by Kate Morris
“Have you ever suspected him of… I don’t know, being a little too friendly with patients? Or bothersome?”
“I don’t…” he started but stopped and pushed his eyeglasses up higher on the bridge of his nose.
“How long have you known him, Dr. Martin?” Lorena asked.
“About seven years,” he said.
“He’s worked for you…?”
“Probably six of those seven,” he said, his voice a light, melodic tenor. Lorena could imagine him talking to children about braces and reassuring them they were safe. He seemed like a genuinely nice man.
“And he applied for a job at your practice?”
“Not exactly. I was visiting my in-laws in Florida at the time, and they introduced me to Nathan and his family. It’s a retirement community. We were all there visiting family. He just seemed like a nice man. My mother-in-law is close friends with his mother. Anyway, he was looking for a job, and I needed help at the practice. I talked to my partner, and we hired him.”
“Your kids all go to the same school?”
He looked slightly surprised to hear this. “Oh, yes, they do. My daughter is in the tenth grade. Nathan’s oldest is in the ninth.”
“Do you all get together? Barbeque? That sort of thing?”
“This isn’t Florida, Detective,” he joked. “We don’t get a whole lot of sunshine. But, the answer is no. We don’t get together. It’s strictly a business relationship.”
“Would you trust him around your daughter?”
He paused, looked down at Lorena’s notepad in her hand and didn’t answer.
“Have you ever gone hunting with him? Fishing?”
He swallowed hard, looked uncomfortable, and shook his head. “No, I’m not really…fishing. I enjoy fishing, but hunting? No thank you. I’d rather not kill an animal when there are perfectly good ones in the grocery store meat department. I’ve never cared for wild game.”
Lorena offered a lopsided grin. “Have you ever gone to a strip club with him and the other doctors?”
She already knew the answer but wanted to see his reaction. His eyes widened. He looked a little offended.
“Young women dancing around naked for a dollar? No, ma’am. And I’d hope that Nathan didn’t do that, either. I’d lose a little of my respect for him if he did.”
Craig came up to her, tapped her on the shoulder, and she excused herself from Dr. Martin, who smiled and nodded. Lorena glance over her shoulder at the doctor as Craig led her away. She noticed his smile had faded, and he was now frowning hard. He seemed very displeased about something. She wondered if the doctor was hiding something about Nathan and just didn’t want to say because of the family connections.
“Nathan Willoughby owns property about an hour south of here. It sounds like it’s not much more than a shed near a river. I talked to his wife. She said he’s sick and that he went down to his property for a few days to avoid getting their kids sick.”
“That’s awfully extreme,” she noted. “I don’t know why you’d have to leave the city to avoid getting your kids sick.”
“I’ve got a team heading there to see about talking to him,” he said.
Lorena nodded. “What about the other male staff here? Anyone else jumping out at you?”
“Not really. They have a janitor that services this building and two others in this strip. He’s seventy-eight, retired cop. I don’t think he’s our guy.”
“No, not at all,” she agreed. “What about the doctors?”
“The docs? Nothing. They’re all squeaky clean, too. No records.”
“Emily said she overheard Dr. Cromwell and Nathan Willoughby talking about going to The Fig Leaf strip club one day.”
“Now we’re talking,” he said. “I’ll send some guys to check with the owner and that woman that helped us and see if they recognize either the doctor or Nathan from their pics.”
“Bunny, she went by Bunny,” Lorena reminded him.
“Good memory,” he said.
“I should be good for something,” Lorena lamented. “I’m not doing jack-squat to solve this stupid case.”
The murmured sounds of men behind her drew her attention. She looked over her shoulder and saw the three doctors talking in a circle. They seemed stressed out. She had no doubt they were. She would be, too, if she thought her whole life’s work in the form of a medical practice was about to be spotlighted on the nightly news for having been a shelter for a serial killer. Something else had caught her attention, though. She couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Are you okay with that?” Craig asked.
“What?” she said as she turned back to him.
“I’ve got the team cross-referencing the patients with women we’ve found or ones who’ve been reported as missing.”
“That’s great,” she said, the hair coming up on the back of her neck. Something felt off here. She looked over her shoulder again and met Dr. Martin’s gaze. He smiled and inched his chin in the air in acknowledgment of her. She offered a half-hearted attempt at a grin and did the same. Craig just kept on talking, and she turned back around to continue her conversation with him again.
Jack came up behind her and laid his hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. “You okay, chief?”
“Yeah,” she lied and nodded briskly. “I want to go with the team to inspect Willoughby’s place.”
“Got it,” Craig agreed and left to make a call.
She and Jack talked to the other doctors who weren’t much help in the investigation. She paid keen attention to Cromwell, though. Then they left for the fishing shed south of the city. They’d handed out cards to the staff in case they remembered something that could help them, but Lorena doubted if any of them would call. Emily, the office gossip, hadn’t been all that helpful, and she certainly knew more about everyone than anyone else who worked there.
Craig pulled in first with her and Jack as the other agents drove down the long, winding lane behind them. It was very remote, the sounds of their car doors shutting, the only noise in the forest around them. His fishing shed really was just that, a small shed about fifteen feet long by twelve feet wide. Down a slight slope was a lake, or probably more of a broad river or dammed up spot in a river. It was very peaceful, but perfect if one required privacy to store kidnapped women before murdering them. However, the little shack wasn’t going to house more than two or three people at a time. She wondered if there were other buildings somewhere on the property, more hidden, more secluded, perfect for a serial killer.
A man emerged from the shed at the sounds of their cars and offered a wave. He was tall, around six-two, and built lean and muscular. As Lorena approached, she noticed he had a wool blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was also very pale and pasty.
“Mr. Willoughby?” she called out as they drew near.
“Yes, that’s me. My wife called and said you wanted to talk to me? You’re with the FBI?”
When she got within a few feet of him, Lorena could tell the man was genuinely sick. His voice was hoarse and deep from illness, his nose beet red, and his forehead sweaty as if he was running a fever.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“I won’t shake your hands,” he said. “I’ve got Strep. Went to the Stat-Care last night since I was runnin’ such high fevers.”
“Why’d you come all the way down here, sir?” Lorena asked.
“Didn’t want to get the kids sick,” he said, confirming the same story his wife used. “My daughter had surgery last fall and was already sick twice this year with the flu, so she’s missed a lot of school. If she keeps missing, I don’t know how she’d ever get caught up.”
It started raining in earnest, switching from drizzle to downpour.
“You’re welcome to come inside out of this rain,” he said and turned to go as if he wasn’t waiting for their permission.
Lorena, Jack, and Craig followed. The other agents did not, nor did they use umbrellas. She was quite sure they would
be meandering around, looking for clues, evidence.
The cabin was cozy inside, despite the shabby appearance on the outside. He had a small kitchenette, even though it was rustic. A set of bunk beds rested against the back wall. A tiny wood-burning stove stood in the corner and was already lit, the logs inside burning a deep red and crackling. She didn’t see any signs of a murderer, but she did notice family photos hanging on the walls.
“Sir, we just have a few questions,” she started as he sat in an old, oak rocking chair. Lorena and Jack stood while Craig waited by the door.
“That’s not a problem,” he said. “But what is this about?”
“Have you seen on the news the story about the missing girl?”
“Yes, Hailee,” he said. “We were all really upset to hear about her kidnapping, especially Dr. Martin.”
“You knew her?”
“Of course,” he said, coughed and took a drink from a mug of something steaming. “She was a patient at Dr. Martin’s practice. We all knew Hailee Neumann very well. As a matter of fact, my children go to the same school.”
He was awfully forthcoming with information if he was trying to hide something.
“How well did you know Hailee personally? Did she ever discuss her family with you?”
“Me? No, I gave her a few x-rays and took care of her paperwork. I did talk to her mother- or I guess it was her step-mother. I can’t remember her name…”
“Elizabeth Neumann?”
“Yes, that’s her step-mother, right?” he asked, Lorena nodding. “She’s a really nice woman. Seems like a good family. It’s just too bad they’re going through this. Do you know anything yet?”
“Not as much as we’d like. Some of what we weren’t expecting.”
“My wife said the school is doing a candlelight prayer vigil tonight at the flagpole for her. I’m just sorry I can’t be there,” he said.
“Her uncle was killed yesterday, too,” Lorena said. “Had you heard?”
“Wow, no!” he said with a gasp. “Wow…that poor family…just…”
He trailed off and ran a hand through his already rumpled brown hair, what little there was of it. And it indeed wasn’t gray like the two strands recovered from the two separate crime scenes.
“Where were you the night of Hailee’s disappearance?” she asked and recited the date, day of the week, and time.
“Um, let me think,” he said. “Oh, poker night with my friends. We have a match twice a month. No wives. No kids. We all go to my friend Matt’s house. He’s divorced, so it’s a little easier at his place.”
“Do you ever frequent strip clubs, Mr. Willoughby?”
“Strip joints? No, not my thing,” he said.
Lorena considered this. “I was told by your co-workers at the free clinic that you tried to get the recently-divorced Dr. Cromwell to go to one with you.”
“Oh, that? Nah, I was just joking,” he said easily. “I wouldn’t do that. Are you kidding? My wife would kill me.”
“I don’t think most married men that go to those kinds of places do so with the knowledge or permission of their wives.”
“No, but trust me, Claire would know. She’s like that. Then she’d confront me, and I’d crumble, and then I’d be screwed. I’m not a very good liar,” he said.
Then he coughed for quite a long time, blew his nose, and took another drink of his hot beverage. There were used tissues everywhere and a few prescription bottles on the single table. If he really did go to the urgent care, got prescriptions last night, and then came here, there would be a mile-long trail of alibis for him that he didn’t kill Christof Neumann. The same for the possible alibis from his poker buddies. He might not be their killer. She glanced at a photo on the wall. It was of Nathan with, who she could only assume were, his son and daughter. They were both proudly holding their fishing rods with flopping fish on the ends of their hooks. His wife might not enjoy coming here and fishing with her husband, but his children seemed to. They were grinning from ear to ear at the camera.
“What about some of the women that are treated at the free clinic? Some were known prostitutes,” she observed.
“Yes, sad. I sneaked sometimes and handed them pamphlets to our church,” he said.
He was either really playing her for a fool, or else Nathan wasn’t their Trix.
“Did you know Christof Neumann?”
“Hm, doesn’t ring a bell. I’d have to look at our patient list.”
“No, not from the clinic,” she said. “Did you know him personally?”
“That would be a relative of Hailee’s, I’m assuming? No, I don’t think so. I’ve never even met her father. I have seen her little brother, though. Her step-mother brought him with her to Hailee’s appointments sometimes when they were after school hours. Cute kid.”
“Where’d you grow up, Mr. Willoughby?”
“Right here. Portland born and raised.”
“Not Florida?”
He shook his head, coughed again, and said, “No, I lived down there for a while, though, with my wife while she finished up her doctorate.”
“Really?” she asked, curious that his story matched Trix’s.
“Yeah, and it helped ‘cuz her parents had just retired, so we were able to help them get moved and settled into their new Florida home from Michigan where they were from.”
“Do you own any other properties here or in any other state?”
“My wife and I own a small trailer in Florida near her parents. It was a good investment. We’re hoping to retire there someday, do the whole snow-bird thing. It’d be great if our kids lived closer than we do to Claire’s parents, though. It makes it difficult to visit, even though we love it down there in all that sunshine.”
“Sounds good right about now,” she said, trying to gain his trust. In her pocket, she pushed the button on her phone to text Trix. Nothing sounded off in the small cabin. It was worth a try.
“No doubt,” he agreed heartily. “Wonder if people get Strep in Florida as often as we all get sick up here in the Northwest? When we lived down there, I never got sick even once. Of course, we didn’t live there long.”
“I doubt it. Sunshine’s good for the vitamin D intake. That has to help. Sir, would you agree to a search of this cabin?” Lorena requested, cutting to the chase.
“My cabin? Why would you want to search it?”
“We’re eliminating suspects in Hailee’s case,” she answered honestly. “The sooner we can rule people out, and the more people we rule out, the sooner we can find a crack in this disappearance case and bring her home safely.”
“Um, sure,” he said. “Can I be here while you do it? I don’t feel comfortable standing outside. The police…sorry, no offense, but you guys could plant evidence on me. I know. I’ve seen crime shows on t.v. Some dirty cops do stuff like that.”
“Sure,” Lorena conceded. She looked at Jack and indicated they go outside to talk. “I don’t think it’s him.”
“I was pretty sure it was gonna be him, but unless he’s hiding women away somewhere else, this is not our guy.”
Craig came out a second later as he sent in three agents.
“This shit-storm just got a whole lot shittier,” he said.
“At least we didn’t have to get another warrant,” she told them, getting nods. “This judge is going to think we’re crying wolf on these suspects.”
Craig sighed and popped open his large umbrella to shelter the three of them from the rain that had let up slightly.
“I’ll get search dogs out here. He could have something underground, a bunker or something like that,” Craig volunteered.
Something nagged at the back of Lorena’s brain. She walked to the car and opened the door.
“Cold?” Jack asked a second later.
“I want to go back to the city, to our house so that I can review everything again. There’s…some stuff…”
“Right,” he said with a nod.
Craig gave them
the use of his car while he remained at the site with his agents. She was thankful that her partner wasn’t the type to want to talk out everything and could give her privacy. Lorena plugged in her earbuds and started reviewing the case from the beginning as he drove. She wanted those patient lists from the doctors’ private practices. If her suspicions were correct, Lorena knew who their Trix was.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Jack
As soon as they got back to the houseboat, Lorena went straight to her room and emerged a few minutes later changed into workout gear. Then she sent him a salute and left for, what he could only guess, a run.
“Alrighty then,” he said to the empty living room and shook his head. Then he gathered some files and started skimming them again. None of their suspects seemed to work now, and it angered him. They didn’t have time to start from scratch. Hailee’s life was hanging in the balance. But Lorena was right. Something here wasn’t adding up. An hour went by, and he considered calling her phone to make sure she was all right. But Jack remembered that she had her service weapon strapped tightly against her under her jacket.
He decided to order in food and called the local Chinese restaurant that delivered. He got garlic chicken and rice made extra hot and spicy for Lorena, and sweet and sour beef with vegetables for himself. Then Jack decided to continue working on his own without her. He agreed with her on the case so far. They seemed to have exhausted every known lead. After interviewing Nathan Willoughby, he realized they might be chasing down a rabbit hole without any more answers than they had before. The man was a total wreck and was in no shape to overtake and kill a person of Christof Neumann’s size. Whoever Trix was, he’d lured Christof to stop alongside the road and had overpowered and killed him violently. It was a ghastly, brutal crime, something they normally saw in crimes of passion. He definitely knew Christof personally to have murdered him so violently. He was exacting revenge for something, or angry at whatever the man had done to him or someone Trix had cared for.
Jack took the eraser and got rid of everything but the clinic employees. The rest of their suspects hadn’t panned out anyway.