by Blake Pierce
“If you know, why did you ask?” she said.
“I just wanted to hear you answer the question.”
He was toying with her, as always.
The game is on, Riley thought bitterly.
Dealing with Shane Hatcher was always a game. And it was a game he would always win—not just because Riley didn’t know the rules, but she didn’t even know what game he was really playing.
“So how can I help you?” Hatcher said, lowering his glasses a little to look at her more closely.
“I don’t need your help,” Riley said.
“Then why did you call?”
Riley’s lip was twitching with exasperation and anger.
“I sure as hell don’t know,” she said. “I’m hanging up right now.”
Hatcher rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“No, you’re not, Riley.”
Riley looked down at the keyboard. All she had to do was end the call, then hit a simple command and log off. Then she could cancel her account so that they’d never connect like this again. But Hatcher was right, as always. She simply couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“You need my help, Riley. We both know that. And I’m glad to oblige. But of course, I expect a little favor in return.”
Riley gulped hard. He always expected a little favor. And his favors could be extremely troubling.
“And what’s that?” she asked.
“The pleasure of working with you. In person, I mean.”
Riley felt a little sick at the thought of meeting him in the real world. She didn’t want to do that again—ever. She had no idea where he might be right now. But she wasn’t going to travel there just at his whim.
“We’re not going to do that,” she said. “I’d rather stay far away.”
“What makes you think you haven’t been nearby already?”
Riley’s heart jumped up in her throat.
Has he been stalking me? she wondered.
Might he even be near her house right now?
All she knew for sure was that he wasn’t bluffing.
Somehow, he’d been close to her recently. And that could very well mean that he’d also been close to April, Ryan, Gabriela, and Jilly.
Perhaps he was nearby at that very moment.
Now she was afraid she was going to be sick.
“Tell me about the case you’re working on,” Hatcher said.
“I’m not working on a case,” Riley said. “I’m between cases.”
And that’s the truth, after all, she thought.
A look of surprise crossed Hatcher’s face. Whether it was feigned or real, Riley couldn’t tell.
“Really?” he said. “Then have you given up the hunt for the woman who poisoned Cody Woods and Margaret Jewell? To say nothing of your favorite author, Amanda Somers? And God knows who else. That’s not like you. That’s not like you at all.”
Riley’s chest tensed uncomfortably. He not only knew about the case—he somehow knew of her fondness for Somers’ novel. He also knew that she was sure that the killer was a woman. His grip upon her was tightening.
“I hear the FBI has got a suspect in custody,” Hatcher said. “But I know that you doubt that Solange Landis is guilty of anything worse than forging records.”
“I don’t know that for sure.”
“But you doubt it. And so do I. Isn’t it about time we found out for sure?”
Riley felt dizzy now. She remembered something he had once said to her.
“We’re joined at the brain, Riley Paige.”
Riley fought down her panic.
No, he wasn’t actually reading her mind.
But he had money and resources and a network of minions.
He could get information about anything that took his interest.
And nothing in the world seemed to interest him more than Riley.
Hatcher steepled his fingers together and looked upward thoughtfully.
“Let’s review where we are, shall we?” he said. “All three of your known victims were recently under medical care, but in different hospitals for different treatments. Did they have any healthcare workers or basic staff in common?”
Riley felt a strange shift in her emotions. Like it or not, Hatcher was the sole human being in the world who was on her wavelength right now. And she’d learned from experience that he could be extremely helpful.
“Not that we’ve been able to find,” Riley said.
“Perhaps you haven’t looked hard enough. We do know that all three of your victims spent some time in rehab clinics.”
Riley was startled.
He’s wrong, she thought.
She’d never known him to be wrong before.
“Cody Woods was never in rehab,” she said.
Hatcher’s eyes widened.
“Oh, but he was,” he said.
“How do you know?”
Hatcher laughed.
“How do you think I know?”
Then he just sat there smiling, waiting for Riley to connect the dots.
Riley felt a jolt of understanding.
“You talked to some workers at the South Hills Hospital,” she said.
He nodded. “A couple of orderlies. Very friendly chaps.”
Riley shuddered as she realized …
He was in Seattle.
Now she understood what he meant a little while ago when he’d said …
“What makes you think you haven’t been nearby already?”
He had seen her.
Just how much he’d seen of her she couldn’t guess.
Seeming to pick up on her thoughts, Hatcher said, “That was some crazy meeting at Parnassus Heights Hospital that morning, wasn’t it? You weren’t ready for a full-throttle press conference, were you? You looked like you wanted to throttle Rigby and Sanders and that hospital director. I couldn’t blame you. You seemed to hit it off with Prisha Shankar, though. I can understand why. That woman knows her business.”
He was there! Riley thought.
It seemed impossible. Riley prided herself on her keen powers of observation. She thought she had taken note of every single person in that crowded room. But she had underestimated Shane Hatcher. Doubtless he had disguised himself as a reporter—cleverly enough so that even Riley hadn’t recognized him.
“How did you get the orderlies to talk to you about Cody Woods?” Riley asked.
“Well, they didn’t know who I was, of course. I’m not that famous. So I just asked. It’s interesting the things people will tell you when you just buy them a beer. Told them I’d read about Cody Woods’ death, and thought it was a shame, and wondered what they might know about it. They said that he went to a rehab clinic soon after he got out of South Hills Hospital.”
Riley’s mind rushed frantically as she took all this in.
“So all three victims were probably poisoned at rehab centers,” she said.
“So it would seem.”
Riley struggled with this information.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” she said. “We checked the records at South Hills. There was nothing about Cody Woods going from there to a rehab center. He went straight home.”
“The records were wrong, I guess. Now how could that have happened?”
Riley’s mouth dropped open.
“The records were altered,” she said.
“Guess so.”
Riley thought for a moment.
“But forged records take us right back to Solange Landis as a suspect.”
Hatcher laughed again.
“Come on, Riley,” he said. “In a big city like Seattle, Landis isn’t the only healthcare worker who ever forged any records.”
Riley leaned toward the screen.
“You’ve got to tell me everything you know,” she said.
Hatcher smirked.
“Sorry, that’s all I’ve got for now,” he said.
“But didn’t you get the name of the rehab center where Cody Woods wound up?”
“Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t. You don’t know, do you?”
Riley was furious now. This was just like Shane Hatcher. He just loved to tease her with information.
Hatcher shrugged.
“But I keep forgetting—you’re off the case, aren’t you? And nobody else in the FBI even wants to talk to you about it. You don’t have any allies there. You’re completely on your own.”
He squinted and peered at her closely.
“But you’ve never let that stop you before,” he said. “And I don’t figure you’ll let it stop you now. And I think you know who to talk to at the FBI when you’re persona non grata. It’s somebody else who doesn’t give a damn about the rules.”
Riley’s head was crowded with questions. But before she could say another word, Hatcher said, “Let’s talk again soon.”
And he ended the call.
Riley sat staring at the computer screen in a state of shock. The whole conversation now seemed like a dream. But it hadn’t been a dream. And now what was she going to do?
Riley looked at her watch. She knew she needed to leave right now if she wanted to get to the meeting with Meredith this morning.
She also knew that she wasn’t going to go.
As for now, she needed someone’s help, and she needed it in a hurry.
But who could she turn to when everybody at the FBI was against her?
She remembered what Hatcher had said …
… somebody else who doesn’t give a damn about the rules.
She had a pretty good idea of the kind of person Hatcher meant.
She got out her cell phone and dialed a number.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
A gruff, husky voice quickly answered the phone.
“Van Roff here. And you, I presume, are Special Agent Riley Paige. Or at least my caller ID presumes it.”
Riley smiled as she pictured the overweight technical analyst sitting at a huge assortment of computer screens.
“Your caller ID presumes correctly,” Riley said.
“And you’re calling me from Virginia,” Roff said.
“Correct.”
“And you’re calling me because you don’t think the poisoning case is really closed.”
Riley was startled.
“Uh, how do you know?” she asked.
“Because you’re calling me, that’s why.”
He was exactly right, of course. Hatcher had told her she needed to talk to “somebody who doesn’t give a damn about the rules.” And Riley knew that nobody in the FBI cared less about the rules than technical analysts. As a breed, they were always looking for an excuse to color outside the lines.
And they were extremely smart.
“You’re right,” Riley said. “I should warn you, though—I’m likely to ask you to do some things that aren’t exactly, well, officially sanctioned. Let’s just keep all this between ourselves.”
Riley heard a peal of happy laughter. Apparently her words were music to his ears.
“Be still my beating heart!” he said. “And oh, just so’s you know—this call may be recorded for my future entertainment. Don’t worry, it’ll be for my ears only. What have you got in mind?”
Riley thought for a moment.
“Something’s off about what we know about Cody Woods’ death. Let’s review for a minute. He was admitted to South Hills Hospital for surgery, then he went home. Soon after that he checked back into South Hills because he was ill. And he died there. Now, both Margaret Jewell and Amanda Somers stayed in rehab clinics shortly before they died.”
“Right. But not Cody Woods.”
“Wrong,” Riley said. “I’m pretty sure Cody Woods went to a clinic too.”
“Did not. I checked.”
“I think you got tricked, Mr. Roff.”
She heard Roff let out a grunt of annoyed surprise.
“No!”
“I’m afraid so. The murderer tricked you.”
Riley knew she was waving the perfect bait to get Roff fully on board.
“How do you know?” Roff asked.
“I’ve got a source.”
“Who?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
Roff audibly growled.
“Then this means war. Lemme think for a second.”
A short silence fell.
“I’m going to try something,” Roff said. “You stay right where you are, I’ll call back in a few minutes. Let’s make that a video chat.”
Riley agreed and gave Roff her video address. Then they ended the call.
Riley looked at her watch and sighed. If she left the house right now, she’d still be late for her meeting with Bill and Meredith. She was definitely going to miss it. Should she call and explain?
Explain what? she asked herself. That I’m disobeying orders?
It wasn’t an option. She was just going to have to live with the consequences of whatever she was about to do. She folded up her laptop computer, tucked it under her arm, and went downstairs and to the kitchen. She heated up a cup of coffee, flipped open the computer, and waited for Roff’s call.
She worried as she waited.
Was she really willing to put her job in jeopardy again?
She reminded herself that she now had two kids to take care of. And one of them was very troubled. This wasn’t a good time to get fired.
Maybe I shouldn’t do this, she thought.
She could call Bill or Meredith right now, make up some excuse for being late for the meeting, then get there as soon as she could.
There was just one problem. She’d gotten Roff involved, and there was no way that he was going to back away from this.
Just as she finished drinking her cup of coffee, the video call came through, and she found herself facing the large, socially awkward technician. He was red-faced and sweating, apparently from the exertion of whatever he’d been doing.
“Bingo,” he said. “I’ve got something.”
“That was quick,” Riley said.
“I’ve been busy. Real busy.”
“What have you got?”
Roff’s eyes darted back and forth, as if he wanted to make sure no one was listening.
“I still couldn’t find any computer record of Cody Woods going to a rehab clinic. But I tried a different approach.”
“How?” Riley asked.
Roff snorted with gleeful laughter.
“There’s a new high-tech gimmick these days. Maybe you haven’t heard of it. It’s called a goddamn phone call.”
Riley smiled. Roff’s enthusiasm was truly contagious.
Roff continued, “So I found out which rehab centers a patient might go to from South Hills Hospital. I found three. I decided to call them all, see what their staffs could tell me. The very first one I called was Signet Rehabilitation Center—and voilà! I hit the jackpot right off the bat.”
“Tell me what you found out,” Riley said breathlessly.
“The head nurse there told me that she remembered Cody Woods. He’d come there after surgery at South Hills. But when she checked the records she didn’t find anything about him. So somebody had definitely been tampering with records—both at South Hills Hospital and Signet Rehab. It’s not wizard hacker work, but whoever did it is pretty slick.”
Roff huffed and puffed as he clattered away at his keyboard.
He said, “As you know, I’ve been trying to find personnel that all the facilities might have in common. I couldn’t find any for the other two clinics, and I came up empty when I checked Signet just now. But …”
Three women’s faces appeared on Riley’s screen.
“At each of the three facilities, a freelance female therapist disappeared soon after the patients were treated. Here are their photos from employment records.”
An arrow fell on the face to the left. She was a black-haired woman with enormous glasses.
“This is Lisa Tucci, who worked with Margaret Jewell at Natrona Physical Rehab. Right after
Jewell was released, Lisa left word that she’d eloped and was flying east and wouldn’t be available for work anymore.”
The arrow moved to the face in the middle. The woman had curly, auburn hair.
“This is Judy Brubaker,” Roff said. “She worked with Amanda Somers at Stark Rehab Center. Soon after Somers was released, the clinic called Judy to find out if she was available. She said that she had to leave town for a family emergency.”
The arrow moved to the face on the right. The woman had a kindly expression and short, blonde hair.
“And now we get to Hallie Stillians, who worked with Cody Woods at Signet Rehab. Hallie told the staff at Signet that she and her husband were moving to Mexico to live there for good.”
As Riley scanned the three faces carefully, Roff said, “I’ve still got more work to do. For example, try to find any record of Hallie and her husband getting visas or crossing the Mexican border. And looking for official records of Lisa Tucci getting married. That’s going to take awhile. And what do you think are the chances that I’ll find anything at all?”
Pretty small, I expect, Riley thought without saying so aloud.
“So all of them went away,” Riley said. “What else did they have in common?”
“None of their cell phones are in service anymore. And all three of the home addresses they gave were actually mail services—the kind where individuals rent mailboxes and come to pick up their mail.”
Riley’s mind was clicking away, putting together this new information.
“What do you think of all this, Mr. Roff?” she asked.
Roff sounded pleased that she’d asked for his opinion.
“Well, I guess it’s just possible that you’ve stumbled across a whole different series of murders. I mean, serial killers usually pick a type of victim, right? So maybe this is a killer who picks off women who use mail services. Or who kills therapists whose patients have died.”
Roff was thinking things through thoroughly, and Riley liked that.
She took a screen shot of the photos so she could refer to them on her own.
“Good work, Mr. Roff,” she said.
Roff’s face appeared again.
“What do you want me to do next?” Roff asked. “I’m between jobs, and things are as boring as hell around here.”