Fisher (Prince of Tigers, #3) - Kathi S. Barton Page 0,52

for someone lost. It was an older gentleman that had supposedly walked out of a nursing home. He didn’t have any family around—most of his children and grandchildren had stopped visiting him long ago. Fisher had felt sorry for the old man.

A nurse, one that had taken care of Mr. Johnson for a few years, was beside herself with worry. When Fisher had shown up at the nursing home to help out, he found the nurse in Mr. Johnson’s room sitting on the big bed. He asked her if there had been any word.

“No, not yet, but I have a feeling you’re not going to find him alive and kicking. His grandson called just before you got here and asked if they could have a refund on his room. It’s not even been around yet that he’s missing.” Fisher picked up the man’s shirt that was still lying on the floor. “He’s a good man. Cranky at times, but I think it’s just from being lonely.”

As soon as he touched the shirt, he knew not only where the man was but that he’d been murdered. It wasn’t his family that had done it either. It was the woman staring at him from the bed.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” She shook her head and laid back down on the pillow that was on the unmade bed. “I’ve contacted the police to let them know, as I was asked to do. They’re on their way here.”

“He could be really cranky when he had his mind set on something. I didn’t mean to overdose him, but he was getting on my last nerve yesterday. Demanding things and calling me stupid. He’s never done that before.” Fisher had contacted his brother as soon as he knew the circumstances surrounding the death of Mr. Johnson. Kylan had contacted the police and told them what he’d been able to share with him. “I just wanted him to be quiet for five minutes. But he wanted to be read to, and I just didn’t have it in me. So I just gave him a little more of his sleep meds to put him out. I didn’t know he’d been not taking them. He didn’t like being drugged up when the sun went down, he told me. So when I gave him just a little too much, to keep him quiet, it was too much for his system all at one time. He should have been taking his medication, and he’d not be dead.”

“I’ve called the police, as I told you. You’re going to have to go downtown with them to explain what happened.” She shook her head at him. “I’m sorry about this. I truly am. Why did you call me to find him if you didn’t want to go to jail?”

“I wanted someone to tell the police what I’d done.” He’d been confused about her answer until she pulled a gun from under the pillow. “Tell his family I’m sorry.”

Fisher didn’t reach her in time to stop her. As soon as the gun was at her chin, she pulled the trigger. He was still sitting there when the police arrived, blood and other things he didn’t want to think about all over the wall behind the bed. It was one of the worst jobs he’d ever helped with. Since then and well before.

The police arrived at his home just as the front clock was chiming the hour. When they sat in the chairs in front of his desk, Franklin, a cop from way back, put a baggie on his desk. He didn’t say anything, but his partner had plenty to say.

“We think the child is in the septic tank in the back of their property. They said they don’t know where he is, but I think they’re lying.” Fisher asked him why he thought that. “Just my gut feelings. I’m new to being a cop, but I know a lot about human nature.”

Fisher glanced at his partner, who was still quiet. Not wanting any more information from newbie, Fisher touched the little dolly and looked at the cop. Fisher was ready to hand the kid his ass when the older man spoke.

“I have a feeling he’s still out there. That someone took the little tyke and is loving him to pieces right about now. I don’t know if that’s what I want you to tell me, but I think my version is a great deal less horrific than the story the man sitting