04 A Killing Touch

by Nikki Duncan

  That he had to admit she’d been right was the part he hated. And that she’d come to them for help rather than taking it all on herself. She was willing to hold the story until she had all the facts, something he couldn’t deny, but she’d still tell the story in the most entertaining way. Her ultimate goal at all times was her byline and a larger readership.

  “Did you find anything on Natasha Lambert?”

  Ava nodded. “In her late forties, she’d been recently diagnosed with cancer. She wouldn’t have lived much longer. Until she’d become too sick to work she’d been employed by the Miami DMV, and until ten years ago, she’d been a foster parent.”

  Liam came in and, without interrupting their flow, rolled a dry erase board over. He knew that while Tyler preferred seeing things on the computer, Aidan preferred old school. The dry erase board would lay everything out side by side in a way that often showed a large picture that individual screens just didn’t provide.

  Aidan nodded a silent thanks to his twin. “What happened ten years ago?”

  “According to a neighbor,” Ava continued, “she’d had enough of the heartbreak that came from getting attached to the kids only to see them moved to another home.”

  “Nothing controversial there.” Tyler tapped the data they discussed into his tablet. It would no doubt feed directly into whatever computer he had working on his algorithm. “The first victim was just as tame.”

  “What was her story?” Aidan asked as Liam grabbed a new color marker for the second victim. The color-coding allowed them to make notes about one victim in another vic’s column while still keeping it straight who the information was about. Hypothesizing became easier.

  “Danielle Johnson,” Kieralyn started. “A young woman with special needs whose parents left her with a lot of money. In her early twenties, she lived in an assisted living facility with her health degrading daily. Supposedly has a cousin, but left her money all to charity. She’s been in the morgue several weeks while they wait to see if the cousin can be located.”

  Liam drew a line between the notes about family from the first and second victim. It was a commonality more than a connection, but neither had anyone close to miss them. Another line showed that they’d both had failing health.

  “And the third victim?” Aidan asked.

  “Lance Keys,” Ava took over. “Mid-twenties, working as a medical insurance auditor. He was with a group of friends at dinner when his attack hit. No one remembered him being held in a way the mark indicates, but a couple of people do remember him having a peanut allergy. It seems something they had ordered was made with peanut oil.”

  “Do they specifically recall seeing him eat the food?” Liam asked. “I’d think he’d know how the foods were cooked and be careful to avoid them.”

  Kieralyn shrugged. “We haven’t had time to talk to his friends yet. We’re going off the report.”

  “That would be interesting to know,” Aidan added.

  “If you tell me where they were eating and when, I could check the restaurant to see if they have a security camera. Maybe we’d get lucky and see for ourselves what happened at dinner.”

  “Kieralyn and I will check into it,” Liam promised.

  “Breck and Kami are meeting with their wedding planner today about final details,” Aidan stated. “Ava, I could use a second set of eyes at the morgue. I want to go talk to the chief examiner.” And put a stop to the information sharing Lana had access to. She wouldn’t back off the story, but now that it was theirs he didn’t have to share information with her until he was ready.

  “Breck and I have court this afternoon.”

  “We’ll take my car. I’ll drop you off.”

  Aidan nodded as he pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a text message to Breck alerting him to where they were all going to be. As the team leader, Breck typically issued the assignments, but as long as they kept him in the loop he trusted them to do what needed to be done on cases. They worked as a team as often as they handled investigation aspects on their own. They always checked in with each other and offered help when needed. The freedom was what made them a great team.

  Chapter Six

  Lionetti’s shell wasn’t as thick as people believed. Lana had only needed to ask around a little to discover why the homicide detective had moved from New Jersey to Miami. He cared too much. He got too close to the victims and in an area where the crime rate rocketed it had become too much for him.

  Because of his reputation, Lana was guessing the detective had looked in to Natasha Lambert before turning the file over to Aidan and his team. He would have wanted to know whom he was turning over to the feds. That file would also be the starting point for the team, but Lionetti would’ve gone the expected route first.

  Lana took a different approach. One that didn’t include thinking about Aidan’s hands and the magic they performed.

  Setting aside such thoughts was easy enough when she considered the strides Aidan would take to block her. He’d go to the morgue and track down Nigel in a move to cut off her path to information. Though she hadn’t confirmed Nigel as her contact it disturbed her a little that he knew her source.

  Unless Kieralyn had mentioned her ex. No. Kieralyn might mention an ex in an attempt to push her and Aidan together, but she’d never mention him by name. Her best gal pal would play up the mystery and the way it kept things open to interpretation.

  Knowing Aidan, he also likely assumed that Lana would race him to the morgue to keep him from blocking her. She’d considered it, but dismissed it quickly. Half the fun of working with Aidan was going to come from watching him struggle to predict her.

  Natasha Lambert was in good hands with Aidan. He didn’t want Lana in his way. This time they could both get what they wanted.

  Dressed in her conservative best, down to annoyingly sensible shoes—something she discovered made her more approachable at times—she entered the unimpressive lobby for MedBridge. The insurance company Lance Keys had worked for was as uninviting as most hospitals.

  She’d exchanged a couple of emails with someone from MedBridge early on in the story, but her contact hadn’t shown for their meeting. Now one of their employees had ended up a victim. Lana hoped Lance hadn’t been her contact, but her gut said he was.

  A young woman who’d barely broken the threshold of twenty sat behind the reception desk doing something that looked remarkably like busy work. She glanced up with her mouth drooping in a frown. “Welcome to MedBridge. Can I help you?”

  “I hope so.” Lana didn’t go for brightness like she normally would. Instead, she acknowledged that the girl’s mood was grief that was likely over Lance. Respecting the girl’s emotions, Lana shifted from her plan of offering a cover story to get into the records. She chose instead a more direct path.

  “My name is Lana Quinn.”

  The young woman’s face brightened a little. “You write for Miami Morning News.”

  “Yes.” If she was familiar with Lana’s writing maybe she’d also be familiar with how she handled her stories. How she always tried to shine a fair and favorable light on those she could. “I’m working on a new story, and I’m hoping you can help me.”

  The brief brightness dimmed and the woman stared back at her blankly.

  “I understand a gentleman named Lance Keys worked here.”

  With her frown darkening her sad brown eyes more, the woman nodded.

  “I wonder if you would know of anyone he knew,” Lana continued gently. “Someone I could talk with.”

  “How is Lance story worthy? He died of an allergic reaction.” As if Lana’s visit illuminated a new light on something the woman knew, she tilted her head. “Or is this about something else?”

  Carelessly chosen words could reveal too much and potentially damage any case Aidan and his team were building. Lana wasn’t willing to risk that, so she cautiously indulged the other woman’s question. “I heard he’d been asking questions about some files he was auditing. Guess I
was hoping there’s a story there.”

  The woman looked around the empty lobby and licked her lips with uncertainty. Her voice, when she spoke long seconds later, was hushed and hesitant. “I could talk to you.”

  Yes! “Thank you.” Rather than pulling one of three notepads from her bag she set her phone on the woman’s desk. “Do you mind if I record our talk? Just so I can be sure to be accurate.”

  The woman drew her head back, a withdrawal from the offer she’d made.

  Lana rushed on gently. “If you don’t want your name in the story I will honor that, but if Lance was on to something that needs to be exposed…”

  Lana let the unfinished thought linger. If she’d read the young woman correctly no more nudging would be needed. She would pick up the gauntlet for the sake of his memory. “I miss him.”

  “I can see that. I’m sorry you had to lose someone you obviously cared for.”

  “He enjoyed your stories,” the woman finally said. “He said he was going to send you something.”

  Nothing had come to her office—mail or email. Nothing except the emails from a confidential informant she was no longer getting a response from. Chills shot between the vertebras in her spine, suffusing her.

  Lance. Lance had been her source. It was the only logical conclusion. He had turned her on to the case and then become a part of it. What had he found that she didn’t know about?

  “He’d love that you’re here because of him,” the woman continued. “And he’d hate it if I didn’t help you.” Picking at the clear nail polish on her short nails, she released a long sigh. “You can record this, but I’d rather not be named.”

  “Absolutely.” Lana shook off the thoughts about what Lance might have sent and where. If he’d gotten it sent she would find it. “Can I know your name, though?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. It’s Darla. I’m Darla.”

  “Thank you.” The phone rang. Darla glanced toward it but didn’t move. “I know you’re busy,” Lana went on, “so I’ll make this as quick as possible.”

  “No worries. It’s been pretty quiet. And I have a back up the phones will go to.” Darla nodded to the chairs in the waiting area. “Let’s sit over there.”

  “Great.” Lana moved to the chairs and got her recorder app ready. When Darla indicated she was ready, Lana started the recorder and jumped in. “Were you close to Lance?”

  “We were seeing each other.” Emotion choked Darla’s voice, but she controlled it. “I’d thought he was going to propose, but then he started acting different. He pulled back.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “A week or two before he died. I thought he was cheating on me.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Lana had only seen pictures of Lance, but something about this woman who clearly adored him made her doubt he’d cheat. “It’s also possible he was distancing himself for your safety. If he thought he’d found something that could put you in danger if you were too close…”

  “He told me he loved me. Then said we needed to take some time away from each other.” Peeling a layer of polish off a nail, Darla latched on to the idea. “Maybe that was why.”

  “Did he tell you about the file he had concerns with?”

  “Not much. He said it was missing some documentation it should have. The patient was never identified by name or sex.” She squinted, as if she was scanning her memory for the details she wanted to share. “Patient X. I think they were supposed to be a part of a trial study of some sort. Not an FDA thing, but something that should have included a more detailed history of the patient.”

  Dr. Grayson’s study. “Do you know who he would have reported the discrepancy to?”

  “His supervisor. I think he might have gone to talk to the doctor who did the study. And he mentioned a herbologist who mixed the medications for the doctor’s study.”

  “That’s not regular procedure, is it?”

  “Not at his level. Depends on the seriousness of the discrepancy, but sometimes it’s a matter of a new hire or a temp having mixed up paperwork. These things can be cleared up with a simple inquiry.”

  The more Darla spoke the more she sounded like she found it crazy. Lana didn’t buy the possibility either. Medical charts were carefully monitored for a reason. “Do you know who the herbologist is? Do you know if he’d have spoken to the doctor directly?”

  Darla angled her head to the left, thinking about the question. The more she thought about specifics the less obvious her grief became. It was only a momentary respite but every little bit helped. “Walker. I can’t recall the name. I think it was a woman. As for talking to the doctor, he’d have tried. It wouldn’t be uncommon for the nurses to be the contact, though. They’d be just as familiar or maybe more familiar with the file.”

  “That makes sense.” Lana almost let Darla off the hook. Darla had been strong while talking about the file, but if Lana hoped to do the story right she had to ask the hard questions. “On a more personal front, do you know how Lance spent his last hours?”

  “He went out with friends. I wasn’t invited, but I followed them.” Tears clouded Darla’s eyes instantly, but again she held herself in check. “I thought he was going to see whoever he was cheating with.”

  “And did you see anyone?”

  “There was a group of them. I knew everyone but one woman.” Anger pinched Darla’s mouth while tears trickled down her cheeks. “She wouldn’t keep her hands off him, but I did notice him trying to pull away.”

  Alarm bells rang between Lana’s ears. Lance had distanced himself from Darla and from the sounds of it he hadn’t trusted the mystery woman. What had he found? Who? “This may seem like a strange question, but how was she touching him?”

  “Just touching him. Rubbing against him. Trying to hold his hand. Brushing his cheek.”

  No mention of holding him by the shoulder.

  “I’d had enough of watching them when he got up and headed to the restroom. I started to go confront him, but was intercepted by a drunk guy.” Her breath came in short, sawing hitches. More tears welled and tripped over her eyes. “By the time I got him to leave me alone Lance was back. Five minutes later…”

  So the touch that killed him could have happened while he’d been by the restrooms. After finding out where they’d had dinner, Lana thanked Darla for her time and promised to let her know if anything came of the story and left. She wanted to know who had touched Lance. If it had been the woman hanging on him then the doctor was in the clear. But if the woman had stayed with the group or left the bar then the doc could be guilty.

  Aware that she would likely yield better results if she was dressed a little sexier, Lana parked before the bar. She changed shoes, pulled her hair from the quick up-twist she’d put it in, and shed the jacket that matched her slacks. The silk tank hugged her body in a criss-cross pattern that enhanced her boobs and shrank her waist. It was one of those seemingly magic tops that fit perfectly, looked great for casual or dressy times, and was comfortable. When she’d found it she’d bought every color available.

  Shaking back her hair, she rang the doorbell discreetly hidden by the double entry doors. A few minutes later, a thirty-or-so-year-old man in black slacks and a red button down with the restaurant logo opened the door. He quickly surveyed her, lingering on her waist and breasts for a moment before returning his gaze to hers.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I know you’re getting ready to open for the lunch rush, but I hope so.” Lana smiled as she introduced herself. After discovering the man was the owner she gave him the brief high points of the story she was working on. When he confirmed that he’d been present the night Lance had died she pressed on. “I was wondering if you have video cameras for security.”

  His brow pinched skeptically. “A few, yes.”

  “I think Mr. Keys might have had a run-in with someone before his death. I wonder if you would allow me to take a look at the video to see if I could see anything.”

  �
��I don’t think I’m comfortable with that.”

  “I understand.” The restaurant was a new and independently owned one. The challenge would be to get past the owner rather than a corporate policy. “But I can assure you I’m not at all saying it was anyone on your staff. If I find nothing out of the ordinary with Mr. Keys I’ll never mention I was here.”

  He hesitated but then showed her to his office off the kitchen. “How can an allergic reaction be more than an unfortunate incident?” he asked as he pulled up the video file from the day in question.

  “I hope it is just that.”

  The owner said nothing else as he forwarded the video to when Lance entered. Then he stepped back and allowed Lana to sit in his chair. She watched the clip with the sound muted as the group of friends enjoyed their dinner. The woman Darla had mentioned came across as an irritant, but she also managed to always be facing away from the camera.

  When Lance left the table the owner stepped forward and changed camera views before Lana could ask. Curiosity clearly drove his mind down the same path as hers. “We don’t have cameras in the restrooms for obvious reasons.”

  When Lance exited the restroom there was someone wearing a hoodie with the hood pulled up so Lana could only tell they had a small build. He bumped into the other person, who fell to the floor. When Lance bent down to help them up, something he’d do for a woman, they placed a hand on his bicep. His short sleeve had slipped up when he reached out so most of the person’s hand made direct skin-to-skin contact.

  This was the moment of the killing touch.

  “Did he make it back to his table?” Lana asked.

  “Yes.” The owner switched back to the other video file and sped to the point of Lance’s return. The woman was gone. A few minutes later Lance was dead.