Page 4 of Half Baked

I was going with the latter. And if that were true, then Bergan still remembered something about my mother’s murder—something that might solve it once and for all.

I stepped to the side while the aide tried to get Bergan settled down. I knew I should leave, but it was hard to walk away from the person who had the answers I’d been looking for since the night the cops had shown up at our front door nearly nineteen years ago to tell me the person who’d been my world was dead. Still, I couldn’t exactly interrogate him while the aide tried to settle him down. They would likely deny Aunt Deidre the available bed and ban me from ever seeing Bergan again.

Except…could I really put my aunt in the same facility—hell, the samehall—as the man who’d failed to find her sister’s killer?

Did I have a choice?

“I should probably go back out to the hall,” I said, thumbing toward the door. “Ms. Farrow was taking me on a tour and got called away.”

“She’s still up at the front entrance if you want to head that way,” Alan said, leading Bergan toward the bedroom. “Just press the button on the wall by the door, and they’ll buzz you through.”

“Thanks.” Still, as I walked out of Bergan’s living room, I scanned it for anything that might give me some direction. I nearly laughed out loud at my own folly. It wasn’t like a paranoid man was going to leave evidence of his wrongdoing from almost two decades ago out in the open.

No, I suspected whatever Detective Bergan knew was locked up tight in his diseased brain.

I buzzed the front desk, and they let me through the door.

Lisa, the receptionist, gave me an apologetic smile. “Ms. Farrow is still dealing with the situation that called her away, and she’s the one who does our financial rundowns. Unfortunately, you’ll need to reschedule an appointment to discuss your aunt’s assets and what secondary insurance she might have. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t think she has secondary insurance,” I said with a frown. “She’s on Medicare.”

Sympathy covered her face. “Ms. Farrow will get into all of that with you on your next appointment. Would you like to schedule that now?”

Her talk of assets and secondary insurance made me nervous. So did the idea of housing my aunt under the same roof as Detective Bergan. “I know you can’t tell me how much it would cost to put my aunt here because of all the variables, but can you give me a ballpark figure? Just so I know what I’m dealing with?”

She made a face and leaned closer. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but it costs around eight thousand.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “A year?” I asked to clarify.

She released a soft chuckle. “Oh my. No. A month.”

A month?Where did people get eight thousand amonth? I hadn’t even made that much at my middle school librarian job in Nashville.

Lisa must have seen the panic on my face. “But there are multiple options to pay for your aunt’s care,” she continued sweetly. “I’m sure there’s real estate you can sell, and many older folks have investments.”

Uncle Albert had done some investing, but truth be told, he’d sunk a lot of money into the house over the last decade. There was enough money in her accounts to pay for a little over half a year, then we’d have to sell the house. It might be a tall order to find an interested wealthy buyer who wanted to hold property in Cockamamie.

“Thank you,” I muttered, feeling overwhelmed. I wished I had someone here to help me deal with all of this. My mind couldn’t stop fixating on Noah, but I didn’t need a man to solve my problems. I could solve them myself.

The thing was…I didn’t want Noah to solve my problems. I wanted Noah to share my life.

Enough.

Okay, so Noah had bowed out. I still had Mallory.

“Would you like to go ahead and set up that appointment?” Then she added, “Ms. Farrow is really sorry she had to go.”

“Let me get back to you,” I said, trying to keep the defeat from my voice. “I want to bring my friend, so I need to check her schedule.”

“Don’t wait too long, now,” she said. “We have someone else interested in the room. We’ll only hold it until next Monday for you before we move on to them.”

No pressure.

Feeling discouraged, I walked outside, surprised to find it colder than when I’d gone in. I tugged my coat tighter and then found my next surprise.

Lance was standing at the end of my car with his hands stuffed inside his coat pockets and a grim expression on his face.

My heart skipped a beat, and I froze in place in the parking lot several feet from him. Why was Lance here? We were friends, but not close enough that he would know about the nursing home tour. I could only think of one reason he would come here to see me, and the thought made my blood run cold.

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