“He’s too heavy for me to move. I couldn’t get him to the bed, so I put pillows around him and I ran to the neighbor’s house to call the emergency number.”

“How’s he doing now?”

“I don’t know. The doctor came out and asked me a bunch of questions. I only got to see Jeramy for a few minutes. They put a tube in his mouth to help him breathe. He couldn’t talk to me. He was so pale.” Her face screws up, and she puts her hand over her mouth. “He couldn’t breathe on his own.”

“Does the doctor have any idea why he got sick?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “It’s been hours and no one will tell me anything.”

I nod. “What was his frame of mind last night?”

“He was fine. Same as always.”

“Did you have any guests last night? Did the two of you see anyone else?”

“No, it was just us.”

“Did you go anywhere?”

“No.”

“I hope he’s better soon.” I touch her shoulder. “I’ll check in on you later.”

“Thank you, Chief Burkholder.” She clasps her hands, her knuckles turning white. “I’m just praying to God it’s nothing too serious.”

*   *   *

I’m puzzling over Jeramy Kline’s mysterious illness when I climb into my borrowed Crown Vic and start toward the station. It’s probably an innocent case of stomach flu or food poisoning or maybe even the misuse of or allergic reaction to some prescription drug or unprescribed herb. But the timing of it niggles at my cop’s sensibilities. Even if his malady doesn’t have some benign explanation, I can’t come up with a motive for why someone would want him out of the picture. Unless, of course, the illness is self-inflicted because I’m about to find out about something he doesn’t want me to know.

I’m barely out of the parking lot when I hit the speed dial for Glock’s cell. “You up for an adventure?” I begin.

“I get to bring my gun?” he counters.

I try not to laugh but don’t quite manage. “I want you to run by Axel Equipment Rental over on Third Street and rent two metal detectors for a couple days.”

“Sure. I’m not too far from there now.” He pauses. “Kind of wondering why we need them.”

“I thought we might take them down to that abandoned hog facility and see if anything interesting turns up.”

“You mean like a titanium plate?”

“And everyone says I hired you for your marksmanship.”

“I’m sort of an all-around guy, I guess.”

I grin. “Meet me there in an hour, will you?”

“Roger that,” he says, and we end the call.

*   *   *