BLOODY BELL

by Jeremy Waldron

  “But this wasn’t the vacation I dreamed of taking.” Allison laughed.

  We said our goodbyes and, as soon as we stepped into the hallway, Erin said in a low voice, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Not here,” I breathed.

  My eyes were shifty as they bounced off every face we passed. I had made judgements far too quickly to not notice my own feelings of paranoia. We were surrounded by doctors, researchers, and people of medicine who were suggesting our friend get on the next clinical trial for a technology that may or may not be linked to the women we were actively searching for.

  We rode the elevator down to the lobby floor and Erin kept giving me funny glances.

  I couldn’t believe I was even thinking a doctor could be behind these deaths, but with everything Susan shared about the conference, it was the only thing that answered all of our questions. Someone wanted the babies, but not the mothers. Young women were offered medical care and money during their pregnancy. Once the mothers gave birth, a staged suicide got rid of the evidence.

  My stomach turned on itself, threatening to offer a rerun of this morning’s breakfast. Who, and where, were these people willing to go to such horrendous lengths? And what were they really testing?

  “Sam, did you hear what Susan was saying?” Erin opened her mouth as soon as we were within sight of my car.

  I unlocked my door and swung it open. “Remind me again, who are we meeting with?”

  Erin stared and sighed. “Tony and Kristi Patterson.”

  “Ah, right. The couple who thinks their IVF baby might not be theirs.”

  “Yes.” Erin’s lips pursed. “So, you are thinking what I’m thinking.”

  I fell behind the wheel and started the car. Erin followed a second after and buckled herself in. I struggled to see how this was relevant and questioned whether it was just a waste of our time when Cameron Dee’s life depended on us. But something told me we needed to speak with the Pattersons—and that in doing so, our conversation would somehow lead us to Cameron and Tracey.

  “Sam—”

  “Yes,” I snapped. “I’m thinking what you are.” My body was on fire. “That these women we’re looking for don’t have a chance at seeing tomorrow if we can’t track them down.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Detective King couldn’t get Matt Wilson’s words out of his head. They played on repeat as King sat hunched over his desk tracing the same circle around the name of the clinic Matt thought his daughter visited.

  King’s pulse was faint as he tried to piece together Kate’s death. He had more doubts than he had answers and wasn’t sure that labeling her death a homicide was the correct use of department resources. But with the ME making the same conclusion for the Browns’ deaths, he made a promise to Lieutenant to look further into both cases.

  King turned to his computer and tapped at the keyboard. A second later, the browser populated with the Mile High Health Clinic website. The clinic was a non-profit organization designed to better serve the underprivileged and at-risk community of Denver. King was aware of their existence but a brief familiarization didn’t hurt. The clinic provided basic services in health including sex education, birth control, abortion, emergency contraception, as well as healthcare during pregnancy. It all lined up with what Kate’s father said.

  As King clicked his way through the website, he knew the clinic provided the perfect solution for someone in Kate’s position. Navigating his way to the contact page, King picked up his desk phone and made the call.

  “Mile High Health Clinic. This is Lauren. How may I help you?” King identified himself before asking Lauren if she was familiar with the clinic’s online marketing strategy. “Most of our patients come to us by word of mouth.”

  “And what about online? Do you actively run an ad campaign on the internet?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. You would have to ask Franky about that. She manages the social media page and website.” Detective King took Franky’s information before Lauren continued, “Our presence online is well established. A simple internet search will direct inquiries straight to our website. We try to have the least amount of resistance when someone is seeking our help.”

  King was scratching his scalp, his mind churning. “I searched your website, but maybe you could help answer a question I have about your services.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Do you offer financial assistance to any of your patients?”

  “No. We promise only healthcare. Of course, since we are a non-profit, we cover those costs—as nothing comes for free.” Lauren chuckled. “But only for the treatment conducted in our own facility. And, just so we’re clear, we never offer personal financial assistance, say, to help a client pay their rent. There are other services that can help with that.”

  King leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I’m curious, could you confirm if a Tracey Brown visited your clinic at any time during the past nine months?”

  Lauren chuckled lightly. “I’m sorry, Detective. I can’t legally share that kind of information with you.”

  “If not a Tracey Brown, perhaps a Cameron Dee?” King rolled the dice again, hoping he’d have better luck on his second try.

  “I’m sorry.” Lauren’s voice was full of disappointment. “You’re asking about private information. What’s this all about?”

  King debated whether or not to say. “A possible kidnapping and conspiracy to murder.”

  Lauren gasped—shocked into complete silence. “I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat and got her voice back. “I wish I could help. Maybe if you had a warrant we’d be able to release that information but, honestly, you really should be speaking to our attorney at this point.”

  King ended the call, leaned back, and rubbed his face inside his hands.

  It was time he started fresh—moved on from trying to track down the mysterious online ad that didn’t seem to exist at all. His focus returned to the victims with fentanyl in their systems when remembering Lieutenant Baker’s instruction.

  Rolling himself closer to his desk, he opened up the file he had on Keith and Pam Brown.

  There was no ransom for Tracey’s safe return, nor for either of the other two victims. Though, according to the Browns’ file, they had money—lots of it. So, why did Tracey disappear?

  King was beginning to doubt her disappearance had any relation to Kate’s or Cameron’s. Of the three women, Tracey was the anomaly. She wasn’t poor. She lived in an upper, middle-class neighborhood with parents who were still married. Tracey was the exact opposite of everything Cameron and Kate were. So how did she fit inside this puzzle? King wasn’t sure she did, but he kept coming back to the bottle of prenatal vitamins found in Tracey’s abandoned car and the amount of money her parents had.

  “I don’t know why I wasted my time,” Alvarez said as he passed behind King. “Unless your computer is broken, those guys in IT are useless.” Alvarez dropped into his chair like an anchor. “Their suggestions weren’t any better than our own ideas.” He threaded his fingers behind his head, leaned back his chair, and stared at King. “Anything?”

  King told his partner about his conversation with Matt Wilson, his call to the clinic, and how he wanted to restart their entire investigation by revisiting the Browns’ case.

  “You think we might have missed something?”

  King looked his partner in the eye and nodded once. “I think we’re missing something big, and her name is Tracey.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Alex King steered their sedan toward the First Bank on 17th Street in the Central Business District where Keith Brown had been employed. As he drove, the two detectives discussed the Browns’ crime scene.

  “I’ve been thinking about their dog,” King said.

  “What about it?”

  “Wouldn’t Tracey have picked it up from the shelter by now?”

  Alvarez’s eyebrows furrowed as he leaned into the car door and stared.
“And not come to us first to learn what happened to her parents? Doesn’t make sense.”

  “You heard what their neighbor said about them.” King pulled down the visor to block the sun’s glare. “I’m starting to think he might have been right.”

  “Are you suggesting Tracey may have killed them?”

  It had certainly crossed King’s mind. “What I’m saying is that if it weren’t for Tracey to have gone missing that same night—which does make her seem guilty—we would have ruled her parents’ deaths a suicide without question.”

  “Except we found her car.”

  King rolled his neck to Alvarez. “The perfect getaway.”

  Alvarez turned his head to the window and the car fell still for a moment before King asked, “Do you think Campbell is a good detective?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I can’t help but feel like he’s dragging his feet on this investigation.” King adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “He doesn’t give two shits about Cameron or Kate because no one does. It’s the same story of neglect when dealing with crimes stemming from Denver’s poor neighborhoods.”

  “Are you sure this isn’t about what he said about Samantha?”

  “It has everything to do with Samantha, but am I wrong?”

  “No doubt Samantha is beating him to the punch, but let me tell you something.” Alvarez pushed himself up in his seat and King watched his partner’s face harden into stone. “Campbell doesn’t know dick about how great an officer Gavin Bell was. As far as he’s concerned, Samantha is just like the rest of the media vultures.”

  “Samantha’s not going to stop.”

  “I wouldn’t expect her to.” Alvarez shifted his focus to the road ahead. “But if she makes Campbell look bad, we’ll all feel the repercussions.”

  King curbed the car in front of the bank and, once inside, they badged their way to upper management. The manager on duty was Sandy Faulkner and, by the haunting look on her face, she was still coming to terms with the news of Keith’s sudden death.

  “I was shocked when I heard the news,” she said. “Obviously, I’ve been thinking a lot about it and my thoughts are with his—and Pam’s—family.”

  King asked Sandy a half-dozen questions and nothing about her answers were suspicious. She spoke highly of Keith and the work he did for the bank. She had only good things to say about both Pam and Tracey as well. She admitted her relationship with Keith was purely professional and their private lives rarely crossed so her knowledge of what he was actually like was limited.

  “May we see his desk?” King asked.

  “Certainly.” Sandy began walking. “Just this way.”

  As they approached Keith’s desk, King was quick to spot a framed photograph of Tracey perched near his computer. He took it into his hand and stared.

  It was a nice picture—a school picture—perhaps her senior photo. Tracey was bright-eyed and full of teenage spirit. She had obviously taken the time to look perfect for the photo. She looked smarter in this picture than any of the others they had found at the house. He could understand why Keith had wanted to keep it on his desk. It was hard for King to imagine Tracey having anything to do with her parents’ deaths, but he’d been surprised before; why not again?

  “Take all the time you need,” Sandy said, leaving the detectives to freely browse.

  Alvarez was busy opening and shutting drawers while King pawed his way through stacks of paperwork that was mostly blank sheets waiting to be completed by clients.

  “Are you police officers?” a man’s voice asked softly from behind.

  King swept his eyes up and stared at the man from beneath his brow. “Detectives.”

  The sharply dressed man with carefully combed hair glanced around nervously. “Mind if we talk outside?”

  King rolled his gaze to Alvarez. They shared a knowing look and said, “Yeah. After you tell us who you are.”

  His name was Joshua Zinn and he was a commercial lender with the bank. As soon as they stepped outside and rounded the corner of the building, Joshua asked the detectives, “What’s this about?”

  “You worked with Keith?” King responded.

  “He was my colleague, but different areas of expertise.” Joshua kept his hands buried inside his pockets as he talked. “We’re still feeling his absence in the office. That’s why you’re here? To investigate his death?”

  Alvarez stared and King nodded. “How did you learn that he died?”

  “Sandy told me.” Joshua paused, acting like he had something he wanted to get off his chest.

  “Whatever you have to say, you can tell us,” Alvarez gently pushed.

  Joshua bounced his gaze between the two detectives. “I can’t say I was surprised to hear Keith died.”

  King’s eyes narrowed, wondering why Joshua said died and not took his life. “And why is that?”

  “Keith didn’t seem himself lately.” Joshua licked his lips, and when King asked what he meant by it, Joshua said, “It’s none of my business but I know it devastated him.”

  “What did, Joshua?”

  “His daughter, Tracey, was pregnant.”

  King shared a knowing glance with Alvarez. Joshua’s story was lining up with Beth’s from Olive Garden.

  “It wasn’t just that Tracey was pregnant that destroyed Keith, but it was the fact that it was out of wedlock when it happened.” Joshua’s right hand was now pointing at the ground as he locked his eyes with King’s. “That’s when I saw Keith go downhill.”

  “Did you know that his daughter is missing?”

  “Oh, geeze.” He wiped a hand over his face. “I hadn’t heard.”

  “Any idea where we might be able to find her?”

  Joshua shook his head.

  “She wouldn’t think of stopping in the bank to collect her father’s things, would she?”

  “Tracey hasn’t been around for close to a year. Look, I felt like Keith had lost all sense of direction. He was venturing into murky waters and doing things I had never known him to do before.”

  Alvarez shifted his weight to his opposite leg. “Like what? Can you give us an example?”

  “I wanted to come out sooner and give a statement, but when I heard that their deaths had been ruled a suicide,” Joshua lifted his shoulders to hide his neck, “I didn’t think anyone would care.”

  “What kind of clients did Keith work with?” King attempted to bring Joshua back on track.

  “Wait, are you investigating his death as a homicide?”

  King lowered his voice and said, “We’re not ruling anything out at this point.”

  “Christ.”

  “Know anyone who might have wanted him dead?”

  Joshua’s gaze was distant, his face a pale green. Slowly, his head began to nod. “The Browns were involved in some lawsuit against a doctor.” He lifted his gaze and looked the detectives in the eyes as he spoke. “I didn’t ask too much about it—wasn’t really my business—but the few times I heard Keith griping about the stress it was causing him, I thought maybe it had something to do with his daughter’s pregnancy.”

  “Do you still believe that was what this lawsuit was about?”

  Joshua shook his head and told the detectives about a conversation he had overheard one afternoon while Keith was on the phone. “I only caught bits and pieces of it, but it sounded like some kind of investment gone bad.”

  King’s eyebrows lifted. His stomach hardened with thoughts of motives to kill someone running through his head. “And the lawsuit was with a doctor?”

  “I think so.”

  “Do you have a name for the doctor?”

  Joshua shook his head. “I assumed it was for a boat-load of money. With Keith, it was always about money. He was ruthless in his pursuit of riches and the greediest SOB I’ve ever known.” Joshua cracked a smile. “But here is where it gets really scary.” Joshua tipped his body forward and King watched his eyes go wide. “The trial was supposed to begin yesterday,
the day after they died.”

  Chapter Forty

  We arrived at a modest house in the Denver suburb of Wheat Ridge. I didn’t say much on our drive from the hospital and it was for the better. I needed to cool my frustration, gather my wits, and decide if what I was thinking could actually be possible.

  Erin took the lead and knocked on the Pattersons’ door without asking if I was ready. It didn’t matter. This was her story. All I wanted was to get back to figuring out where Cameron and Tracey may have sought medical treatment and if Cameron responded to the same online advertisement Tracey had to get her through the doors.

  A moment passed before a woman, who I assumed was Kristi Patterson, opened the door and smiled. “Now, which one of you is Erin?”

  “That’s me.” Erin extended her hand for Kristi to shake. “Thanks for inviting us here. This is my colleague, Samantha Bell.”

  Kristi’s eyes found their way to me and she smiled. “I’m a huge fan of your work.”

  “Thank you,” I said just as a three-year-old boy came out of nowhere and wrapped my leg up in the biggest hug he could give.

  “That’s our boy, Tommy.” Kristi’s eyes swelled with pride. “He’s the reason I called you here.” Kristi’s eyes drooped slightly. “Please, come inside.”

  Tommy reminded me of Mason at that age. The rollercoaster ride of emotions and boundless energy before the inevitable crash. He made me smile and laugh and, without realizing it, he was the reason for my lessened anxieties.

  “I’m sorry, my husband Tony is working.” Kristi was in khakis and a fleece vest, casually dressed, which made me think she was a stay at home parent.

  “That’s quite all right,” Erin said.

  “Can I offer anybody anything to drink?” Tommy clawed at his mother’s legs, begging for her to play with him, and Kristi scooped him up and set him on her side.

  “No. I’m fine. Thank you,” I said.

  Erin declined as well and, when Tommy wouldn’t settle down, Kristi told us she was going to try putting him down for a nap. He’d had an interrupted night of sleep with an unrelenting cold keeping him up.