by Blake Pierce
“Pauline Vick,” Rachel said, “you are under arrest for suspicion of three murders.”
She started to lead the woman right out of the office but figured she should save at least some dignity. “Jack, give me your jacket.”
“What?”
“Jacket. Give it to me. Cuff her discreetly and hide it with your jacket.”
He nodded and slipped out of his suit jacket. As he did, he also deftly took the cuffs from the little holstered section on the inside of the jacket. He cuffed her expertly and then draped the jacket over Pauline Vick’s wrists. To anyone that was really paying close attention, it would still be pretty obvious what was happening—especially those that had all watched it go down right there in the third floor hallway. But so long as Pauline did not cause a scene out front, they should be okay.
Briefly, Rachel thought she felt the twinge of a headache, right behind her eyes. She waited a moment, terrified that she might be on the verge of another of her attacks. But the moment passed and she walked dutifully behind Pauline Vick as the three of them left the office and headed for the front doors.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Rachel was very glad this case wasn’t going down in DC. If Director Anderson had been directly overseeing them, he would have raised all kinds of hell about them bringing in a woman that had lost a so-called miracle baby. He would have understood the reasoning behind it, but he would have still raised hell. For a man with such a temper at times, he tended to have a heart of gold.
But, of course, Director Anderson was not there. It was just her and Jack and they currently had a woman sitting at an interrogation room table—a woman that had lost a baby she had fought so hard to have. Not only that, but even after her horrors, a woman that continued to work with women with fertility issues on a daily basis.
Rachel knew she had a job to do but she also felt just a little bit like the scum of the earth as she and Jack walked into the interrogation room. Rachel took the single seat on their side of the table and gave Pauline a moment to compose herself. She’d been in the room for about seven minutes now and she did seem a bit more in control of herself than she had been in the car on the way to the precinct. She was still crying, but it was not the screaming of threats and the wailing about her past that she’d vented following her arrest.
Pauline started speaking, and Rachel would never have guessed what she said first.
“I’m sorry I kicked and punched you, Agent Rivers,” Pauline said. “It was stupid, and I was barely even aware of what I was doing. As I’m sure you might understand, I get very defensive whenever someone asks me about what I’ve been through. But this…this was a whole new level…”
“No harm, no foul,” Jack said. “I’ve had worse done to me. But what we need for you to tell us is why you acted the way you did.”
“In that moment…in every moment when a reminder of what happened to me is somehow thrust into my face, my mind goes dark. Not blank but dark. There’s this rage that comes over me and I’m usually able to contain it, thank God. And in the times I know I’m going to lose the fight against it, I can usually get out to my car and have a good cry, or I’m already at home and can break a few glasses in the kitchen sink. But today I felt trapped, and I was already angry that I’d been paged twice to let me know you were there to see me.”
“So it seems like the rage and darkness are temporarily at bay right now,” Rachel said. “Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“So now, with a mostly rational and clear mind, can you see why we would have to at least question you about these deaths based on the information we have on you?”
“It sucks, but yes. Yes, I understand. So go ahead and question me.”
Rachel had seen people flip emotional switches like this before; the majority of the time, it was an act. She couldn’t tell which was the case right now as Pauline Vick looked at them with tear-streaked cheeks and red, puffy eyes.
“It’s actually pretty simple. The victims’ names are—”
“Gloria Larsen, and Lucinda Masters,” Pauline interrupted. “I know. Like I said, I’d heard about the first two. Who was the third?”
“Hannah Kettleman.”
“You told us you’d consulted with one of them,” Rachel asked. “Who was that?”
“I met with Gloria Larsen once, at Regency. It was more or less a consult when her original doctor was away at the hospital for an emergency.”
“And how well do you remember her?” Jack asked.
“Not well, honestly. It was one of those long days where everyone you see sort of blends together. I just remember that she was going through some simple tests to make sure she was viable for one of the treatment options.”
“What about Lucinda Masters and Hannah Kettleman?” Rachel asked “Had you at least heard of them before their murders?”
“Not that I can recall.”
Rachel leaned forward, kicking in one of the little subtle indicators she had Jack had come up with. Whenever she leaned forward intentionally, Jack knew to study the suspect’s eyes. It meant Rachel was about to ask a leading or blunt question. And Jack, always good at reading expressions, was to watch the suspect’s face carefully.
“Where were you on the last several nights?” she asked. “Give us ten days. Can you tell us where you were when the murder occurred?”
“I don’t know,” she said, clearly starting to get defensive now. “I’m not exactly sure when they occurred.”
Jack flipped through the folder on the table and pulled out one of the sheets. “Gloria Larsen, five days ago, estimated time of death around six in the afternoon. Lucinda Masters, three days ago, likely around two in the morning. Hannah Kettleman, yesterday, time of death undetermined but likely somewhere between eleven at night and two in the morning.”
Something flickered in Pauline’s eyes—a bit of uneasiness that Rachel caught. It was almost like the look of someone considering a bluff in a suddenly serious game of poker.
“For Gloria Larsen, I would have either been on my way home from the hospital or still there, wrapping paperwork from my last appointment. I don’t know for sure. For the other two, I was at home asleep.”
“Do you have any proof?” Jack asked.
“Proof that I was at home, asleep?”
“Yes. Security cameras, maybe? Anything like that?”
Rachel applauded him for not mentioning a spouse, as the articles they’d read specifically mentioned how her husband had died five years ago. No need in giving her another emotional slap in the face while accusing her of murder.
“No. As for the first murder, I can have my computer checked to see when I logged out that day.”
“Would you allow us to look at your phone, or are you going to make us get a warrant?” Jack asked.
“You could,” Pauline said. “But it’s in my purse, back at Greenfield. You sort of escorted me out before I had a chance to mention it.”
Rachel thought for a good twenty seconds, sure that Jack might interject at some point. When he didn’t, Rachel asked a question that she figured might very well piss Pauline off, but she had to take the chance. It would not only do a great deal in showing Pauline’s level of honesty, but could also serve as a trap of sorts. If she was the killer, it was the type of question that presented a minefield of danger for her.
“Dr. Vick, how is it that you’re still able to work with pregnant women after al you’ve been through? Doesn’t it affect you mentally?”
Pauline gave her a vicious look which she managed to temper just before she opened her mouth in response. “There are days when it is very hard,” she said, speaking slowly and barely opening her mouth. “There are days when I want to quit. But I remember that feeling of absolute bliss and triumph when I was finally able to conceive, and it pushes me through. I took the job at the hospital because I’m now working with women that are already pregnant. It’s a massive difference and helped me get away from the darker, depressing things.”
“Back at Regency and Greenfield, did you ever resent the women that had successful treatments?” Jack asked.
“Of course I did,” Pauline said. “No point in lying about that. But I stored it up. I stored it up and swallowed it down.”
“And it comes out in anger,” Rachel said.
“Yes. And until today, I’ve managed to keep it hidden and under control.”
Or have you? Rachel wondered. Maybe it’s also been coming out in the brutal murders of these three women.
“We need to hold you for a bit,” Rachel said. “We’ll send an officer back over to the hospital to retrieve your purse and phone. Plus, there’s also the matter of you assaulting a federal agent.”
Pauline sighed deeply and rolled her eyes in what almost came off as the expression of an annoyed teenager. Rachel supposed it was worlds better than chucking a laptop at an FBI agent, though.
Rachel stood up from her chair and stepped outside. Jack followed her out into the hallway and they walked slowly back toward their little work station.
“Thoughts?” Jack asked.
“I think if her phone and her work computer can’t provide an alibi, she’s a very strong suspect. The motive is there, and based on the last hour or so, I’d say she’d be considered somewhat emotionally sporadic at best.”
“Agreed,” Jack said. “Seems like this might be the killer, though, right?”
“Maybe so,” Rachel said. “For now, let’s get someone to get her phone and work computer so we can find out.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
A very excited-looking policeman rushed to the desk Rachel and Jack had been calling home. He was carrying Pauline Vick’s purse under one arm, carrying it pretty much the same way Rachel had always seen men carrying a purse. She’d always teased Peter about the way he held hers whenever she had to hand it over to him for some reason or another. He’d always hold it out in front of him, as if his arm might catch on fire if it even accidentally brushed his shoulder.
“Thanks, officer,” Jack said as he took the purse.
They both looked inside and found her phone. There was little else there to support the theory that she might be the killer, though. The cop that dropped it off watched on, as if he, too, wanted to share in whatever discovery they made. Pity for him, there was nothing.
“There was no actual work laptop to take,” the officer explained. “Because Dr. Vick is rather new to the hospital and shares her station, she also shares a laptop with three other doctors. She does have her own smart tablet, though. It was through that where I was able to find out that the hospital can confirm that she logged out from work at 5:37 on the day Gloria Larsen was killed.”
This did provide Rachel and Jack with at least one new tidbit of news. Based on the distance between Regency and the Larsen’s residence, it would have been very possible for Pauline to travel from work, directly to their residence to kill Gloria. As a matter of fact, based on the estimated time of death, there would have been more than enough time, so long as Pauline worked quickly.
It was a small crumb, but it felt significant. Yet, even as the local PD’s techs unlocked Pauline’s phone and started to study the GPS movements of the past few weeks, Rachel started to feel something nagging at the back of her mind—not anything Pauline Vick had said, but something Alex Lynch had told her.
I would assume, then, that the killer has nothing personal against the women…
If that was true, then Pauline Vick may not be their killer after all. She’d even come out and admitted that she sometimes resented the women that she saw. That, plus helping them along with their treatments gave them a pretty close and personal connection.
So, then what’s missing? Rachel wondered. Or was Alex Lynch wrong? Was he feeding me a line of bullshit just to mess with me?
She didn’t think this was the case, though. In fact, the more she thought about that one comment, the more sense it made. Based on a few cases from her past, she knew that the majority of the time a murder case where the victim and murderer knew one another, there was usually some sort of significance or personal touch to it. And that was missing here.
Still waiting on the results from Pauline’s phone, Rachel thought of any other connections the victims might have. If they’d all seen Pauline Vick at some point, that might actually make for a pretty secure case. But Pauline had only seen Hannah…a fact that they could verify through the lists they’d gotten from the clinics.
Yet, as she looked at the records, there was one more similarity that stood out. It may not mean anything, but she wasn’t sure, as she wasn’t very well-versed on fertility treatments. The records showed that all three women had been scheduled for IVF treatments. Rachel did know enough to realize that meant donor eggs would be fertilized in a laboratory and then implanted into the patient’s uterus.
In other words, all three women would have required donor eggs.
Rachel’s mind started to spin. It was one of those links that seemed like a stretch at first but the more she sat on it, the more relevant it seemed.
“Hey, Jack, how much do you know about IVF treatments?”
Jack looked up from the laptop and frowned at her. “Sadly, I don’t know if this is some sort of trick question.”
“It’s not. But I’m wondering…each woman would have needed donor eggs for their treatments.”
“All three of them were undergoing the same sort of treatment?”
“Yeah, it seems that way,” Rachel said, tapping the sheets of paper that confirmed this. “And from what I understand, it’s a rather popular treatment but…still. It seems sort of odd, right?”
“I don’t know. Sorry…I’m going to be the idiot male here. What’s an IVF treatment?”
“In vitro fertilization. Taking an egg into a laboratory and trying to fertilize it with donated sperm.”
Jack wrinkled his nosy playfully and shook his head. “So now I know. Anyway…you think that might be important?”
“I don’t know. But what I do know is that I want a backup plan already in place if the techs come up with nothing from her phone.”
Rachel had already picked up the phone and was pulling up the number for Regency. She was sure she’d spoken to the woman that had answered before at some point but wasn’t positive. She felt like she’d called and visited about a trillion times so far.
“This is Agent Gift,” Rachel said. “I need to get some information about donor eggs for the case I’m currently working on.”
“What sort of information?” the receptionist asked.
“If possible, I need to know the names of the women that donated eggs that could have ended up going to the victims.”
The receptionist waited a moment and when she finally answered, it was a tone that indicated she was getting pretty tired of visits and calls from the FBI. “Well, I certainly can’t give you that information and I can tell you with pretty strong confidence that even if a doctor here would provide that information, they’d tell you to come visit. It’s not the sort of thing anyone is going to give out over the phone.”
“Fine. Would it be Mrs. Carpenter again?”
“Yes.”
“Could you please let her know I’m on my way over then? Again.”
“Yes, I can tell her but I don’t know what the rest of her schedule looks like for the day.”
“I’ll take the chance,” Rachel asserted as she got to her feet and ended the call.
“Need me to come along?” Jack asked.
“No, it’s okay. One of us should be here when the techs have results on Pauline Vick’s phone. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Happy hunting,” Jack said, looking back to the laptop.
Rachel wished it were just her imagination but as she left, she was pretty sure Jack was glancing at her over the laptop—no doubt still trying to figure out what was going on with her.
Or maybe you’re just imagining it, she told herself. She did not realize it until that very moment
, but she was starting to think of this voice as the Tumor. Maybe you feel like he’s watching you because you’re lying to him just like you’re lying to your family. Guilt is a bitch, isn’t it?
Yes, apparently it was. And though she was going back to the clinic by herself, she almost felt like the pressing presence of guilt and fear was now going to be a constant passenger.
***
Rachel did her best to hide her irritation as she walked quickly to the entrance doors of Regency Fertility Clinic. She noticed there were no protestors today, wondering if word had gotten around about the arrest of one of their ilk. As she pushed through the doors and walked inside, she also tried reminding herself that the women here at Regency had very stressful jobs to do and what may seem like a lack of cooperation likely just came down to making sure the private information of their patients and donors were kept confidential.
She knew all of this, of course, but it was hard to keep it in focus with three dead bodies and her own medical situation to contend with.
To her surprise, Mrs. Carpenter was already waiting for her. She was standing behind one of the reception cubicles. When she saw Rachel heading her way, Carpenter headed around to little desk to meet her.
“This way, please,” Carpenter said, not bothering with hellos.
She led Rachel down the central hallway and came to a small office just short of the waiting room. She closed the door softly behind them and took a seat behind the single desk in the room. There were no additional chairs for Rachel to sit in.
“I want to start,” Carpenter said, “by letting you know that I’ve heard about what happened with Pauline Vick. I find it outrageous and borderline ridiculous. That woman has been through hell and I can’t imagine what she’s going through right now.”
“It’s not a decision we made lightly,” Rachel said, not liking that she felt as if she had to defend herself.
“I can tell you with no hesitancy at all that Pauline Vick is not a killer. I’ve known her for the better part of ten years and watched her go through each and every painful step of being unable to conceive, losing her husband, and then finally getting pregnant and losing that child.”