by Rita Herron
Heard them talking about him.
How he was watching. How he had eyes everywhere and he knew what they were doing.
How they had to keep quiet or it would be the end of all of them.
109
Circle of Love
Sifting through paper files took up valuable time. And time was the enemy at the moment.
Derrick didn’t complain. He dove right in, checking the dusty boxes for dates and years.
They divided the files, the fading ink of the handwritten notations made by the counselors and staff difficult to decipher on the aged, yellowed paper.
“I found a file for Wanda Morely,” Derrick’s eyes narrowed as he read. “I may have something here. In one of her sessions, Wanda mentioned she was drugged at a party.”
Derrick’s expression grew troubled. “Later, she had nightmares of being assaulted while she was drugged. She became depressed and struggled with sleeping, even considered suicide but then discovered she was pregnant. The doctor at the college clinic referred her to Circle of Love.”
“Anything about giving the baby up for adoption?”
“They offered to help her arrange an adoption, but she opted to keep her daughter.”
Ellie dug through another box, her eyes sparking with interest. “This file is for a young lady named Agnes Butterfield.” She showed Derrick the photograph. “That’s Agnes Curtis.” She skimmed through the notes the counselor had made. “Agnes described being sexually assaulted too, but not at a party.” She flipped to another page. “She says she was having anxiety and trouble sleeping. Her roommate Janie—” There it was. “Janie Huntington told her about a sleep study she’d signed up for. They decided to do it together.”
Ellie’s pulse quickened. “Apparently Janie saw a flyer about it at the campus infirmary. They were paying a small stipend for participants to test a new sleeping medication for clinical trials.”
“Jesus,” Derrick muttered. “They went for help and got assaulted.”
Ellie shifted, wiping more dust from the file. “A few weeks after Agnes joined the study, she started having bad dreams about being assaulted. Just like Wanda Morely, she was pregnant.”
Derrick shuffled through the box, then pulled out another folder. “Janie Huntington is in here, too.” He began to search through it while Ellie read Agnes’s heart-wrenching description of what she believed had happened.
“Janie’s account is similar to Agnes’s,” Derrick said. “The sleep study, then the nightmares, then the pregnancy. None of the girls came forward because they thought no one would believe them.”
Derrick growled an obscenity. “We have to find the doctor who conducted that study.”
Ellie glanced at the files again, wondering about her own mother. Was it possible she’d been attacked by the same man? Was her name somewhere in these boxes?
110
For the next hour, Ellie and Derrick continued studying the files, searching for the name of the doctor and the research clinic, but none of the young women mentioned a name.
The dust was making Ellie’s nose itch and her eyes water, but she made a phone call to the college infirmary. A young man answered, who sounded early twenties, and she identified herself.
“Is the school associated with any research facilities?” Ellie asked.
“Not directly, but there’s one nearby. Some of our grad students volunteer there,” he said.
“What’s the name of it?” Ellie asked.
“Mountainside Research. A couple of guys in my pre-med class did internships there.”
“Was it around twenty years ago?” Ellie asked.
“Let me check the computer.”
Computer keys clicked in the background, while Ellie combed through another file as she waited. Many of the young women who’d come to Circle of Love mentioned Gillian Roach. Three different young women stated that she’d stayed with them during labor and delivery, comforting them as they made the hardest decision of their lives. The names began to blur, as their stories were so similar.
Young love, hot guys, parties and alcohol played a part in some of their situations. Two young women said they’d first decided on adoption, but once they saw their infants, they’d changed their minds. Gillian had helped make arrangements for them to live in a group home, share childcare and get jobs to support themselves.
Ellie couldn’t get Gillian’s paintings out of her mind. The social worker had been an advocate for the young single mothers and for their children. She was the reason Ellie had wound up with the Randalls.
Now she was dead because of it.
111
Mountainside Research
“Detective Reeves,” the young man on the phone said, bringing Ellie back to the moment. “I did some checking, and that research facility had just been formed in the area.”
“It’s the same one, Mountainside?”
“Sure is.”
“Can you text me the address?”
“No problem.”
Ellie thanked him, hung up and stood, dusting the grime from her pants. “I want to take the files from the year I was born.”
“You think your mother’s birth name is in here?”
“It’s possible.”
“Good thing you got a warrant,” Derrick said.
Ellie nodded. “I’ll send Landrum back to pick them up. But I’ll take the ones from my birth year and leave them at the main office for him. Let’s go talk to someone at that research facility.”
Derrick stood, his jaw tight. “There have been cases of research experiments being tried on unsuspecting prisoners. What if someone did the same thing to college coeds?”
Anger colored his face, and her stomach swirled, but she tamped down the bile and they hurried up the stairs. She dropped the files at the receptionist’s desk and explained her deputy would be back for them.
As they stepped outside, the heat lightning was intensifying, quick jolts ripping across the tops of the ridges, a thunderstorm imminent.
Lightning cracked and a dark storm cloud opened up, rain beginning to drizzle.
Fifteen minutes later, she swung the Jeep into the parking lot of Mountainside Research. The facility was a nondescript white building next to the small hospital which catered to locals and students. Tall oaks and pines stood guard outside like a fortress.
“According to the information here,” Derrick said as he looked up from his tablet, “the facility is not directly connected to the college.” He turned the screen toward her. “Here’s a photo of what it used to look like twenty years ago. The original building was a few miles from here in a remote location, hence the ‘Mountainside’ name. But it was shut down when this one was built.”
Ellie studied the two-story rustic house which once housed the facility. The place was set on top of a mountain ridge overlooking the valley. It looked secluded. She tried not to think about how many women had been hurt there.
In spite of the trickling rain, brutal heat engulfed Ellie as she exited the car, and they made their way to the door. Once inside, the blast of air conditioning was a welcome relief. A plaque with several doctors’ names was attached to the wall. A framed certification for the clinic hung near the reception desk, and fliers were tacked on a corkboard advertising various clinical trial studies. The waiting room held several chairs, although it was empty at the moment.
Five minutes later, they sat across from a rail-thin man with a bad comb-over and freckled skin who introduced himself as Dr. Joe Sturgens.
“I’m not sure what this is about, but our patients’ confidentiality is of utmost importance,” he began.
It was like listening to a broken record.
“We’re aware of that,” she said. One by one she laid photos of the dead women on the desk. “But as you can see, we have a problem here. She pointed to Vanessa’s photograph. “She was murdered.” Next was Agnes. “Her daughter was killed.” Then Janie. “She was also murdered, by the same man who killed the others.”<
br />
Dr. Sturgens tugged at his narrow tie. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I—”
“You can’t discuss them or any studies they were part of,” Ellie said, not bothering to hide her disgust. “But we need the name of the doctor who conducted the sleep study that connects Agnes Curtis and Janie Huntington.” Ellie crossed her arms. “And before you justify not cooperating, be aware that this killer is not finished. He may be looking for another victim at this very minute. So let your ethics guide you into helping us. And if that’s not enough, know that if this clinic is in any way involved, I will shut your ass down.”
Derrick straightened, his dark gaze daring the man to argue. “Just the doctor’s name.”
With a huff, Dr. Sturgens turned to his computer. Keys clicked, his face puckered into a frown, but he hastily scribbled the man’s name on a scrap of paper.
“Dr. Hangar,” he said. “He was here during that time and worked in conjunction with a study for a new sleep medication. But he left here years ago, and I don’t have any forwarding information on him.” He planted his hands on his desk. “And that’s the truth.”
“Were you working here at the time?” Ellie asked.
He tugged at his tie again. “I came a few months before he left.”
“What was your opinion of him?”
“He was serious, a hard worker. But that’s about all I remember. I was new and he stayed in his office most of the time.”
Leaning forward, Derrick pinned the man with a cold stare. “Did you sense anything was off about him? That he might be doing something unethical behind closed doors?”
The man’s eyes widened in alarm. “What do you mean unethical?”
Ellie saw him shutting down. “I mean sexual assault, Dr. Sturgens.” She tapped the photos of the women’s faces. “Two of these women told their counselor they thought they’d been raped while drugged. The mother of Vanessa Morely said the same thing happened to her several years earlier. In the case of two of the women, Agnes and Janie, we believe it may have happened while they were sedated during the sleep study.”
The man shot up from his chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. For the record, though, if I’d suspected one of my coworkers was unethical or improper with a patient, I would have reported him. Now, if you need to talk to me again, go through my attorney.”
112
Bluff County Hospital
As Ellie walked down the hall to see Sarah, she couldn’t help but think about the vulnerable nature of hospital patients or research study participants. They trusted their lives to the staff, who generally were caring, selfless heroes. But there were occasions when nefarious things happened, patients too disoriented on meds that they could easily be taken advantage of.
That kind of depravity turned her stomach.
Hopefully Derrick could locate Dr. Hangar and they would stop this madness.
When she reached Sarah’s room, she knocked then eased open the door. Shondra sat beside the bruised and battered young woman, who was propped against the pillows sipping water through a straw. Shondra turned to her with a small smile. Her friend looked stronger than she had in weeks.
Ellie walked over and laid her hand on Shondra’s back. “Thanks for staying with her. I’m sure you need to go home and get some rest.”
“I’m fine, Ellie.” Shondra squeezed her hand. “Seeing her like this was a kick in the butt.”
Ellie gave an encouraging smile, then approached Sarah, who was watching them with pain-filled eyes.
“Hey,” Ellie said. “I’m glad you’re awake.”
Sarah touched her swollen cheek self-consciously. “At least I’m alive.”
“You’re a strong lady,” Shondra said. “You will get past this, I promise.”
Sarah looked unsure but lifted her chin.
“Tell us what happened,” Ellie said softly. “Who hurt you?”
Sarah winced as she handed the cup of water back to Shondra. “It was Ryder. I… don’t know what happened. He was acting strange all day, and decided he wanted to visit places people had died on the trail.”
Ellie shifted. “Was that usual for him?”
“It was weird, even though sometimes he slipped into a dark state. He suffered from night terrors, but he never explained what caused them. He was sullen after we found the body. Refused to talk, but I could tell it really got to him. I was upset, and he lost it and turned on me. When I tried to leave, he grabbed me, and I fell and…” She squeezed her eyes shut and let a minute pass before she opened them again.
“Do you have any idea where he was going when he left?” Ellie asked gently.
“No, I don’t care either. I never want to see him again.”
Shondra squeezed Sarah’s hand, and Ellie gave her a sympathetic smile. “I can understand that. Did he mention any family or a friend he’d turn to?”
“No, he was such a loner.”
“How about a second home?”
“I never even saw where he lived. He always came to my place.”
“Thank you for talking to us,” Ellie said. “I promise you we’ll find him. He won’t get away with what he did to you.”
113
Ellie stepped out and saw a man coming toward the doorway.
She recognized him immediately. The dark hair, the broad face, the intense look… Ryder.
As soon as he spotted her, he turned and ran down the hall.
Ellie flashed her badge to a med tech pushing a medicine cart. “Tell security to lock down the hospital and guard the door. Now!”
The door to the stairwell flew open, slamming back. Her shoes pounded the floor as she sprinted towards it, then inside. His feet hammered down the stairs, he crossed one landing, then sped onto the next.
Her breath puffed out as she took the steps two at a time. By the time she reached the next landing, she spotted him. Jumping over the rail, she launched herself onto him, catching him around the neck. But he threw her off him, crashing against the concrete wall. Pain shot through her shoulder blades and the force knocked the wind out of her.
He growled, storming down the steps again. Dragging herself up, she caught her breath, gripped the stairwell and pulled her weapon. Darting down the next flight, she saw him rounding the landing. Speeding up, she aimed her gun.
“Stop, Ryder, or I’ll shoot.”
He didn’t hesitate, not even for a second. She raced down, hit the landing and flew around the corner to the next level. But he was waiting in ambush, delivering a sharp blow to her arm and sending her gun flying. Then he took off again.
Shaking with anger, she struggled to regain her balance. Her arm was throbbing, but she ignored it and dashed further down in search of her gun. There it was. She snatched it, then barreled down the rest of the steps, adrenaline kicking in.
She spotted him near the exit and threw herself over the side of the landing, aiming the gun at his back. “Give it up, Ryder.”
He swung around, his body moving so fast that he landed a hard kick to her stomach. She fell to the ground, her head spinning but a second later, managed to scramble to her feet and aim the gun at him.
He reached for it with one beefy hand, pushing the barrel upward. A bullet pinged against the ceiling as they fought for the weapon, going down in a tangle of arms and legs. They traded blows, fists flying, and rolled down the rest of the steps to the bottom. She lost her weapon again and heard it slide across the floor.
Pain ricocheted through her back, and she tasted blood, but the image of Sarah’s battered face fueled her energy, and she crawled toward the gun. Ryder was going for it, too, but she made it first, then clenched it and jammed the barrel into his belly.
“Give it up, Ryder, I know you hurt Sarah.”
He went still, his big body heaving for a breath.
Ellie took a step back, keeping the gun trained on him. “Get against the wall now.”
He swallowed hard, and she braced herself for another fight, but slowly he did as she
said and raised his hands in surrender.
“You put Sarah in the hospital,” she said as she stood, careful to keep the gun on him. “And you killed those other women.”
His wide jaw hardened and his chest rose and fell with his labored breathing. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You led Sarah to Death’s Door, to Vanessa Morely. She said you wanted to visit other places people had died.” She pinned him with a stare. “Were you going to take her to the site of the murders, then kill her, too?”
Ryder’s face contorted. “You’re way off, Detective. I didn’t kill anyone.”
“You were a sniper,” Ellie ground out. “You killed for a living.”
His brows furrowed. “That was a long damn time ago, and it was based on orders.” His voice was low, lethal. “But if you’re talking about those women on the news that wasn’t me. I swear it.”
“Why should I believe you? I found Sarah. I saw what she looked like when you finished beating her.”
His control was slipping, his edge gone as emotions took over his expression. “I… don’t know what came over me,” he said, his voice choking.
“Then why did you run?”
His face reddened. “I… was ashamed. Something snapped inside me when I saw that dead woman. I… came here to tell Sarah how sorry I am. I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“All abusers deny their actions,” Ellie said. “Maybe you were going to beat her to death, then carry her body out into the woods to torch just like you did the others.”
“I told you I didn’t kill those women,” he growled. “And I certainly didn’t torch anyone.”
He sounded so convincing Ellie almost believed him. She slowly moved towards the stairwell exit, careful to keep a hard grip on her gun and the barrel pointed at his chest. “Get up. And if you try to run, I will shoot your ass.”