Motherhood is Murder(77)

Celia screamed and pushed herself up as I sprinted toward the door. She hurled herself at me, yelling obscenities.

When would Kenny be here?

Fifteen minutes at least. My cell phone was on the street. I had no backup. No weapon, no nothing.

Celia was punching at me and I was scrambling as best as I could to get out of her way.

“The cops are on their way,” I bluffed.

“Liar!” she screamed, knocking into me and throwing me off balance. “You’re going to ruin everything!”

I fell to the floor. This time she came with me, landing on top of me hard and knocking the wind out of me.

She put her knee between my shoulder blades and pinned my arms behind my hand. “You should have stayed out of it,” she said.

Adrenaline shot through me and suddenly I was so furious that I wrung my arms out of her grip and launched myself to my feet. She fell back, momentarily stunned.

Fury boiled up inside me and I flung myself down on her—wrestler style—screaming, “You killed that woman in Miami and took her baby. You sold her baby! You killed her and sold her baby!”

Celia pushed at me repeatedly. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

“That’s how you got the money for this remodel!”

She shoved me into the reception console. A packet that had been on top of the counter went flying. My eyes followed it as it landed on the floor. Patches. It was a bunch of medicine patches.

Her face contorted. “And I’m going to kill you!” she spat. “Just like I killed her!” She dove for the package.

The patches.

The drug had been on the nicotine patches. It had never been in a drink. Celia hadn’t needed to be present in order to poison Helene!

Animal instinct overtook me. I pressed against the counter and propelled myself forward through the air, landing on top of her. I pounded my fist into her face. Blood poured from her nose.

“You broke my nose!” she screamed.

My face was wet and I realized I was crying. “You were following me the other day! Your yellow VW bug. You almost crashed into me!”

My hand stung and my body ached, but I wasn’t weeping from the physical pain. I was weeping for fear of my life and grief for the lives lost at the hands of this woman.

Celia twisted to the side and knocked me off her. She scrambled to reach the patches.

I reached the packet before her. “You killed Helene with the patches and you tried to pin it on Bruce by poisoning yourself!”

She slammed her elbow into my side. The packet flew out of my hands as I tried to defend myself against another onslaught.

Celia punched at my face screaming, “You’re damn right I killed her. She was backing out. First she wanted Evelyn’s baby then she didn’t.”

Evelyn!

She punched at me again, this time landing a blow to the side of my head.

My vision blurred.

“After all I went through to get things arranged for her,” Celia spat. “Then she falls in love with that stupid foot doc—wants his kids instead. And what? I’m supposed to be left high and dry? No. Plenty of buyers for that baby. And like I’m going to let her turn me in?”

She pushed at me. I blocked her.

I heard a voice coming from the birth room.

I had to get to Evelyn. The woman in Miami had not lived to hold her baby. And now Evelyn and her baby’s life were on the line.

Celia seemed to momentarily retreat, I struggled to my feet, looking down the hall for Evelyn. When I glanced back at Celia she was clutching the patches in her hand.

Blood streamed from her nose and her smirk both sickened and frightened me.

My eyes locked on the patches, my vision suddenly clear. She peeled one off and dangled it in front of me. “Helene was so addicted to cigarettes I knew she’d use the patches I gave her.” She laughed. “Especially when I told her a proper mother couldn’t smoke. She’d have done anything to be a good mom even if it meant stealing the kid.”

Celia advanced on me, I stepped back.

“I never dreamed she’d use the patches on the night of the cruise. How perfect is that? With me nowhere near her.” Her lips curled and she lunged at me. “But then you—”

I thrust my elbow out using her own momentum against her. She cried out as my elbow connected with her broken nose. She fell to her knees. A moan came from the birthing room. I ran down the passage way. Evelyn was lying on a bed in the birthing room, her head rolling from side to side, a ridiculous smile on her face.

“I’m so high,” she said.

The first effects of fentanyl were like drinking a couple glasses of wine. Helene had seemed so drunk on the cruise; now I realized it had been the drug.

I rushed to Evelyn, but before I could reach her, Celia rammed her shoulder into my back. I stumbled and fell.

“You’re going to die!” she said through her teeth. “You meddling—”

I got to my feet and used my position below her as leverage and head-butted her in the chin with as much force as I could muster.

Fortunately, I have a very hard head.