More Than a Lawman

by Anna J. Stewart

  “What’s happened?” Eden cried over the hood of the car.

  “Missing person’s report just came in. Jeff Cottswold. Medical student. His girlfriend came home early from a girls’ trip to Mexico. She talked to him yesterday morning, so he hasn’t been gone long.”

  “We’re sure it’s the Iceman?” Eden hopped into the car as Cole flipped his visor down and hit the siren.

  “He was headed home from a doctor’s appointment when he called her. At the Sanguinem Clinic.”

  Eden whooped.

  “Yeah,” Cole said. “We wanted a break in the case. Looks like we’ve got one.”

  * * *

  “Somebody tell me where we are!” Cole yelled as he and Eden hurried through the double glass doors. He dodged uniformed officers scrambling for phones and computers, the din of determination echoing in his ears. “Jack?”

  His partner jumped to his feet from behind his desk, phone tucked under his ear. “Give me five!”

  “I’ll be in the conference room.” Eden brushed a hand over his arm and raced off.

  “Lieutenant?” Cole caught up with his boss, who had his nose buried in a file.

  “I recruited Missing Persons,” Lieutenant Santos told him. “They’re on board with whatever we want to do until we get a result on this.”

  Cole heard the silent or don’t get one loud and clear.

  “Who’s this Jenna Batsakis you told McTavish about?” Santos asked. “Bowie! Where’s that updated license registry on medical vehicles?”

  “Coming through now, Lieutenant.”

  “Batsakis runs a support group for patients with blood disorders out of a community center downtown.” Cole caught sight of a haggard-looking Agent Simmons waving Eden over to him through the glass window of the conference room. “Progress?”

  “We’ll see. Simmons has a contact with the state medical board. He’s gotten us a list of all approved medical transports operating in Northern California. We’re looking into Nevada and Oregon, as well, just in case the guy got clever and tried to stay off the radar.” Lieutenant Santos finally glanced up at Cole. “This Batsakis woman? She a viable suspect?”

  “She’s not physically capable. Not on her own, anyway.”

  “But you’re not ruling her out as far as being involved.”

  “Anything’s possible.” An award-winning actress couldn’t have been more convincing. “Nobody gets that nervous that quick if they don’t have something to hide. She knows more than she’s saying. I’d bet my pension on it.”

  “I doubt you’ll have to.” Jack hung up and flipped through his antiquated notebook. “Jenna Batsakis, born February 20, 1989, to Helena and Aristos Batsakis, both deceased. In and out of medical facilities since the age of four, when she was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder that resulted in something I won’t even try to pronounce. Attended St. Augustus Parochial School until grade five, then was homeschooled. She earned a degree in social work and family therapy through a reputable online college, after which she got a two-year degree in biology. She’s been running Aima for the last three years. No police record. No DMV record. What she does have is a brother. Hector Batsakis. Same birth date, five minutes older. We’re running him through the system now.”

  “A twin,” Cole said. “Allie said he’d be a caretaker, a protector.”

  “I want Dr. Hollister brought in on this,” Lieutenant Santos said. “Call her, then fill in the rest of the team. I want our focus on these two.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cole went to his desk and made the call before joining Eden and the rest of the team in the conference room. Laptops, paperwork and scattered remnants of fast-food wrappers and paper cups littered the table. “We’ve got a name. Hector Batsakis.”

  “Jenna has a brother.” The flash of sympathy he saw in Eden’s eyes registered with him.

  “A twin.”

  “Cole...you don’t think she knows about this?”

  “She knows something. First, I want to talk to Jenna’s doctors and find out exactly what her condition is.”

  “And if what we think the Iceman is honing in on can connect to Jenna’s condition,” Eden finished. “That’s a strong connection, being a twin. Not a lot one wouldn’t do for the other.”

  “You can only break doctor-patient privilege once the patient is deceased,” Agent Simmons said. “Or unless the closest family member agrees. I ran into that issue after Denise died.”

  “Wait a minute.” Eden snapped her fingers. “Didn’t Jenna say she was a former patient of Dr. Tanner’s?”

  “It still wouldn’t allow her to break confidentiality.” Agent Simmons shook his head.

  “No, but it might allow her to talk in hypotheticals,” Cole offered. “Allie’s on her way in to consult now that we have a suspect.”

  “Go talk to Dr. Tanner again,” Eden said. “We’ll try to track down that medical logo on the vehicle I saw.”

  He didn’t like the idea of leaving her behind. His hesitation must have showed.

  “I’ll keep an eye on her,” Agent Simmons promised and earned an exaggerated eye roll from Eden. “I won’t let her out of my sight.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” He jogged out of the conference room and tagged Jack. “Let’s go, partner. We’ve got a doctor to question.”

  * * *

  “I’m sorry, Detective Delaney, but there’s nothing I can tell you about Jenna and her treatment. Her records are confidential.” Dr. Tanner’s earlier friendliness had been replaced with stoic jaw-locked determination.

  “I’m not asking you to divulge her current medical status,” Cole said, taking a different route. “What I do need to know is why she’s no longer being treated at your facility.”

  Dr. Tanner’s lips tightened. She shoved her hands in her pockets and looked between him and Jack, who had taken up his casual-looking stance in the doorway. Casual, yeah right. That was Jack’s pre-pounce position.

  “Work with us, Doc,” Jack said. “Theoretically, what treatment options are left for her?”

  Cole kept his expression passive as his partner looked to confirm Jenna’s story.

  “In theory?” Dr. Tanner said. “Nothing. Her body can’t tolerate—”

  “Tolerate what? If there’s nothing, that is?” Jack asked. “Look, we get it. You’ve got a lot to protect here. Believe me, the last thing we want to do is interfere with your work or jeopardize your other patients, but that’s what you’re doing by not answering our questions. This isn’t just about Jenna. It’s about the victims, including one we’re trying to find now.”

  Dr. Tanner turned shocked eyes on Cole. “Someone else is missing?”

  “Jeff Cottswold,” Cole told her. “He disappeared sometime after his appointment here yesterday afternoon.”

  “Jeff?” Dr. Tanner shook her head. “Oh, no. That can’t be right.”

  “His girlfriend reported him missing after she came home unexpectedly from a trip. When our detectives with Missing Persons asked about his health, she admitted he’s been a patient here for the last six months. What is he being treated for? DIOS?” Cole tried to keep his voice even-tempered. Scaring her into cooperating wasn’t going to work. “Are his iron levels well above normal?”

  “I can’t—”

  “Can you blink?” Jack asked.

  “I’m sorry?” Dr. Tanner snapped.

  Jack explained, “Blink once for yes. You won’t have said a word.”

  Dr. Tanner took a deep breath, folded her hands on her desk. And blinked.

  “And his suggested course of treatment was...what?” Cole pressed harder. “Medication?” No blink. “Transfusion?” Not a twitch.

  “Blood donation?” Jack asked.

  She blinked.

  “Would that donation have been done at
this facility?” Cole wondered.

  “It could be, but no. Jeff was on his way to class. He said there’s a mobile blood unit he’d seen driving around campus and the surrounding neighborhoods the last few months. He could fit that into his schedule more easily.”

  Cole leaned forward and looked Dr. Tanner directly in her skittish eyes. “Answer a hypothetical for me, Doctor. If blood that contained an overload of iron were to be transfused into someone with, say, PNH...”

  Dr. Tanner’s mouth twisted as her eyes sharpened.

  “We’re just talking theory here, Doc,” Jack added. “Could a transfusion of that kind connect in any way to whatever treatment a patient like Jenna needs but can’t tolerate?”

  “I don’t see—” Dr. Tanner broke off, but then said, as if choosing her words carefully, “For someone in Jenna’s position, the only option remaining would be a bone marrow transplant. But as I said—”

  “Jenna isn’t a candidate for that procedure. Because...?” Cole refused to back down. Come on. Surely she had to see this was bigger than one patient’s medical files.

  “A patient like Jenna,” Dr. Tanner clarified, “would need to pass certain medical tests, including stabilized iron levels, to make sure she’s a viable candidate. The toll a transplant takes on the body, the recovery period... We have to give them the best chance.”

  “And people with PNH tend to have very low iron levels, don’t they?” Jack asked.

  “That’s why he’s taking them,” Cole said. “He’s using their blood to boost her numbers.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Dr. Tanner protested. “What you’re talking about is extreme medicine. Unregulated. Unprescribed. Regular transfusions are one thing, but mostly patients who are low in iron get their numbers boosted from supplements and dietary changes. As far as I’m aware, there’s absolutely no evidence...”

  “You say that as if we’re dealing with someone in their right mind,” Jack reminded her. “If all those treatments have failed, what would be left other than extremes or even untested theories?”

  “Think this through, Doctor,” Cole said sternly, seeking her attention again. “Jenna needs a bone marrow transplant, but you can’t give her one because her tests don’t pass muster. She needs more blood, better blood, iron-saturated blood, to boost those numbers to qualify.”

  “There are many factors to take into consideration—”

  “She has a twin brother.” Cole switched over to Jack since he didn’t expect to get any more answers from Dr. Tanner. “Doesn’t get much closer than that for bone marrow, does it? Get her iron levels up, she can get her transplant. Except what the good doctor here said is probably right. It’s not working. Not the way he needs it to.”

  “Tell me something.” Jack walked over and planted his hands on Dr. Tanner’s desk, angling his chin until the doctor had no choice but to meet his gaze. “When did you deny Jenna’s transplant?”

  “I’d have to check our records—”

  “I’m guessing three years ago,” Cole said in reference to when the killings had started. “The same time she ceased being your patient.”

  “The choice to discontinue her treatment was mutual,” Dr. Tanner said. “She understood we couldn’t help her any longer.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure she did.” Cole got to his feet. “But I don’t think her brother agreed with you.”

  * * *

  “Why do I feel as if I’ve taken my life into my hands by bringing you with me?” Tires ground against gravel as Agent Simmons pulled into Cooper’s Specialty Vehicles off El Camino and parked. He double-checked his holstered weapon under his suit jacket.

  “Look at it this way.” Eden eyed the shack-like office surrounded by all sorts of vans, buses and trucks. “You promised Cole you wouldn’t let me out of your sight. You’re just keeping your word. And besides, it’s essentially a used-car lot.”

  “One of the only dealerships in Northern California that handles specialty vehicles.”

  “Ah, but they’ve sold at least a dozen in the last three years. I’ll take odds our guy bought here.”

  “Providing our guy really is Hector Batsakis.” His guarded tone told her he wasn’t getting his hopes up.

  “The evidence is mounting,” Eden murmured, glancing down at the file in her lap. “He dropped out of medical school six years ago, citing family issues. Since then he’s become a licensed phlebotomist and works as a substitute lab technician all around Sacramento, Davis and Stockton. He also applied for a class B driver’s license eighteen months ago.” She narrowed her eyes and stared into the face of Jenna Batsakis’s brother. She could see the similarity for sure, with the big, wide eyes and generous smile, though Hector had sandy-blond hair. But Allie had suggested the suspect would look pretty ordinary. Although...something familiar poked at the back of her memory.

  “All that is circumstantial, including that he can drive a bus. He could be driving a van, for all we know.”

  “See, this is where you and I can part ways. My hands aren’t tied by all those pesky rules and regulations like you and Cole.” She shoved open the door to the car. “And I’ll bet you twenty bucks he bought a bus.”

  “Laws aren’t pesky and I’m beginning to see why Delaney worries about you.” He grabbed her arm when she started to get out. “You’re here as a courtesy, Eden. It might just be a used-car lot, but this case is anything but typical. You do what I tell you, understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” She saluted and jumped out before he could reprimand her. She smelled singed coffee, body odor and gasoline the second they set foot through the cracked glass door that was ajar. Breathing through her mouth, she called, “Hello?”

  “Be with ya in a sec!” The telltale sound of a toilet flushing echoed through the thin walls. A paunch-heavy middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap eased through from the back office, wiping his hands. “Help ya?”

  “Agent Simmons, FBI.” Simmons flashed his badge as he and Eden approached the counter. “This is my consultant, Eden.”

  Eden gave him points for not using her full name.

  “No kidding?” The man’s eyes lit up like flares in the road. “FBI, really? Wow, okay. Seth Hammits. Nice to meet you, Agent.” He stuck his hand out, not giving Simmons any choice but to shake it. “How can I help?”

  “We’re looking for information on one of your customers.”

  “Sure. Which one?”

  “We’re hoping you can tell us.” Eden leaned her arms on the counter and, for good measure, flipped her hair over her shoulder as she smiled at him. Seth’s eyes glinted. “We suspect he might have bought a vehicle from you in the last couple of years. A big one.”

  “This might help.” Simmons plucked Hector’s photo out of the file and placed it in front of Seth. “Take your time. It’s important.”

  “Important, huh? Like reward important?”

  “If doing the right thing doesn’t work for you, sure. We can talk reward,” Simmons said before Eden could reach across the counter and smack Seth’s greedy little grin. “Information first.”

  “I might have sold to him. I’d have to check my files. Couple of years, you say?”

  “Let’s start with three.”

  “Okay. Okay.” He lumbered over to the metal shelving unit and hauled down a weathered accordion folder. “Lucky for you we don’t get a lot of business. This one here’s for the last five years total.” He started stacking up piles by year.

  Eden grabbed for one stack as Simmons took another.

  “Hey, now, I don’t know about—”

  “The faster we find what we’re looking for, the sooner we’ll be out of here. And the sooner I can forget your business license expired seven months ago.” Simmons pointed to the crooked framed document on the wall next to the cash register.

  “Ah, sure. He
lp yourself, then.” Clearly the threat had also erased Seth’s willingness to help.

  Eden skimmed each sales slip, name, vehicle type, license and registration number. Photocopied drivers’ licenses and proofs of insurance were stapled to the back.

  “Why do so many people want old ambulances?” Eden wondered out loud.

  “A question for another time, I’m sure.” Simmons was almost as quick as her. “Here’s one for a 2004 customized cargo van medical vehicle. Sold to a G. Ellington. Part cash, part trade.”

  “Ellington?” Eden snatched up Hector’s file again. “Ellington was his mother’s maiden name.”

  “Glen Ellington,” Simmons said. “An alias?”

  “Could be. You don’t by chance know what this Glen Ellington traded in exchange, do you, Seth?” Eden asked as Seth spun himself around in what had to be a very sturdy chair.

  “Course I do. That eyesore is still sitting in the back of my lot. Converted catering van. Said he got it from a former boss when the business closed down a few years back.”

  “What business?”

  “Take a look-see yourself. Make a right and keep going. Can’t miss it. Red-and-pink monstrosity. Only gave him five hundred for it and he seemed grateful.”

  “Do you have a copy machine?” Simmons asked.

  “Did.” Seth glanced behind him to the dust-covered photocopier. “Broke a few months back.”

  “Then we’re keeping this.” Simmons added the sales receipt to Hector’s file and followed Eden outside as she greedily sucked in fresh air.

  “Turn right where?” she muttered as they clomped through puddles of what she told herself was rain runoff. Most of the vehicles up front were in fairly decent condition. Clearly Seth hoped to actually sell them. But the farther back they went, the more it felt like a junkyard. “Here it is.”