Dead But Not Forgotten by Charlaine Harris Read Free Book Online Page B

snapped. “I’m tired of the runaround. This is my mother we’re talking about. You people have a lot of explaining to do, but you can’t keep me from seeing her. You’re going to take me to her—”
    â€œExcuse me, sir,” a voice said from behind him.
    Quinn spun to see a young, broad-chested security guard approaching. The guy unsnapped the holster on his hip and drew out a Taser gun.
    â€œPlease step away from the desk and put your hands behind your head.”
    Quinn glared at him. “You must be joking. If you want to call the police, please do so. I’d like to speak with them myself. But I’m the wronged party here, kid, so you just stay where you are.”
    â€œSir, I’m not going to ask a second time,” the security guard said, coming toward him, ready for a fight, the Taser aimed at Quinn’s chest. He thrust the Taser forward, about to pull the trigger. Quinn snarled, grabbed his wrist, and slammed him against the wall, shaking the Taser from his hand.
    â€œAnyone else want to try keeping me from my mother?” he growled.
    The
tick-tock
of high heels echoed off the linoleum and Quinn glanced over to see a tall, shapely woman approaching. She had ginger hair and wore a well-tailored skirt and jacket combination with old-fashioned horn-rimmed glasses.
    â€œNot at all, Mr. Quinn,” she said. “I’m Dr. Sondra Delisle, the new director of resident services. I’m sorry for the delay and I understand your frustration. Your mother’s in our newly renovated dayroom with some of her friends. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you to her.”
    â€œI thought she was in physical therapy,” Quinn said, glancing at the clerk.
    Dr. Delisle smiled thinly. “The therapist is out today. I’m sorry, Mr. Quinn, have we given you some reason to distrust us?”
    Quinn stared at her, heart pounding, teeth still gritted but feeling foolish. He released the security guard, happy he hadn’t broken the guy’s wrist.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said. “I’m usually in better control of my temper.”
    â€œNot at all,” Dr. Delisle replied. “A man only has one mother. Come this way.”
    â€œThank you,” he said.
    Quinn tried to give her his most charming smile but thought it must have come off as awkward. He shoved his hands into his pockets as if they were just as embarrassed by their actions as he was and accompanied her down a corridor, up a short set of steps, and then into another side corridor, where their footfalls echoed oddly off the walls. He frowned as he listened to their steps, surprised that he couldn’t hear the voices of the residents in the dayroom yet.
    â€œHow far is the dayroom?” he asked.
    â€œJust at the end of the hall and through a set of doors. Wait till you see it. The residents have all sorts of games, computers for their own use, a separate reading room . . . and the upgrades continue. We’re putting in a new gym, specially tailored to the needs of our less able residents . . .”
    Quinn inhaled, frowning deeply. He smelled something unpleasant. In a nursing home, that in itself was far from strange, but this was something else. A musk. A pheromonal scent he hadn’t expected to find here—true fear. Not the confusion of madness or the dark dread of illness and death, but something inching closer to terror.
    As they reached the end of the hall, the double doors swung open. Quinn started to back away, but too late, as a man stepped through with a rifle aimed at him and pulled the trigger, firing three shots.
    Quinn tried to throw himself out of the way, but the corridor left little room to move. He hit the wall and slid to the floor, twisting to look at the darts that stuck out of his side and leg.
    Tranquilizers.
    Quinn roared, lurching up at Dr. Delisle. “You bitch,” he slurred. “Where’s my