanda does love chicken on Sunday.”
    She walked through the entire hospital and the courtyard, looking for Nora Samuels, then returned to the woman’s room on the chance she might have returned. The room was deserted.
    She opened the small closet and checked the drawers. Empty. Even the personal items supplied by the hospital were gone—tissues, toothbrush, soap, hand lotion.
    And in the waste can—Nora Samuels’ hospital ID bracelet.
     
     
     
     
     

TWENTY-THREE
     
    The body of Randy Cruz lay naked on the autopsy table and Nathan, standing at the door, frowned. The world was going to hell in a handbasket. Two people killed within hours of each other.
    He had lived in Crestview for thirty years, coming to escape the insane slaughter in the cities, freed from financial concern by his own innate investment expertise. He couldn’t recall another murder in all those years. He’d thought he’d left this behind.
    The body was covered with stab wounds and slash marks, dozens and dozens of them. He took a couple of photographs and then rinsed the dried blood off the body.
    He’d delivered Randy Cruz, and his brothers as well. Held him up by his heels, again naked and bloody, full of life and pinking as the air filled his lungs.
    Nathan made the incision in the chest.
    He was washing up when Rachel came in, lathering soap up beyond his elbows.
    “Nora Samuels has disappeared,” she said. “She’s not in the hospital, and her things are gone from the room.”
    “How long ago?”
    “Emma said she was in her room for lunch at 11:30, and it’s one now.”
    “Then she can’t have gotten far. Hand me a towel, would you.”
    “Has she done this before?”
    “Once or twice. She’s probably headed home. I’ll call the sheriff’s office and get them to look for her.”
    “I already did.”
    Nathan suppressed a smile. “Good. They’ll find her.”
    Rachel looked at the table. The body was covered with a sheet. “Any surprises?”
    “He had ninety-one knife wounds on his body. And . . . he lived for quite a while. The fatal wound was to the heart, but he’d already been cut to pieces when it came. It was a painful death. And . . . there are no defense wounds on the hands or arms.”
    “None?”
    He shook his head.
    “You mean, he just let someone stab him to death and he didn’t fight back?”
    “That’s what it looks like.”
    “Well, you’ve both managed to miss lunch,” Emma said as they approached the nurse’s station.
    “As usual,” Nathan said. “How’s Peter Thomas?”
    “Better, I think. He’s down to one hundred point eight, and he’s well-hydrated.”
    “Good. Any other crises?”
    “None that I know of, but it’s certainly been a day already.” She looked at Rachel. “Aren’t you glad to be back in the peace and quiet of mountain living?”
    “Words can’t express.”
    “I think I just might run into town and have lunch,” Nathan announced. “Care to join me?”
    “I’m not even hungry yet.” She stretched. “I think I’ll just go relax in the courtyard—get some sun.”
    “She’s in the courtyard,” Emma said. “Did you find Nora yet?”
    “No, but Earl’s out looking for her.” Jon paused. “How’s Tyler doing?”
    “Same as he has been . . . quiet.”
    He started back down the hall.
    Rachel was sitting with her eyes closed when he saw her and he crossed the yard quietly. He watched her for a moment before speaking.
    “Rachel.”
    Her eyes opened slowly. “I was just about to fall asleep.” A smile and she raised her arms above her head, stretching. It was as familiar to him as the sound of her voice and he watched, fascinated.
    “Something I can do for you?” she asked.
    “The autopsy on Cruz?”
    The smile faded. “Nathan just finished it right before he left. It was pretty bad.”
    “He went down hard.”
    “Yes.”
    “How’d his wife take