Dr. Milton shook his head. “Mrs. Spencer, the phones at the hospital went out. It's possible a tree fell on the phone lines. It wouldn't be the first time,” Dr. Milton began to speak. “I needed to speak with you. The matter was very urgent. I knew the last plow of the day already went through, but I decided to brave the roads anyway. When I reached my truck, I...someone hit me from behind.” Dr. Milton placed the wet washcloth back on his wound. “I woke up in the back of my truck. When I leaned up, I noticed that my truck was close to town...right in town, to be more accurate. I saw the blood in the snow under my head...I somehow managed to jump out into the snow...like a madman, I must admit. I was terrified, half numb with cold and fear, but I had to get away in case whoever hit me was waiting to do something worse.”
“And you ran to the station?” Sarah asked.
Dr. Milton nodded. “Yes.”
Sarah rubbed her chin. “Someone was waiting at the hospital for you, Dr. Milton. Someone who doesn't want you speaking the truth.”
Dr. Milton winced in pain. “Mrs. Spencer, I was wrong,” he said.
“Wrong?” Sarah asked.
“Wrong?” Amanda echoed Sarah.
Dr. Milton removed the washcloth and accepted the hot coffee Amanda offered him. “The poison,” he said and took a careful sip of the coffee. “The poison doesn't cause an immediate heart attack by itself. Yes, it is true Mitchel Cochran's heart enzymes were saturated with the poison, but after careful study I realized the poison was a type that cannot be activated unless it is triggered.”
“Triggered?” Amanda asked. “Oh dear.”
“Yes. The trigger, in this case, would have to be something inhaled—that’s the only way the trigger could reach the man’s bloodstream quickly and in sufficient quantity.” The doctor wrapped his fingers around the hot coffee gratefully.
Sarah walked behind Conrad's desk and sat down. “A trigger he inhaled. A trigger such as...let's say...perfume,” she said in a thoughtful voice. “Perfume might be worn by an old lady.” She glanced at Amanda meaningfully.
“Perfume, cologne, smelling salts, whatever the trigger may be. You see,” Dr. Milton explained, “the poison is a stick of dynamite missing a fuse.”
Sarah grew silent for a minute. “Dr. Milton, if Mr. Cochran had ingested the poison but had never been exposed to the trigger, would he still be alive?”
“Most likely,” Dr. Milton agreed. “While it's true the poor man did die of a sudden, massive heart attack caused by the trigger chemical, all he would have suffered from the poison alone would have been some chest pains, at most.”
“How long does the poison stay in a person's system?”
“The poison is very potent and saturates the heart tissue,” Dr. Milton explained. He took another sip of coffee and shivered again. “I would say, in my honest medical opinion, the poison could be dangerous, able to be triggered, for up to three to five days, maybe a day or two longer depending on if he was being given regular doses of it, say. But from what I saw on the blood test, it appeared that Mitchel ingested the poison very recently, within the last twenty-four hours, to be exact.”
“Dr. Milton, have you spoken to anyone about these findings today?” Sarah asked. “Coworkers, professional contacts, anyone besides Amanda and me?”
Dr. Milton put down his coffee to pull the blankets tighter around his shoulders. “Mitchel's daughters contacted me,” he explained and quickly closed his eyes and waited for a wave of trembling to pass. “I spoke to them for about half an hour and explained to them that Mitchel was killed by a very deadly poison.” Dr. Milton finally opened his eyes. “I assured his daughters that I was going to track down what kind of poison it was and that this information would assist the authorities in finding the killer.”
Sarah looked at Amanda. Amanda nodded. “I think it's time we call a few company cell phones,” she said.
“You bet it is,” Sarah agreed. She snatched up a piece of paper off her desk and then picked up the telephone. “I'll contact Caleb O'Healey first.”
“Always go to the parent,” Amanda agreed.
Dr. Milton closed his eyes again, confused. “I want answers,” he demanded in a weak voice. “Someone tried to kill me.”
“Be patient,” Sarah urged Dr. Milton and dialed Caleb O'Healey's company mobile number. Caleb picked up on the first ring.
“Jenson?”
“No, this isn't Jenson, Mr. O'Healey. This is Detective Sarah Garland...Spencer,” Sarah spoke in a firm and clear voice.
Caleb Jenson met her words with panicked, paralyzed silence. “What...can I do for you, Detective?” he finally asked, clearing his throat. “This is a private business number. I am expecting...an urgent business call.” Caleb kicked himself for answering an unknown number calling from Alaska. But who else would be calling him from there? Who else had his cell phone number? “We need to make this quick. I'm a very busy man. I have a flight to catch…” He hurriedly thought about escaping from Anchorage back to Los Angeles.
“Mr. O'Healey, I'm calling from the Snow Falls Police Department.”
“I see,” Caleb replied and paused awkwardly before continuing. “Oh, I see,” he said again, agitation and worry seeming to color his words. “Are you calling in regards to my mother? Is she alright? Please tell me nothing has happened to her.”
Sarah felt sadness strike her heart. As much as Abigail loved her children, she thought, it was clear that at least one of her children did not return that love with good intentions. “Abigail O'Healey is...in trouble,” Sarah told Caleb, interested now to hear if he would even be disturbed to hear such news. “I'm calling you, Mr. O'Healey, because I saw your son in town. I tried to speak with him about this matter, but he…fled on foot before we could chat.”
Amanda grinned. Sarah was being delightfully clever. “Get ‘em, girl,” she whispered.
Caleb’s polished, tough exterior began to show cracks. “I—uh, my son…I’m sorry, you said you saw my son?” All his intelligence and intimidation faded and on the inside, Caleb O'Healey felt like a nervous wreck; a man on the verge of a mental breakdown. The last thing he needed was for his son to mess up. “I'm sorry my son was so rude,” he said brusquely. “He is in town visiting his grandmother and his great-aunts. Perhaps he was simply…eager to get back to see them.”
“I see,” Sarah replied. “I suppose he takes his work with him when he travels? After all, you were expecting an important business call from him, right? I mean, Jenson O'Healey works at VQY, right?”
Caleb choked on his words. “Detective—”
“Spencer.”
“Detective Spencer, my son is a very important man at work…he makes it a point to stay in touch with me concerning important business matters. It isn't a crime for a man to take his work with him,” Caleb said, his mouth running a mile a minute as he sought for a way out.
Sarah listened to the man talk and knew exactly what this fancy businessman was contemplating: a cowardly act. He was going to run. “No, it's not a crime to be an alcoholic...oh dear, wrong word…” Sarah chuckled. “I'm so sorry. What I meant to say is that it's not a crime to be a workaholic. Of course he can take work on the road.”
Caleb sputtered, grasping for a shred of his former power. “Detective Spencer, I'll inform my son that he needs to contact you. Now, I'm afraid I must go…flight to catch…I’m a very busy man…”
Sarah looked at Amanda. It was time to lower the boom. “Are you?” she asked. “I assumed you would be celebrating.”
“Celebrating?” Caleb asked.
“Your mother did call you, didn't she?” Sarah asked.
“My mother hasn't contacted me,” Caleb lied.
“That's strange,” Sarah replied and leisurely took a sip of her coffee. “Abigail told me she contacted all of her children and told them that the family feud between the Greenlights and the Cochrans had finally come to an end...with the death of Mitchel Cochran, of course.”
Caleb sounded out of breath,
running while he spoke into the mobile phone. “Detective Spencer, my mother has not contacted me—”
“Mr. O'Healey, Mitchel Cochran was poisoned to death and your mother and her two sisters are being blamed,” Sarah snapped, throwing her politeness out into the snow. “I know they didn't kill Mitchel Cochran. I do know, however, who did. So if you want to avoid prison, you better cut the cowardice and talk to me. And if you're thinking about fleeing to Los Angeles, don't bother, because I have cops at the Anchorage airport waiting for you.” It was a bluff, but she needed to press him.
Caleb froze with his hand on the door of his BMW. “I...” he began to speak but stopped. What was a man in his position supposed to say? “I...wish to consult my lawyer,” he finally spoke.
“No deal,” Sarah snapped in a harsh voice. She was tired of the O’Healey family remaining silent on her. “Talk to me or go to prison. I know the district attorney here and I can make it so you wish you and your family never came to Snow Falls. I'm the only person who can help you.”
Caleb dropped the briefcase in his hand and wobbled down onto the floor of the parking garage. “It was all a mistake,” he whispered. “I warned Alicia and Mandy it wouldn't work...”
“What wouldn't work?” Sarah demanded.
“Everything!” Caleb nearly began crying, then took a shuddering breath and tried again. “Years ago, Alicia Cochran and I were in love. We were going to get married but...we couldn't.”
“Because of the feud?” Sarah asked.
“Mitchel Cochran would have killed me with his bare hands...my own parents would have killed me,” Caleb whimpered. “I was a young man of twenty...Alicia was so young and beautiful...we loved each other. It was so long ago…we're both in our fifties now...” Caleb shuddered with a sigh.
“Keep talking to me, Mr. O'Healey.”
Caleb wiped his left hand over his sweaty, tearful face. “It was for the best anyway. I later found out Alicia never loved me...all she wanted was the gold.”
“What gold?” Sarah asked.
“The gold that Stephen Greenlight...killed Billy Cochran over,” Caleb confessed in a condemned voice. “Billy Cochran stole gold from the Greenlights. He stole Stephen Greenlight’s claim. And Alicia was going to marry me just for revenge. I was stupid enough to believe in her promises. There, are you happy? Isn’t that enough?”
Sarah put down her coffee. “Mr. Caleb, you have to keep going. Keep talking to me.”
Caleb's body began to shake so bad he felt like he was going to fall out of his skin. “You wouldn't understand,” he insisted. He climbed into the plush leather seat of his BMW just so he could have someplace to hide. “You don't understand.”
“Oh, I think I might,” Sarah assured Caleb. “I think this goes back to a time before you were born. After Miren Cochran left Stephen Greenlight after her daddy stole the gold, Stephen Greenlight set it in his mind to kill Billy Cochran and take back his wife and the gold. Is that about right?”
“How...did you know?” Caleb whispered in a shocked voice.
“I'm a detective,” Sarah explained. “It's my job to figure these things out.” And maybe knock some sense into two crazy families while I’m at it, she told herself.
Caleb palmed sweat off his forehead again. “Alicia...all she wanted was the gold. Alicia and Mandy found me later, after I had married and had a son. They began stalking my wife until...” he gulped.
“Until what?”
“Until my wife finally left me,” Caleb cried. “I never told my mother that. How could I? My mother thinks I'm a prince. I couldn’t tell her my wife was scared away by the Cochran girls, after all these years.”
“We'll focus on that later,” Sarah promised. “What else did the Cochran sisters do?”
Caleb licked his dry lips. “Alicia and Mandy slowly began to destroy my life. They got me fired from my job. Made me lose my house. I...began drinking,” Caleb confessed. “I became a horrible parent to my son...I wasn't even aware he was using illegal drugs...drugs supplied by Alicia and Mandy, I later found out...”
Sarah listened to Caleb speak. As she did, a sudden realization struck her. “Mr. O'Healey, is Mr. Moorington, the man who owns VQY, related to Alicia and Mandy Cochran?”
Caleb's violent shaking increased as he took in how much trouble he was truly in. “How did you know? Yes. Charlie Moorington belongs to Miren Cochran's bloodline. Miren Cochran remarried after she divorced Stephen Greenlight.” Caleb grabbed his knees with his left hand and tried to stop them from shaking. “Charlie Moorington is a dangerous man...power-hungry...money-hungry...but he has a very bad gambling problem. VQY would be a decent company and a real competitor if he would allow me to make proper investments instead of gambling away all of our profits.” Caleb shook his head. “Listen to me talking like I honestly care for this company. I'm working for VQY only because I'm being threatened.”
“By who?”
“My own son,” Caleb confessed in a tortured voice, a sob breaking through his words. “Jenson has taken sides with Alicia and Mandy and Charlie Moorington. They all want the gold…the gold worth hundreds of millions...gold that Stephen Greenlight buried somewhere in the Alaskan wilderness. Or so Mitchel Cochran claimed, but Alicia and Mandy said he was lying.”
Sarah felt a surge of questions enter her mind but stayed focused on the current path Caleb was taking her down. “Did they kill Mitchel Cochran over it?”
Caleb squeezed his eyes closed. “No...I did,” he whimpered. “I created the poison...and the trigger. I didn't have a choice. My life was being threatened.”
“Mr. O'Healey, you didn't administer the poison to Mr. Cochran, did you?”
“No,” Caleb whimpered again. “My son...Jenson...that was his job.”
“Explain.”
Caleb tried to make his hands stop shaking. “Alicia and Mandy convinced Mitchel to hire somebody to help him...a handy man of sorts. Mitchel was an old man and he couldn't perform chores like he used to. The daughters made it sound like they were just trying to help him in his old age. At first he rebelled, and then agreed.”
“Jenson O'Healey became Mr. Cochran's new helper, is that right?” Sarah asked.
“Yes,” Caleb confessed. “My son...his job was to administer the poison after I set up...my mother and my aunts.”
“You mean after you framed three innocent women for murder?”
Caleb let out a miserable cry. “I tried to fight Alicia and Mandy on that...I was the reason they went to prison for real estate fraud. I stole papers from my son—”
“Your son was working with Alicia and Mandy.”
“Yes,” Caleb cried. “I stole papers and turned them over to the authorities. I thought I was finished with them. But then Charlie Moorington showed up at my door. He threatened to kill my son...and even promised to track down my ex-wife and kill her if I didn't do as he ordered. I didn't have a choice. I—they all believe my mother knows where the gold is. Charlie Moorington himself refused to let me go until I—”
Sarah heard Caleb's voice cut out as the phone line went silent. She looked up at Amanda. “The phone call just went dead,” she said and went for her gun. “I didn't hear any trees falling, which means one thing.”
“Oh my...here we go,” Amanda said in a dreadful voice as the night finally took full control of the storm.
Sarah eased through the back door of the station with her gun at the ready. Icy winds and heavy snow spotted her and began a vicious assault. “Stay close,” Sarah called back to Amanda.
Amanda quickly checked the flashlight she held and then bravely stepped outside. Sure, she thought, feeling the winds and snow rush at her face in fierce anger, there was a killer loose in the storm—again—but she was through being afraid. If being the best friend of Sarah Garland...Spencer...had taught her anything, it was that you had to face life with your fists ready. Even though deep inside of her heart Amanda was very afraid, she refused to let out a single whimper. “I'm right behind you,” she pr
omised.
Sarah turned right and began trudging through knee-high snow. “The phone line is this way,” she yelled, peering into the darkness. If the killer was lurking in the dark, she couldn't spot him. Amanda held onto the flashlight with one hand and grabbed Sarah's shoulder with the other, her head ducked down against the deadly winds. Sarah carefully led the way to the phone line and stopped. “Shine the light here,” she hollered.
“Okay,” Amanda hollered back and threw the flashlight beam at a gray metal box affixed to the side of the brick station. “Look!”
“I see it!” Sarah yelled over the winds. She reached out her gloved right hand and grabbed a black phone wire dangling from the gray box. “The phone line has been cut.”
Amanda turned her head away from Sarah and explored the night. “The storm is getting worse by the second. We better get back inside. I don't think I've seen it this horrible in years.”
“I know,” Sarah yelled. “The storm is turning into a hurricane blizzard. Come on.” Sarah grabbed Amanda's arm and together they fought their way back inside the station. “Goodness,” she said, closing the door and putting her gun away, “I've never seen it like this before.”
“Me neither,” Amanda said in a worried voice and began stomping snow off her boots. “The storm eased off us for a little bit earlier this afternoon but then returned with vengeance.”
“We call a storm like this a White Killer,” Dr. Milton spoke.
Sarah jerked her head up and spotted Dr. Milton standing in the short hallway leading to the back door. “Dr. Milton, you should be resting.”
Dr. Milton ignored Sarah. “I've lived through one White Killer before,” he frowned. “When the storm ended, the town of Ice Creek Falls was totally destroyed.” Dr. Milton paused and listened to the winds and snow pound the station. “The temperature drops so fast a man's body can freeze to ice within minutes. The winds are so powerful that they sheer trees right off the hillside and cut a man in half like a hungry bear tearing apart a lost hunter. The snow builds and builds...and blinds you. A person who has walked to his mailbox a thousand times can become lost within seconds by the blinding snow...turned around...confused...and then...dead.”
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