AN UNMARKED SEDAN WAS parked behind Bud’s Crown Vic when they emerged from Devalt Hospital. Detective Mark Peece leaned against the side of his dirty, silver car, his arms crossed over his chest.
Fear twisted icy fingers around Brita’s heart and she stumbled to a stop in the doorway. Percy ran into her with an umph sound. “What the hell Br...”
She pressed backward, shoving him back inside and closing the door. “Peece is out there.”
Percy shook his head, “Who’s Peece?”
“A cop who hates me. I’m sure he’s not here to offer help.”
Pinpoints of light flashed before her eyes and her heart pounded with irrational fear. She found herself nearly panting to breathe. Something in her ugly, made-up Brumhilda face must have alarmed Percy because he moved closer. “Are you all right, honey? Your fac
