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alone. “That’s a tough one for this group. I wouldn’t mention it casually over pizza. Terri was well liked and some are still grieving.”

“Anyone in particular I should ask to meet with privately?”

“Yeah,” she dropped into a chair, “me.” She focused on the floor but shook her head. “But I can’t talk about it here. Not during a shift.”

“Can I ask just one question?” I said, holding up one finger.

Sharon’s shoulders dropped, but she didn’t say no.

“Do you think her boyfriend killed her?”

Her facial features were set with a determined look. “No. I don’t. But I also couldn’t stomach following the case, so I don’t know what the evidence was against him.”

“I get that. I’ve watched plenty of families make the mistake of hearing the gory details in court.”

“I’m off shift at four today. I can meet to talk then.”

Debbie, the charge nurse, came barreling through the door. “Kid, you made my day. I’m starving.” She piled three slices of pizza onto a plate. “What’s with all the makeup though? Do we need to have a counselor talk to you about those bruises you’re trying to hide?”

Dr. Adams and nurse Erica entered, zeroing in on the food.

“The shrink at work would love to get me on her couch, but no, I’m good,” I said, answering Debbie. “I took a boot to the face while on the job.”

“And the bruises around your neck?” Sharon asked.

“That happened a few minutes earlier. Same bad guy.”

“The cut on your chin should’ve been stitched,” Dr. Adams said. “You’re going to have a scar.”

“Scars build character,” I said as more staff entered. “I’ve got some quick-hit questions today, folks. First on the list, I’m looking for information on liquid morphine. Who has access? And where can someone get it?”

“You can get it,” Sharon said. “But it’s not easy. We already heard about the overdoses.”

“Perfect,” I said, rubbing my hands together and grinning. “If everyone knows about the ODs, then everyone already has a theory. Hit me with your ideas.”

Erica leaned against the far wall next to the door, standing while she ate. “It seems unlikely that someone with legal access to narcotics would steal liquid morphine. If you’re dumb enough to raid the medicine cabinet, there are better drugs to choose. I mean, it’ll do the job if you’re looking to feel no pain. But there’s a tricky line between feeling high and falling asleep. It wouldn’t be my first choice.”

Debbie’s eyes narrowed at Erica. “Maybe you should share with the group what your first choice would be.”

Erica grinned at Debbie, but took a bite of her pizza, not answering.

Debbie shook her head. “Erica’s right about the dosage being tricky. That’s why we usually use the drip machines to pace the distribution. It’s not as common to inject a patient directly unless they’ve been in a major trauma.”

“Can you break into a drip machine? I’ve never paid much attention to them. I’m usually the one connected to the other end.”

Sharon snorted as she grabbed another slice of pizza. “A couple years back, a teenager snuck into the hospital and stole one. He was still wheeling the machine across the asphalt when security caught up with him. Far as I know, he never got it open.”

“Do ambulances stock morphine?”

“Sure. But the good stuff is locked in a cabinet,” Erica said, winking at Debbie.

“And the paramedics have to report any missing narcotics.”

I bit my lower lip, thinking. “What about hospice?”

Everyone looked at Dr. Adams. He shrugged. “It’s administrated by either the patient’s doctor or a hospice doctor,” he explained. “Same rules apply as in a hospital, but if the patient can still eat and drink, they’ll be prescribed pills, not the liquid form.”

“Any other loopholes?”

“There’s a black market for everything,” Erica said.

Sharon bobbed her head in agreement. “But with prescription drugs, we see more issues with pill popping. Usually by the time they start looking for a needle, they’re into heroin, which is made from morphine.” Dr. Adams tossed his crust into the trash before turning back to face me. “Are you sure the blood tests pointed to liquid morphine? Heroin is more common and hard to confirm in test results.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Both Tasha and Greg confirmed the results. They explained their findings too, in long-winded detail. But I honestly didn’t retain all the medical mumbo jumbo.”

“Damn,” Sharon said, standing and tossing an empty pizza box into the trash can. “Don’t know what to tell you, honey. But if an addict wants something bad enough, they’ll find a way.”

Staff in a busy county hospital tend to eat on the go, and they were almost done eating. If I didn’t move the conversation along, I’d risk losing them. I pulled out a photo from Lydia’s autopsy and handed it off to be passed around. “Anyone see bruising like this on the back of a patient’s neck?”

Everyone took their turn studying the bruise before shaking their head. More staff shuffled into the room as the first group shuffled out. Thirty minutes later, I’d talked to everyone on shift, including the security guards and the janitor. I was cleaning up the breakroom when Erica popped her head back through the door.

“Still hungry? There’s two slices left,” I said as I washed the table.

“Goodness no,” she said, laughing. “I ate three, and that was after eating a sandwich an hour earlier.”

“My kind of girl.” I rinsed the dishrag in the sink. “What can I do for you?”

“That bruise in the autopsy photo,” she said, taking another step into the room. “I think I have seen it before.”

“Any details you can share?” I asked. Privacy laws would prevent her from giving me the full details, but the nurses were good at navigating the line and asking me to get

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