Harmonized (4 page)

Karma tried not to melt at the sincerity of his words or the warmth of his smile, but she was slightly gooey inside.

Bad, bad timing. Must focus.

Zig found a spot under a barren tree, nowhere near the hospital's entrance; the lot was full. After he put the car in park, he left the engine running. Shifting on the bench seat, he lifted his chin to indicate the journal. “Now, what's in there that you think is so important?”

They should probably go into the hospital, but the truck was warm. Delaying the trek across the icy parking lot might not be a bad idea. She opened the journal and read aloud.

“Ran into T at the grocery store tonight. She had wine in her cart. She tried to hide the bottles from me, but I saw. T gets mad if I eat chocolate, says it's not good for the baby, but it's okay for her to drink? With her history of alcoholism? I don't think so.

“My baby can't be around someone like her. As politely as I could, I told her I didn't think we should be birthing partners anymore. T didn't say anything, just walked away. An hour ago, she showed up at my apartment saying the wine was for her friend, not her. She begged me to give her another chance. So weird. Like an ex asking for a second chance. As if we'd been a couple or something. I have R! I don't need T in my life.

“I told her I'd still be her friend, but she couldn't be my coach anymore. After a serious crying jag, she left. I can't really avoid her, I see her everywhere. I wish I could call R, but he's still on the mission. I wish he'd come back. It's scary being here alone. I think T might be dangerous. Or maybe I'm being paranoid. I'm going to call K. She said—”

Karma cut herself off, not wanting to share the next part.

“What did she say?” Zig leaned over, trying to read the journal for himself. When she didn't answer him fast enough, he slipped the book from her hands and read aloud.
“She said she was almost ready to come home. She just needed a reason to push up the date.”

Zig lifted his head and met her gaze. Surprise and another emotion she couldn't identify flashed in his eyes before he banked them. Expressionless, he handed the book back to her. “I'm guessing you're K.”

Karma noted he didn't mention that she was planning to come home all along.

Probably doesn't care.

She nodded, keeping the conversation focused on the journal to save her battered heart from any more pain. “There are four references to people named T in this diary. Tina, Toya, Tracye, and Tara. Tracye and Toya are from her birthing class, Tina's her neighbor, and Tara worked with her at the software company. Since Gwyn started writing in this diary when she was four weeks' pregnant, it's safe to guess these are people she's seen fairly recently.”

“Or been in contact with, since you said Gwyn worked from home.” Zig lifted the journal and leafed through the pages. He stopped at a later entry. “Who is CAH? It's written repeatedly in the margins.”

Karma shrugged. “I don't know.”

“What about R? Any idea who that is?”

“Yes, that's Reagan. Gwyn said he's a SEAL. I've never met him and she never mentioned his last name. All I know is he went out on a mission a few days before she found out she was pregnant. Apparently, their relationship is hush-hush. She talks about him more in the journal than she ever did with me. I might be jaded but it makes me wonder if he isn't secretly married and lying to her.”

“It's possible. It's also possible that he really is a SEAL. Little Creek is nearby and the SEALs have a training base there.” Zig cut the engine. “Okay, you've got me wondering if there might be more to your friend's story. Let's go see her.”

Before she got out of the truck, Karma put her hand on Zig's arm. She was privileged to feel his tight bicep through the sleeve of his black sweater. Yes, he was all buff and all man. Heat flamed from her belly to her chin. “I, uh, just wanted to say thank you in advance for coming with me.”

Zig stared silently for a long moment. At first there was definitely heat in his eyes, then like before they went cold and distant. “Hey, if you're right, then there's a baby out there that needs saving. Helping you find him beats doing paperwork.”

He hopped out of the truck and started across the parking lot.

Her heart thudded in time with his strides. The man didn't know it, but he still had the ability to make her pulse dance and her heart ache.

And he thought she was better than paperwork.

Wonder-freaking-ful.

***

Karma kept her eyes ahead and mostly ignored the voices floating out of the open hospital rooms. She needed to get Zig to see Gwyn. If he did, he'd realize that she could never have hurt her own baby. She walked briskly down the hallway filled with smells of antiseptic and sounds of beeps, blips, groans of pain, and muffled voices. Across from the nurses' station, she turned into the sterile white room, where Gwyn lay hooked to a ventilator.

Her blond hair, lank and unwashed, draped over her shoulders. Her white face was paler than normal and the freckles dotting her nose stood out in sharp relief. The bruising on the left side of her face, where her head had struck a rock in the water, was ugly and black. Her right arm was covered in a cast to her shoulder and both of her legs were encased in casts to her hips and hung from pulleys. The worst were the machines. They blipped and chirped while the ventilator hummed and shushed, providing Gwyn with needed oxygen.

Karma's heart broke for her friend. Slowly, she moved to the bed and bent over. “Gwyn, it's Karma. Can you hear me?”

The machines kept a steady rhythm. No reaction.

“I brought a friend with me. He's going to help me find Wesley.”

Two rapid beeps, then she saw it: just a glimmer of green, the color of summer grass glowed around Gwyn.

Karma spun around. “Did you see that? She reacted. I said her baby's name and she reacted.”

The look in Zig's eyes was sympathetic bordering on pity. “I didn't see anything but a quick spike in the machine.”

Determined, Karma leaned closer to her friend's body, whispering into her ear, “Gwyn, I know you didn't hurt Wesley.” Another rapid double beep. “I know Wesley's alive.” Double beep and another, stronger green glow. “You remember Ziggy from school? Well, he's a police officer now. He's here with me and he's going to help me find Wesley.”

“Karma—” Zig began, but cut himself off, glancing around as all the machines seemed to go haywire at once. Only the breathing machine remained steady. His mouth formed an
O
as he glanced from Karma to Gwyn and back again.

Nurse Charlotte O'Bryan hurried into the room, her shoes scuffling over the floor. She unlooped her stethoscope from around her neck and went straight to Gwyn. The spritely woman was in her mid-thirties, with a short crop of straight brown hair, wide brown eyes, and a distinct Kentucky drawl, “How are y'all doin' today? Gwyn, are you ready to wake up and talk to us?”

Charlotte didn't wait for a response but listened to Gwyn's chest, then checked each machine in turn. The noises had returned to a steady rhythm and Gwyn's green aura had faded.

Straightening, the nurse squeezed Karma's shoulder. “She's always more active when you're here.”

“She's going to wake up. Just as soon as I find her baby.” Karma patted the nurse's hand. “You'll see. Right now, she's afraid to wake up. That's all. When I find Wesley, she'll fight to get back to him.”

Charlotte turned, acknowledging Zig for the first time. “I see Gwyn has a new visitor. You wouldn't be the baby's father, would you?”

“No ma'am. I'm Officer Harmon of the Tidewater Police Department.” Zig extended his hand, but Charlotte let it hang there. Her stare was frigid.

“I'll tell you the same thing I told those two detectives four days ago. Gwyn Bremer didn't hurt her baby. Somebody made a mistake. I wish you people would stop coming in and asking questions. Half the nurses here think she's some baby killer. You know, I come up here on my break to talk to her because no one assigned to this floor wants anything to do with her,” Charlotte said, moving to straighten the sheet on Gwyn's bed.

“They're not taking care of a patient?” Zig asked, his tone sharp.

“No, they are. But I'm the only one who believes in her innocence. I've known that girl for four months. She lived and breathed for that child. If she laid one finger on the baby, I'll eat my stethoscope. No matter how sick he got, she never lost hope. And there's no way that once he was on the mend she'd have hurt him. You got it wrong. Someone put her in this hospital. And if her baby is dead, someone else killed her son.”

The machines blipped again. Color rose in the nurse's cheeks, as she checked on Gwyn.

Karma cast a confused glance at Zig. If he was surprised by Charlotte's outburst, he didn't let it show. But Karma was. And she really didn't like that.

“Excuse me, Charlotte.” Karma waited for the nurse to turn around before she asked, “Did you say Wesley had been sick?”

It was Charlotte's turn to look surprised. She opened her mouth then closed it again without speaking and gestured to the far side of the room. She, Karma, and Zig moved to a corner before the nurse whispered, “I thought you knew. You were her birthing coach.”

“I was, but I haven't seen her in a few weeks. Everything was fine with the delivery, so I flew home to Mexico after the baby came. I got back two days ago.” Now Karma was beginning to wonder if she hadn't let her friend down. Guilt had her adding, “What's wrong with Wesley?”

Charlotte pursed her lips and glanced at Gwyn. She appeared to be having an internal debate before she shook her head. “I know you're Gwyn's friend but you're not family. I'm not at liberty to discuss Wesley's condition with you.”

“You can talk to me,” Zig said. “This isn't about her. It's about Wesley Bremer. He's been declared dead, a victim of a homicide. If Karma is right, that baby is out there somewhere alive. If he's sick, I need to know. It's important for my case.” Zig reached into his back pocket and pulled out his badge. Karma hid her smile. He called it his case. “Does Wesley have something that would require doctor visits or prescription medications?”

Charlotte frowned, glancing back at Gwyn's unconscious form. There was something in Charlotte's aura, a shift from the strong, emerald green of a healer to the dark, murky brownish-yellow of someone weighed down with worry then finally, back to green again.

The nurse nodded to herself as if deciding something then said, “He has congenital adrenal hyperplasia, also known as salt-wasting CAH. In layman's terms, his adrenal glands don't make enough cortisol. The lack causes him to lose too much sodium through his urine. Wesley was tested and diagnosed shortly after birth. It's a rare condition but with treatment, he should have a long life.”

“Without treatment?” Zig asked, reaching into the pocket of his coat that Karma still wore. He pulled out a small black notebook and a pen. “What happens if the baby stops the treatment?”

“It could send him into crisis. At only four weeks old, he needs to be monitored closely.” Charlotte worried the circular end of her stethoscope as she spoke. “Babies with CAH can go into crisis if they're ill, even with something as simple as a cold. Symptoms include poor feeding, vomiting, dehydration, abnormal levels of sodium and potassium in the blood, lethargy, and weakness. If not treated, the infant could go into shock, coma, or even die.”

Karma looked at the baby's picture again. The soft blue aura still glowed, no dimmer than before. Relief flowed through her. For now, Wesley was alive, but where was he? And who had him?

Charlotte turned a laser stare on Zig, who met it levelly. “Now you know why I can say for sure that woman did not hurt her baby, no matter what the reports claim. She'd have died for him. She ran that boy to doctors, made sure he had his medicine. She even carried an emergency cortisol kit. Gwyn lived for that boy. So if there's a chance he's alive, find him.” Her eagle eye softened. “Please, find him soon.”

Charlotte gave Karma's arm one last squeeze. The nurse's gentle green aura flowed around her like gossamer wings as she exited the room.

Monitors beeped and blipped again in the ensuing silence. The sound was broken only by Zig's voice.

“Okay, you've got my attention. I'm not saying you're right, but there's definitely something going on here.”

Karma met his blue gaze and saw the light of interest in his eyes.
He wants to help. Yes!
She could have hugged him, but her joy was short-lived because now that he was onboard, where did they go from here? “I'm glad you want to help, because I have no idea where to look next.”

“Leave that part to me,” he said, taking her by the arm and leading her toward the door. “I have someone in mind who might be able to help us. The first thing we need to do is get more information about what happened on that bridge.”

At Karma's insistence, Zig had dropped her off at her car and followed him to his place. Her car limped to a halt outside Zig's building. The Purple Monster spewed one last black breath of exhaust fumes before it rumbled into silence like a dying beast. God, she was going to need to have it towed again. She'd barely pulled the key from the ignition when Zig was opening her door.

“I'm surprised it's lasted this long.” He offered her a hand out of the car. She accepted it and swore she could feel the heat of him through his gloves. He grinned down at her and said, “I'd have figured you would have upgraded by now. You could afford it.”

His casual words and knowing smile had her pulling away. She shoved her hands in her pockets. “I like my car.”

He held his gloved hands up and out in supplication. “No offense, but I figured by now, you'd want to have a new vehicle or at least one that was built in this century.”

Karma refused to nibble the bait. She made a show of shivering in the cold, even though she still wore his coat and he had on little more than the jeans and sweater he'd put on after work. His bulging biceps strained the seams of his sleeves. Her mouth salivated. God, maybe she should give him back his coat. The sight of his sweater hugging his tight physique like a possessive lover was a little too distracting.

She shook her head to clear away her wanton thoughts. “Are we going inside?”

“Do you want to go in my apartment?” he asked, leaning his face close to hers. “Won't your husband . . . or boyfriend mind?”

Oh, this so wasn't fair.

“I thought you hated me.” When Zig only blinked, she added, “You are flirting with me, right? When did you stop hating me?”

The smile faded from his face and his eyes went somber. “I don't hate you. It might be easier if I did, but I don't. And it sure as hell seemed like you were checking me out just now. So I'd say you started flirting first. But if you'd rather go back to fighting . . .”

“Yes, I might have noticed that you're still in excellent shape.” Her cheeks heated at the admission. “No, I don't want to fight with you.” She almost said she'd missed him, but smartly changed it to, “No husband or boyfriend. Not that I'm not glad you don't seem to hate me anymore, but if we're going to meet your friend, can it please be someplace a little warmer? I haven't acclimated to Tidewater yet. It never gets this cold in Mexico.”

Zig nodded and clapped his gloved hands together once. “Right, let's go inside. My er . . . friend will be here in a few. I'd like to get the place straightened.”

Friend, right. Probably a girlfriend.

That was fine. If he had someone in his life, then she wouldn't be distracted by old attractions. Or the way his pants hugged his butt.

He led the way through the front door of the brick building and down the short hallway. Every door looked like Cupid had thrown a temper tantrum: pink-and-red wreaths, puffy red hearts, and toga-clad babies toting bows and arrows adorned each space. Except one. Only Zig's door appeared to escape the wrath of Cupid.

“I'll never understand why a baby with a projectile weapon and a mischievous smile is the symbol for true love,” Karma said after stepping into Zig's living room.

He shut the door with a shake of his head and a half grin curling his kissable lips. “Count on you to take a tradition and break it down to its most literal description.”

“Well, think about it. If you saw a baby come toddling up to you, wearing only a diaper and a bed sheet and pointing an arrow at your chest, wouldn't you run the other way?”

Zig laughed and laughed. “God, I've missed you . . .” He cleared his throat. “I mean, your sense of humor. You always did know how to lighten a mood.”

Karma glanced around the sparsely decorated living room. The sturdy brown micro-suede couch was the only color in the space. There were no pictures on the walls, no knickknacks, just a simple floor lamp and a coffee table. Only the flat-screen television on the wall offered any hint that Zig might use this room for more than a few minutes a week. But it was spotless. Not a speck of dust anywhere.

“Yeah, I can see that you really needed to rush here and straighten up.” She gestured to the space. “It's a pigsty in here. A real wonder you can find the door every morning.”

“I have dishes in the sink.” Zig cocked his head at her, mock offense in his tone. “I should make you wait outside while I wash them up. Wouldn't want you to be offended by my messiness.”

The dishes in the sink consisted of a plate, a fork, and a glass. All previously rinsed.

“You are ever the slob.” Karma arched an eyebrow at him. “Tell me, how long have you lived here?”

“About four years. I signed the lease after graduating the police academy.” Zig spoke as he washed the three dishes.

Karma again was struck by the meager attempt at personalizing the space. The kitchen didn't even have a clock on the wall. “Don't spend much time here?”

Zig dried the plate and glass then put them in the cabinet. “Not really. I do a lot of shift work; mostly I use this place to sleep and eat. Except on Sundays. I still go to my folks' for Sunday dinners.”

Memories of big dinners, loud laughter, and romantic stolen kisses in his mother's pantry tugged at her. Something inside her chest swelled, forcing a lump of regret into her throat. She swallowed hard, determined not to let past mistakes dampen the lightened mood they'd only begun to experience. “That's wonderful. Sunday dinners at their place were always the best part of the week when we were in college.”

A strange emotion flickered across his face before his expression darkened.
Madre de Dios
, she'd managed to screw up their tacit truce after all. Karma struggled to think of something, anything else to discuss that could bring back their semi-comfortable state. Nothing came to mind. Instead, she stood in the kitchen, vaguely aware of some weird tap-tap-tapping sound.

Zig stared at her right knee, which was currently jiggling up and down and tapping the heel of her satin shoe on his kitchen floor. Karma stilled her knee. “Sorry.”

He stared at her for another silent moment then strode to the fridge. “Can I get you a drink? Don't have much, got diet soda or water. I can make you some sweet tea.”

“Water's great. Thanks.” She slipped out of his coat, carefully laying it over the back of one of the two metal table chairs. “What's the plan for working on Gwyn's case?”

He pulled out two bottles of water and handed her one. “Officially, I can't do anything. Unofficially, I told you I'd help and I will. I called a friend on the drive over here. He's agreed to discuss the case notes from the incident at the bridge. Until he arrives, we wait. And talk. I figure after eight years, we might have some catching up to do.”

Karma rolled the blue plastic bottle between her hands before setting it aside without taking a sip. She wasn't sure she was ready to talk about their past, about her mistakes. But she owed him an explanation. Hearing he wanted one gave her a glimmer of hope that he could forgive her. She lifted her head to say that, only to realize Zig had left the kitchen.

She found him sitting on the couch. His feet propped up on the aged coffee table, his unopened water bottle dangling from his right hand. His head back and his eyes closed. He looked exhausted. So much older than his twenty-seven years.

Had she caused the weariness to smudge shadows under his eyes? Probably. What was she doing here? Yes, she needed his help, but from his expression . . . it looked like all she was doing was bringing him more pain. Regret had the backs of her eyes stinging and her rethinking her decision to talk about the past. Maybe she didn't deserve forgiveness.

“Sit down, Carmelita,” he said without lifting his head.

“Only my mother ever called me that.” But she obeyed.

“How is Griselda?” He exhaled hard, straightened and twisted the lid off his water.

“She died.” She said it quickly, as if getting it out fast would keep the ache away. It didn't work. This was exactly what she didn't want to discuss, because every mistake Karma ever regretted came back to her mother.

“I'm sorry, Karma. I know you were close.” Zig set his bottle on the floor and took her chilled, silken hand in his. She'd always had cold hands. He rubbed hers between his, warming them out of habit. He'd nearly brought them to his lips to blow on them, but stopped himself. “When did she pass?”

Karma snorted. When she spoke her accent had returned. “
Pass.
I always hated that use of the word. Like there was some test she had to take and did so well on, she got to die. Like we should be celebrating.” Karma cleared her throat then her lips curled briefly into a grin. “She died four years ago.”

Four years? The news jarred him. “I can't believe I hadn't heard. I've kept in touch with some of your cousins. Why didn't they tell me?”

“I'm not sure they know.” Karma's words were barely audible. “I didn't know who to call after she died. I hadn't spoken to anyone in my family since the day I left town. I wasn't sure anyone would have answered.”

The resignation in her eyes had Zig whispering, “I would have. I wish you would've called me.”

Pulling free of his grasp, she reached for her water. In a move too precise to be casual, she sipped from the bottle and slid to the other side of the couch. She stared at the bottle in her hands as if it were a microphone and spoke softly. “I couldn't. It had been four years since we ended things. Since
I
left. For all I knew, you were married and had kids. I had no right to come back into your life at that point.”

Annoyance raced through his blood. “I wasn't married. No plans to ever make that mistake.”

Liar.

Karma whipped her gaze to his, searching. Her right eyebrow arched slightly. No doubt looking for his aura.

“See anything?” It was small of him, but he had to know if she finally could see him the way she saw everyone else in the world.

She closed her eyes on a quick exhale, opened them again, and shook her head. “Your aura? No. How did you know I was looking for it?”

“Your brow arches, right there”— he touched a finger to the delicately shaped brow—“whenever you look at, or in my case,
for
an aura.”

Her mouth formed a small
o
before she traced the soft skin he'd caressed. “Do I do that all the time? No one's ever mentioned it.”

“Probably because they don't know what you're doing.” The urge to touch her again was too strong, so he took a gulp of water instead. “Didn't your mother do something like that?”

She let out a derisive snort. “No. I didn't get my ability from her. When I was around fifteen years old, I made the mistake of telling her I saw an ugly dark pink color around her new boyfriend. I didn't know what he was back then. But her color, which was normally a pretty pastel blue, changed to a sickly yellow. The moment I saw that, I knew I'd said something wrong. She had me in front of a priest so fast.
Madre de Dios
, I think they'd have performed an exorcism on me. I did the only thing I could think of: I said that I'd lied about the colors to get attention. That I read about them in a book from the library.”

“How come you never told me that before?” Zig shifted on the couch. A few inches closer to her. He wanted to reach out, comfort her, but didn't want her to stop talking. Fool that he was, he missed the sound of her voice. “We were together two years and you never hid your crift from me.”

“Crift?” she asked on a surprised laugh.

“Cursed gift.” He shrugged and managed to hide his smile when she shifted an inch closer to him. “I have a friend who talks to ghosts. She calls her ability a crift.”

“A friend, huh?” Karma's smile fell at the corners, but she firmed it with obvious determination.

She reached for her water bottle, then turned her body to face his. One knee draped over the other in a move that definitely sent out the
back-off-loser
vibe. Was she jealous?

Was it small of him to hope she was, just a little?

“Is that the friend you called on the way here?” Karma's words spilled over one another as she began to babble. “You called a ghost whisperer-type to help us find Wesley? 'Cause he's alive, not dead. And he's a baby. Do baby ghosts talk? I wonder what that's like.”

Her rambling chatter didn't disguise her change of subject. And he really wanted to get back to it. All those years ago, she'd been happy, if cautious, about discussing her childhood. Today, she appeared serious and even more protective. Why?

The doorbell rang before he could answer any of her questions. Pushing to his feet, he held up a finger. “Hang on. My friend's here.”

He opened the door and smiled at the too-serious cop. “Hi, Detective English.”

“We're off-duty, Harmon, call me Seth or English,” he said, carrying a large, still-hot Philomela's pizza. The scent of oregano and garlic wafted out of the large square box in his hands.

Zig's stomach rumbled, which made the normally surly detective chuckle. “Jules figured you hadn't eaten either.”

Zig glanced at his watch for the first time since Karma had sashayed into the station. Seven fifteen. Had it really only been three hours since she'd strode back into his life? In some ways, it seemed like she'd never left.

“Oh, wow. I didn't realize the time. Sorry to interrupt your dinner, sir.”

“No ‘sir'ring me. Not ever and especially not tonight. This is unofficial.” Seth shifted his weight, shouldered his black briefcase. “Ah, here she comes now.”

Jules hurried up the steps to stand beside Seth. The detective grinned at Zig and said, “Assuming you invite us in, we'll just be friends having dinner with a couple girls.”