Dig Deeper: A Hallie James Mystery (The Hallie James Mysteries Book 1)

by DK Herman

  Ben had his back turned towards us, his shoulders were shaking. I asked Rachel for a copy of the footage we just saw. She typed into the keyboard again before asking for my e-mail address. I wrote it on a sticky note and handed it to her.

  "There," Rachel said. "I sent it to your email. The footage we watched, plus the ten minutes before and after." She looked sad for Ben. "I hope, it helps."

  "Thank you,” Ben said. He had himself composed, but his face was red. "Do you have a bathroom I could use?"

  Rachel sent him to an employee's bathroom in the office.

  "I’m sorry, it was another dead end," I said, climbing back inside Ben's truck.

  "Can we talk to the cops next?" He asked. "I have to find out when they can release Cara's body. My mom wants to get her funeral over with."

  "Your Mom owns two dry cleaners?" I’d read about it online. Ben lost his father and grandfather, in the same month. His mother inherited the family business.

  "Yep. I manage the one, my Mom the other. Cara worked in both when we needed her." He sighed. "Lana, my fiancé, has been helping out, but I have to get back. They need me."

  I was relieved to see Andy in the police station. Ben went into the back office to talk to Chief Woods. I sat across from Andy at his desk. First, I told him about the FriendsMeetSafe website, and that both Cara and Ashley had used it. He was very interested and wrote down every word I told him. Also, I gave him Ashley Cameron's email address and password. I felt the police needed to see the messages to confirm my story. Next, I broached the subject of Peter.

  "I think you're wasting your time there," Andy said. He shuffled some papers, considering something. "We questioned him at length when Mr. Murphy was shot. None of us think he had any involvement."

  "What did you find out about his gun?"

  "It definitely wasn't the weapon that was used to shoot Mr. Murphy or kill Dr. Robinson."

  "You're sure?" I asked.

  Andy dug a file out of his desk drawer and flipped it open. "Your gardener's weapon is a Winchester Model 61, pump action rifle. But according to ballistics, the .22 casings that we found outside your home were from a .22 pistol." Andy looked me in the eye. "And the bullet the coroner dug out of Dr. Robinson's skull was from the same pistol."

  "A .22 pistol,” I mused aloud.

  "Also," Andy continued reading from the file, "the knife that’s being used to torture and kill these girls is a hunting knife. It has a fixed, six inch, 420HC steel blade with a crescent tip." He hesitated a moment. "And, it has a flaw."

  I sat up straighter. "You can identify the knife if you find it.”

  "Yep. It has a nick in the blade." Andy confirmed. "State crime lab guys think this guy's been sharpening it constantly, by the grit and steel dust in the wounds."

  I shivered, imagining this killer getting his knife ready to cut into those poor girls. "And you didn't find a knife like that in Peter’s cabin, right?" I hadn't seen any nicks on the knife, that I found in Peter's cabin.

  "One hunting knife, no nicks, no blood; animal or human." Andy put the file back into the drawer.

  "Any ID, on the third body, or the girl I found last night?" I asked, dropping the subject of Peter for now.

  "The girl in the hospital is unconscious, but her docs think she'll live. We took her fingerprints, and we’re running them against missing kids whose parents put their prints on file." He took a swig from a can of iced tea. "The third body that you and Hank found was identified as Wendy Pardoe. She was actually, the first victim." Andy picked up another file that lay on his desktop. Opening it, he showed me a picture of another pretty, young blonde. "She was sixteen years old, from Berdville."

  "Where's that?" I'd never heard of it.

  "Southeast of us, near the New York, state border." Andy stretched in his chair. "She disappeared on July the twentieth of last year. Like Cara Gordon, she vanished overnight from her home. Like Cara, she was thought to be a runaway."

  "This asshole needs to be caught." I took the file from his hands without asking first.

  Andy sighed. "Most of us.... Cops that is, except for Kasey, think you can be helpful. I know you are."

  "What are you trying to tell me, Andy?"

  "Just be careful. Kasey hates PI's. He would love to slap an obstruction charge on you." He lowered his voice. "And watch who you share information with, just me or the Chief. OK?"

  I nodded and started to stand.

  "And keep a low profile in public,” He added.

  "I've said, I was working a missing person. I don't mention murder and sure as hell not a serial."

  "Good girl,” Andy said.

  I rolled my eyes at the 'girl' comment, and Ben came out of Chief Woods' office.

  "All done?" I asked.

  "Yeah. He thinks I can take her home Thursday." Ben pulled his cell out of his pocket. "I have to call my Mom and let her know."

  "Meet you at your truck," I said. I waved goodbye to Andy.

  I didn't realize, I still had the Wendy Pardo file in my hand, until I was back outside. I walked slowly, down the sidewalk in the warm late summer sun. It would be a great day to lay by the pool or go on a picnic. I dug my sunglasses out of my purse, put them on and looked up at the cloudless, blue sky.

  Andy didn't come after the file, so I stuffed it in my purse. Climbing into Ben's truck, I saw he was still on the phone. I looked out the window and tried not to listen. I'd have to send flowers to Ohio for Cara's funeral. Maybe another arrangement for the family. It had to be so hard on them. First having her go missing, and then getting the news that she had been murdered.

  Ben hung up, and asked me where I wanted to go next. It was after one, and I was hungry again. I always eat more when I'm tired or stressed. And today, felt like a six-meal kind of day. Ben was always hungry, so we made a trip through the drive thru at Burger Bistro. A double cheeseburger, onion rings and a chocolate shake later, I was ready to do the sleuthing thing again.

  "Head to the hospital,” I told Ben. I gathered up the paper wrappers from our food. Ben kept his truck impressively neat.

  "Did your Gram call?" Ben asked, pulling into traffic.

  "Not yet. We can check on her while we're there, but there's somebody else that I want to talk to."

  Herville Medical Center was humming with activity. Ben and I rode the elevator to the third floor, the pediatrics department. I found the secretary's office and knocked on the open door.

  "I need to speak with Dr. Phil Robinson Jr, please." I gave her a quick flash of my credentials, not mentioning that I was a private investigator.

  "What is this about?" The secretary asked, picking up a phone.

  "It's important, concerning his father." I gave her my professional bitch face.

  The secretary, a young girl wearing too much jewelry, hung up the phone. Jingling from an overload of bracelets, necklaces, and earrings, she led us to a small room, that was marked, conference room. Ben and I sat down to wait.

  It wasn't long until Dr. Robinson Jr, walked in, straightening his white coat. He looked exactly like his father did, when I was a child. The same salt and pepper hair, brown eyes and average looks. It had been twenty-five years since the last time I'd seen him when he dated Aunt Jeannie.

  "I'm Hallie James." I rose and shook his hand. "And this is Ben Gordon." Ben took my lead and shook his hand, too.

  "Yes, Jeannie's niece." He smiled. "Nice to see you again. How is she?"

  "Fine." I returned the smile. "She’s on a cruise ship." I sat back down and motioned Ben back into a chair with my eyes.

  "Good for her." Dr. Robinson sat down opposite me at a small table. "I was told you needed to speak to me, about my father. Are you with the police?"

  "No." I had the feeling that a lie would backfire. "I'm a private investigator."

  "I heard about that from your aunt." He nodded. "You're with a good firm, from the city."

  I smiled again, but didn't bother to update him. I'm working on a case that's connected to
your father's murder."

  "Will helping you, help find my father’s killer?" He asked, his thick brows coming together.

  "Yes,” I said with more confidence than I felt. You never knew what piece of information would be useful and I wanted him to talk to me.

  "OK then. Ask me whatever you need to," Dr. Robinson said. "But, I've got a lot of appointments this afternoon."

  "I'll hurry,” I promised and turned on my voice recorder. First, do you know of anyone who had a grudge against your father?"

  "I'll tell you, what I told the police. He'd lost a few patients over the years, all physicians do. But his patients, like mine now, were children." Dr. Robinson sighed. "Some parents, threatened him with violence when their children were beyond medical help. Thirty years ago, the mother of a five-year-old boy, who died of leukemia, threatened to kill him. She later apologized, saying it was due to her grief. I believe her. I can't really think of anyone else."

  "He walked all over town, every day."

  "Rain or shine,” Dr. Robinson agreed, proudly. "He was quite fit, for a man his age. Well, physically anyhow."

  "What do you mean?” I said.

  "Well, there were signs of possible dementia. In April, he claimed someone killed his cat and left it on the porch. Then, the month before he went missing, he called me twice in the middle of night. He was hysterical, claiming that a crying child called him on the house phone."

  "What did the child say?" I sat up straighter.

  "Why wouldn’t you help me?" Dr. Robinson said.

  “Why wouldn’t you help me,” I repeated. “What do you think they meant?”

  Dr. Robinson threw his hands up in the air. "I think it was the imagination of an elderly man. He was thinking about those children that he’d lost while he was their physician."

  "You still don't think it was real?” I’d made a similar mistake with George, now he was in a hospital bed with a gunshot wound. “Didn't you tell the police, or check into it yourself?” I asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. But this was his father we were talking about. At the very least, he could have gone to his home and dialed star sixty-nine.

  "No, I didn’t say anything to anyone. I’m sure it was just old age and imagination with a little guilt thrown into the mix." Dr. Robinson stood up. "I'm busy today, so if you'll excuse me. Please, tell Jeannie that I said hello." He walked out the door.

  Ben stood up. I could tell he was a little pissed off, too. "The bullet in his brain wasn't so imaginary, asshole."

  "Exactly, my thoughts." I patted Ben on the back. "Let's go check on Gram and visit George. Have you met George yet?"

  Ben shook his head. "No, he's your Gram's boyfriend, right?"

  "Yep, they’re great together." I led the way to the elevator.

  We asked the man at the first-floor information desk for George's room number and directions. I hadn't seen him since he was in the ICU. We rode a different elevator to the sixth floor.

  "We want room 632,” I reminded Ben.

  "Down that hallway." He pointed at a sign that read, ‘Rooms 620-635’.

  We turned left and walked down the hall, reading the numbers on the doors. The door to room 632 was slightly ajar. Ben slowly pushed it open a few more inches and peeked inside. He recoiled suddenly, his hands covering his face.

  "What's wrong?" I asked. My first thought was he had been sprayed with pepper spray. I had given George a small canister.

  "My eyes!" Ben answered, his hands still over his face while his whole body shook.

  I rubbed his back and looked for a doctor or nurse in the hallway. “I need to find some milk to rinse your eyes. It will help with the burning.”

  Ben, still covering his eyes and bent at the waist, shook his head vigorously. He flapped a hand toward Georges room, making choking sounds.

  My grandmother was in that room and I needed to know what was going on. Carefully, I peeked around the half open door. George stood a few feet away. Bent at the waist, he was looking for something under a hospital bed. He wore nothing but a hospital gown, and his scrawny, naked butt was in the wind, his boys protruding from between his skinny thighs. I heard Gram’s voice from the other side of the white curtain, ask if he'd found the remote. I closed the door quietly and turned to Ben.

  "Don't you dare say anything to him about this. There’s little dignity when you’re in the hospital. He’d be embarrassed if he knew what we saw." I hissed, "And damn it, stop laughing."

  Ben turned to me, his face red and his eyes screwed up. Tears were running down his cheeks. He stood up straight and tried to apologize, but then he lost it again. Watching Ben laugh, I couldn't help it, I joined in. Laughing and snorting we made our way back up the hall toward the elevator. We leaned on the wall and each other while holding our stomachs. I tried to take a deep breath and compose myself, but I couldn't stop laughing. People were walking by, staring at us as if we were insane.

  "Hallie, is that you?" Crap, it was Gram! I wiped my face on my arm and straightened up. My lips wouldn’t stop twitching as I turned to face my grandmother.

  "I’m glad to see you so happy after last night, honey!" She hugged me. "And Ben's here, too. Hello dear."

  "We just got here to a... see George,” I said. Ben started to giggle again, so I gave him a shot in the ribs with my elbow.

  "That's wonderful. He'll be glad to see you." She linked arms with Ben. "I've told him all about you, Ben."

  Ben sent me a "help me," look. I smiled and shrugged. Then putting a finger to my lips, I took his other arm, and the three of us walked back to George's room.

  Ben and I managed to control our mirth, during our visit with George. We were there when his doctor stopped by. After Gram assured him that George would be well cared for at home, he announced that he was planning on releasing George in the morning. I had to agree. Except for a small bandage on his ear and the sling that held his right arm immobile, he looked great.

  Gram was ready to go home, eager to prepare for George's arrival tomorrow. But because of the height, she couldn’t get into Ben’s truck. Ben gently, picked her up and placed her in the passenger seat.

  “Now that’s service,” Gram said with a giggle and a wink at Ben. I was beginning to think my grandmother was a flirt. She did better with men than I did.

  When we got home, Doc was pulling into our driveway ahead of us. She got out and waved enthusiastically. Judging by the pleasant expression on her face, she was feeling better than the last time I’d seen her. So much had happened since Saturday night that I hadn't had a chance to call her.

  "How's Mr. Murphy doing?" Doc asked. She gave Gram a hug after Ben helped her out of his truck.

  "Much better, thank you dear." Gram smiled and clapped her hands. "He's getting out of the hospital tomorrow!"

  "Is that wise?" Doc looked at me. "He's not young anymore to be home alone while recovering. I heard that his wound was fairly serious."

  "He's not going home alone," Gram said firmly. "He's moving in here with me. He'll be well cared for."

  "Well, that's good." Doc didn't seem to look convinced, but she dropped the subject. "Who's this?" She asked, turning toward Ben with a smile.

  "This is Ben Gordon. Ben, this is one of my best friends. We call her Doc, and she is a doc."

  Doc studied Ben's face a moment with a dark expression before a grin spread over her face. "Nice to meet you, Ben." She shook his hand and winked at me.

  "Let's go into the house and see what Liv has to snack on," Gram said. "I'm hungry and could use a cup of coffee."

  We all followed her inside. Gram and Ben went straight into the kitchen. Doc held me back by my arm.

  "What's going on with the young stud muffin? I thought that you were back with Hank!" Doc whispered furiously.

  "No! I mean yes.... I’m dating Hank,” I whispered back. "Ben is the sister of a missing girl that..."

  "Not one of the dead girls, you and Hank found?" Doc interrupted, a shocked expression on her fa
ce.

  "Yes." I looked toward the kitchen door. I could hear Ben, joking with Gram. "He's helping me investigate his sister's and the other girls’ murders. The same person, shot George." I confided. "They also murdered Dr. Robinson."

  Doc looked horrified and angry. "God, damn it! Why are you getting involved in this shit!" She gripped my arm, so tight that it hurt. "You're going to get hurt or killed, poking around where you shouldn't be!"

  "I know what I'm doing!" I shook her hand loose from my arm, losing my own temper. "I poked around in this “shit,” as you call it, for years and made a damned good living doing it."

  "I'm sorry, Hal," Doc said softly. "I just couldn't handle it if anything happened to you."

  "Nothing's going to happen to me." I assured her, still a bit miffed. "I'm not this cowardly, murdering pricks type. I'm not a scared kid."

  "George and Dr. Robinson weren't anywhere close to being kids." Doc reminded me, her eyes blazed with checked temper.

  I took a couple of deep breaths. She had really pissed me off. She didn't understand, I had to try to keep this monster from hurting anybody else, including Gram and my aunt. "I'll be fine. Trust me, I know what I'm doing." I steered her back down the hall away from the kitchen. "I'm getting closer to him. I just found out today, he's using a teen social networking site, called TeensMeetSafe, to lure the girls."

  Doc's mouth flew open. "How do you know that?"

  "I told you. I've been doing this for years, and I'm good at it."

  "Well, I guess all I can say is be damned careful." Doc looked me in the eye. "It could be anybody. For instance, what do you know about the hottie brother in your kitchen?"