“No cry for help,” Maggie said flatly. “Just dumb luck.”
“You seemed to be blessed with it.” Marcus Galen studied her face as the eight ball and cue disappeared one after the other.
“Not today,” Maggie smiled. “Your game.”
“It might have ended very differently had you been away from home. Why didn’t you go to a hotel? You must’ve thought of it.”
“Maybe I wanted to get back at my husband. Make him hate the house,” she lied.
“Understandable.”
Maggie looked into the surgeon’s eyes. It was a long way down. And that smell again. The cologne. Suddenly, she was staring at the table instead of the man standing next to her. When she forced herself to look up again, Marcus Galen was smiling. Maggie didn’t like where things were headed. He was moving in, taking the upper hand and she was letting him.
“Actually, Marcus, I came here with an ulterior motive.”
“And what was that,” he purred.
Maggie let him sink into her a little more. “A little input from you. As a cardiac surgeon. Sort of an expert witness.”
There was a spark behind Galen’s eyes, but his face and body remained calm, unaffected.
“It’s just me asking,” she said. “But it might lead to something with the CPD.”
“Let’s hope,” Marcus Galen said. “Maybe even more.” His hand brushed back Maggie’s hair.
She ordered her body not to flinch. “How difficult is it to break into a chest cavity? I mean, how much actual skill does it take to get to the heart.”
“Well, that’s a good question.” Galen pulled back, ran a finger from his left hand around the rim of his scotch glass and pretended to think. “You can break through the ribs with sheer brute force. No skill at all. It’s messy. It does take a certain degree of strength, an adequate tool or a combination of the two. You know, we could continue this conversation somewhere else.”
He reached out for her again. Maggie feinted to the right and reached into her bag. “What do you think did this?” It was a photo of Melinda Phillips’ torso on the autopsy table. She laid it on the green felt.
One look and Marcus Galen’s mind was no longer on Maggie. He studied the picture, looking longer than was necessary at the mutilated torso. “It’s not a very clear picture.”
“Just do your best.”
Galen smiled and nodded. “The breaks aren’t clean. If any tool was used, it was probably something quite crude.”
“Like what? A hammer? Crowbar?”
“Perhaps. Clearly something not meant for this purpose.” He turned the photo to get a different angle. “The heart is more likely to be damaged by the snapping bones. The trauma compromised the surrounding muscle tissue. This is strictly brute force.”
“Would it take long?”
“Not long once you got through the ribs. The architecture is sturdy, but flexible. To a point.”
“Which is why surgeons usually separate them?”
“Spread them, yes,” he said, eyes still on the photo. “In an increasing number of procedures we can go in with a series of small incisions. Work around the architecture, between or through musculature. We’re seeing a huge increase in minimally invasive techniques being developed for a wide variety of cardiac situations.”
“Interesting,” Maggie nodded. She would lay money those words came directly from a paper Galen was working on. A second photo was slapped down. Sarah Dougall from the neck down. “How about this one.”
Maggie watched Galen, the sweat at his temples, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. It certainly wasn’t because of the photos. Phillips was much harder to look at than Dougall.
“And this is?” he finally asked.
You know her name, you asshole, Maggie thought. “Another case.”
Marcus nodded. “You still don’t trust me.”
“So what do you think?”
“It’s cleaner. The incision, the way the ribs were dealt with.”
“Good work?”
“Excellent,” Galen said, then he paused. “Although I’m not sure ‘work’ is the correct term.”
Very smooth. Nice cover.
“So do you think the same person is responsible?” It was the $10,000 question. Galen’s pride wouldn’t tolerate him being compared to a hack. But if his brain won, the answer would be benign.
“I don’t know. I suppose it would depend on which killing happened first.”
“Progression?” she led.
“Definitely,” he nodded.
He wanted to say more. Maggie could feel it, but he wouldn’t allow himself. “Thank you.” The photos went back in her bag.
“I could come down and look at the actual bodies. I mean, if you think that would help,” he added quickly. “Anything I can do.” He reached out and ran a finger down Maggie’s forearm, across the raised scar tissue.
There it was, what she was waiting for. The final confirmation. The hair on the back of her neck stood as she saw that flash right behind the eyes. Maggie Quinn saw Marcus Galen and she knew him. She had her man.
“So, would you like me to come down,” he purred.
“Not necessary, but thanks for the offer. I’m sure your wife is waiting for you.”
Galen’s hand dropped away suddenly. “Yes, well, you’re probably right.” He tried to smile, but failed. “So do you think this will happen again? This kind of killing?”
“He’ll kill again,” Maggie said, looking him dead in the eye, “if he gets the chance. It’s not really a choice he makes. He can’t control himself.”
“Really?” Marcus’ face was confident. “You don’t believe he’s thinking any of this through?”
“I’m sure he believes he is.”
“Just another stupid, arrogant criminal?”
“Most likely.”
“So why haven’t you caught him yet?”
Maggie smiled her “you asshole” smile. It was meant to make Marcus Galen uncomfortable and it worked. “Just a matter of time.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
He wasn’t feeling good at all. He couldn’t sleep anymore. Couldn’t eat. He tried to work. His boss saw how he looked and told him to take a few days off. Come back when he felt better. He had some vacation left. He should use it. Only he couldn’t tell his wife that. He didn’t want her to suspect. She was already looking at him like she knew. Like she could see the blood on his hands. So he went back. To where it happened. And sat in his car across the street. Watched DVDs on his laptop. All day. All except the new one. The new DVD he only watched once, then he buried it. In the neighbor’s yard. He broke it and buried it. And there it stayed. Where it belonged. When he came home at night, he swallowed dinner. Pretended to watch TV. Pretended to sleep. Then went back to the warehouse the next day and watched.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Dugan’s was deserted this time of day, even more quiet in the private booth in the back. Tierney drank a beer as he stared at the map on the table in front of him. He took four pain pills before he came and they were just now taking the edge off.
“You sure about this?” Tierney asked.
Maggie pointed to the small red flags dotting the city. “All the bodies were found within a mile of these hospitals. Marcus Galen was either teaching, lecturing, mentoring or operating at the corresponding hospitals when each killing occurred.”
The chief sat forward and studied the map.
“He knows what he’s doing and who to get cozy with. Monroe. Wally. Even Harley. That’s helped him.”
“Do you have anything solid?”
Maggie shook her head. “Just the theory, but he’s going to make a mistake. I’m just not sure how long it’s going to take.”
“I don’t have mone
y for a tail.”
“It’d probably be a waste anyway. Could be months before he moves again. His timing has no pattern,” Maggie answered. “We need to push a warrant.”
“With what?”
“My father doesn’t tell me everything, but I do know who owes favors and so do you.”
“Sorry I’m late.” Dublowski slid into the booth next to Maggie. He shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, then stopped chewing when he saw the map.
“We have a suspect,” Tierney said flatly.
Ten minutes later, Nick Dublowski knew as much as Tierney did.
“So what do we do? How do we nail him?” Dublowski asked.
“He thinks he’s God,” Maggie said.
Tierney shook his head. “He’s a heart doctor. Comes with the territory.”
“Yeah, but our man goes way beyond that.” Maggie snapped her gum. After their meeting, she pulled out her Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. The DSM confirmed Marcus Galen was a classic narcissist, something that would work in their favor. “We want him, we need to pull him down. His image, his reputation, it’s everything. So we take him at work in front of his colleagues. Go through his house. Invade his space. Bring in his wife. That should shake him up. ”
“We need to do more than shake him. What are we looking for?” asked Tierney.
“Jewelry.” Maggie turned to Nick. “You have that list, Detective?”
“Yeah, there’s not much on it.”
“Hopefully, it’ll be enough,” Maggie said.
Tierney nodded. “You’ll have the warrant by tomorrow.”
“Let Art take the wife. He’ll know how to handle her. Nick can go in with Galen.” Maggie could almost smell the fear jumping from the young man’s skin.
“I don’t…”
“You can handle it,” Maggie paused. “If I go in, too.”
“That’s way over the line and you know it,” said the chief.
“I can handle it.”
“That’s not the issue,” began Tierney. “If the superintendent hears about this, I’ll be taking early retirement and you’ll be off the case.”
“So call Walker. Tell him the situation. This is an all-or-nothing proposition. We get Galen or he walks. If he walks, we’ll have less of a chance the next time around. There’s still a few months till the election.”
“You think he’ll break the first time in?”
“We’ll be lucky if he does, but Walker’ll buy it,” Maggie said. “Look, you need me in that room.” Almost as much as she needed to be in it.
“And if he doesn’t break, then what do I tell the superintendent?”
“Tell him it’s my fault. That’s what I’m here for, right?”
Tierney stood. “I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not making any promises. Make sure we get an early start, get all our ducks in a row, Dublowski.”
“Yes, sir.”
The chief threw a twenty on the table. “And hopefully we’ll still have jobs when all this is over.” He smiled and was gone.
Dublowski was silent as Maggie took some papers from her bag and handed them to Nick.
“What’s this?” he said.
“Why don’t you read it?” she said as she drank the rest of her Pepsi.
“Jesus, how’d you get your hands on his juvenile record.” He looked up at her.
She shrugged.
“Shit, Maggie, I can’t bring this in.”
“No, you can’t. But you need to know who you’re dealing with.”
“Jesus,” Dublowski said as he flipped to a photo of two mutilated dogs. “Jesus Christ.”
“Now you know,” Maggie said. “The last two pages list jewelry from the other victims. We’ll have some photos by tomorrow.”
“How…”
“Everything you need is out there. Somewhere. It’s just a matter of finding it.” She watched as Dublowski continued to read. “I’m not trying to take your case away, Detective.”
Nick managed to look Maggie in the eye. He nodded. “Tierney did ask about the hospitals. You made me look good,” Nick said. “Thanks. I’ll try not to be such a jerk.”
”You’re just green. It’s no crime.”
“Right, everyone just acts like it.”
Maggie smiled. “Good news is it’s going to work in your favor this time.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“You’ll get your chance when you question Marcus Galen,” she said. “What’s the best way to piss off a pro?”
There was a long pause. “Stick ‘em with a rookie.”
Maggie didn’t realize how much the answer stung the young man until she saw his face.
“You think I got saddled with you, Detective?” Her voice was firm. “We’re sitting in a bar instead of the office. You pulled the short straw, not me.”
Nick thought he saw something like sadness cross Quinn’s face, but it quickly disappeared. “So what do I do?” he asked.
They took Marcus Galen at the hospital. In the lobby. With lots of people watching. Nick Dublowski was loud enough so everyone on the floor heard, then he let Galen just stand there with a uniform breathing down his neck.
“What can I help you with, Detective?” Galen asked.
Nick looked at patients watching from doorways, at the doctors and nurses staring. “We’d like you to come to the police station with us. We need some information.”
“Not a problem,” Galen smiled. “Let me just check my schedule…”
“Now,” Nick said firmly.
Another team went for Rebecca Harding. Marshall Phillipotte, a judge who owed many favors, signed off on the warrant. They searched the house, took Rebecca and her jewelry back to the office and put her in a room to wait.
“We’ll give her twenty,” Tierney told Maggie. “See how well she cooks.”
Twenty minutes later, Nick was waiting outside the second interrogation room. He was moving his lips as he paced. Running over the script one last time.
“Ready?” Maggie said.
“Yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Just don’t give him too much time to think. And remember, be sloppy. It’ll drive him crazy. He’s the kindling. You’re the match.”
“Right.”
“He likes to talk, so let him. Just remember, as soon as he thinks he knows what’s going on, he starts writing the script. So when he’s built up speed, start getting in his face. Contradict him. Interrupt him. Jab at him. Make it personal, but don’t push too hard or he’ll shut down.” Maggie waited. “Ready?”
“I guess.” The detective nodded, inhaled deeply and pushed the door open.
“Don’t guess. Just do it,” she said.
Nick Dublowski pushed the door open. “You mind if Miss Quinn sits in with us?” he asked as he put his file folder on the table in front of Marcus Galen.
“It would be a pleasure.” The doctor smiled at Maggie.
Maggie made herself smile back. Walker gave Tierney the go-ahead to let her sit in. On one condition. Galen had to freely agree. Not a problem.
“And I’m here because?”
“We have a few questions. Understand, you’re not under arrest.”
“Well, it certainly seemed like it, the way you stormed my hospital.”
“Yeah, well… I guess I got a little carried away.” The young detective smiled innocently.
“A little? My patients think I’m a criminal and I…”
“We just want to gather some information.” Nick flipped through the file. “I’m sorry I was a dick about it.” That smile again.
“Certainly.”
Galen was relaxed. Good, thought Maggie. Easier to knock him off the chair if
he’s leaning back.
“Let me just check out a few things. Your name is Marcus Isaac Galen.”
“Yes.”
“Could you spell the last name?”
“G-A-L-E-N.”
“And you are a cardiac surgeon?”
“Yes.” Galen couldn’t resist. “S-U-R-G…”
“Nice one, Doc.” Nick chuckled, pretending not to notice the jab.
Fifteen more minutes of pedestrian questions. Dublowski smiled, Galen smiled back. Maggie smiled. Everyone was happy.
“Are you sure you don’t want a lawyer?” Dublowksi asked nonchalantly.
“I shouldn’t need one, should I, Detective?” Galen tossed a glance at Maggie.
“That would be your call, Doc, not mine,” he shrugged. “I guess as a cardiac guy, you have a lot of experience with, you know, the human body, position of the organs, that kind of stuff.”
The doctor cringed as Maggie held back a smile.
“A great deal.”
“Right, okay. Cool. Let me see,” Nick said. He shuffled papers, dropped his pen and picked it up. Twice. “So you know about the recent killings?”
“I know what I read in the paper.”
Lie, Maggie’s brain screamed. He also knows because MEs talk and he listens.
“Yeah, you and everyone else. Okay… well, let’s see.” Nick sorted through more sheets. “So you’ve never heard about it anywhere else?”
Marcus kept his eyes on Maggie. He’s looking for a tell, she thought. He thinks something’s up, but he’s not sure what. The doctor shifted in the chair and smiled.
He just saw his mistake, Maggie’s brain whispered.
“Maybe. Oh, yes. There’s a group of doctors and medical examiners with whom I occasionally associate. They may have mentioned something.”
“Cool.” Nick slapped his folder shut. “So what do you think?”
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