How did she know? Because she wanted the same from him.
She lifted her hands and captured his face in her palms, a battle between reason and desire waging inside of her. “Please don’t push this anymore today.” She pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes. “I need to think—”
“Instead of just feel?” He moved in and up, breaking contact with her hands even as his lower body shifted hot and hard against her. “Imagine what will happen when the two of us are on the same page.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, the sound of his heart pounding against her ear soothing her frayed nerves. “How about I eat my dinner before it gets cold and you can fill me in on what you’ve found.”
“Sandwiches don’t get cold.” But she smiled anyway.
“Not around me they won’t.” He brushed a kiss across her cheek and released her. “Now let’s catch this guy before he finds his next target.”
* * *
“Detective Delaney? Ms. St. Claire? I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Dr. Avery Tanner.”
Eden stuffed the brochure for the Sanguinem Clinic into her bag as Cole returned the curvy brunette’s enthusiastic greeting. For a medical facility, the abundance of color was a nice change, as were the overstuffed chairs and cubby spaces designed exclusively for children’s entertainment. Eden never would have imagined so many people being affected by blood disorders, yet apparently there were enough to keep a steady stream of employees, not to mention patients, milling about the first-floor waiting area.
“Thank you for being willing to answer our questions, Doctor,” Cole said. “Yours is the fourth facility we’ve visited today, so we hope not to take up too much of your time.”
“Not at all. I was just finishing up in the lab.” Dr. Tanner stuffed chubby fingers into the pockets of her lab coat and smiled at Eden. “My apologies for the less-than-formal attire. Sometimes I live in scrubs. How may I be of help?”
“We’re looking into the deaths of a couple of your former patients,” Eden said. “Callie Woodrow and Nathaniel Hoffstead.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I should have realized.” She motioned for them to follow her up the curving staircase, her thick plastic shoes squeaking slightly against the metal.
“Those look comfortable.” Something niggled along the edges of her mind.
“They’re called Gators,” Dr. Tanner said over her shoulder. “And they’re a godsend for anyone who spends a lot of time on their feet. Not very attractive, I know.” She kicked her foot up as if to confirm their bulky detour from fashion acceptability. “But at least they make them in more neutral colors. I had a heck of a time matching my neon pink or green ones to anything in my closet.”
Eden slipped her phone out of her bag. Once Dr. Tanner resumed leading them down the hall, she snapped a picture of the doctor’s shoes.
Cole arched a brow at her.
“Tell you later,” she mouthed.
“Obviously Dr. Hendrix got the copies of the files we sent to the coroner’s office,” Dr. Tanner said. “We were all in shock to hear, of course. I can’t believe one let alone two of our patients were killed by this Iceman person.”
Neither could Cole and Eden, which was why they’d included the clinic located in the suburb of Rancho Cordova on their inquiry list. “What disorders do you treat here, exactly?” Their footfalls were muted by the multicolored carpeting, which also lessened the dulcet tones of medical monitors beeping in the distance.
“We deal with a variety of illnesses and conditions, actually. Please.” She pushed open a thick glass door and ushered them into a spacious, sterile office overlooking a landscaped water-and-rock garden toward the far end of the property. She sat behind her desk and tapped on her computer. “I assume since you’re here you’ve already been through Callie’s file and Nathaniel’s. Ah, here we go.” She skimmed the screen. “Okay, yes, all caught up now. We last saw Callie— Oh, my. Less than a week before she was reported missing. And Nathaniel.” She clicked open another window. “A bit longer than that. We’d actually managed to stabilize his iron levels, so we pushed his appointments to every other month.”
“And what did those appointments consist of, exactly?” Cole asked.
Dr. Tanner frowned. “I’m not sure I’m at liberty—”
“We aren’t asking for test results, Doctor.” Cole kept his voice friendly as Eden struggled to let him take the lead. “We’re hoping to figure out how your two patients were targeted by their killer.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. We would have run a battery of tests, of course, beginning with a ferritin test, which evaluates the amount of iron stored in the patient’s systems. We’d also run a transferrin test—a protein which is formed in the liver and carries the iron through the bloodstream. We’d then follow with a TIBC to test for the protein that transports iron in the system, and then we examine the saturation levels, which helps us determine whether there’s been organ damage.”
“These are the tests you perform on all your patients with elevated iron levels?” Eden asked. “And they helped determine the treatment needed?”
“Yes. We found frequent blood donation for Callie helped lower her numbers significantly, so we monitored that and helped her find a place close to her home to make it easier to fit into her work schedule.”
Eden’s ears prickled. Dr. Tanner was the third person they’d spoken to today to mention blood donation.
“Does blood type figure in to the frequency of an occurrence of DIOS?” Eden asked.
“Not that we know of, no.” Dr. Tanner shook her head and folded her hands together on her überorganized desk. Eden would bet she used a ruler to keep that collection of pens in line. “Did Dr. Hendrix find any commonality in that regard?”
“According to her notes, all of the victims were all negative blood types with excessive iron levels,” Cole said. “We’re trying to ascertain who would have access to that type of patient information. Ms. Woodrow or Mr. Hoffstead, for example. Did they see the same medical professionals every time?”
“They each had their own doctor.” She glanced at her computer. “But I see a number of the same nurse practitioners and lab techs listed on their records.”
“And all of them would have had access to their lab results?” Cole asked.
“As would anyone with access to our computer systems. I can get you a list of employees if that would help, but I can’t imagine anyone on our staff being connected to these killings. We save lives here, try to make their lives and health better. No one has any interest in harming people.”
“You’d be surprised what people can hide,” Eden said.
Dr. Tanner’s frown increased. Cole knocked his foot against Eden’s in his silent way of telling her to ease up.
“I certainly hope you leveled these accusations at the other facilities on your list.” The open friendliness dimmed in Dr. Tanner’s dark eyes.
“Absolutely,” Cole assured her. “They’ve been quite cooperative in getting us what we’ve asked for. Finding out who killed these people is important, but not as important as finding him before he kills again. We also plan on visiting a number of support groups that meet in the area. I understand you sponsor a number of those, as well.”
“Yes, we do.” Dr. Tanner’s fingers clenched as her lips thinned. “Blood diseases can affect every aspect of a patient’s life, and coming to terms with a chronic illness isn’t easy. Learning how to cope with those symptoms can go a long way to making day-to-day living less stressful.”
“But there are cases where that’s not possible, isn’t that correct?” Eden said. “Where managing these illnesses becomes more difficult.”
“That’s correct. Not all the illnesses we deal with are treatable. But most can be managed if not made more tolerable with recent advances. Medications, treatments, procedures
—nothing’s off the table. There have been rumors about experimental treatments attempting to prove the theory that removing a patient’s spleen might help reset a patient’s blood enzyme levels.”
“Organ removal?” Cole shifted forward in his chair as Eden’s breath caught. “That seems a bit extreme. Is that something that’s common practice?”
“We never made it to the trial stages, I’m afraid. There are some experiments that are too radical to implement without putting a clinic at risk of violating medical ethics, which could result in closure.”
“Would you be able to put us in touch with any of the doctors who worked on that theory?” Cole asked.
“Ah, yes, I suppose I could. May I get that information to you later? I just want to run this by our legal department.”
“Absolutely,” Cole said. “And the employee records, as well?”
“Certainly.” Dr. Tanner stood. “Was there anything else I can help you with?”
“I’m sorry—I do have another question,” Eden said. “What kind of training would someone have to have in order to determine someone’s blood type?”
“Most first-year medical or laboratory tech students would have the training as well as access to the equipment needed. The antibodies would probably be the most difficult to come by if the person isn’t in the medical profession. Other than that, a microscope and blood technician supplies would be plenty.”
Yet another needle in the haystack, Eden thought. “Thank you, Doctor. We’ll leave you to your patients.”
“I do hope you catch him, this Iceman. The Tribune this morning implied whoever is responsible might be stealing his victims’ blood. If that’s true, even if he thinks he’s doing it for some noble purpose, he’s causing more damage than he realizes.” Dr. Tanner walked them to the door. “It’s difficult enough getting people to donate and help fund research. We certainly don’t need someone driving potential contributors away.”
“I can’t comment on what the papers are saying,” Cole said, angling an irritated look in Eden’s direction. As if she could control what her fellow reporters did. “That information we requested will go a long way, Dr. Tanner. Thank you again.” Cole placed his hand on the base of Eden’s spine and guided her downstairs.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready to take my MCAT,” Eden told him.
“Give me a second.” He headed over to the reception desk and turned on that million-watt smile of his, which had the expected effect on the very young, very blonde, very busty woman behind the counter. A few murmured phrases later, Cole winked—actually winked—and tapped his knuckles on the countertop before he rejoined Eden. “Misty over there—”
“Misty?” Eden rolled her eyes. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Cole grinned. “I never noticed how lovely that particular shade of green looks on you.” He surprised her by slipping an arm around her waist and steering her out the front door to the parking lot. “Misty is going to provide me with a list of their volunteers and lab students who are getting their hours in for medical school.”
“More names to add to our growing list.” Eden foresaw a long night ahead. “This was the last clinic on our list for today. Back to the boat?”
“To the station,” Cole corrected her as they reached his car. “Time to report in to the FBI. Hopefully we’ve made enough progress to keep them off our butts for another few days.”
“From your lips,” Eden said. “Agent Simmons is all yours. I’ve got some shopping to do.”
Chapter 14
“I thought being abducted by a serial killer would make you more attuned to your surroundings,” Allie’s voice whispered in her ear.
Eden yelped and spun in her desk chair, the pencil she’d been chewing on dropping out of her mouth. She pressed a hand against her racing heart and smacked her friend’s arm with the other. “What are you trying to do, scare whatever lives I have left out of me?”
Allie chuckled and set her purse down on Eden’s—or rather Bowie’s—desk. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. Ugh.” She braced her hands on the desk and peered into the screen. “Sweetie, I know you’re fashion challenged, but even you can’t be this out of touch. Those shoes are hideous. If you’re planning on buying a pair, we need a serious intervention.”
“Says the woman who dresses like an Easter egg,” Eden teased.
“Bright colors help me deal with the darkness of the human condition,” Allie said, reciting her usual platitude. “What’s up with the Gators?”
“The number one choice for footwear of medical personnel, according to their website.” Eden clicked through the surprising array of colors and glanced at her friend. “They might also be a favorite of our number one vampire. That regression thing you did on me the other night... I remember lying on the ground and staring at his shoes. Weird, clunky shoes.” She clicked on the navy blue option. “These beauties.”
“You’re thinking he’s in the medical profession.” Allie pushed Eden aside and clicked through the website.
“It’s looking that way.” Eden leaned over to catch a glimpse of Cole in the lieutenant’s office along with Agent Simmons, who was looking more haggard than the last time she’d seen him. “Cole and I spent all day talking to doctors and administrators about our victims. Between the blood references, the supplies needed and the knowledge necessary, he’s had training. I’m convinced of it.”
“How about instead of bouncing in your chair like an overexcited five-year-old, you get your butt in there and help Cole keep the case?” Allie jerked her head toward the office.
“What are you talking about?” Eden frowned, her gaze moving from Lieutenant Santos standing with his hands on his hips, to Agent Simmons, to Cole just as he slapped a file onto his boss’s desk. “You think that’s what’s going on?”
“Body language, raised voices—and I believe that’s Agent Anthony Simmons, isn’t it?” Allie pulled out her phone. “That’s interesting.”
“Is it? I don’t hear anything.” But the second the words were out of her mouth she heard Cole let loose a string of expletives that never should belong together. “How do you do that?” She shooed Allie away from the computer and returned to her screen, hit Print and waited for the pages to emerge from the printer across the room. “You must have supersonic hearing. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I read your blog this morning. Doesn’t make me worry about you at all,” Allie said, as she made a call.
The blog. How could she forget? “It was Cole approved, in case you were wondering.”
“I was, actually. Given the responses I’ve read on the page, might I suggest you take a look. It seems your fan base is salivating. Hang on.” She held up a finger. “Hey there, Fitz. It’s Allie Hollister... Yeah.” She grinned and a hint of pink tinged her cheeks. “I’ve got something to ask you. Just a minute.” Allie pressed her phone to her chest and blinked at Eden. “What?”
“You usually call me when you have observations to share.” Or text, which Eden vastly preferred. Texts were so much quicker to delete and forget.
“I don’t like finding out thirdhand my friends are being stalked.” Allie lowered herself into Eden’s abandoned chair and crossed her legs, the rainbow yellow skirt tightening around her knees. “But we can talk about flower deliveries later. Go on.” Now she was the one who did the shooing. “Go rescue your man before he gets himself arrested for assaulting a federal officer.”
“He’s not my man.” Had she really said that through gritted teeth?
“Don’t lie to a shrink. It only makes us think you’re hiding something. Oh, great. Your case notes.” Allie flipped open the top folder on the notes Eden had brought with her from the boat before rejoining her call. “I’m back, Fitz. Uh-huh, it’s good to hear your voice, too. I’m hoping you can help me with something.” She st
uck a manicured finger into her mouth and settled into Eden’s research and her conversation.
Eden’s muttering to herself almost blocked out the sound of Agent Simmons’s anger blasting through the door. “...about time you had some concrete evidence proving you’re making progress—”
Eden knew that tone. The FBI was about to drop the hammer on Cole and his fellow cops.
She knocked on the glass window twice before pushing the door open. “I’d apologize for interrupting, but seeing as you’re sharing your conversation with the rest of us anyway...” She pointed over her shoulder to where she knew the other detectives and officers in the squad weren’t even attempting to hide their eavesdropping. She looked at Cole. “You were right. He’s in the medical profession.”
He’d never come out and said it, certainly not in the various doctors’ offices or even to her, but she was beginning to understand how his mind worked. He wasn’t going to utter the words until they—until he—had proof.
She wasn’t sure what she saw flash in his eyes: gratitude? Surprise? Relief. She gladly accepted all three as she held out the printout.
“You’re sure?” Cole asked.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense.” Without addressing Agent Simmons directly, she made her case. “Mona’s report alludes to a killer who is precise in what he does. The first three victims’ organs were removed, but the cuts and wounds weren’t sloppy or erratic. Steady hand despite the carnage. All of the victims had similar blood types as well as similar blood conditions, meaning our guy knows how to test for both or at the very least has access to their patient information. We’ve speculated he’s experimenting on his victims, something that Dr. Tanner mentioned when we spoke to her. And now this.”
“And now what?” Agent Simmons held out his hand for the paper in Cole’s hand.
“The other night I went back to the parking lot and did a regression exercise to try to remember what happened when I was abducted.”
More Than a Lawman Page 16