“It wasn’t stated in the report.”
“No, the hospital should have sent them to us. I’ll make a call and see what the holdup was.”
“Oh, okay. Whatever it takes. That brings me to another issue.” She gestured to the evidence box. “I’d like these two pieces of Amanda Payton’s clothing examined, along with the garments from Jane Doe when you get them. I think there’s a link between them.”
“Done. I’ll make sure it’s done myself.”
“And the letter?”
“That’s a bit trickier. I will be spraying a solution called ninhydrin which will react to the amino acids in the fingertips into a purple-like color. It can take a while for any prints to appear, and there’s always the chance the sender wore gloves.”
“Thank you, John. I really appreciate you making time for this with everything else.”
“No problem. You can quit thanking me.” He looked up at her and smiled a little too long.
Katie felt herself begin to flush, so she turned to leave. “If you get a match, you know where to find me.” She quickly left the lab.
Twenty
Friday 1545 hours
After calls to both of Amanda’s cousins—Bradley Olson, and Melissa Roe—which didn’t result in any new leads as neither of them had seen her for a year, Katie tried calling Amanda’s supervisor, Dr. Kenneth Jamison. The phone rang and rang but no one picked up. She tried the hospital’s front desk and was able to obtain his work schedule; twelve-hour shifts for the next three days. Looking at the clock, Katie estimated she had time for a quick trip to the First Memorial Hospital while she waited for forensics and the autopsy report on Amanda Payton to come back. McGaven would soon be joining her to help do some of the legwork and divvy up the duties, but for now she wanted to amass as much information as possible.
The traffic was extra heavy as people hurried to leave work early to get home and start the weekend. As Katie inched her way downtown past office buildings, restaurants, and shopping malls to where the hospital was located, she realized that she hadn’t spent much time enjoying the area since she had been home from the army. Downtown gave a contrast to the more rural areas around the outskirts of the county, but it was pleasing to live somewhere with the balance of both. Pine Valley was also taking great strides to revamp, remodel, and redesign the older and rundown areas. There was a large park meandering around the downtown area, called Adirondack Plaza, where you could walk, jog, cycle, or just sit on one of the many benches and enjoy the scenery. Trees, blooming flowers and two large fountains were the main points of interest. As Katie drove past the western area of the park, she saw a group of joggers dressed in brightly colored running gear and a large group of children playing on one of the playgrounds.
Finally the traffic lessened and she was able to pass through three traffic lights, making her way toward the hospital. The low evening sun reflected off the buildings and windows making them sparkle. Ten minutes farther and she could see the huge hospital.
After parking, Katie stepped through the large automatic doors and quickly scanned the reception for signs directing her to the intensive care unit where Amanda had worked as a nurse for the past six years. She caught the elevator to the third floor and made a beeline to the main desk area where there were two nurses on duty.
“I’m Detective Katie Scott from the sheriff’s office here to see Dr. Jamison. Would he be available?” She didn’t think she needed to flash her police badge at this point.
The bored-looking nurse with the name tag identifying her as Ruth, RN, didn’t look up from her paperwork. “He’s here. Not sure where at the moment. Do you want me to page him?”
“That would be great. Thank you.”
Katie moved to an area out of the way and waited. She could have taken a seat, but she wanted to assess the place and watch the employees go about their work. It was busy for a Friday afternoon and the stifling air made Katie feel uncomfortable, reminding her of the psychiatric ward she’d been in just that morning.
Over the intercom she heard, “Dr. Jamison, please come to the front nurses’ station 10-43.” Then again, “Dr. Jamison, please come to the front nurses’ station 10-43.”
After fifteen minutes, it appeared Dr. Jamison was too busy in the chaos all around her to answer her call. She knew that a 10-43 was a request for information and not a medical emergency. So she walked back to the nurse station and asked, “I don’t want to take up your time, but did you know someone who worked here—Amanda Payton?”
For the first time, Ruth looked up from her work and stared Katie in the eye. “Of course. What do you want to know? I heard she was killed—such awful, awful news,” she said, suddenly warm.
“Yes. She quit. Do you know anything about that?” Katie asked.
“Well, I wasn’t surprised.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look,” she said, “I didn’t have anything against her, but she was one of those types that always had some kind of catastrophe in her personal life. She quit without any notice and we were already shorthanded here.” The nurse took a deep breath. “If you want to know more about her, try Marco Ellis, he’s an intern downstairs.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that,” said Katie, recognizing the name from Hamilton’s list of contacts.
“All the way to the basement,” the nurse called after her as she made her way to the elevator.
Katie rode down in the crowded elevator listening to two young nurses complaining about their patients. No one paid any attention to her and it struck Katie how many people could enter and exit the hospital on a daily basis. In a place like this it would be easy for someone to blend in without anyone ever noticing.
The elevator arrived on the ground floor and the two nurses quickly exited, leaving her alone to ride the rest of the way down, where the doors opened into a deserted hallway. Stepping out, Katie realized suddenly that “basement” meant the morgue and a familiar feeling trickled up through her arms causing her breath to catch. She fought the urge to get back in the lift and head back to the living. This was a place she didn’t want to be. But she needed to be.
The light illuminating the hallway dimmed as Katie’s focus narrowed. Her mouth went dry. Tongue sticky. Gums parched. The familiar slow attack of the anxiety that surfaced every time she was in an unknown area with no quick escape. She licked her lips.
Thirst overwhelmed her. Back at the army headquarters, her uniform weighing down on her like she carried an extra hundred pounds of dust and grief, all she could think about was water. Cisco pressed close to her left thigh. Eyes bright, ears perked, alert and strong. No matter how difficult or dangerous the situation, he was always there for her. He perfectly read her mood and her fears, and, most importantly, he always knew where the bad people were.
She passed a few members of her team in a daze and continued down a long hallway, her feet dragging with exhaustion, not really realizing she had taken a wrong turn until, looking to her right, she saw stretchers with sheets covering them, bright crimson blooms seeping through. Her knees buckled beneath her…
Katie blinked away the memory and tried to focus on the job in hand. Where would she find Marco Ellis? Was he a doctor intern, or a student intern?
“Excuse me,” came a voice from behind her. “Are you looking for someone?”
Katie turned and saw a handsome young man wearing a blood-spattered lab coat. Her blood went cold at the sight and she blinked again. “Yes, please, I’m looking for Marco Ellis.”
“That’s me,” he said, eyeing her badge. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m Detective Katie Scott with the sheriff’s department.”
“Okay?” Clearly, he was suspicious of her but remained polite.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about Amanda Payton?”
“Yes, I know Amanda. Is she okay?”
“Is there a place we can talk privately?”
“Please, follow me,” he said and opened one of th
e closed doors.
Katie followed Marco into a large room where two bodies lay on gurneys. One was an old man, maybe in his eighties, with excessively wrinkled skin, and the other was a middle-aged woman. Both bodies were in the middle of autopsies with their torso area split wide open, a technician carefully weighing the internal organs and recording results.
Marco walked along another hallway passing supply rooms and other exam areas. He stopped at another door that led into an office. He waited for Katie to enter before he closed the door behind them. The office was small and littered with folders and paperwork on a good-sized desk. He took a seat in the leather chair. There was an audio recorder set up to make easy recordings of the cases for an administrative assistant to transcribe.
“Please have a seat, Detective Scott,” he said.
Katie sat down in a molded plastic chair, sorting her thoughts for the questions she wanted to ask, being careful not to give away any private information.
“I’m sorry to inform you, but Amanda Payton was found dead yesterday morning,” she began.
“What?” He was barely able to respond. “How? Where?”
“Yesterday her body was found—and the investigation is currently under way. I’m sorry, but I’m not authorized to talk about details.”
“Oh… no, Amanda…”
“How well did you know her?”
He moved slightly in his chair before he answered. “I met her a couple of years ago.”
“And how close were you?”
“We went out a few times and spent time together here at lunch and during breaks.”
“Did you want more—a more serious relationship?” she said.
He hesitated and answered carefully. “I thought so, but it became clear that we weren’t compatible for the long haul.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” Katie watched his mannerisms and listened carefully as he answered.
“It was a couple of months ago, a few weeks after she quit. She was really upset and came down here to tell me that something really bad happened to her—some type of attack.”
“Did she give you any details?”
“No, she just said she thought someone was trying to find her.”
Katie paused a moment, observing Marco and deciding that he was likely telling the truth. His eye contact was a bit inconsistent and she couldn’t tell if he was deceiving her or not. “Did she say why or who?” She watched his hands, which he kept wringing, rubbing his thumbs against the sides of his index fingers, unable to keep them still.
He shook his head. “I tried to get her to tell me, but I wasn’t sure if she knew. But I can tell you that she was scared—really terrified.”
“Was she dating anyone?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What makes you say that?” Katie asked.
“It’s what she said, how she was hiding and scared to go out, especially at night.”
“What do you think?”
“About?”
“You’ve known Amanda for a while. Did this behavior seem normal, or out of character?”
“See, that’s just it. The way she had been acting, even before her attack, didn’t seem like her. I don’t know what to tell you, Detective. I think she was very afraid of someone.”
“Do you know her friend, Emily Day?” Katie asked.
“Don’t know her personally, I’m sorry. Amanda mentioned her a few times.”
“Is there anything that you would like for me to know?”
“I can’t think of anything,” he said and leaned back, clearly upset.
Katie stood to leave. “Thank you, Mr. Ellis, I appreciate your time. Here’s my card if you think of anything that might help us; please call me anytime.” She handed him a business card.
“I hope you find him,” he said as Katie left.
Katie rushed back to the elevator, pressing the button frantically as she waited for it to return.
When the doors finally opened, she rode the elevator up and exited out into the bustling ground floor hallway. She rushed to finally step outside and took a few deep breaths—still seeing the bodies on the gurneys and smelling death.
Twenty-One
Early Saturday morning
Katie had a difficult time trying to sleep, tossing and turning, worrying about what to do next in Amanda’s homicide investigation. Every time she closed her eyes and tried to rest, she could see Amanda’s body at the crime scene. Facedown. Naked. Katie’s name on a business card clutched in her hand.
Why Whispering Pines?
Why strip the body?
Why restrain her after she died?
Katie finally relented and threw her covers back, letting the cool air from the room float over her body. Cisco grumbled from his chair in the corner of the bedroom but didn’t want to rise just yet. Katie sat up, swung her feet to the floor and headed to the shower to try to clear her head, but all she ended up doing was reworking the case from the beginning, the very beginning; the moment Amanda stepped in front of the patrol car. Katie’s mind jostled between that night and Amanda’s final resting spot at Whispering Pines, searching for a link. But only one thing became clear: she needed to visit where it had all had been set in motion.
Katie drove slowly through the abandoned neighborhood, formerly known as the Basin Woods Development, on the south end of town. It had been a thorn in the side of Sequoia County for several years now, the total opposite of everything Pine Valley resembled. Even in the daytime the houses appeared more like props on a film set than what was once a thriving residential area. It was unclear to her why they never invested in improving it, except that the land was probably more valuable than the cheaply built houses that sat on it. That was typical for California property.
Still rolling slowly, Katie saw there were subdivisions with chain-link fencing cordoning them off, but much of the neighborhood was old and falling down, decorated with rusting “no trespassing” signs. The copy of Deputy Windham’s police report lay on the passenger’s seat beside her, the addresses of the local houses they had searched highlighted, and also land parcel identifications from the county. Katie had also printed out an assessor’s map showing the addresses with an overview satellite map and had studied them carefully before heading into the derelict neighborhood.
Cisco popped his head up between the two front seats, ears alert and eyes clocking anything that didn’t appear normal down both sides of the street. His anxious panting made it clear that he wanted to get to work.
“Okay, big guy, this is just a fact-finding expedition. That’s all. No running into houses to get the bad guys or searching for tripwires or bombs.” She laughed as she spoke to Cisco like she would a human partner.
Cisco let out a disappointed grumble followed by a high-pitch whine.
“Yeah, I know. It can’t be fun all the time.”
Katie noted that according to Amanda’s statement she had referred to landmarks of a big box and a fantasy tree. She also described the house with a blue door and white trim.
Slowing her unmarked patrol vehicle, she saw what appeared to be a big box housing telephone lines for the area. The two doors hung ajar with wiring spilling out of it.
Katie continued, surveying the houses along the way. There wasn’t as much graffiti as she’d expected, and most windows hadn’t been broken out. A couple of the houses actually looked like someone could still live there, if it weren’t for the red notices from the county, warning of the abandoned and condemned houses, attached to all the front doors.
Old trees lined some of the streets and one street in particular had three large trees straight down the middle of the road—the trunks were massive, almost the girth of a car and she had to maneuver her vehicle around them.
Katie stopped the car.
The tree at the end was a type of oak that was twisted and gnarled in such a way it looked like elves might’ve inhabited the inside of it. The fantasy tree?
“Okay, Amanda. I see you
r landmarks, but what I don’t understand…” Katie mumbled to herself as she thought about how Amanda could have seen these things on a dark, rainy night and in the frenzied state she was in.
Had she been there before?
Katie saw the blue door and white trim house Amanda had described, and the deputies had discovered and searched. A quick look at the map confirmed it with the police report.
She pulled to the side of the road, parking where her vehicle would be visible and give her clear access to leave. Cisco whined as he moved back and forth in the backseat, preparing himself for a drill.
“You’re going to have to sit this one out,” she said and got out of the car.
Katie stood still.
The first thing that struck her as strange about the area was that there were no sounds. She strained to hear traffic from a nearby freeway several miles away, but the silence was deafening.
Katie ran her hand over her gun handle, which was in its usual position on her hip, and adjusted a small remote device on her belt that K9 officers used to open the back door to their police cars to release their four-legged partners if an emergency were to arise. Sergeant Hardy had arranged for Katie to use the unmarked police K9 vehicle with the lever release whenever she had Cisco with her.
She took a couple of steps and stopped. Just like she would do when moving into enemy territories in Afghanistan, she slowly turned three hundred sixty degrees, surveying her position, looking and listening for anything that seemed out of place or unusual. Satisfied, she proceeded to the small house.
Pushing the front door open to let some light in, she crushed an old Styrofoam cup to form a makeshift door stop, jamming it under the open door to hold it in place. An overwhelming smell hit her senses hard, making her cover her nose and mouth. The odor of musty, disintegrating garbage and urine made her stomach flip.
Her Last Whisper: An absolutely unputdownable crime thriller (Detective Katie Scott Book 2) Page 9
