remember immediately following an incident. We’re hoping that’s the case with you.”
Peyton stifled a reaction. His logic made perfect sense.
“So, tell us exactly what happened that night,” Agent Maverick said. “Starting with the time you reported for work.”
Peyton massaged her temple where a headache was starting to pulse. “I had a twelve-hour shift in the ER, 7:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. The day was fairly calm, routine patients. Flu, a broken arm, one man presented with stroke symptoms. Just a normal day.”
And her mother was in the hospital being treated for pneumonia. She was receiving IV antibiotics, fluids and breathing treatments.
“Did you see anything out of the ordinary during your shift?” the agent asked. “A disgruntled family member of a patient? Maybe someone wanting drugs that roused your suspicion?”
Peyton wrinkled her brow. “Actually, there was a young man who appeared to be homeless. He was on the list we keep of repeat drug seekers, so we turned him away.”
“A list?” the agent asked.
She nodded. “All hospitals, especially ERs, keep a list of people who repeatedly come in with fake illnesses in an attempt to get prescriptions.”
“Did this guy become belligerent or aggressive?” the sheriff asked.
“Not that I recall,” Peyton said. “Security escorted him out the ER exit. That was it.”
The agent leaned forward. “Do you remember his name?”
“No, I’m afraid not. It would have been in the records though.”
“You mean the ones that burned in that fire?” Sheriff Maverick replied.
Peyton shifted. “Yes.”
“How about Barry Inman?” Special Agent Maverick asked. “Did you see him at the hospital that night?”
Peyton massaged her temple again. “I really don’t recall. Once the fire broke out, it was chaos. People were running and screaming and panicked. Everyone pitched in to help evacuate the building. Firefighters were everywhere—the flames were spreading.”
The agent gave her a pointed stare. “How about on the lawn?”
She closed her eyes and envisioned the scene. She’d been in action mode helping patients outside. Had been desperate to find her mother.
Had Inman been there?
Chapter Three
Peyton gave a small shrug. “I don’t remember seeing Mr. Inman in the hospital or outside that night. But it was so hectic. Everyone was scared. Families looking for loved ones, patients needing help, first responders dashing onto the scene to assist and directing people to get out.” She sighed. “My mother was also in the hospital with pneumonia, so after I helped clear the ER, I was frantic to find her.”
“But you did?” the agent asked.
Peyton’s breath quickened. “One of the doctors was performing CPR when I reached her.” Dr. Butler, the same doctor she’d reported her suspicions to. “He saved her life.”
The other nurses adored him, too. Thought he was a saint in the ER. He’d mentored her, also.
She’d begun to wonder if she’d misread the situation with Inman’s wife, and Dr. Butler was simply trying to protect her from criminal charges by encouraging her silence.
Special Agent Maverick leaned across the table again. “Are you all right, Ms. Weiss?”
She exhaled and pulled herself from the memory. “Yes, it was just a scary night.” Her gaze met his. “I understand that your father died saving others. I’m sorry for your loss.”
The agent’s jaw tightened, and the sheriff released a wary breath. A tense heartbeat passed.
“He did lose his life that night, along with many others,” the agent finally said. “And we are going to get to the bottom of what happened. If there’s anything else you can tell us that might help, we need you to speak up.”
Peyton’s heart squeezed. She wanted to tell him everything. But she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
“I wish I could tell you who set that fire, but I honestly don’t know. One of my coworkers, a PA, was seriously injured and still has scars.” Eileen’s battered body taunted her. “She suffered second-degree burns and a falling beam crushed her leg. She underwent physical therapy for months to learn to walk again. She can’t lift patients or do her job now and suffers from PTSD.” Peyton shuddered. She suspected Eileen was addicted to pain pills, too, and had encouraged her husband to seek help.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” the agent said. “Where is she now?”
“She and her husband moved to Asheville. He said they needed a change of scenery.” She understood that. Just driving back through Whistler resurrected her own tumultuous memories.
The sheriff dropped a file onto the desk. “I reviewed my father’s notes on the initial investigation into Inman’s claims. According to Inman’s statement, you were talking to another nurse and implied