Detective Tran’s voice responded. “I received it, and it is all most interesting, but I am afraid some of it is not accurate. The only fingerprints found on the drugs in Mrs. Kyle’s locker were those of Lisa Braden.”
Ginny blinked. “She lied to us.”
“It would appear so.”
Ginny’s brow furrowed. “What possible use could it be to Lisa to lie about those drugs?”
“If she planted them, to deflect suspicion from herself.”
“Well, yes,” Ginny conceded. “What I mean is, she must have known Grace’s fingerprints weren’t on them, even if she thought hers weren’t either. Why choose Grace? If she overheard Grace and Phyllis arguing about illicit drug purchases, why not say it was Phyllis, which is what it looked like in the first place, and leave it at that?”
“That is a very interesting question. May I suggest you ask her? And while you are at it, I would be most interested to hear how she opened the combination lock.”
“I’ll do that.” Ginny heard a small hesitation.
“Miss Forbes, I am afraid I have unwelcome news for you. Maria Perez’s car has been found, abandoned and stripped. The windows were shot out, and the doors ripped off.”
Ginny caught her breath. “Was she—?”
“No, and there was no blood inside the vehicle. But I am afraid we have to be concerned about how she and the car became separated.”
Ginny nodded into the phone, her heart sinking. “I’ll tell Jim.”
“I wish to repeat, Miss Forbes, that, although we appreciate your cooperation in this investigation, you are not obligated to put yourself in danger. It might be prudent to let us take over from here.”
Ginny pulled herself together. “Detective Tran, I assure you, I have no intention of trying to play policeman.”
“A wise decision. Good day, Miss Forbes.”
“Yes, goodbye.” At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Jim being gunned down in the ER tonight. The police were all over the building and, if she read her laird correctly, there would be other guards in place as well. Angus, at least, was taking the threat seriously.
* * *
Wednesday evening
HQ of the North TX Distribution and Support Region
He sat behind his desk, his eyes on the Nurse Handler for the DFW area, carelessly tapping a pencil on the leather blotter, just fast enough to be irritating.
“You’re sure you can do this?”
“I can make sure she’s on that roof at that time. If he sets up with the helicopter pad on his right, he’ll have a clear shot.”
“You will escort her.”
“I will.”
He fell silent again. It was becoming necessary to act. “You have another problem, I think.”
The woman in front of him shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s personal.”
He waited, letting her grow even more uncomfortable.
“You don’t need to know about it,” she said.
He set the pencil down, leaned back in his chair, and brought his fingertips together. “I know everything there is to know about you, señorita. I know where you go on your vacations. I know about the irregular bank account withdrawals. I know how you managed to get the jobs you have now—both of them.” He watched as the color drained from her face. “There is someone blackmailing you.”
The woman hesitated, then nodded, then stood up a bit straighter and faced him. “I can take care of it.”
His eyes narrowed. “You killed a nurse, and drew the attention of the police, and the blackmail continues. This does not inspire confidence.”
Her nostrils flared. “They can’t pin that woman’s death on me.”
He studied her face. Arrogant and intractable, a bad combination. “I must think on this. We’ll speak again. For now, do nothing. Do you understand?”
She nodded, then turned and left the room.
He waited. Five minutes after her departure, the door opened again. The man who entered said nothing, just approached the desk and stood, waiting to be addressed.
“¿Escuchaste?”
“Sí, I heard.”
“Will there be a problem?”
“No. I have already looked at the building. There is a parking structure across the street.”
He nodded, then pulled a photograph out of his drawer and laid it, face up, on the desk. “This is your target.”
“Sí, obispo. Sera hecho.”
* * *
Wednesday late evening
Hillcrest Medical ICU
It had taken some doing, but Ginny had cornered Lisa in the medication room and barred the door, demanding that Lisa explain herself.
“I don’t have to talk to you!”
Ginny’s frown deepened. “I spoke to Detective Tran today. She said the only fingerprints on those drugs in Phyllis’ locker were yours. She also wants to know how you got in. So, do you want to be taken down to the police station to explain that, or would you rather tell me?” She saw Lisa blanch, then flush, her eyes angry.
“You think you’re so smart! Well, I’ve got news for you. You’re not the only person around here with contacts. I have a few of my own.”
Ginny crossed her arms on her chest, her back against the door. “Oh?”
“Yes! You might be surprised at what I know.”
“What do you know?”
“I know your precious Dr. Mackenzie isn’t as lily-white as he would have you believe!”
Ginny controlled her face. Jim was still a stranger in many ways, but she wasn’t going to believe anything Lisa said about him, not without evidence and a full confession from Jim. “How would you know that?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Lisa was sneering now.
Ginny’s voice grew quieter. “Yes, I would. Who’ve you been talking to?”
Lisa stuck her nose in the air. “Let’s just say I have it on very good authority that Dr. Mackenzie could have easily ended up as Mr. Mackenzie, if not for a certain person’s interference.”
Ginny took a slow breath and counted to ten. Lisa was accusing Jim of having crossed a line that put his medical license in jeopardy. What’s more, she was suggesting undue influence had been needed to get him out of trouble. It was possible, of course, but not relevant. Not at the moment. She decided to try a bluff. “You haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know.”
Lisa’s face fell, then stiffened. “You don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I think you’re making it up on the spot.”
“That’s not true! It came out when they did his hire-on paperwork. I’ve seen it.”
“You’re not on the committee. How did you see his paperwork?”
Lisa’s eyes slid away. “I told you. I have contacts.”
Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “Someone in Human Resources.”
“Yes! And that’s all I’m going to say.” Lisa tried to shoulder her way past Ginny, but Ginny didn’t budge.
“How did you get into Phyllis’ locker?”
Lisa smirked. “Do you have any idea how often kids forget their locker combinations? I used to charge them five dollars a time to reset those things. It’s easy, when you know how.”
“What about the drugs? How did you get your hands on them?”
“That’s easy, too, if you know where to go and have the cash.”
Ginny frowned. “Are you using?”
Lisa flared up immediately. “No!” Her denial was vehement enough to make Ginny wonder if she’d hit a sore spot.
“Lisa, if you have a problem, the Board has a safety net. They’ll help you. All you have to do is ask.”
Lisa’s eyes grew cold. “Butt out.”
Ginny took a breath. Lisa’s transgressions, whatever they might be (short of murder), were not her responsibility. She steered the conversation back to Phyllis.
“Why did you say Grace planted those drugs in Phyllis’ locker?”
“Because they hated each other.”
/> Ginny’s brow furrowed. “Why did you think that?”
“Because I saw them fighting.”
“In addition to that scene about the miscarriage?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Lisa hesitated. “I don’t remember the date.”
“Where, then?”
“At the drug buy.”
“How do you know they were buying illegal drugs?”
“Why else would they be there?”
Ginny could feel another headache starting. Lisa had that effect on her. “Did money change hands?”
“How would I know?”
“Lisa, you’re accusing two ICU nurses of trafficking in illegal drugs. You can’t do that without proof.”
“I’ve got pictures.”
Ginny was startled. “You do?”
“Well, not me, but someone I know does.”
“What are we talking about here? A camera phone in the shadows under the bridge?”
“How did you know it was a bridge?”
From Corey Jones, Ginny thought, but didn’t share. “Unless you have a seriously good camera, there won’t be any way to tell who it was.”
“Well, he does, and I’ve seen his pictures. He’s got shots of the two of them arguing and there’s one where Phyllis put her hand on Grace’s arm and then Grace took a swing at her.” Lisa’s eyes danced at the memory. “You can see it clear as day.”
Ginny was silent for a moment, thinking it through. Zimmerman, of course. Collecting images for the news media. “Was this friend of yours following Grace or Phyllis?”
“I have no idea why he was there. Let me go, I have to go back to work.”
Ginny reached out and caught one of Lisa’s hands, holding it up so they could both see there were no pictures on the now short and very clean fingernails.
“You broke a nail on the night Phyllis died. What happened to it?”
Lisa jerked her hand back. “Someone found it and turned it in to the Old Witch.”
Ginny’s eyebrows rose. “Did it have one of those X-rated scenes on it?”
Lisa’s lips twitched. “Yes. She was not happy.”
Ginny could well believe it. “Who found it?”
“She didn’t tell me.”
That could be discovered and whoever found the nail could tell them where. Ginny went back to the cocaine trap.
“Why did you put those drugs in Phyllis’ locker? You must have had a reason.”
Lisa sniffed. “Well, if you have to know, she was bugging me about getting counseling. I wanted her to get a taste of what it’s like to be on the receiving end of someone’s self-righteous attitude. She should have left me alone. Now can I go?”
Ginny nodded, stepping aside to let Lisa slip past her and out the door. Here it was again. Another example of a do-gooder who couldn’t live and let live. But was it enough to get her killed?
Ginny shook her head at the problem, then went back to her own work. Sad, really, that the world didn’t reward those willing to reach out to help others. But one had to accept that sticking one’s neck out came with risks. There was always a chance someone would make sure you never did it again.
* * *
Chapter 34
Day 14 – Thursday morning
Forbes residence
Her shift was over and Ginny was already sliding between the sheets when her phone went off.
“May I speak to Ginny Forbes, please? It’s Becky Peel from Austin.”
Ginny sat up in bed. “Oh! Hello! What’s up?”
“I thought you’d like to know we traced that Registered Nurse license number to one of the batch of Mexican graduates that came across the border last year.”
“Maria Perez?”
“Yes, and son. Here on a work visa with a fast track option for citizenship.”
“Anything fishy about her status?”
“No. She’s clean and the whole thing looks like a win-win for the nurses and the long-term care facilities in Texas.”
“Except that it’s not.”
“Well, that’s what this legislation is about.”
“When’s the vote?”
“This afternoon. It’s going to be interesting. You should see the crowds gathered on the lawn outside the capital!”
“Are they giving you trouble?”
“Not yet, but the police are taking no chances.”
“Well, stay out of it. You still owe me a recording of the last day of the conference and a Continuing Education certificate!”
“I’ll get right on that. Bye!”
* * *
Thursday afternoon
Forbes residence
Eight hours of sleep later, Ginny rose and pulled on sweats, then, coffee in hand, settled down at her desk. An idea had occurred to her while she was at work last night, but she’d been too busy to follow up on it. She brought up the images, summaries, transcripts, and badge data on the two respiratory therapists, then settled down to build a new timeline, starting with Peter.
Ginny went through every bit of data, locating, compiling, and transcribing the information. When she was done, she had a table showing where Peter was for each part of the window of opportunity. It had some gaps, of course, but it did what she had predicted it would do. She paged down and did the same thing for Dee.
When she was through with both lists, she printed the document and got out her colored pens. She highlighted each gap in the timelines, and noted how long they lasted, then marked how far from the restroom the two RTs were during the gaps.
She studied her handiwork, then did some rough calculations. When she was satisfied, she put her pencil down and leaned back in her chair. She was now prepared to swear that neither Dee nor Peter could have gone into the ladies’ restroom, attacked Phyllis, dragged her into the handicap stall, locked it from the inside, crawled out underneath, removed the PPE, and gotten out into the Unit and back to duty in the time available. They were both just too busy.
That still left Marjorie Hawkins, Grace, and Lisa. More work to be done, but it was definitely progress! She put the investigation away, and turned her attention to her impending date with Jim. When the doorbell rang, she grabbed her evening bag, and headed downstairs.
Sinia caught them in the front hall. “I know you’re on your way out,” she said, “but come take a peek at the news before you go.” She led them into the den where the announcer was reading a prepared statement.
“The rioting has been going on for more than four hours with no end in sight. The winners have retired from the scene, but the nurses on the losing side are not prepared to give up.”
Far from giving up, they were locked in heavy combat with the Austin police department. Ginny shook her head.
“What good do they think this will do?”
“They think,” Sinia said, “the end justifies the means. The problem is, history tells us they’re wrong.”
* * *
Thursday evening
Reunion / Jim’s apartment
Ginny’d had trouble remembering to eat. Her eyes kept being drawn to the window and the view beyond.
“Like it?”
She turned to look at Jim, her face radiant. “I love it!”
He’d surprised her. All he’d said was, “Dinner.” Then he’d brought her here, to Reunion Tower and the revolving restaurant at the top. The food had been excellent, the view spectacular. Christmas lights were up all over the county and the LEDs on the geodesic frame rippled with seasonal animations in bright red and green.
“I’d like to come back in daylight. I’ll bet you can see all the way to Colorado.”
He laughed and refilled her glass. “It’s a date.”
Ginny looked up as the waiter arrived with dessert, a watermelon-flavored sorbet with tiny dark chocolate ‘seeds’.
“Delicious!”
They lingered over the wine, then Jim signaled the waiter for the check. He raised an eyebrow at the total. “This may have to be
your Christmas present.”
She smiled. “If so, I’m well satisfied.”
“May I offer you coffee at my place?”
“If you don’t think it will compromise my reputation.”
Jim laughed. “We have a chaperone, you know. DeSoto’s agents are still tailing me everywhere.”
Ginny looked around. “How do you know? Can you see them?”
“Not usually. Every now and then one of them makes eye contact, just to let me know they’re still there.”
Once inside his apartment, Jim headed for the kitchen. “This will take a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”
Ginny settled down on the sofa, slipping her shoes off and putting her feet up on the hassock. When the coffee was ready, Jim served her, then sat down facing her.
“I wanted a chance to talk to you in private.”
She sipped at her cup. “What’s on your mind?”
“I’m having trouble,” he said, “reconciling my conscience. Risking my own life is one thing. Risking yours is another. I want you to tell Detective Tran she’ll have to carry on without you. You can go to relatives or a friend or stay at one of the Homesteads, but I want you out of town until this is over.”
Ginny set her cup down on the table. “Jim, you told me the only way I would get my confidence back was to take risks. Mother said the same.”
“Reasonable risks, yes. I didn’t mean taking on the drug cartel.”
Ginny studied his face, then sighed. “I asked your grandfather to do the same—with you.”
“But—”
She held up a hand and he fell silent. “He wouldn’t do it.” She put her feet on the floor and leaned toward him. “Neither you nor I is bulletproof, even with a vest on. The only way to make the problem go away is to eliminate it.”
“That’s not your job–or mine.”
“I know, but would you rather be cannon fodder? Just waiting blindly for the bullet with your name on it? Or would you rather fight back?”
“You can still fight back, from a distance.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Was I safer in Austin?”
“No, but that was because you were with me.”
She took both of his hands in hers. “Jim, do you really think I can hide from the cartel?”
He blinked, then frowned, then dropped his eyes. “No.”
The Swick and the Dead Page 23