Chapter 28
Saturday
The call from the Fire Chief came through as promised, explaining the arson investigator would like to speak to the Craigs. He would meet them at Professor Craig’s house at two p.m. Ginny took the message and went to wake them.
Both looked better after their naps. They gathered around the table, enjoying Mrs. Forbes’ hospitality and the excellent casserole she was dishing out.
Mark paused, mid bite, and addressed Ginny. “I forgot to ask what you were doing at Uncle Don’s house so early this morning.”
“I wanted to find out if you know about a rust-colored car your uncle was supposed to own.
Mark nodded. “His Toyota. It’s at the body shop.”
Ginny blinked, then nodded. Of course it was.
“We wondered, you see,” Theresa broke in, “because the paperwork in the fireproof box didn’t match the car in the driveway.”
“So what have you been driving?”
“According to the tag, it’s a loaner. I’ve been meaning to call the shop and ask when they’ll be finished, but I just haven’t gotten around to it, yet. Why the sudden interest in his car?”
Ginny explained about Fiona Campbell.
Theresa’s lips twitched. “She must have been really mad at him.”
“Yes, and it has occurred to me that the documents I’ve been looking for might have been left in that car.”
Mark nodded. “Makes sense. I’ll see if I can find out anything after we’ve finished with the fire investigator.”
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”
When she took them back to the damaged house, she and Mark searched the loaner car, and found nothing, which was what she expected. Any overlooked papers would be in the Toyota.
“Here’s something,” Mark said. He was standing on the driver’s side, looking at the edge of the door. “The seal’s been damaged.”
Ginny came around to look. She reached out and ran her finger down the rubber gasket, then closed the door and inspected the point at which it touched the doorframe.
“It looks as if something was wedged in between these two strips.”
Mark nodded. “I wonder if someone was trying to break in.”
Ginny frowned. “The car was locked, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. I had to use the remote to get in.”
“We ought to report this. There might be an insurance claim involved.”
Mark nodded. “I’ll let Detective Tran know.”
* * *
Ginny hurried across the restaurant to the table Hal had secured. He had ordered for both of them and the waiter brought the salads out as soon as she was seated.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but I have a good excuse.” She told him about the fire and its aftermath. “The Fire Chief hasn’t said anything, yet, but they’re investigating, so it might not have been an accident. Most of the house was saved. The office is a total loss, of course.”
He frowned. “Everything burned?”
“No way to know, but Hal, those papers you’re looking for, they weren’t there. I looked on Thursday.”
“Oh, right. You told me that.”
“I may have a lead on them, though. Hold onto your seat. It’s about Fiona Campbell.”
The corner of Hal’s mouth twitched. “What has that woman done now?”
Ginny outlined the scene at the Cooperative Hall the night before.
“And the upshot is that Mark Craig has been driving a loaner. The Professor’s car is at the body shop.”
Hal put his fork down. “You think those documents may be in the Toyota?”
“I think it’s possible. Mark and I searched the loaner and didn’t find anything. He’s going to let me know when he talks to the repair man.”
Hal’s face lit up. “That must be the answer. You’ll let me know, as soon as you do?”
“Of course.”
“Bless you, Ginny Forbes.” Hal blew her a kiss, then applied himself to his steak and Ginny was pleased to see him relax. He was looking a bit pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. Too much stress at work, maybe. It would be a good thing if they could find these documents and put his mind to rest.
“I wish we could take the evening off,” she said.
He smiled over at her. “What would you do, if we could?”
“Rent a movie and curl up on the couch. Maybe fall asleep and drool on the cushions.”
“Alone?”
“Oh, no. Curling up is a lot more fun with someone else.”
He caught her eye and held it. “Yes, it is.”
“Unfortunately, I have to work.”
“That’s what you get for being indispensable. Maybe we can arrange a day off next week.”
“That sounds nice. Tuesday would work best for me.”
“I’ve got clients that day. How about Wednesday?”
“The morning’s clear, but that’s the day I plan to go skating and I have to work that night.”
Hal looked over at her. “I haven’t heard you mention skating in weeks. Have you given up trying to get me out on the ice?”
She grinned. “No, but the genealogy convention got in the way this month. That, and Professor Craig’s death, of course.”
He looked back down at his steak. “So, you’re still investigating?”
She shook her head, frowning. “No. That incident with Fiona Campbell happened at the ceilidh, in front of everyone. And I am NOT investigating that fire.”
He glanced up again. “But you are seeing Jim Mackenzie.”
She shook her head. “Again, no. Not the way you mean. As a matter of fact—” She stopped, remembering Jim’s car following her around the lake.
“What?”
“I’m beginning to be a little nervous about him.” She told Hal about being followed.
“He didn’t stop and speak to you?”
“No.”
“I wonder what he wanted.”
“I have no idea.”
Hal frowned at her, then reached over and took her hand.
“Ginny, promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.”
“I’ll keep my head down, I promise.”
He nodded. “The sooner they catch that murderer, the happier I’ll be.”
“Me, too.” Ginny smiled at him across the table. “But they’ll have to do it without my help.”
Hal smiled and lifted his glass in a toast. “I’ll drink to that.”
* * *
Chapter 29
Sunday
It was three a.m. and Ginny sat just outside the door of ICU Five, watching her patient sleep, her mind wandering back to the vexed problem of Professor Craig’s death. It was all very well to tell Hal she wasn’t investigating, but her conscience kept reminding her that Craig had been her patient, her responsibility.
The virus had killed him. The virus was not a naturally occurring bug. It had been created in a lab and she knew which lab. To be infected with this virus required blood-to-blood contact and the evidence pointed to injection.
She had a partial list of people known to have had access to the virus and another of those who’d had access to Professor Craig.
She had tentatively eliminated Mark Craig and Fiona Campbell as suspects. That left Elaine Larson, Samuel Adams, and maybe others she hadn’t yet identified.
Ginny squirmed at the thought. The very idea that she could suspect someone she knew of being a murderer made her more than uncomfortable. She pushed the rolling table away and stood up, then spent the next ten minutes checking on her patients, focusing on them, rather than herself, but neither needed her attention. She sat back down.
On impulse, she pulled out her talisman and looked at it, examining the carving with attention. In addition to guiding humans to their destinations, if you went back far enough, there were stories of healing powers as well.
The artist who carved it had believed in the magic powers of the r
owan wood. It was just a superstition, of course. Nothing a modern medical professional would believe. Still—
She’d gotten the pendant as a birthday present one year and she’d happened to be fighting an infection at the time. She had put the pendant on for decoration and worn it, and the infection had promptly resolved.
Being a scientist, she’d done some experiments. Each time she’d been ill or injured, she’d worn the pendant and had mended quickly, more quickly than the books called for.
She took to wearing it to work, not really believing, but interested in the role of the human mind in healing. All these years, she’d worn it and watched and hadn’t told anyone why. If they asked, she said it was because there was no wood in modern ICUs and how else was she to knock on wood if she needed to? This, being a better-known and more widely accepted custom, passed muster and allowed her coworkers to laugh at her without concern for her sanity.
Her fingers stroked the old wood. Could the rowan guide her in this unfamiliar territory? What path would it tell her to take, retire from the field or continue investigating?
Was she still investigating? It certainly looked like it. So, why? Ginny considered the question as honestly as she could.
There were several possible answers. Intellectual curiosity was one of them. It was fun puzzling out the details and getting them to fit together, to make sense. Catharsis was another. There had been a distinct sense of relief when she decided she could eliminate Fiona Campbell as a suspect. She didn’t like her, but she didn’t want her to turn out to be a murderer.
She frowned to herself. Of all the people on her list, the one she knew the least about was Samuel Adams. She hadn’t been there to see his outburst, just heard about it later. A belligerent, rude, spoiled man, by all accounts. It would be satisfying to pin the murder on him.
Ginny felt a frisson go down her spine at the thought. She didn’t want to pin the murder on anyone! That wasn’t her job. She was a nurse. Her job was helping people, caring for them.
She stared into the darkened ICU room in front of her. What was the virtue in finishing what you started if it meant that someone had to die? Well, maybe go to prison, but Texas had the death penalty and it was always a possibility. Did she want to be responsible for that?
Not if the person was innocent, but what if he was guilty?
Ginny’s mind ground to a halt. Guilty.
Everything she had ever learned, from her parents, her schooling, her church, her heritage; all had maintained that man has free will, but should not be given free rein.
“Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing.” John Stuart Mill, a renowned Scottish philosopher, had said that.
Could she look on and do nothing?
Before she could answer that question, her job intervened. She rose to care for one of her charges and the quiet moments of the night faded into the continuous tasks of the early morning. When her shift was over, she left the hospital with the issue still unresolved.
* * *
Ginny had slept and eaten and was pinning her hair up in preparation for her second shift when her phone began to buzz. She pulled it out of her purse and answered.
“Ginny, it’s Hal. I wanted to catch you before you left for work.”
“Well, you’ve caught me. What’s up?”
“I’ve got some news.” He sounded uncomfortable.
Ginny sat down on the side of her bed, wondering what was coming.
“It’s about Jim Mackenzie.”
Ginny almost snorted. Of course. It would be. The rivalry between these two was beginning to annoy her.
“I asked around at work and it seems someone remembered him. Did he tell you he did a two week rotation at GeneTech, as part of his training?”
Ginny felt her brain freeze.
“Ginny? Ginny? Are you there?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, Hal. I’m here.” He could not, could NOT, have been there for two weeks and failed to tell her about it.
“There’s more.”
Ginny could hardly breathe. “Go on.”
“Well, something happened at college. I didn’t want to mention it, but then I realized it might be relevant.” She could hear Hal take a breath, then hurry through the rest of it. “There was a death. One of Jim’s friends committed suicide. It was because he’d been raped by a visiting professor and he couldn’t face the humiliation. Jim took it really hard. I gather this was someone he looked on as the little brother he’d never had. That sort of thing.” There was another intake of breath on the other end of the line. “The visiting professor was Donald Craig.”
Ginny gasped.
Hal hurried on. “This isn’t proof. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. It’s just odd Jim moved back to Dallas and a couple of months later Professor Craig winds up dead.”
“Are you accusing Jim Mackenzie of murdering Professor Craig?” Ginny had trouble getting the words out.
“Well, no. At least, I don’t think so. I can’t believe he would do such a thing. Maybe I’m wrong. Probably, I’m wrong. I just thought I should mention it.”
Ginny didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.
“Ginny?”
She drew a ragged breath into her lungs. “The police have to be told.”
“Why? It’s not evidence. I just thought you should know.”
“If he’s guilty, he needs to be punished and if he’s not, he needs to be cleared.”
“But it’s not your job, Ginny.”
“I have to go, Hal.”
She hung up the phone struggling to regain her self-control. It didn’t matter who was guilty, did it? What mattered was the guilty party paid for his crime.
She finished getting dressed, glanced at the clock, noting she had half an hour before she had to leave, then went into the office and opened her computer.
Genealogists deal in death, a lot of it. A morbid breed, they revel in the demise of innocent strangers, thrill to the lists of the lost, and picnic among the tombstones. Ginny had subscriptions to a variety of sources that did nothing but collect obituaries and death notices.
It took her less than ten minutes to confirm what Hal had told her; the basic fact of the death, at least, and the location and the year. The obituary, written by the grieving family, would not, of course, have details of the police investigation.
Could she confirm Jim had spent two weeks in the lab the virus had come from?
She pulled up the State of Virginia Medical Board site and navigated to the page on Jim. She was looking for his training and education. No help. Maybe it was part of a continuing education offering. She opened the link and started hunting.
There were a lot of them. The list included the dates and location for each one. All major cities. Big conferences, in places that had research centers. None in Dallas. Some in Houston, Phoenix, San Diego, Chicago, Boston, Washington.
Ginny felt her heart skip a beat. She wiped sweating palms on her pants, then forced herself to open the Victims spreadsheet, her hand shaking.
She clicked on the tab for Victim # 1, jotted down the location and date, then did the same for Victim # 2. Then she pulled down the search utility on the Medical Board site.
She plugged in the date for the first death and the machine scrolled to the date of a medical conference in Boston. The second date brought up one in Washington, D.C. Ginny checked the results three times, then closed the browser and sank back in her chair. Jim Mackenzie had been present, attending medical continuing education conferences, at the same time each of the other two deaths had occurred.
* * *
Chapter 30
Monday
“I’m going down to the lab to pick up blood,” Ginny said. “Keep an eye on Six for me. She’s asleep at the moment, but she may not stay that way.”
June nodded. “Will do.”
The lab was located in the basement of the main building. Ginny turned left as she got off the elevator, strode do
wn the corridor and in at the door marked “Environmental Hazard: Employees Only.” She went in search of the lab tech.
“Hello? Anyone in here?”
“What can I do for you, hun?”
“Pearl! Are you on tonight?”
“Yup. You got something for me?”
“I need to pick up a unit of blood.”
“Okay. You got the slip?”
Ginny handed over the computer-generated form and waited while the lab tech collected the unit of blood from the refrigerator and entered the data into the computer. They checked the information on the label together, making sure there was no error.
“I need your signature right here, hun.”
Ginny typed in her ID code as requested.
“You need a filter for that?”
“No, thanks, I’ve got one.”
“Okay. Here you go.”
Ginny took the blood and wrapped the paperwork around it. “You got the order to keep four units ahead on this one, right?”
The tech nodded. “We got it. You just let me know when you need the next one.”
“I will, thanks. See you later.”
Ginny let herself out and headed back towards the elevators, re-arranging the IV set up in her mind. She was one line short. She would need to—
The lights went out in the corridor, plunging her into Stygian darkness and Ginny froze. Fifteen seconds later they came back on, not the regular lights, the blue emergency lights that indicated the back-up generator was in use. It was probably nothing more than the monthly test of the system, but it meant the elevators would not be running.
She stood very still, listening intently for any clue to what had happened. The silence was palpable, but not complete. There was the inevitable hum of the air-conditioning system, the sound of distant machinery churning, and a door clanging shut somewhere.
Ginny counted to sixty. Still no return to normal. Not the monthly test, then. A fire drill, perhaps. She decided she might as well use the stairs. No telling how long she might be down here if she waited.
She turned and started down another corridor, following the glowing exit signs that hung from the ceiling. The blue lights gave the drab, featureless walls an eerie cast and the darkness seemed to amplify any noise. Even her own footsteps sounded oddly hollow, as if they had an echo.
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