by Karen Rose
Zimmerman nodded. ‘Your lieutenant thinks you’re the best person for the job. Is she right?’
Meredith sighed softly. ‘Yeah, she’s right. You are, Adam. I just . . . I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’
Kimble looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time since he’d sat in the chair beside her. ‘I have to do this sooner or later,’ he said with a gentleness that was startling. He turned to the group. ‘I was in Personal Crimes last year and had a . . . well, a bad experience. I had to take leave to straighten out my head. But I know the guys in ICAC and I know what to look for in McCord’s picture files. I . . .’ He blew out a breath. ‘Yeah, well, better me than anyone else.’
‘Why?’ Kate asked him, and his lips twisted in an excuse for a smile that hurt her heart.
‘Because it’s already broken me once. No need for it to break anyone else.’
Meredith swallowed hard. ‘I can come with you,’ she offered.
Kimble’s twisted smile untwisted, becoming almost . . . sweet. ‘No. If I need to unload, I know where to come.’
Kate looked at Deacon, found him staring at the pair with undisguised pain in his eyes. But the pain was softened with hope. Whatever had happened to Kimble had been really, really bad. Whatever solace Meredith had provided must have been . . . healing.
Kate cleared her throat, suddenly feeling very guilty over her delight in getting to spend more time with Decker. ‘Agent Davenport will only be able to debrief for short periods of time at first. He’ll have to sleep frequently until he gains his strength, especially if I’m pulling information out of him. I’ll go to the hospital and check on him, maybe take him a tablet or something so he can write things down as he remembers. Then I’ll go to the Ledger office and meet with Scarlett and Marcus and hopefully find out what I need to know about the newspaper’s investigation into McCord. After that, I’ll connect with you, Adam, and we can . . .’ She drew a breath, shuddered it out. ‘You shouldn’t have to bear that burden alone.’
‘We’ll see,’ Kimble said, then closed his eyes, looking weary and . . . real for the first time since he’d walked through Zimmerman’s door. ‘Jesus, this sucks.’
‘I can get someone else,’ Zimmerman said. ‘There will be no negative repercussions.’ One side of his mouth lifted sadly. ‘No notes in your permanent record.’
Kimble opened his eyes and laughed, a rusty sound. Like he hadn’t laughed in way too long. ‘Thanks, Principal Zimmerman. But my permanent record already has a note in it.’
Zimmerman shook his head. ‘No it doesn’t. Just a brief notation that you took some leave.’
‘I wasn’t talking about my personnel file, sir. I was talking about the record in my own mind. Besides, how many times does a man get a chance to right a wrong?’
‘You didn’t do anything wrong,’ Meredith said, quietly but firmly. ‘Do you hear me?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Kimble said dutifully but with a mild edge. ‘I hear you.’
Meredith sighed. ‘But you don’t believe me.’
‘I don’t know if I do or don’t,’ Kimble said, his sarcasm now gone. ‘But I do know that I need to do this. My lieutenant knows it too,’ he added to Zimmerman. ‘Or she wouldn’t have recommended me for the job. I’ll go to ICAC straight from here.’
‘Anything else?’ Zimmerman asked.
‘Maybe,’ Meredith said, a thoughtful frown wrinkling her brow. ‘The pictures McCord had were taken at least nine months ago. Probably further back. We don’t know when he began victimizing children. Those kids may have grown up. Moved on.’
‘Or they’re dead,’ Kimble said grimly.
Meredith acknowledged his point with a nod. ‘Not all, though. Many live to grow up.’
‘And they usually continue to work the sex trade as they get older,’ Kate said, guessing where the psychologist was going with this. ‘It’s the life they know, so they go from abuse to hooking.’
‘Exactly,’ Meredith said. ‘Up until recently, these victims were charged with prostitution and then had criminal records on top of being abused. McCord’s victims – and those of this unknown partner – will be working the streets or, if they’re lucky, will be in counseling. I know a lot of these young women, and a few young men as well. One of my associates manages a halfway house for the young women coming out of the life, to help them build new ones. I’ll find out if any of them knew McCord. If none did, I’ll hit the street. My associate, Wendi Cullen, knows where they hang out. She’ll come with me.’
Troy nodded his agreement. ‘I know Wendi. She’s sharp and she has a way with kids. I placed some young women with her last year. She’s built a strong program.’
‘Which is in danger of being shut down,’ Meredith said. ‘But for the moment it’s serving some of the very victims we need to talk to.’
‘I’ll assign an agent to accompany you, Meredith,’ Zimmerman said, then his hand sliced at the air to cut off her protest. ‘Not negotiable. We will choose someone who will not hamper your efforts to talk to these women, but you will not venture out alone.’ His shoulders sagged. ‘That goes for all of you. I know I don’t have to tell you to be careful, but I’m going to say it anyway. Make sure Dispatch is on speed dial. Call for backup before you go into a dangerous situation. Do not wait until bullets are flying. If you leave this facility without a vest, you will be on leave without pay. No exceptions and no excuses. No more funerals. Everyone be back here at sixteen hundred for a debrief. Dismissed.’
Four
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Thursday 13 August, 9.45 A.M.
He checked his watch. Didn’t anyone value punctuality these days? Everyone was so damn connected online that they forgot common courtesies. Like being on time for a drug buy.
Come on, Roy. I’ve got places to go, things to do. Nurses to threaten. Because Roy’s girlfriend had not cooperated last night when he’d told her to go back and finish Davenport.
So now he was going to finish Roy. In the end it was probably deserved, so he wasn’t going to feel bad about it. He might feel bad about losing a steady customer, though, especially one like Roy who paid without trying to haggle the price. Not like Roy cared about money. Or male pride for that matter. He’d met his little nurse and cheerfully settled right in to his role as a gigolo. Or boy toy. Or whatever the kids were calling it these days. Whatever the term, Roy was a kept man, comfortable living off the nurse’s salary.
He really hoped Roy had been good in bed at least, because this relationship was going to ruin the nurse forever. She’d either kill Davenport or have her addiction exposed to the hospital administration. He might have felt bad about that, except that the nurse knew exactly what she was getting into when she’d started sleeping with a college kid half her age.
Women who liked bad boys had always baffled him. Regardless, Roy certainly fit the bill, with his curled lip and his swagger and his muscle car, complete with the actual muscles that went with it – thank you, steroids. I really hope he was good in bed, honey, but I kind of doubt it.
Roy’s recreational drug use had been an enticement. A way for a single, middle-aged woman with a teenager to add a little spice to her life. Now she would pay the price.
Roy, of course, was just the warning shot over the bow. A way to demonstrate that he would kill without compunction or hesitation. He didn’t think Roy’s untimely death would bother her all that much at this point. She’d grown tired of the poor bastard but hadn’t been able to make him leave her house or her bed. Hell, she might even thank me.
Until she got his next message, because then she’d understand the true consequences of her non-compliance.
The growl of Roy’s muscle car assaulted his ears and he glanced up in the rear-view to make sure that Roy was alone. It hadn’t really been a concern, because Roy didn’t share well. He’d o
nly shared his stash with his nurse long enough to get her hooked. Roy had become her dealer because God only knew she wouldn’t want to be caught buying drugs. Using them was bad enough. She’d give Roy money and he’d buy drugs for both of them.
He had no idea if the nurse knew that she was financing her boyfriend’s drug habit too. He suspected that she did. He was pretty certain that she didn’t know it had been Roy who’d provided the photographic proof that the nurse had been stealing narcotics from the hospital.
She’d started supplementing the coke with stolen opiates after realizing how much their drug habit was costing her. Stealing from the hospital had been so easy to start. So hard to stop.
A little narcotic for the patient, a little for the nurse. Slip the vial in your pocket, take it home and shoot up. Roy wouldn’t have cared, except she didn’t share with him, which pissed him off enough to snap a series of photos of her sitting on her bed with a needle in her arm and the clearly stolen vial in her hand. Photos Roy had shown him when he was high as a kite, happily texting them to him for a few free hits of the Professor’s special blend. Roy probably didn’t even remember sending them. He’d been really high.
He also didn’t know that his little nurse was being blackmailed. All the better, because rocket scientist or not, even Roy might have put those details together, and his nurse losing her job meant Roy would lose his meal ticket. Something Roy was in no hurry to do.
The nurse didn’t want to lose her job either, because her kid was sick and they needed her health insurance. He didn’t know what ailed the kid and really didn’t care. If the nurse did his bidding, it would be a moot point. He wouldn’t expose her and her life could go on.
She hadn’t instantly capitulated, despite his photographic proof of her drug use. She had actually tried to talk her way around his threat to make her drug use public. I might get fired, she’d said, but I’ll get a job somewhere else. That shit never follows you. I have lots of friends who got jobs after being fired for using.
To which he’d calmly informed her that he would personally see that every hospital in the country knew about her drug use. So she’d finally agreed, but only with her words. She still hadn’t finished the job. And now Davenport’s awake, dammit. If Davenport said one damn incriminating word . . . I’ll eviscerate the bitch and make sure she feels every slice.
‘Dude.’ Roy slid into the passenger seat with a goofy smile that he probably thought was charming. ‘Sorry I’m late. Things were crazy on campus. Some girl got found dead. Did too much blow, I guess.’
Roy always reminded him of Ted ‘Theodore’ Logan from the Bill and Ted movies. If Ted lived in a young Arnold Schwarzenegger’s body. God, the guy was fucking huge.
Only an idiot would cross Roy when he was sober – or even conscious. I am not an idiot. However, he also knew that he’d have to time this properly or he’d have to deal with hauling Roy’s heavy ass back to his own car. The brute had to weigh at least two-fifty.
He smiled indulgently at Roy. ‘I know. I saw the story on the news this morning so I knew to avoid the campus area.’
Roy bobbed his head in a happy nod. ‘I figured you did when I saw the coordinates.’ He looked around at the trees that closed in on them. He’d sent Roy the GPS coordinates rather than an address, because this clearing didn’t have an address. ‘Real rustic, Professor. I feel like I should be wearing a flannel shirt and hiking boots.’
He chuckled. ‘I found this place when I was your age. I’ve had a pot plot here for years.’ That wasn’t a lie, actually.
Roy looked intrigued. ‘There were rumors that you grew your own. Maybe I’ll try it sometime.’ He patted the pocket of his shirt. ‘I brought the stuff. Did you?’
‘Of course.’ He lifted his brows in challenge. ‘You want to try it now?’
Just like Sidney’s had last night, Roy’s eyes got big and excited. ‘Oh yeah.’ But then he frowned. ‘Why do you want this?’ He patted his pocket again. ‘I figured you’d have your own.’
Good question, Brutus. The kid had surprised him. ‘I do, but lately my supply’s been off quality. I’ve had some complaints. I want to run a check in my lab, to do a comparison.’
Roy seemed to buy it. ‘Okay. I was just curious. So what about this new formula?’
He gave Roy the packet. ‘It might be a little low-strength for your body size. If this doesn’t give you enough of a high, I’ll send more home with you. Just spread the word.’
‘Oh, I will. Don’t worry.’ Roy prepared the powder and snorted it all up at once.
Just as he’d known the kid would.
Roy sat in the seat, a frown dimming his features. ‘It’s . . . okay. Honestly, I don’t see what the fuss is about. Sorry, Professor. This one’s a dud.’
He’d known Roy would say that, too. Unlike Sidney’s blend last night, he’d mixed Roy’s so that there was far more ketamine. It would be taking effect in a minute or two. This was where timing was going to be key in avoiding a hernia.
He sighed heavily. ‘I was afraid of that. That’s why I wanted to try it on someone of your size. It works on the tiny guys, but your metabolism is different.’
‘I know,’ Roy said proudly. ‘When you get it fixed, call me, okay?’
‘You can count on it.’
Roy got out of the car and paused, his hand on the door. ‘I forgot to give you the vials.’ He fished them out of his pocket.
Seconds were ticking. Get in your car, asshole. He kept his smile rueful. ‘Keep them. I wouldn’t feel right about taking them.’ He got out of his car and followed Roy to the muscle car, waiting until he was in his seat with the door closed to knock on the window. ‘I forgot to give you this,’ he said when Roy lowered the window. He handed over another packet of white powder. ‘For your trouble.’
‘That’s not gonna do anything to me, Professor. Sell it to a scrawny guy, make yourself a few bucks.’ He smiled, put the key in the ignition and turned it, filling the air with the roar of the engine that was his pride and joy. He started to put the car into drive, then paused, a puzzled frown wrinkling his forehead. ‘Shit. I don’t . . . I don’t feel so . . .’ He swallowed hard. ‘So good.’
He stood there quietly and watched as Roy’s muscles began to deaden and freeze. Roy made a last grab for him through the window, but he sidestepped easily. He’d known the kid would do that, too.
It had actually taken longer than he’d expected for the paralytic to kick in, and he’d mixed in enough to take down a rhinoceros. Thank God that Roy was back in his car, because he would have had to leave him on the ground otherwise. No way was he throwing out his back moving two hundred fifty pounds of dead weight.
He gave it another few minutes, then gloved up and took the vials from Roy’s shirt pocket. He pulled a syringe and tourniquet from his own pocket and deftly prepared the man’s ham-sized arm for the injection. Roy had brought five vials of Dilaudid, the opiate the nurse had stolen, just as he’d been instructed.
He proceeded to inject the contents of two of the vials. Because the nurse had given her patients part of each vial, neither was full. He waited, keeping the needle in Roy’s arm and his fingers on Roy’s wrist, measuring the man’s pulse until it slowed to a mere whisper. And then nothing at all.
He pocketed the vials he hadn’t used, positioned the empties on his gloved palm, then snapped a photo with Roy’s phone. He found ‘Nursey’ in Roy’s contact list and texted her the photo. He followed it up with another of Roy dead in the driver’s seat, a needle in his arm.
Then he waited for the call. He didn’t have to wait long.
‘What is this?’ the nurse whispered harshly. The sound bounced. She was in a restroom stall or a small closet. ‘Who is this?’
‘It’s your boyfriend, ma’am,’ he said politely. ‘Or what used to be your boyfriend. And I’m the man who doesn�
�t appreciate being lied to. When someone promises they’ll do certain things, but only makes excuses . . . Well, ma’am, that just pisses me off.’ He dropped the polite act. ‘So listen and hear. Do what I told you to do.’
‘Or what?’ she said hysterically. ‘You’ll kill him? You already did!’
‘And with the drugs you stole from the hospital. The next photo you get will be of this guy.’ He found a photo of the nurse with her teenaged son and texted it. He knew when she’d received it, because she moaned.
‘Why? Why are you doing this to me?’
‘It’s not personal. It’s really not. I need you to do this job. If you’d simply done it when you had access and opportunity, no one would have been the wiser. But you didn’t, so you’ve forced me to resort to this. I do not make idle threats. I will not only make sure that your son ends up like poor Roy here, but I’ll arrange for the vials you’ve touched to be found on their bodies.’
A gasp. ‘You can’t.’
‘I can and I will. Now, if you cooperate with me, I’ll do something for you.’
A long, long silence. ‘What?’ she huffed, like she’d had trouble getting the word out.
‘I’ll make sure that when poor Roy is found, he has a different vial in his hand. It’ll be oxycodone and it will not be traceable to you. But I have to hear from a reliable source that Davenport is dead. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes.’ A hard, audible swallow. ‘I hate you.’
‘So many do,’ he said mildly, and that was true, too. He simply didn’t care. ‘Get to work, Nurse. I’ll be waiting to hear good things.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Thursday 13 August, 11.45 A.M.
Decker still hadn’t gotten a newspaper or a tablet, so he still had no idea what had happened with his fucking case. The ICU nurse who’d promised him so nicely had dematerialized and her replacement had just scowled at him. ‘Do you realize,’ she’d said in a nasal voice that grated, ‘that it’s only been ten minutes since the last time you asked for a newspaper and nine minutes fifty seconds since the last time I said no?’