Read Lost Legacy (A Zoe Chambers Mystery Book 2) for Free Online Page B

Just make certain he takes them on time. And I made sure there’s enough so you won’t have to bother with refills.”
    Pete read down the list of drugs, dosages, and times to a paragraph at the bottom. “What’s this?”
    “Dad needs to keep to a routine as much as possible. That’s his favorite shows, meal times, bath time—”
    “ Bath times?”
    “Relax. He can still bathe himself. You just have to remind him to do it.”
    “Great.”
    “And on occasion, he gets rambunctious in the evenings.”
    “Nadine, how am I supposed to conduct police business with Dad around? Take him with me?”
    She shrugged. “Not my problem. For the next month, it’s up to you to work it out.”
    Month? “You said two weeks.”
    “I said maybe three. Maybe even four. My plans are what you call open-ended.” She added arms-crossed-in-front-of-her-chest to the jutted-chin pose.
    Pete knew he didn’t stand a chance. Reining in his anger, he dropped the bag of pharmaceuticals and the note regarding the care and feeding of his father on the table. He flung the door open, and attempted to storm across the porch. The best he could manage was a stomp and a hop. Damned ankle.
    “Why are you limping?” Nadine called after him.
    For a fleeting moment, he pondered playing the pity card. But he’d never used that one before in his life. He wasn’t going to start now. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”
    As he heaved his father’s weathered black bag from Nadine’s trunk, he struggled with the worst part of the situation.
    His sister was absolutely right.
    Pete had largely been avoiding his dad since he’d starting showing the early signs of dementia. Harry Adams had always been a tough old cuss. Take no prisoners. Take even less shit. Seeing the old man deteriorate in bits and pieces had been too hard. When Nadine volunteered to be caregiver, Pete had happily—and gratefully—allowed her to take on the role. He’d never intended to become an absentee son. But his work gave him every opportunity to do just that.
    Now Nadine had thrown down her cards. Pete had no grounds to argue with her.
    When he returned with the bag, Nadine was in the living room kneeling next to their father. She whispered something to him and kissed him on the cheek before rising and bustling past Pete, snatching her purse, and bustling out the door.
    Pete gazed into the other room at the old man who was engrossed in whatever was on the TV. How the hell was he going to manage taking care of his dad while investigating a possible homicide?
    “Hey, Pop,” he called. “Feel like going for a ride?”

      
    Pete entered the Monongahela County Morgue in the Brunswick Hospital basement exactly fifteen minutes after nine with Harry shuffling alongside him.
    Coroner Franklin Marshall and Forensic Pathologist Lyle “Doc” Abercrombie, both in blue surgical scrubs, stood next to a stainless steel table on which lay James Engle’s body. A short, stocky autopsy tech had already created the Y incision and was cutting through the ribs with a pair of loppers very much like the ones Pete used to prune his shrubs.
    “You’re late,” Franklin said. “And who did you bring with you?”
    Pete introduced his father to the coroner and the pathologist with a cursory mention of a surprise visit before directing Harry to a metal stool on one side of the room.
    “You can sit here, Dad.”
    “Okay. Where are we?”
    “The morgue. I’m observing an autopsy.” Pete had answered the same question at least five times since he parked his car.
    “As long as it isn’t mine.” Harry winked at him. At least the old man’s sense of humor was still intact.
    “Stay here. And don’t touch anything.” Pete wasn’t much concerned about his father contaminating anything. But he knew the condition of some of the bodies in this place. God only knew what diseases some of those stiffs carried.
    “He can watch if he wants,” Franklin said.
    “Thanks, but he’s fine where he