Page 7 of Grant
“What did he say?”
“He’s subscribed to a chocolate club. Gets two boxes a month.” Grant retrieved the outer wrapping from the recycling bin. “Here. Chocolate club box, address label with chocolate club logo, postage label from the Royal Mail. It didn’t occur to me to confiscate the chocolates.”
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “None of us expected that. The incidents so far were nuisance-level and minor property damage. Do you think it’s the stalker escalating?”
“Not because of anything we’ve done. The chocolates were posted before Spencer came to see us. They were in the letterbox before anyone saw me with Spencer.”
“Hm. Tell me the rest.”
Grant stared at the empty spots in the chocolate box. “You know, I thought I was a sugar whore, but he has me beat.”
“I noticed that. How many chocolates did he have?”
“Four. He was happy while he cooked. Smiling. We sat down to dinner, and he acted … weirdly. Stared at objects, lost track of the conversation, didn’t eat, didn’trealisehe wasn’t eating. He asked me if I felt sick or dizzy. Then he told me he’d been poisoned.”
“And then?”
“Got drowsy. I gave him a dose of charcoal and now he’s sleeping. Pulse and breathing steady.”
“Hopefully, he’ll sleep off whatever it was. What a shit fest!”
“I’m sorry, Cap. It’s my—”
“Shut up. This is a step up from following the man or sending him flowers. This is GBH, if not attempted murder.”
“If Spencer was right about the car trying to hit him, it’s the second attempt.”
“True.” Fritz watched the sleeping man, then nodded to himself. “Stay with him, see how he goes. I’ll get the chocolates analysed. Take him to the hospital if anything changes. And call for backup if you need it.”
“Our schedules are—”
“Call for fucking backup! This is more serious than we expected, and we have your back. Understood?”
Grant touched his temple in a mini salute. “Understood.”
The next day brought three car accidents, a burst appendix, and the usual fare of broken bones and unfortunate falls. Between one call and the next, finding time to use the bathroom became a challenge. Spencer gritted his teeth and dealt with case after case despite a throbbing head and a churning gut.
Suffering a massive hangover without the fun of a night out was unfair enough. That he now side-eyed every cup of coffee or plate of pastries someone handed him was worse.
At least Grant hadn’t moved from his side. His unwavering presence warmed Spencer as much as finding him sitting on the floor by his bed this morning.
“That was my last case,” he said when he left the operating room. “Time to head home.”
Grant followed him. “They work you far too hard.”
“You know it. If only people didn’t get into cars.”
“Or fell off ladders?”
“That too. In fact, I want people to stop hurting themselves and others. Period.”
“Now, wouldn’t that be nice? Though what would you do with yourself if you were no longer needed?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Grow roses. Sit at the end of a pier and fish?” Spencer unlocked his office door and waved Grant inside.
“You’ve never really wondered about that, have you?”
“Nope. But I have wondered about what you’re not telling me.”
