Her Last Whisper: An absolutely unputdownable crime thriller (Detective Katie Scott Book 2)

by Jennifer Chase

  “Katie?” said McGaven.

  She looked up. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “Is anything wrong?”

  “No, just thinking about the interview with Dr. Jamison.”

  “And?”

  “We just seem to have a lot of information and it doesn’t seem to zero in on anyone specific. The evidence we have so far, his father’s real estate development business, the now abandoned area, and now Emily falling to her death. There’s too many… It seems…” She sighed and took another bite of her sandwich, washing it down with a drink of soda.

  “Like it’s too convenient?” McGaven stated.

  “It’s as if these vague things are to blind us from the truth. What I mean is, it’s weak evidence, but somehow done on purpose.”

  “Someone is making it look like he’s guilty.”

  Katie’s phone alerted her to an incoming text from John:

  Linkage evidence found.

  “What is it?” McGaven asked.

  “John. More linkage. We need to get back to the lab.” She glanced at her phone and saw that she had missed three phone calls from Chad. Unfortunately, he would have to wait a little longer. She felt a twinge of guilt, but would make it up to him.

  They quickly paid for their lunches and rushed back to the forensic lab. Katie kept concentrating on linkage and all the different scenarios it could pertain to.

  She needed hard evidence to narrow the suspect pool. In her gut, she knew it had to somehow revolve around the hospital, but she needed to find how these women were connected to one another. There had to be a connection.

  McGaven sped into the parking lot and took the first available space.

  “Let’s go,” he said as he got out of the car, but Katie was already ahead of him.

  It was barely minutes after the text arrived when they entered the large examination and forensic computer room, and they found John hard at work with evidence from another case. He looked up and smiled. “I think that was record time.”

  “When have I ever dawdled when it comes to evidence,” she laughed.

  “Did you really just say dawdled?” said McGaven.

  “What do you have for us?” she said, ignoring her partner. She remembered to take a breath as she waited in anticipation. She felt a slight tingling in her arms.

  John took a seat at a computer and pulled up images with specific graphs. “Each woman, Amanda Payton and Jane Doe, had unidentified stains on their garments that I thought were initially nothing, but we had them analyzed. What I found was very interesting. A combination of chemicals of different amounts were found to have made the stains, and though different, they were consistent with one another.”

  “Don’t keep us in suspense,” she said, barely keeping herself calm.

  “There were traces of ethylene oxide, formaldehyde, glutaraldehyde, peracetic acid in combination with hydrogen peroxide and latex.”

  “What is all that?” asked McGaven.

  “Latex gloves?” said Katie taking a guess.

  “Mostly these are substances used in disinfectants, sterilizing, and embalming. Basically, all of these things are easily found in and around hospitals and morgues,” John said.

  “These two women had a low level of these chemical combinations on their clothes? Their undergarments?” she asked.

  “Yes, without a doubt. But I don’t think you’re fully understanding the significance.” He pointed to the screen which showed a graph. “The combination of these chemicals, the amounts and proportions, are nearly identical on both sets of garments.”

  “How could that be?” she asked.

  “It would mean that both women were exposed to the same combination, from the same source. These chemicals aren’t part of a single product including them; they are a random combination of chemicals. To have this random combination twice would be highly unlikely.”

  “Would you be able to know if it was transferred, say from another person who had contact with those chemicals? Or, was it transferred from the victim onto themselves?” Katie’s attention went from Dr. Jamison to Marco Ellis, the morgue technician, and even Dr. Smith.

  “It’s possible. The levels were slightly higher on Amanda Payton’s clothes than on Jane Doe, but then she worked at the hospital. More likely, someone else had this combination of chemicals on their clothes, or person, and then somehow they were transferred to each of the women.”

  What about Amanda’s hair smelling like sulfur?”

  “It’s most likely from a contaminated water source,” he said.

  “Meaning?”

  “Sometimes you can get that rotten egg smell from drains or old water heaters that have been sealed off and allows bacteria to grow—hydrogen sulfide.”

  Katie thought about that for a moment. “The killer rinsed her body, or at least hair, with bacteria contaminated water.” She really wasn’t waiting for an answer, but merely making a statement. “What about Amanda’s body?

  “Nothing,” he stated. “She’d been wiped down with some type of alcohol, except they forgot to check her nails.”

  “So wait a minute,” she said. “What are the odds of these two women having close to the same amount of a chemical combination on their clothes and contact with the same contaminated person who attacked them?”

  “That would be highly unlikely to be a coincidence,” said McGaven.

  John nodded in agreement. “True. I have more.”

  “More?” Katie said in disbelief.

  “As I was beginning the examination of the evidence from Emily Day’s crime scene, I saw something unusual on her hoodie left on the balcony.”

  Katie waited barely breathing.

  “This same chemical combination was also on Emily Day’s hoodie,” he said. “I haven’t completed it yet, but it seems to be consistent.”

  “Well, she was a nurse at the same hospital as Amanda.”

  “Someone had contact with all three women—or they were all in the same place. It would make sense with Amanda and Emily, but where does Jane Doe come in? There’s linkage,” said McGaven. He looked as eager as Katie looking at the computer screen.

  This was the first big break in the investigation. Katie was running on adrenalin now and could barely contain her excitement. She forgot all about John in the room as her mind raced.

  “Do you have a list of employees at the First Memorial Hospital?” Katie asked McGaven.

  “Yes, but it’s not a complete list.”

  “Get it, but for now, we need to eliminate female personnel and non-medical personnel. Unless they would have regular access to the operating rooms, patient rooms, maintenance, or morgue as part of their job. This is the first pass for background checks. I need to see who is on that list.”

  “Got it,” McGaven said. “This is going to take a bit of time.”

  “Something else has been bothering me for a while, but I want to look into Dr. Smith from the psychiatric hospital.”

  “And the employees?” McGaven asked.

  “Yes and—” she said almost breathlessly.

  “I have one more thing,” interrupted John.

  Katie and McGaven looked at him with questioning expressions.

  John laughed at their reactions. “I do have one more thing—trust me, it’s a good one.”

  “I’m sorry, John,” said Katie, slightly embarrassed by her excitement, because she was thinking about the hospital employees and the possibility that the killer was among them.

  He turned to another computer that ran the Integrated Automatic Fingerprint Identification System (IAFIS). “We found a match from the beautiful right index fingerprint lifted from your watch. It came back to a Madeline Jean Thomas, thirty-four, and she lives not far from here in the brick district.”

  Katie was excited as she leaned forward. “Can you pull up a photo?”

  “Already ahead of you,” he said as he made a few mouse clicks, bringing another window open.

  Madeline’s photo and identificatio
n from her driver’s license appeared. She was an attractive brunette with dark green eyes. Her smile was friendly, much different from her pathetic condition at the mental health facility.

  “That’s her,” Katie said.

  “Do we identify her officially?” McGaven asked.

  “For right now, unfortunately, she’s safer in there than out. We can at least begin a background on her.” She turned to the forensic supervisor. “John, you’ve done an incredible job as always. Thank you.”

  “Still working on the prints from your Jeep… something should hit soon.”

  Katie and McGaven turned to leave and head to their office when Katie’s cell phone buzzed. The text was from Detective Ames from Missing Persons. Katie had contacted him a few days earlier, asking that if any woman fitting the description and age of Amanda went missing to please forward the information to her. It read:

  Tess Regan reported missing, kidnapped by force from her home. See report in email.

  Forty-Nine

  Thursday 1735 hours

  Back in the office, McGaven hung up the phone from talking with the First Memorial Hospital administrator with the promise that they would email over the complete list of employees in a spreadsheet. As he waited for the information, he thought that he would put a call in to Randy, the security guard, to ask him a couple of follow-up questions.

  He dialed the number and waited, unsure if he was still on shift.

  “You got Randy,” was the greeting.

  “Hi, Randy, this is Deputy McGaven from the sheriff’s office.”

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Glad I caught you. Just have a couple of questions.”

  “Shoot,” he said.

  “Do you recall anytime that there’s been a problem with employees or patients?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, you know, being difficult, loud, harassing employees, anything that might attract some attention.”

  “Let me think,” Randy said and paused. “I can’t think of anything right off. There’s so much that goes on around here every day, people coming and going.”

  “I’ve noticed. It must make your job more difficult.”

  “It can. We’ve had some problems, but it usually has to do with employees or a difficult patient. We’ve had more than our fair share of those. The stories I could tell…”

  “Well, I thought I would ask anyway,” McGaven said.

  “I’ll ask the other guys and if I hear anything, I’ll give you a buzz.”

  “Great. Appreciate it.” McGaven thought more and decided to ask. “Oh, speaking along the same lines, do you recall any issue with the doctors and nurses? Like an exacerbated argument, someone accusing someone else of something…”

  “There was a doctor who flipped out one time. It turned out that he was addicted to some pharmaceutical drugs he was helping himself to here—some kind of painkiller, I think.”

  “Do you remember the doctor’s name?”

  “I had just started here and I think his name was Darren something… Darren Patterson… that’s it, Dr. Patterson. He no longer works here—not even sure if he still has his medical license.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “I’ll call you if I remember something,” Randy said before he hung up.

  After Katie had read the full missing person report for Tess Regan, fear squeezed her chest and soured her stomach.

  “I think we have another problem,” she said as she saw McGaven hang up the phone.

  McGaven looked away from his computer. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve just read the missing person’s report for Tess Regan. It appeared that Tess had been taken from her home by force—apparently the perp had entered through a broken lock to the garage. Her purse, jacket, and cell phone were found on the garage floor. Tess had called in to work earlier in the morning letting them know she would be late due to a dental appointment—according to the dental office she never made an appointment. The information reported from friends and family described her personality as conservative and kind. She lived alone, no current boyfriend, and worked for an insurance company as a medical billing associate.”

  “A medical billing associate?” he said.

  “Wait, there’s more,” Katie said, trying to keep her voice steady. “According to her friends and family, they were worried about her because she had been distraught after the death of her sister who had committed suicide. Tess blamed herself, but she mostly blamed the hospital that they didn’t do enough to save her. Apparently, she made quite a scene there.”

  “The hospital was First Memorial?”

  Katie nodded. “Yep.”

  “Coincidence?”

  “We now have three women connected to the hospital: Amanda, Emily, and a missing woman.”

  “What about Jane Doe—Madeline Thomas?”

  “Don’t know yet. We need to do a background, but my gut is telling me that she’s somehow crossed paths with the hospital in some way.”

  Katie leaned back. The information was overwhelming. She stood up and stared at her preliminary perp board. “The killer is picking women he has had contact with, maybe even befriended, and seen at the hospital…”

  “The hospital is his hunting grounds,” McGaven stated seriously.

  Katie thought it and McGaven stated it—it seemed that way.

  “I believe Tess is another unsuspecting victim. It’s more than possible. The killer has made mistakes, two women have escaped… he’s not going to make any more mistakes now.” She studied the map of the areas where the women lived in comparison to the hospital.

  “I know that look,” he said.

  “You’re right, it’s his hunting grounds. I believe it’s possible he follows them home and if it’s within his comfort zone, that’s when he abducts them.” She continued to study the map and make notations.

  Both Madeline and Tess lived within two miles of one another and their companies were in the same business district, which meant that they lived, shopped, and worked in close proximity of each other. The First Memorial Hospital was within five miles of where all the women lived and worked—including Amanda.

  “A killer’s hunting ground is almost always an area where they feel comfortable, an area they know well and don’t have to worry about unknowns and variables in their searches or their body dumping grounds,” she said.

  “Just got the hospital employee list,” said McGaven.

  “Once you omit women and anyone who wouldn’t normally have access to operating rooms and the morgue, put everyone in alphabetical order,” she instructed. Then she began to sort out the packet from the county. “I’m going to make a list of all the last residents and anyone working on the Basin Woods Development. Let’s see what we get and then we can compare. I know that the hospital and the abandoned development connect a killer. He didn’t just pick that area on a whim.”

  “We got a plan,” said McGaven.

  The only sound in the office was the hurried flurry of keystrokes.

  Katie rattled off an additional assessment of the killer: “The killer abducts and holds these women where he feels comfortable—safe—protected. Something happened to him, a deep scar, a defining moment in his life that cuts so deep, and it revolves around the hospital.”

  Katie and McGaven worked for almost two hours, immersed in their lists and background checks.

  “Here’s a little background on Madeline: She was the assistant to the CEO at a financial company called Brown & Donner Financial, which is close to where Tess works just in the next building. Nothing in her background seemed unusual or out of the ordinary. She is thirty-four years old, MBA from a prestigious college, lived alone; no boyfriend,” Katie said.

  “Finally,” said McGaven.

  “What?” Katie asked.

  “Just got the phone records for Emily Day’s land line. And…” he said, reading dow
n the report, “a call came in from the hospital at 10.17 p.m., so it seems that Emily was telling the truth about when she called Amanda.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “But…”

  Katie looked away from her computer and at McGaven.

  “It seems that there was another call from the hospital from a different extension at 10.49 p.m.,” he explained.

  “Emily could have called back for a number of reasons.”

  “The phone extension belongs to Dr. Jamison.”

  Fifty

  Thursday 2005 hours

  It was just after 8 p.m. when Katie drove up her driveway. She was completely exhausted from the events of the day; her eyes were blurry from looking at names on the computer all evening. She needed some food and a good night’s sleep, but her mind was still whirling from all of the information they had received.

  As she neared the top of the driveway, her headlights caught Nick standing at her porch holding two bags. He smiled, which caught her off-guard. In khakis and black T-shirt his prosthetic leg wasn’t as noticeable, and he seemed to be moving on it a little better.

  Katie cut the engine and got out. “Hey, I don’t remember ordering take-out.”

  “Private delivery.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked walking up to the porch. She noticed that he looked more rested and cleaner than he did the first night.

  “I wanted to bring you dinner. I’m sure you’re not eating enough investigating a homicide.”

  Cisco barked several times in greeting.

  “Well, thank you. And yes, you don’t eat enough when working.” She unlocked the door and made her way to the alarm to disarm it.

  Cisco ran from one end of the room to another.

  “I’m sorry, I should have called.”

  “No, that’s fine. I’m actually starved and would love to have a conversation that didn’t revolve around forensics, autopsies, or suspect lists.”