by Debra Webb
“I heard it on the six o’clock news,” the woman threw back at him as if she recognized that he was accusing her of having something to do with Rebecca’s death.
“Then you’re aware that there’s a homicide investigation underway and that any knowledge you have about the victim could be relevant to that case. You could be obstructing justice by holding back.”
Silence.
Mary Jane held her breath.
He was going to spook her. She wouldn’t talk if he kept scaring her to death.
“I know the law,” she snapped. “I know what I have to do. I just didn’t want to go to the police before telling the sister. You know how the cops are, they’ll tell her what they want her to know. I’ll tell her the truth.”
Okay. Enough.
Mary Jane stepped forward and walked directly into the living room. “What is it you have to tell me?”
“Ms. Brooks, go back to your room.” Allen stepped between Mary Jane and the other woman. “I’ve got this under control.”
“Let her talk.” Mary Jane stared straight into those dark eyes and showed him with her own that she was not taking no for an answer. She wanted to hear whatever this woman had to say.
He held her gaze for an extra beat, just long enough for her to doubt that he would allow her to have her way. Then he stepped aside.
Mary Jane searched the woman’s face. Thin and pale, she looked to be in her late twenties, like Mary Jane, only there were deeper lines around her eyes and mouth as if she’d lived those years far harder. Dark roots betrayed her blond hair, and gray eyes reflected the weight of whatever was on her mind.
“My name is Cassie Scott. I’m a dental hygienist. I work at the Caldwell Dental Clinic downtown.” She took a moment, wrung her hands together as if the next part had to be drudged up from deep inside her. “Last year I worked at the walk-in clinic over in Yates on the south side.”
Mary Jane knew the area. Rough neighborhood. Ms. Scott had definitely made a move up this year. But what did any of this have to do with Rebecca?
“You said you had information for me,” Mary Jane prodded.
Ms. Scott nodded. “I had a drug problem.” She took a ragged breath. “Meth. It took months of rehab but I’m clean now.”
It still startled Mary Jane when she heard about health professionals getting involved with such a nasty drug. They, of all people, should know better.
“Anyway—” Cassie shrugged “—this time last year my life was in a downward spiral, and I would have done just about anything to support my habit.”
Mary Jane’s senses stirred. “Something you did involved my sister?” Knots formed in her belly and she found herself unable to breathe.
Cassie Scott nodded. “A man approached me through my source.”
Mary Jane’s brow furrowed. “Your source?”
Cassie wet her lips. “My drug supplier.”
Okay. She got that. “What did this man want?” Mary Jane wasn’t sure she wanted to know where this was going…but she needed to know. Maybe Shane Allen had been right. Maybe he should have heard this first. No. She had to be strong.
“He wanted me to alter a set of dental records.”
Mary Jane’s heart started to thunder. “Whose dental records?”
“A patient at the walk-in clinic. He said she wouldn’t need them anymore.” The woman’s hands shook even as she wrung them tightly.
“You presumed this woman to be dead?”
Mary Jane’s attention swung to the man standing beside her. He’d uttered the question she hadn’t been able to string together quite yet.
Cassie nodded an affirmative. “I was afraid to ask.”
“What did he want you to do with the dead woman’s dental records?” Shane followed up.
Mary Jane had gone cold. Her knees felt weak, and she was sure she couldn’t properly buttress herself for whatever came next.
“He wanted the views of the patient’s latest X-rays, but first…he wanted me to alter the name on the views.”
“So you altered the X-rays as requested, and he paid you for your service?” This time Allen’s question held an obvious note of disdain.
“Yes.” Cassie’s expression turned pleading as if she needed him to understand. “I was desperate. I’d done a few small jobs for friends of my source before. Things I’d watched done enough times that I was pretty sure I could do it. Like an extraction or reseating a crown or bridge. But nothing—” she swallowed with effort “—like this. This could cost me everything.”
“Who was this man who came to you?” Mary Jane asked—demanded, actually. She had to know if it was someone from Horizon Software. Maybe she wouldn’t recognize the name, but surely Detective Bailen would. “And what does this have to do with my sister?”
“I’d never met him before,” Cassie explained.
“He didn’t seem like the usual type who asked for this sort of thing. He seemed…nice.”
“His name,” Allen pressed.
“Jason Mackey. I heard about his murder a couple weeks after that. It scared me to death, so I kept my mouth shut. He was dead. It didn’t seem like it was relevant to the job I’d done for him…until today.”
Mary Jane’s arms went around her middle in an effort to hold herself steady.
“I heard about your sister,” she said to Mary Jane. “That she was dead, I mean. It was all over the news tonight.”
Emotion swam in Mary Jane’s eyes. She still didn’t understand what any of this had to do with her or her sister other than the fact that Jason Mackey was a scumbag and Mary Jane had already figured out that part.
“I’m clean now,” Cassie reiterated. “I got my life back together, and I’m trying to do the right thing.” She looked away. “I knew I had to do this.”
Fear froze Mary Jane’s blood. She wanted to ask what this meant. How it tied into her sister’s murder. But her lips wouldn’t form the words pounding in her brain.
“What was the name Mackey wanted you to put on the dental records?” Allen prodded before Mary Jane could summon any sort of response. His stern voice tugged Mary Jane from the pull of grief.
“Rebecca Brooks.”
It took a few seconds for that reality to sink deeply enough to make any kind of sense and then anticipation seared through Mary Jane. “What are you saying?”
Cassie Scott looked from Mary Jane to the man beside her and back. “I’m saying that if the medical examiner used the X-ray views I altered to confirm your sister’s identity, then they’ve made a mistake.” She exhaled a mighty breath. “Those X-rays belonged to Amanda Ferguson, a prostitute I once did an extraction for to pay off my…my debt to my source.”
Mary Jane’s gaze locked with Shane Allen’s. “What does this mean?”
He glanced at the other woman, then settled those disturbingly dark eyes back on Mary Jane. “It means the remains identified might not be your sister’s.”
Chapter Six
By midnight, Victoria Colby-Camp had assembled her two right-hand staff members, Ian Michaels and Simon Ruhl. Both men had been briefed on the recent developments. Shane paused as the woman next to him hesitated before entering the conference room. The past hour had been extremely difficult for Mary Jane Brooks. She had just learned that there was a possibility that her sister was not dead. As much as she wanted to believe this was good news, there was no evidence to support that conclusion as of yet.
The one thing they knew with any certainty was that nothing about this case was what it appeared. There were far too many unknown variables.
And if her sister wasn’t dead, where was she? Why hadn’t she contacted her only living relative?
The dental hygienist, Cassie Scott, had asked not to be identified unless absolutely necessary. Shane wasn’t sure he could keep her name out of the investigation, but he would give it his best shot. The woman had turned her life around—going to prison wasn’t exactly high on her priority list. Nor would it accomplish anything good.
<
br /> As Shane introduced Mary Jane to Ian and Simon, Detective Bailen arrived.
“What’s going on, Victoria?”
Bailen looked a little harried. Not surprising, since it was the middle of the night.
“Let’s convene at the conference table,” Victoria suggested as she indicated the polished mahogany expanse across the room, “and Mr. Allen will brief you on tonight’s startling turn of events.”
Bailen didn’t look too happy about waiting the minute it took for everyone to be seated, but he kept any protests to himself out of respect for the woman in charge. Shane had noticed in his relatively short tenure at the Colby Agency that few dared to cross Victoria Colby-Camp.
Shane waited for Victoria’s signal that he should begin, then he got straight to the point. “Earlier this evening I received an anonymous tip that the dental records used to identify the remains of Rebecca Brooks were unreliable.”
Bailen’s expression was openly suspect. “Clarify what you mean by unreliable.”
“According to my source, the records utilized belonged to a woman named Amanda Ferguson and not to Rebecca Brooks.”
The detective looked from Shane to Victoria and then to Mary Jane. “The records were provided by the dentist you said your sister had used for years,” he reminded Mary Jane. To Shane he suggested, “This question of reliability may lie in your source.”
“We acknowledge that this is purely hearsay until you can confirm the facts,” Shane stated for the record and in an effort to keep Bailen focused on him. He preferred to have the detective’s intense scrutiny away from Mary Jane. “But we felt this information could not be dismissed without due consideration. As you know, the law requires that we share this sort of discovery with the authorities. Starting with you seemed the right thing to do.”
To Shane’s surprise, Bailen nodded. “I agree.” He settled his full attention on Victoria once more. “But I’m afraid I’m going to need to know more about the source of your tip if I’m to treat this information as sufficient motive to divert resources from the thrust of our current investigation. It’s not Chicago PD’s policy to utilize resources unless there is proper justification.”
Mary Jane’s posture stiffened noticeably. Hoping to reassure her, Shane placed his hand on her arm beneath the table. The jolt of something like electricity when his palm connected with her skin sent a startling rush of tension through him. The tiny hitch in her breathing told him she’d felt it, as well.
Shaking off the strange reaction, he zeroed in on Bailen and called the man’s bluff. “As a former civil servant, I understand exactly what you mean, Detective. Particularly at this time of year budgets are stretched thin. We’ll look into the accusation and keep you posted. If the tip turns out to be of any consequence, we’ll turn our findings over to you and your department for further examination.”
“Absolutely,” Victoria seconded. “I apologize for calling you in unnecessarily, Detective Bailen.”
Surprise and then irritation played across the man’s face. “Victoria, if you know more than you’re telling me, we could have a serious problem here.” His gaze swung back to Mary Jane, no doubt considering her the weakest section in the wall he’d just hit. “It would be in everyone’s best interest to put all cards on the table here and now. What is it you’re not telling me?”
The tension in the room thickened, but Shane knew they had the detective right where they wanted him. “I’m afraid that’s all we have, Detective. I received the tip and this is it. Whether you check it out or not is up to you.”
The standoff lasted ten seconds, then ten more. Shane didn’t break eye contact. Bailen might have a couple of decades on him in the business of interrogation, but there was no way he could win. Shane was very, very good at this game. He had only lost his focus once, and that had been because he’d let his heart get in the way.
That wouldn’t happen again in this lifetime.
Bailen pushed back his chair and stood. “Amanda Ferguson,” he repeated. “I’ll look into it.” He glanced at Mary Jane. “The best place to begin would be with any other dental offices Rebecca may have used.”
Mary Jane considered her words before she spoke. “I’ve given that a good deal of thought,” she said, her voice shaky. “As I told Mrs. Colby-Camp, we lived in St. Louis before moving to Chicago sixteen years ago. I can’t remember the clinic or the dentist, but I do remember that Rebecca wore braces in St. Louis.” She clutched the edge of the table as if she feared she might not be able to remain steady without that anchor. “I definitely remember the braces.”
Bailen exhaled a weary breath. “I’m sorry, Ms. Brooks, do you have any idea how many orthodontists there likely are in a city the size of St. Louis?”
Victoria pushed to her feet, drawing the detective’s attention back to her. “Just over seven hundred dentists, with approximately seventy listed specifically as orthodontists. Our research department is already looking into the possibilities.”
This time the standoff lasted less than five seconds.
“I presume you’ll share your results with us,” Bailen said, his resignation tangible.
“I’ll have Mildred send an e-mail update directly to you every hour on the hour.”
The detective shrugged. “All right. I’ll let you know if I find anything to back up your anonymous tip.” He shot Shane a look that said he was well aware he hadn’t gotten the whole story.
Shane didn’t flinch. Prosecuting his source for mistakes she had made a year ago under the influence of drugs wouldn’t serve any useful purpose now. As long as he could protect her, he would.
Victoria saw Bailen to the lobby and the tension in the conference room diminished considerably.
“I’ll see how research is coming along,” Simon Ruhl offered. “See if we have anything new.” He checked his wristwatch. “I doubt we’ll have much before noon. Most of the dental clinics won’t open until nine, and many of the records more than a decade old will be in storage at this point.”
Ian Michaels, a former U.S. Marshal himself, gathered his notes. “A twenty-four-hour turnaround is the best we can hope for.” To Mary Jane he said, “I know waiting isn’t easy, Ms. Brooks, but this kind of investigation requires patience and perseverance.”
Mary Jane wilted a little as he said what no one in her position wanted to hear. As long as twenty-four hours seemed, it was a hell of a quick turnaround in a situation like this.
Ian shifted his interest to Shane, but before he could say what was on his mind, Ben Haygood rushed into the conference room.
“I got another usable hit on Amanda Ferguson.”
Mary Jane watched as Shane Allen and his colleagues considered the latest information discovered on the prostitute whose dental records had allegedly been switched with Rebecca’s. Mary Jane closed her eyes. This was all so unbelievable.
If her sister was alive, why hadn’t she attempted to contact Mary Jane? Why hadn’t she sent some message when their mom, then their father, had passed away?
Could Rebecca have deserted them so completely? Could she really have been that heartless and Mary Jane just hadn’t noticed?
It seemed so impossible. Every instinct argued against that conclusion. Rebecca had been focused and ambitious, driven even, but she hadn’t been uncaring or disinterested. Didn’t that expensive Park Place condo prove that? If she were out there somewhere still alive, uncaring as to what happened to her family, wouldn’t she have wanted all her money for herself?
Surely a woman capable of abandoning her entire family in their time of greatest need wouldn’t be so selfless and generous. The condo. The vehicle. It didn’t add up.
Mary Jane pushed those thoughts away and joined the others on the opposite side of the conference table. Whatever new information they had found, she needed to understand how it impacted Cassie Scott’s assertion regarding the dental records.
“Extra-long rap sheet,” Simon Ruhl commented with a hint of regret in his voice. “Barely
twenty-five, and this one was into some nasty stuff.”
Ian Michaels indicated one entry in particular on the report. “Looks like there are several entries related to assaults where she bit clients.”
Ben Haygood passed another document to Shane Allen. “The rap sheet’s interesting,” Haygood offered, “but this is the really incredible part.”
Ian Michaels’s brow furrowed as his expression darkened. “Is this what I think it is?”
Mary Jane could only see that the page contained a long list of what appeared to be names. Her pulse fluttered at the idea that they might be getting somewhere already. Whatever they could learn about Amanda Ferguson might give them some insight into what had really happened to Rebecca.
“It sure is.” Shane Allen looked from one man to the next before visually connecting with Mary Jane. “This is a for-sale list.”
Confusion further scrambled her already weary thoughts. “What’s a for-sale list?”
His dark eyes fixed on hers. “It’s a list of people who, for whatever reason—terminal illness or just plain desperation—are prepared to literally sell their souls to the highest bidder. Maybe they have family they need to help or some debt they want to settle. And they’re willing to provide organs, alibis, anything to do it.”
Disbelief sat like a lump of ice in her stomach. “Amanda Ferguson let someone pay her to be murdered?” Dear God, what had Rebecca done?
Simon Ruhl flared his hands in a maybe gesture. “She’s on the list, which means she was willing. Whether or not she did, we don’t know yet.”
“That list,” Ben said as he tapped the one Ian held, “was posted last year. I found it on a Web site that was debating the legalities.” He produced yet another sheet of paper filled with names. “This one is from the same source, only more recent.” He pointed to the names. “No Amanda Ferguson on this list.”
The chilling lump in Mary Jane’s stomach expanded. “So, she’s dead.” Oh, God. That meant the remains found could be Amanda Ferguson’s. Good heavens, how could Rebecca be capable of something like this? How could Mary Jane not have known just how desperate her own sister was?