by Harry Kraus
Kesha seemed to squint at him in question. “She’s my neighbor.” She straightened. “Why do you ask about her?”
Christian couldn’t look up and meet her eyes. “She reminded me of an old friend, that’s all.”
He made a note in the chart and handed Kesha another X-ray request slip. “This is for an MRI. I’ll ask the front office to schedule it right away. Then I’ll need to see Mike again, okay?”
She nodded.
When he stood, she didn’t move.
“Is my boy gonna die?”
“I know you’re scared. That’s normal. But we don’t know if it’s cancer. Even if it is, there is good treatment available. It’s way too premature to give up hope. Mike needs you to be strong.”
She sniffed. “He’s all I got left.”
“Let’s take it one test at a time. MRI first, then a biopsy. Then hopefully, I’ll have good news for you.”
She stood and nodded. “I’ll bring him with me next week.”
Tori’s hand covered her mouth. “What are you saying? Is Dr. Jaworski dead?”
The muscular officer frowned. “I’m sorry, Dr. Taylor. At this point, all we can say is that we have a body.”
“Where? In her office?”
“In one of the medical exam rooms.” He hesitated. “If you knew her, perhaps you could give us a hand and ID the body.”
Tori looked at Phin. She couldn’t believe this. “Sure.”
“Okay,” he said. “I know you’re a doctor so you’re used to seeing all kinds of stuff.” He shook his head. “But I have to warn you. It’s a bloodbath in there.”
“Who found the body? Who comes in on a Saturday?”
“A cleaning lady.” He nodded at the duo. “This way, ma’am.”
She looked at Phin, who shook his head. “I’m staying right here.”
Tori stepped over the crime-scene tape and followed Officer Bundrick. He led her through a tastefully designed waiting room, one with actual art, not like the utilitarian one where Dr. Taylor’s patients had to wait back at the university hospital. In the hallway beyond, they bypassed at least a dozen men and women in uniform. Photographs were being taken.
The door to the exam room stood open. There was blood on the floor, spilling from the exam table, blood on the wall, and blood saturating the chest of a body. She wouldn’t have known it was a woman except that she wore a denim wraparound skirt. The body was pale, and the right arm hung over the side of the table.
Her eyes were drawn away from the blood to the yellow “Live Strong” band around the right wrist. Just like Mary’s.
Tori forced herself to look at the body. A white blouse looked as if it had been dyed deep red. Jelly-like clots matted the front of her clothing. The face was pale, the eyes open. Her last seconds on earth could not have been pleasant.
She stepped back, fighting a wave of nausea. “It’s her. It’s Dr. Jaworski.”
She stumbled back into the hall, seeking air. Before she entered the waiting room again, she turned and called back, “Officer Bundrick, I know this may sound strange, but I need to know something.”
He walked down the hall to within a few feet of her. “What is it?”
“I need to know if her chest has been opened. Did someone steal her heart?”
His expression changed. Hardened. “Why would you ask me that? We have not released any of those details.”
“So it’s true?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss—”
She turned. “That’s all I wanted to know.”
Halfway across the waiting room, she realized she was tracking blood. She looked down. “Ugh!”
“Don’t worry about that,” he said. He followed her outside where she quickly found her place at Phin’s side. With his arms around her, she began to cry, deep sobs of pain.
A moment later, she pushed Phin to arm’s length. “Don’t you see it?” she whispered. “This woman was killed because of me. Someone wants me dead because of what I know about Dakota Jones. And because Mary Jaworski figured it out, they killed her first.”
A few minutes later, Officer Bundrick walked over with an open cell phone. “Here,” he said. “Could you talk to Captain Ellis?”
She sniffed and took the phone. “Captain, this is Tori.”
“Dr. Taylor, what a coincidence we find you at a crime scene.”
“I was coming to meet Dr. Jaworski to discuss my interview.”
“Yes, yes. I’ve been in contact with an officer from the Richmond, Virginia, PD.”
“Officer Campbell?”
“Yes. He told me all about the threats. The heart. Even the flowers. I think it’s time you came on in to the department. I want to arrange to keep you in a safe place.”
“You believe my story now?”
“I believe Dakota Jones was murdered, if that’s what you mean. And I know from what the psychiatrist told me that Dakota must have had a very troubled past.”
“I believe someone killed her mother, too.”
“The interview suggests a very hard life of abuse.” He paused. “You’re an important witness for us in this homicide. Now that Dr. Jaworski is dead, you’re the only one who can testify as one who carries the heart of the victim. This is a very unusual case, Dr. Taylor. I want you to come over to the station. I’m going to arrange transfer to a safe place for your protection.”
She took a deep breath and mouthed the words of relief to Phin: He believes me. Then, into the phone, she said, “We’ll come right over.”
She handed the phone back to Officer Bundrick and recited her conversation with the captain back to Phin.
Once in their rental car, Tori took a deep breath. “I can’t believe this.”
“At least someone is taking you seriously and is going to keep you safe.”
She nodded. “Can we stop for a cup of coffee?”
“Sure.”
A few minutes later, they sat, sipping Kenyan coffee at the nearest Starbucks.
Tori’s cell phone sounded. “Hello.”
“Dr. Taylor, it’s George Campbell.”
“Officer Campbell, I’m so glad you called. I just got done speaking with Captain Ellis.”
“You did?” He halted. “Look, Dr. Taylor, we don’t all feel the same way about this.”
“At least he believes me. I’m on my way in to see him now. He wants to put me in some sort of protective custody or something.”
“What? Did he tell you about Dakota Jones?”
“Only that he believes she was murdered and that I’m a key witness.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Mr. Campbell?”
“Dr. Taylor, when did your threatening phone calls start? How soon after your transplant?”
“Not until after I moved home.”
“When was that?”
She sighed. “Why is this important?” She counted back. “It was right after I came to Baltimore the first time.”
“After you told your story to Baltimore PD?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Something isn’t right. Where are you?”
“Baltimore. I told you, I’m on my way to see Captain Ellis. He practically insisted.”
“I’ll bet.” He cleared his throat. “I may be off base here, but humor me. Who else knew about your theories about transplanted memories?”
She thought about it. “A few surgical residents. Charlotte. Phin. The Baltimore PD. Some of my doctors on the transplant service knew I was having nightmares.”
“Tori, Captain Ellis told me something I think you should know.”
“I’m listening.” She pushed her coffee away and straightened her posture.
“He told me that Dakota Jones
was an alias. Her real name was Emily Greene and she worked for Baltimore PD as an undercover narcotics officer.”
She shook her head. “What?”
“He told me you were crazy and that your psychiatric interview essentially proved it.”
“Really?”
Tori tapped her fingers on the tabletop. Is this guy playing me? Why would Captain Ellis say I’m crazy? Certainly the psychiatrist wouldn’t have reported that! She sighed. “And now, no one can dispute his words.”
“Why is that?”
“I’ve just come from a crime scene at Dr. Jaworski’s office. She was murdered.”
“What!” She heard a door shut, and he lowered his voice. “You need to get out of there.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Look, Dr. Taylor, I’m sorry about all this, but I think it may be best to come on home. I don’t think I’d be walking right into the Baltimore PD just now.”
“But—”
“Listen, the threats started after you talked to Baltimore PD. What if they are the ones trying to cover up the facts surrounding Emily Greene’s death? Think about it. Why would Captain Ellis tell you and me entirely different stories unless he’s trying to throw us all off track?”
She sighed. She wanted to scream. Just when she was beginning to think she was close to safety. Now she didn’t know what or who to believe. Was she being played? By whom? “So who was Emily Greene?”
“I did a little checking. She’d been on the force for six years. Exemplary record. Grew up on the Eastern Shore. Her parents still live there.”
“I can’t come home. Whoever wants me dead is watching. They even followed me to my friend’s house, Phin MacGrath. We snuck out the back and rented a car to come to Baltimore.”
“I hope I’m wrong.”
“So what’s my next move?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. But if you don’t show and the captain calls, do not tell him where you are.”
She looked at Phin. His face showed the distress and confusion of trying to discern what was going on from her half of the conversation.
“Dr. Taylor, I’d advise you to leave now. He’ll have all of Baltimore PD looking for you.”
“Okay.”
She stared at her phone in disbelief. In two short minutes, her world had been reconfirmed as dangerous and crazy. She didn’t know what to believe.
“There’s one more thing, Dr. Taylor. Something Captain Ellis said to me prompted me to ask a few questions down at the university hospital’s pathology lab.”
He cleared his throat.
She was growing impatient. “What’d you find out?”
“The heart that was mailed to you.” He paused. “It was yours.”
An hour later, when Tori Taylor failed to show up at the Baltimore PD, Captain Ellis issued an APB for a couple driving a blue Honda Accord. Female around thirty-five, slender build, curly light-brown hair, wanted for questioning in the murder of Dr. Mary Jaworski. Suspect revealed facts about the murder that only the killer would have known.
35
Twenty minutes after hanging up with Officer Campbell, Tori and Phin were speeding out of Baltimore on their way to the Eastern Shore.
Phin opened the sunroof. The sun felt good on Tori’s face. “You know,” she said, “they have an island over on the Shore where wild horses roam free.”
“Oh, so now this is a sightseeing tour?”
She shrugged and let her hand rest on his arm. He didn’t pull away. “I’m just saying that if we have to hide out for a few days, it might not be the worst place around.”
“You think Officer Campbell is right?”
“I’m not sure. But it kind of makes sense. I saw a cop in my dream. I’m not sure he came to help Dakota—er, Emily.” She sighed. “This is so weird. All along I thought I had the heart of a druggie.” She smiled. “Turns out, I’ve got the heart of a policewoman.”
“That explains a lot.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re all about solving crimes now. Ever thought of that?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted her face to the sun.
“Maybe we should just hit the road, leave the state entirely. Go to Florida or something.”
“I think you would know me better by now. I’m committed to seeing this through. I’m not running just because my life is in danger. I owe it to Emily. I owe it to her family.”
“You think contacting her family is a good idea? Didn’t Barb Stiles contact them and ask them whether they wanted to know you?”
“Yes, but circumstances have changed.”
Phin shook his head. “The transplant program could get in pretty hot water if they find out the information came from within the program.”
“But it didn’t really. If anyone gets in trouble, it should be me. I’m the one who figured this out. No one really came out and said it. I just guessed, and the resident confirmed it.”
“There’s another reason to be careful, Tori. If you really think Emily was murdered, what if her family was involved?”
She thought quietly for a moment. “I guess it’s possible. But, well—it just doesn’t feel that way to me.”
“So what’s your play?”
“Tell ’em the truth. Tell them I’m in trouble. Ask them if they knew anything about what Emily was doing. It’s not like we can just ask Baltimore PD. We don’t know who might be involved.”
“Maybe we should go to the FBI. Who polices dirty cops?”
“Some departments have internal-affairs divisions, don’t they?”
“Hey, I’m a social worker. What do I know about busting crooked cops?”
“Do you have a gun?”
He glared at her. “No!”
She slid down in her seat and muttered. “I wish you did.”
Phin tapped the steering wheel. “We need gas.”
They stopped at an Exxon with a Quick-Mart. “Use my credit card,” she said. “It’s the least I can do.”
She went inside to use the restroom and bought some snacks and soda for the road.
When she came out, Phin recommended calling Gus Peterson.
Tori nodded. “I think he can be trusted.”
As they pulled out, she called Gus and told him about Officer Campbell’s fears that someone in the Baltimore PD might be involved in Emily’s death.
Through the conversation, Gus got louder, expressing his frustration and concern. With a voice etched with urgency, he pled, “Come back to Richmond. The PD here will help you.”
“Been there,” she said. “I’m afraid.” She hesitated. “And I don’t know who I can trust.”
“But that was before they knew how serious this is.”
She moved on. “I want to go to the Eastern Shore and find Emily’s parents. Maybe they know what she was working on. Can you help figure out who and where they are?”
She listened as Gus huffed into the phone. “Listen. You need to do a few things to avoid detection by the Baltimore PD. When you don’t show up, they’ll come after you with every resource available.”
Her gut tightened. “So what do I do?”
“Stop using your cell phone, for one thing. They can triangulate your location from cell towers.”
She looked at her phone and frowned.
“And never use your credit cards. They’ll trace them and follow your trail. Do they know Phin’s name?”
“I don’t think so.”
“So use his cards. Until they figure out that your car is a rental and trace it to Phin’s name, using his card should be safe. It might be best just to get as much cash as you can with his ATM card and stop using cards altogether after that. They can’t trace cash.”
&nbs
p; “I just used my credit card for gas.”
“Well, change directions then.”
“Okay.”
“Turn off your phone and take out the battery, okay? Use Phin’s phone from now on. I’ll see what I can find out about the Greenes, and I’ll call back on Phin’s number.” He paused. “Do you think they know what kind of car you’re driving?”
“I’m pretty sure they would have seen it at Dr. Jaworski’s office.”
“Then you need to get a different car. Either park that car in a huge lot like at the BWI,” he said, referring to the airport, “or take it back to an airport rental company and then use a different company to rent something else.”
She was quiet.
“Are you getting this?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now get off the phone. We’ve talked too long. I don’t want them to get a fix on your location. Move!”
Captain Ellis shook his head and looked at Officer Bundrick sitting across the captain’s cluttered desk. “Where is this going to end? Now besides Greene’s death, we have this psychiatrist to deal with.”
“I don’t like it. This Dr. Taylor is trouble.”
“Agreed,” he said, running his hand through his short crop of gray hair. “But apparently, she isn’t doing what I asked.”
Bundrick nodded. “She’s running.”
“Maybe she’s smart.”
The phone rang. Ellis picked up. “Good, thank you,” he said. He looked up at Bundrick. “We just got a hit on Taylor’s Visa card. An Exxon station south of town, on the exit after the Fort McHenry Tunnel.”
Bundrick smiled. “Finally, a break. I’ll send the boys.”
“How much further?” Tori shifted in her seat and looked out the back window.
“Navigator says fourteen minutes.” He smiled. “Maybe we should just bag the rental-car idea and catch a plane somewhere.” He touched her hand. “Maybe Bermuda.”
“Very funny.” She turned her hand to accept his, palm to palm. “But I’ll take a rain check. Sometime when I’m not running for my life and I can actually think.” She traced her index finger around his palm. “We need to talk about us,” she said.