He was just getting into his car when his cell rang. It was Jeanine. “Honey! Where are you?”
She responded in a distant, angry tone. “Listen, Ryan, don’t threaten me with the police.”
“I’m sorry. I just, I…well, I’m desperate. I can’t live without you. Please come home.”
“I’m not ready to come home.”
“At least tell me where you are. Please,” he begged.
“Italy. The girls and I are in Italy.”
“Where? Let me meet you. Let’s talk.”
“No, Ryan. Plus, you have work to do, I’m sure. I’ll call you in a couple of days and maybe then I will be ready to talk. For now you might want to consider a decent lawyer. I’m not sure I can forgive you for this. Good-bye.”
Ryan heard the phone on the other end click off. He thought she had added a nice touch by throwing in the line about the lawyer. But what if she was telling him the truth? He couldn’t blame her. What if Jeanine never forgave him?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The headlights shining into Kelly’s front window belonged to the detective’s off-duty car. She watched him from behind the closed curtains, ashamed at the surge of relief she felt. She was no longer angry with him. She just wanted to feel safe.
“Thanks for coming over,” she said after opening the door. “I’m really sorry to bother you so late.”
“You said you thought it was important.”
“Yes, but…maybe I should have waited.” After she’d called him, she had gone around her entire house with the gun she kept. She’d learned how to shoot from her dad back in Lexington. He’d wanted her to know how to defend herself before sending her to the City of Angels. She’d turned on all the lights in the house. No one else beside herself was in the home. That much she knew. But someone had definitely been there.
He frowned and gave her an odd look. “You know, it’s after one o’ clock, and you don’t exactly strike me as the kind of person who calls a detective in the middle of the night for no reason at all. What gives?”
She nodded. “Follow me.”
While he followed her back into her room, she relayed the entire story to him. “So you see, the flowers were delivered to my office, and then they disappeared before my shift was over, and showed up here.” She pointed to the vase on her nightstand. The bouquet’s ominous presence chilled her.
“The flowers disappeared from your office?”
“Yes. I figured it was the cleaning crew. I didn’t know.”
“I need to get a team over here to dust for fingerprints. I think it’s important to check into this. It could be connected to your friend’s murder.”
The same thought had crossed her mind.
“This note is a pretty serious threat, and we have to treat it as such. With Dr. Hamilton’s murder hanging over our heads, we have to treat all of this as possibly being related.”
She nodded. “Can I get you some water or coffee?”
“Water. I’ll call this in.”
Pazzini made a call to the station. “Yeah, and I’d like to get a twenty-four hour watch on Dr. Morales for protection. Thanks.”
When he hung up the phone, Kelly said, “Do you really think I need protection?” Her eyes widened.
“I think considering what happened with Dr. Hamilton and the two of you were friends, yes, it’s a good idea. Don’t worry though. I know you’re busy and have a job to do. No one will be in your face. I assure you. These guys are pros. We know how to do our jobs. You won’t even notice him most of the time. You can do your rounds without him hanging with you. And it is likely I will be taking the late shift.”
“I don’t like any of this.”
“It’d be strange if you did,” he replied. He turned and glanced out the front window. “Looks like my guys just pulled up. I’ll go down and let them in.”
She hated the idea of being under police protection, but she was scared and the detective’s points were valid. What was even more unsettling was it looked more and more likely—to her at least—that Jake’s murderer was someone who worked at the hospital. The thought that she might know Jake’s killer, maybe worked with whoever it was on a daily basis, sent a chill down her spine. How could her world have been turned upside down in such a short period of time? Maybe Jake had been right when he’d told her to mind her own business.
Maybe if she’d listened, he would still be alive and she wouldn’t be in this mess.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Peter Redding did not like waking up to the shrill ring of a telephone—especially before six a.m. It usually meant there was a problem. He didn’t like problems. “Yes,” he said, trying to shake the sleep out of his voice.
“Sir, this is Frederick Färber.”
“Yes, Färber? This better be important. Do you know what time it is here?”
“I do, and I apologize, sir. I think it is important…possibly.”
“Think? And possibly? Not sure how I feel about those words, Färber.”
“It’s Dr. Horner.”
Peter sat up in bed. “Horner?”
“Yes, sir. His wife left him.”
Peter sighed and snapped his fingers, then tapped his companion on the shoulder. She’d been taught well, and knew what to do. She immediately rolled out of bed, her bare and very nice ass swaying as she walked out of the bedroom and headed into the kitchen to pour him a fresh cup of coffee. “This is a concern because?”
“It’s a concern because Horner left work early and we have lost all contact with him.”
Redding shifted uneasily. “What do you mean you’ve lost all contact with him?”
Färber cleared his throat and paused before responding. Redding was not a stupid man, and knew Färber was choosing his words carefully. “I mean, sir, our surveillance isn’t working. The GPS has been disengaged. His cell phone is out of service. The taps in his car are not picking up anything. His home surveillance is still working, as well as in his lab. But he isn’t home and he isn’t in the lab. He’s gone, sir. It’s possible, though, he went to Italy to find his wife and kids.”
“What?” Redding was trying to digest this information.
“The last call we picked up was with his wife. I have the recording. I just listened to it. She is very angry with him. Maybe he went to find her, and it’s possible he is out of range. That does happen.”
Redding sighed heavily as his naked partner sauntered back into the room and set his coffee on the nightstand. She quickly retreated. “Get me all his tapes from the past two weeks. I want all surveillance. Horner is not headed to Italy and his wife and kids are not there either. Find them. Find all of them and kill them. Track credit card records, cell phone calls, bank account withdrawals, all of it. Put people at all of the airports and train stations. Find them, Färber.”
“Yes, sir.”
Redding hung up the phone and knew he’d fucked up. Big time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Gem was on her fourth cup of coffee. After last night’s escapade she was exhausted and truth be told, still a bit shaken.
Now she stood in front of her boss Stuart, and as delicately as possible told him her story.
“You did what?! Who do you think you are, Catwoman? This isn’t a movie or comic book, Gem. You could have gotten yourself arrested or worse!” He was pacing back and forth in his office. Never a good sign. “No. No! Leave this one alone, Georgia. The Petersen murders were put to rest a long time ago and the last thing you need is to dig into anything involving the cartel.” He dropped back into his chair emphatically.
“But what if it wasn’t the cartel who was responsible for those murders? And what about that email from Chemmadderhorn?”
Stuart rolled his eyes and pushed his chair away from his desk. “Oh come on, Gem. There are a lot of twisted, sick people out there looking to get off on this kind of thing, and whoever this guy is who sent you the e-mail, he’s a joker, and you are his goddamn punch line.”
Gem put her hands underneath her seat to keep from biting her fingernails—a nervous habit she had when she was agitated. Her boss wasn’t the easiest guy in the world, but he liked her and was a friend. If she could just convince him to do a little more sneaking around, find a few more answers…
“Listen to me.” Stuart raised his eyebrows. “Just listen. Say my neighbor isn’t tied to the narcos. Okay fine. And say he wasn’t involved with the Petersen murders…but here’s the thing, the guy is a racist. I mean, talk about hate. I heard the rhetoric he was listening to on his TV and his salute to Hitler.” She shook her head. “Jesus, it may sound trite, but that shit sent a serious chill down my spine. I mean I’m half Jew.”
“And I am a Jew all the way, so I get it. But come on, Gem. What your neighbor does in the privacy of his home is his bit and none of your business.”
“I know. I know that. But there is something more here, Stuart. I feel it. I have watched this guy now for three years. He’s odd. He’s handsome and charming enough when I’ve passed by him, but he’s odd.”
“So what? Ninety-nine percent of the human race is odd.”
She glanced up at the ceiling and paused for a few seconds as her brain pulled something out of nowhere. Details. “He’s Lawrence Wentworth’s son.”
“What?”
“Yes. I saw a photo of him and his entire family and Larry Wentworth had an arm around him like he was his father.”
“The senator from Texas? That Lawrence Wentworth?”
She nodded. Her brain had finally put a name to the face.
“He only has daughters, Gem.”
Gem tossed up her arms. “Okay, well, they are related. That much is obvious.”
“Is it? People take photos with famous folks all of the time. It certainly doesn’t mean they are related.” Stuart shook his head.
“Point taken, but maybe they are. Let’s play the “what if” game. Say this guy, my neighbor, is a bad guy of some sort. I know for sure he’s a racist, and I can only assume he is related to the senator who we all know has plans to run for the presidency.”
“Assume, Gem? Remember what it means when we assume…”
She waved a hand at him. “Come on, Stu. I know the saying, but I promise there is a story here, and when I find it, there is no way it will make an ass out of you, or me.” She leaned forward in her chair and put her elbows on his desk. “It would be super juicy if the senator has a relative with racist ties, and even more so if we find a completely different story behind the Petersen murders. How would you like to break that news story?” Stuart eyed her carefully. Gem smiled and pointed at him. “Aha. Cat got your tongue and I have your ear now, don’t I?”
“Maybe. It’s out there, Gem Michaels. It is out there, but I trust you. But here’s the thing: let’s say this neighbor is a bad-ass racist. Man, those guys are rotten dudes. They could be as bad as any cartel member and you could be putting yourself in just as much danger. And what if the guy isn’t related at all to the senator? The race thing has been done before. It’d be hard for me to convince others that Senator Wentworth has those kinds of ties.”
“I’d be careful. I would be fine.”
He eyed her. “What makes you think they won’t hurt you?” He picked up a dart and aimed it across his office, hitting the bull’s eye on his dartboard.
“No way. I’m too street smart not to be able to talk my way out of trouble, especially after all my years working homicide. I have a hunch. After last night, I have a major hunch about Chad.”
Stuart cocked his head. “A hunch? The race card, discrimination, hatred, all of those stories have been done thousands, millions of times. Is anyone even going to care? Don’t you think this country is past that? We have a black president in The White House. Per capita in this state there are more Hispanics than whites. We are a blended community, a melting pot. How much racism is left?”
Gem laughed. “Are you serious? Come on. The right is getting more conservative. The left more liberal. Our nation is more divisive than it has ever been. People may not always say what they are thinking about one another, but racism is out there. Every day, hate crimes are being committed. You’ve got people against gays, against Latinos, against blacks, against Asians, Muslims, whites. You name it. You may like to think we have it all figured out, and we are one big, happy melting pot, but don’t deceive yourself. I don’t think the country should be deceiving itself either. I think hatred is something that should always be addressed. Always looked at square in the eye and spoken about. It’s when people become complacent that this kind of evil sneaks in through the back door, and before long, what you were afraid to look at has now become something so awful you couldn’t control it if you wanted to. Let me expose these bastards, Stuart. And if the senator has ties to any kind of racist group, isn’t it our responsibility as the media to expose the truth?”
Stuart didn’t respond right away. He just studied her and tossed another dart toward the bulls-eye. “Wow. You’re good.” He let out a long, low whistle and then sighed. “How can I say no after that? Just get the guy’s last name first and find out if he is tied to the senator. Start there. Start slow. And be careful.”
She smiled. “I won’t let you down. Slow and easy, I promise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Kelly had just finished a stint in the O.R. with an infant born with his intestines outside his body. The baby was now stable and Kelly was confident there wouldn’t be any complications.
As she headed into the break room to change out of her surgical gown and cap, she nearly collided with Dr. Brightman. She’d planned on confronting him at some point that day, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. There was no time like the present. “Brightman.” She smiled. “I wanted to talk with you.”
“Kind of in a hurry, Morales. I’ve got a patient in maternity with pre-eclampsia.”
“I just need two minutes of your time.”
His handsome face creased into a frown. “What’s on your mind?”
“A couple of patients you saw in the ER a little over a week ago. One was a Naomi Williams and the other was Desiree Jones. I wanted to see their charts.”
“What’s this about?” Brightman crossed his arms.
Kelly wasn’t sure how much to tell him. “I don’t think Lupe Salazar’s death was caused by drug addiction.”
Brightman held up a hand. “Why does any of that concern you? And I’m sorry, but you need to refresh my memory because I have a heavy patient load.”
“Lupe Salazar was the girl brought in here just a couple of nights ago. I delivered her baby. You oversaw her case. She passed away.”
“Okay.”
She forged ahead. “The thing is, the labs I am getting back on the baby are inconclusive. I also read over Miss Salazar’s chart and it’s the same thing.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Again, Morales, I am not sure what you’re asking.” He glanced at his watch. “And I need to get going.”
Kelly put up a hand to stop him from leaving. “From what I understand, Desiree Jones’ and Naomi Williams’ deaths were very similar, but unlike Lupe Salazar, their babies did not survive. I asked Dr. Hamilton about the deaths. This hospital has had three very similar cases in a short period of time. Three women died and only one baby survived. That baby is in my unit now. I have not been able to read over the charts on all three girls yet, but my gut tells me they are somehow linked. I would think since you were also on all three of these cases that you might be a tad concerned, Doctor.”
“I’m sorry, Morales, but you are not making a lot of sense. All three of those girls were probably runaways and living on the street. In fact, if I remember correctly, one of the kids was living in the tenements and another at the shelter. Who knows what they were into. You and I both know lab reports aren’t always on the money. Focus on the baby in the unit. I don’t think you’ll find anything where the women are concerned. There is nothing linking them except they were poor, uneducated, and
homeless.”
“Maybe it’s true, but even so, they were human beings and their deaths should not go unchecked. That would be wrong.”
“Hey, call me an asshole, call me amoral. Whatever. What I do know is I have to go. I have other patients. I think you’re wasting your time and frankly, I don’t know what you are looking for. Good luck with the baby, Morales.”
With that he turned and walked away. Kelly’s jaw dropped. She most certainly would call him an asshole…and more. But then she started to wonder…did he know more than he was telling her? Was his nonchalance an act? Was it possible Dr. Brightman murdered Jake or was somehow involved with Jake’s murder? The thought made her cringe. Maybe she shouldn’t have shown him all her cards. She could believe Brightman was an ass, but a killer? That really did not add up for her. Then again, she would have never believed her friend and colleague would be murdered in cold blood in the same hospital she worked in.
Kelly changed quickly and decided to go find the officer assigned to protect her at work. It was time to call it a day. But before she did that, she checked back in with Eric.
“Hey, Doc, about ready to head out?” Eric called out as she approached Baby S’s incubator.
“I am. Everything good?”
“Yeah. Take a look at our little one here.” He pointed down to the baby who lay sleeping inside her simulated womb, the fluorescent lights still beating down on her bare back. “The bleeder seems to have stopped.”
Kelly noticed how peaceful she looked among all the tubes. “Excellent. She looks to have quieted down in the last few hours. I hope she keeps improving. Have social services been by?” she asked, knowing Baby S. was now likely a ward of the state, unless a father or grandparents could be located.
“Not that I’m aware of. If she keeps this up over the next few days, we’ll be able to take her off the IMV and put her on C-Pap. What do you think?”
“I’d think it’s a possibility. Wouldn’t that be a blessing?”
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