The Embalmer-Dr. Tara Ross Series Vol 2

By Tanya Goodwin

Dr. Bethany Witt wasn't well like, but Dr. Tara Ross was sure nobody wanted her colleague dead. That is until Tara finds the young woman embalmed and posed in the Barn, an annex of her office once used for embalming 100 years ago.

It's a slam-dunk case when Troopers arrest Bethany's ill-tempered ex-boyfriend, a local funeral home employee, based on forensics linking him to the crime scene. Although it looks bad for Bethany's ex, Tara and her fiancé, NYPD Captain Jeffrey Corrigan, aren't convinced he's the right guy and search for another possible killer.

Their investigation takes a twisted turn when Brewster Medical Center's CEO suffers the same gruesome fate. With Bethany's ex-boyfriend jailed, homicide investigator Ty Marchinski insists a copycat killer did in the CEO, dismissing Jeffrey's theory that the murders are related. Neither murders in his jurisdiction, Jeffrey has no choice but to heed Ty's request to back off the case. However, Tara persists in her own secret investigation, determined to find The Embalmer. After she disappears, Jeffrey's back in the game, racing Ty to find the woman he loves before The Embalmer silences her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tanya Goodwin
• Release date: Sep 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781628476446

Tanya Goodwin

Tanya Goodwin writes romantic suspense with a twist of medicine, medical romance, and mystery. Her experiences as a physician are reflected in her characters and in her stories. Tanya is a graduate of the University of Miami School of Medicine and completed her specialty training as an obstetrician and gynecologist in Tampa, Florida. A former New Yorker, she now resides in St. Petersburg, Fl. Her present life as a traveling doctor allows her to switch from stethoscope to keyboard. Tanya is a member of Romance Writers of America, Mystery Writers of America, and Sisters in Crime.

Book preview

Chapter One

Dr. Tara Ross parked her car beneath the shade of an oak tree. By noon, the predicted heat wave in New York’s Hudson Valley would be an unbeatable foe, and she hoped that by the end of her first day back, the protective boughs might save her from scorching her butt on the leather seat. Sliding out of her car, she donned her white starched lab coat and walked toward Brewster Women’s Center, the heels of her pumps clapping against the asphalt. She paused on the steps of her practice and thought about how Jeffrey, the man she had almost lost, who was now her fiancé, had kissed her that morning and whispered in her ear, You’ll be fine. And if her day was crappy, she knew she’d have him waiting at home for her. Five months had passed since she shot her captor in his house. But compared to last spring’s gruesome events, three days a week in the office seemed tame.

Straightening her lab coat, Tara trotted up the porch steps of the Victorian house that she and Nora Grayson, her partner, had purchased with the hospital’s backing. A former funeral parlor a hundred years ago, the historic house of sorrow and death was now their quaint obstetric and gynecologic practice.

After brushing her moist palms across her skirt, she reached for the brass knob. She closed her eyes. Her heartbeat hammered through her ears. After being cleared by Leo Kane, her psychiatrist, it was her decision to return to medicine. Opening her eyes, she drew a deep breath, twisted the knob, and pushed the door open.

Julie, one of her office nurses, greeted her with a hug. We’re so happy you’re back. We missed you. Dr. Grayson called and said she’d be about twenty minutes late. I printed your schedule and I, uh, tried to put it on your desk, but we have a little situation.

Damn it, she thought. Dr. Bethany Witt, the young doctor she and Nora hired, had beat her to the office. The last thing Tara wanted to deal with today was Bethany’s bravado.

Georgia Rodgers, the practice’s head nurse, stomped toward her with a stack of charts pressed to her hip. This is no situation. This is war. That new punk…Dr. Punk… is camped out in your office. I have directed her to her own office, but she has yet to move her ass out of your chair. And she has taken it upon herself to redesign the exam rooms. I’m going to kill her by the end of the day.

Georgia had been Tara’s office nurse for years. She was family. And like family, Georgia had strong opinions.

Tara cleared her throat. I’ll speak to her. Meanwhile, change the exam rooms back to the way they were before.

Georgia nodded. Gladly, she said and then skulked away.

If anyone could straighten out Bethany Witt, it would be Georgia.

She winked at Julie and snuck up behind Georgia, playfully tapping her on the shoulder. Georgia swung around, placed the charts in a neat stack on a credenza, and embraced Tara. Georgia dragged her fingers through the back of Tara’s hair. Tara felt her trace the raised ridge of her scar. She had grown out her short brown hair to hide the jagged suture line meandering along her scalp, the permanent mark her assailant, Angelina Holtz, had left behind.

It’s all right, Georgia.

Georgia narrowed her gaze. I’ll knock the shit out of anyone who ever hurts you again.

Tara had no choice but to take out Holtz, the sadistic drug dealer who had planned to kill her and Jeffrey. The woman was dead, but her memory lingered. Her temporary amnesia had resolved, opening her mind to not only the blissful memories but the evil ones too.

She squeezed Georgia’s hand, gently pulling it from her head. I know. Then she nudged her. Time to deal with Dr. Punk.

Poking her head into her own office she rapped on the doorframe. Bethany, I need to talk to you.

Bethany arched her shapely eyebrows and peered over her laptop, her blue eyes vivid against her tan and slightly freckled face.

She looks so damn innocent, Tara thought.

Oh, Hi Tara. I thought we’d trade offices, since you’ll only be here three days a week.

Bethany smiled and flipped her blonde ponytail across one shoulder. Tara considered yanking the twenty-eight-year-old child doctor by her golden locks and dragging her into her own office, but she took a deep breath instead.

She drummed her fingers on the edge of the mahogany pocket door. This is my practice and my office. Nora’s office is next to mine. Yours is down the hall.

Bethany shut her laptop, pushed back Tara’s chair, and stood. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was going to be that big of a deal.

Now that everything is cleared up, it’s not.

But my office faces the parking lot and that awful barn. It gives me the creeps.

One hundred years ago, Stanley Livingston of the Livingston Family Mortuary used the barn for embalming bodies; it had since been converted into storage. No one liked going in there except Tara; it didn’t spook her. After the dank, dark basement of Jeffrey’s home and the site of her brutal encounter with the evil woman who tormented her, the barn was just an exciting piece of history.

Bethany clutched her laptop to her chest, spun on the heels of her sandals, and strutted down the hardwood hallway, emphasizing every staccato step. Her floral print dress swished against the sides of her lab coat. For her grand finale, she pirouetted with melodramatic flare into her assigned office and swung the door closed with one swoop of her hand.

Georgia stood with her arms folded across her chest. It’s going to be a morning of tough love. I’m going to break that woman in.

Tara shrugged and retreated into her office, letting Georgia loose on Bethany. She sat behind her desk, shoved the stack of charts awaiting her review aside, and fiddled with her patient appointment schedule. The back door groaned on its aged hinges. Jerking her head up, Tara paused.

She heard Nora call, I’m back from the hospital, and recognized her partner’s patter. The rubber soles of her shoes squeaked against the hardwood hallway in precise paces, growing louder as she approached Tara’s office.

Tara peered up from her paperwork. Come in, Nora. Have a seat.

Nora plopped into the chair. Dressed in crinkled blue scrubs, she stretched her long legs. She slid her feet from her clogs and circled her toes. What a night! Two C-sections and then a precipitous 28-week pre-term delivery; kid slipped out right in the labor bed. Thank God it wasn’t breech. That could’ve been a disaster.

Tara knew all about obstetric catastrophes, especially the one last New Year’s Eve when she saved Alexis Kent’s life but not her baby. Alexis was the granddaughter of Dr. Robert Upton, Chief of Anesthesiology, her colleague, and close friend. It was his daughter’s tragic delivery that tipped Tara into a traumatic memory loss. Only Nora, Georgia, and the hospital board knew of her amnesia. The rest of the staff thought she had taken a leave of absence.

Nora reached across Tara’s desk and touched her hand. Are you all right?

Tara nodded, punctuating her reluctance to revisit the past. Now it’s my turn to be concerned about you. Why don’t you go home and get some rest? We can reschedule your patients, or Bethany and I can split them up between us.

Nora yawned. I’ll be fine. I’ll take a quick shower, change into some fresh clothes, and grab a cup of coffee. I heard quite loudly from Georgia that Bethany is having some adjustment issues.

She was a baby doc and younger than the rest of the residency grads. Her life has been academics. She’s immature and needs work on social skills. I’m sure it’s a phase. She’ll settle in, or Georgia will kill her. I hope it’s the former.

That’s what happens when they take these kids and cram college and med school into six unrealistic years.

Bethany’s voice shot through her closed door and echoed into the hallway. Don’t ever call me again! It’s over. I have a restraining order and I’ll call the cops if I see your ugly face.

Nora rolled her eyes. Geez! What’s her problem now?

Tara stood. I’ll go and find out. She walked past Georgia, who merely shrugged, and knocked on Bethany’s door. Are you all right?

Bethany opened her door, her cell phone clutched in her fist. Her face was crimson and her lips pressed tight. I knew he’d find me. Do not answer any of Josh Morgan’s phone calls, nor let him into this office, or onto this property!

Nora ran down the hallway. What’s going on?

Bethany’s ex-boyfriend is harassing her. We need to call the police, Tara said.

I already have a restraining order. And he lives in Albany, Bethany spouted defensively, her fists tight.

Tara rested her hand on Bethany’s shoulder. The young, headstrong doctor’s muscles twitched beneath Tara’s fingers. Something had to be done, despite her rocky start with her new charge.

We need to make a police report for your safety, Tara said softly, uttering every word with protective firmness.

Then a high-pitched squeal of tires rattled the window, interrupting the commotion.

Tara shook her head. Oh, come on! Now what?

I’ll call the police while you go see what’s happening outside, Nora said.

Slipping off her lab coat and tossing it across her desk, Tara bolted out the side door with Georgia right behind her. She wrinkled her nose as burning rubber assaulted her nostrils.

Georgia huffed. Damn him. He did that on purpose.

Tara eyed the scattered cardboard boxes with Eastern Medical Supplies stamped on the sides. I can’t stand this new driver. What happened to Kenny? He was weird but he would bring the supplies into the barn.

He drove the delivery truck up until last month. I heard he was fired after he was caught surfing porn on the company computer. He then slashed some delivery truck tires and was charged with vandalism. Haven’t seen or heard about him since. Now we have this new guy who’s freaked out about going into the barn, so he takes off after dumping the boxes.

I’ll get the keys to the barn, Tara said. There should be a dolly in there. We’ll move the boxes ourselves.

Georgia shook her head. Nuh-uh. I’m not going in there.

Ooh, big bad Georgia is scared, Tara teased.

I’ll call the hospital. Maybe they’ll send someone to help stack the boxes in there for us.

That could take hours. I’ll go back inside and get the keys.

Tara glanced inside as she walked past Bethany’s office. Two police officers were interviewing her while Nora leaned against the wall, her arms across her chest. So far her first day back was anything but smooth. Rising on her tiptoes and gritting her teeth, she reached for the metal ring hooked high on the wall and flicked the keys loose. I hate being short. They jangled in the air and fell with a muted thud into her palm.

The afternoon sun blasted her face as she stepped outside. This is a mess. I hope there’s an inventory list attached somewhere in this sea of cardboard.

I’ll help stack the boxes on the dolly, Georgia said. "Then I’ll stand guard while you wheel them inside the barn.

Tara furrowed her forehead. Stand guard? From what? Ghosts? Don’t be silly. I’ll leave the door open. The sun should give us enough light. We’ll get in and out in no time. You’ll survive, Georgia. I’ll be right by your side.

Oh no, you’ll be in front of me.

Okay. I promise I’ll block the ghouls from attacking you.

Georgia took a deep breath. Let’s get this over with.

Tara tipped back the dolly stacked with the boxes and gave it a shove. She could feel Georgia’s breath on her sweaty neck.

It’s hot as Hades in here, she said.

Georgia pinched the back of Tara’s arm. Don’t say that word.

Tara wheeled the boxes into a corner and pushed the dolly upright. She turned around and chased Georgia around the barn, laughing and yelling, Hades! Hades! Hades!

Georgia panted. That’s enough. I’m getting out of here.

The barn door swung shut.

Tara? Georgia called out. I can’t see anything. Where are you?

Someone gripped Tara’s arm. The hand clutching her was too large to be Georgia’s.

Chapter Two

Tara’s heart rate rocketed. She flung her arm up instinctively, grabbed her assailant’s arm, and twisted it hard.

Ow! Please let go, Dr. Ross. It’s Alan… Alan Jordan from the hospital.

Just as she loosened her hold on him, Georgia slammed into her.

Will someone please turn the light on? Tara yelled.

The barn’s few small windows, perched high, restricted the afternoon sunlight. Her eyes had adjusted enough in the darkness to make out Georgia’s wide-eyed face, inches from hers, and Alan’s shadow.

Alan, turn around. The light switch should be on the wall behind you.

Got it, he answered, his words ricocheting around them in the dark.

She heard him patting the wall, followed by a click that echoed throughout the barn. Still no light, only a deep hum. Tara opened her mouth but before she could speak, the lights flickered and then beamed full force.

Okay, I’m officially weirded out, Georgia said.

Why did you shut the door? Tara asked Alan.

He shook his head. I didn’t. The wind must have slammed it shut.

There hasn’t been a breeze in a week.

I swear I didn’t touch it. I finished my O.R. cases and was on my way home when I saw a cop car over here, so I popped by to see what was happening. Your staff said you were out here loading up some boxes. I thought I’d help you. Those old hinges probably couldn’t keep that heavy door open.

Regardless, Georgia said, I’m out of here. She pushed the door open.

Aw, you’re not leaving us, are you? Alan teased.

You betcha! Georgia curtly nodded her head at him before leaving the stifling barn.

The nurse anesthetist whose boyish face and black curly hair made him look barely legal age stood with his mouth agape. This place is definitely ancient. I always wondered what it looked like inside. He walked to the center of the expansive storage room and panned every corner. Look at this black and white mosaic tiled floor. Even the drains in the floor remain. Alan tapped a rust rimmed outlet with the tip of his sneaker. I guess they couldn’t remove these. At least they’ll come in handy if you need drainage. He rested his elbow on Tara’s shoulder. What’s so scary about this place? Just a bunch of boxes in here now.

They’re all freaked out that bodies were once embalmed here. But it doesn’t bother me. Basements are my phobia.

He nodded. Yeah, I heard what happened to you at Jeffrey’s house. I’m sorry.

It’s all right. Everyone has. The attack was on the news and in the papers for weeks. Jeffrey and I are finally getting back to a comfortable routine. He didn’t want to stay in White Plains so we bought a home up here. Jeffrey closed up the house. It was his grandmother’s and he didn’t have the heart to sell it despite what happened there. He had spent much of his childhood in that house, which still holds lots of good memories, but he’s not ready to go back.

I’m glad things are working out for you. And if you ever need any help getting the office supplies in or out of here, call me.

I may take you up on that offer since no one else wants to come out here with me.

Alan smiled. You can count on me. So why are the cops here?

Our new doctor, Bethany Witt, received a threatening phone call from an ex-boyfriend.

Ah, the princess.

Tara laughed. I was unaware she’s royalty.

She sure acted like it the other day. She and our illustrious hospital CEO, King Brian Forbes, cut the cafeteria line right in front of staff that barely had time to eat. Then they sat together at a corner table, laughing and taking their time eating the last two pieces of lasagna. The rest of us got the mystery meat, which I suspect was two-day-old meatloaf with tomato paste smeared across the top to make it look fresh. Fresh my ass! I had indigestion the rest of the day and barely made it through my O.R. cases.

Tara poked his belly. Poor Alan.

That’s right. I spent that night on my personal throne. And where did they have to be? Certainly not anywhere pressing. Her highness had no one in labor, and Brian, I’m sure, had nothing better to do than coax her back into his office for an impromptu chat. Alan waggled his eyebrows. The same kind he’s infamous for, and you know what I mean.

Tara sighed. Unfortunately, I do. I’ll have to warn her about him.

Good luck with that.

Apparently not much had changed while she was gone. Brewster Medical Center was still Brian’s Camelot; board members were at his beck and women, without better judgment, were at his call. Bethany would soon be just another covert number, the next one to leave his office, flushed, and with the top button of her blouse undone. Tara would have to have her own chat with her naive charge before she unwittingly stumbled into territories she wasn’t ready for.

Alan unloaded the boxes from the dolly and stacked them against a wall. He swiped the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead. Well, that’s the last of them.

Tara playfully feather-punched his arm. Thanks, you’re the best. I’ll see you tomorrow. I have a hysterectomy scheduled, and Bethany’s going to assist me. Then I’ll hang around for the second case, which is a tubal ligation I booked, again with Bethany assisting me, to further acquaint her with the operating room. I understand you’ll be running our room, O.R. two.

Yep, I saw the schedule. Like I said, you can count on me.

Alan followed her out of the barn. Reaching inside, she tapped along the wall for the switch, turned off the lights, and locked the door. She waved to him as he left the parking lot, his hand waving back to her from the window of his Fiat.

The remainder of the day zipped by. Even Bethany was behaving. Tara grinned as she watched Ringmaster Georgia prod Bethany, the tiger, through her hoops. The training seemed to be working. Bethany stayed on time with her patient appointments and Georgia hadn’t killed her…yet.

The police were gone and the patients had all checked out. While the nurses cleaned and restocked the exam rooms for the next day, Tara walked down the hallway to Bethany’s office, bumping into Nora along the way.

Have a nice day off tomorrow. You deserve the rest, Tara said.

After today’s excitement, I do. Do you think Bethany will be all right?

She has a fiery personality. I think she’ll hold up. And the police are very responsive here. They’ll keep a vigilant eye on her.

Nora embraced her. Sorry for such a crazy day. I’m happy you’re back.

Tara winked and waved to Nora. Then she knocked on Bethany’s door.

Come in, Bethany called.

Tara eased the door open, entered, and sat across from her. How are you doing? Settling in?

I’m fine.

That’s a simple reply for a complicated day.

Bethany sighed. Really, I’ll be okay. I’ve dealt with Josh before. Deep down, he’s a coward.

Tara cleared her throat. She had to say something to rein in the situation. She leaned in towards the headstrong rookie. Bethany, Tara drew a short breath, I heard that you had lunch with Brian Forbes the other day, and then, afterwards, followed him back to his office, where the two of you stayed behind closed doors.

Bethany shot up her arms. Wait! This isn’t anyone’s business!

Oh, yes it is. Tara nodded with authoritative punctuation.

But...

She shot her finger at Bethany. Don’t interrupt me.

Bethany eased back into her chair, but did not crumple. Instead, she squared her shoulders like a bull ready to charge after provocation.

Tara dug her shoes into the floor. Listen, Bethany, people talk in this hospital. I don’t want them whispering about you in a negative way. This will come back to bite you, hard. Tara relaxed her toes and softened her voice. You’re young and you’re smart. You can have a bright future here, but you need to give in to good advice from me, from Nora, and yes from Georgia and all the nurses. Tara leaned closer and scratched her forehead. Brian has a reputation. Whether there’s any truth to the rumors is beside the point. He’s married, and his wife Lynn is a patient of mine, of ours. Steer clear, okay?

Bethany paused.

Tara’s heart beat steadily. Did I just waste my time?

Bethany finally nodded. Her shoulders rounded in accord. I hear you.

Ah, some success. Baby steps, but progress, Tara thought. She folded her hands gently and smiled, her lips soft and accepting. You’re on call tonight. If you need any help, you have my cell and beeper numbers. We’ve just moved into a new house and our phone isn’t connected yet. It’s a mess right now with all the unpacking going on, but you’re welcome to stay with us. Jeffrey always carries his gun.

Thanks, but I’ll be okay. The police are going to patrol around my apartment building tonight. They’re aware I’m on call and may need to leave my apartment in the middle of the night. Honestly, I don’t think Josh will show up.

All right. She touched Bethany’s hand. But call me anytime. We’re in the O.R. tomorrow. It’s stressful adjusting to a new job. But you’ll have the weekend off. Any plans?

I’ll probably drive to Long Island and spend the weekend at the beach.

Tara glanced at Bethany’s bronze skin. Do me and yourself a favor. Wear sunscreen. A hat and sunglasses would also be a good idea.

I promise to pick them up on the way to the beach.

See you in the morning. I hope you have a quiet night.

Goodnight. And don’t worry about me.

Tara winked. I’m a worrier by nature.

As she left Bethany’s office, she zipped around and slammed into Nora. Tara reared back and blinked.

Oh, I’m sorry, Nora. I thought you’d gone home awhile ago.

Flustered, Nora replied, Sorry, too. I, uh, forgot to sign off on some paperwork.

Collisions of the day aside, have a restful night.

Nora paused. She narrowed her gaze and stuck her thumb out toward Bethany’s office. Is she seeing Brian Forbes?

Tara shook her head. The day was wearing on her. No. I straightened her out. I’m sure she’ll stay away from him.

Nora bobbed her head. Good! She better! She exhaled and smiled at Tara. Well, goodnight, again.

Goodnight. The battle continues tomorrow, Tara joked.

She stopped in her office and picked up the agenda and files for the next day’s Medical Executive Committee meeting. Now that she was Chief of the Obstetric and Gynecologic Department at Brewster Medical Center, her calendar was peppered with various hospital meetings.

After hearing Bethany’s office door close normally, and luckily without a slam, Tara armed the alarm and locked the empty office. She strode to her car, anxious to leave. She had tossed in bed most of last night, anticipating her first day back. It was over now and the thought of going home to Jeffrey boosted her energy.

Tara unlocked her silver Toyota Avalon, flung her papers on the front seat, and plopped into the car, promptly rocketing her butt off the scorching leather seat. Ow! Crap, that’s hot. She placed her lab coat beneath her seared derriere, cranked the AC, pulled down the visor, and slipped on her sunglasses.

The AC had just cooled the car as she pulled into the driveway. Cutting the ignition, she gathered her files, opened the car door, and accidentally dropped her papers on the ground. Argh! Tara swept up her folders, lifted them to her damp blouse, and slammed the car door. She glanced up. Jeffrey, his son James, and her daughter Abbie, stood on the porch in sweaty worn tee shirts and shorts, staring at her.

Jeffrey put his hands on his hips and smiled. How was your first day back, Sweetheart?

Tara trudged up the porch steps, clutching her files to her chest. With hot skin and tingly feet, she pressed her head onto his chest. He kissed the top of her head. She preferred his lips but she wasn’t sure if he was holding back in the presence of Abbie and James.

Not a triumphant day back, huh?

She sighed. It was a crazy day. I have to get out of this heat. Let’s go inside. I hope to God the AC is working.

Jeffrey corralled everyone inside. Not only do we have AC, but cable and Internet as well.

My hero!

He scooped his long arm around her waist and hugged her to his side. Tara playfully smacked his ass.

Your day is about to improve, he said.

She winked. I was counting on that.

Have a seat on the couch. I’ll get you a cold Guinness. You’re not on call tonight, are you? He