She appeared slightly embarrassed and made a face. “There aren't many, but St. Luke's is big on tradition, so we still wear the outfit.”
“Well, if I may say so, it looks great on you,” Michael looked around the lobby, searching while he spoke. “Say, I'm trying to find someone, maybe you know her.”
“I'll help if I can.”
“My niece and her husband had a child here and their nurse was terrific to them. I can't remember her name, but since I was in town, I thought I'd look her up and thank her.”
“Oh, how nice. What can you tell me about her?”
“Well, as I remember, my niece said she was very short, less than five feet, red hair. Seems like she mentioned a tattoo, maybe a tiger.”
“Oh, sure,” Britney said, her face lighting up. “That's Susan Turnbull!”
“Susan Turnbull,” Michael repeated. “Where do I find her?”
“She's a nurse in OB. It's on the third floor.”
“Okay, great. Which elevator should I take?”
“Would you like me to call and find out if she’s here?”
“Sure, that would be super.”
Michael leaned on the desk, while the girl with ‘Britney’ on her nametag called up to the third floor.
He tried to look casual, but his mind was racing. He couldn't believe his luck. Finding the woman in a big hospital, such as the one in St. Louis, would have been very difficult.
“Okay, I'll tell him.” Britney said, and hung up.
“She's already gone for the day. They said she works again tomorrow.”
“Dang it!” Michael blurted out, and then quickly gathered himself. “I'm sorry, it's just that I'm leaving town tonight.”
Michael paused for a moment, looking as if he was deciding what to do next. “Maybe I can catch her on my way back through. Thanks so much for your help.”
“Not at all.”
He smiled and said goodbye.
“Goodbye,” said the girl with ‘Britney’ on her nametag.
*******
It took Jason the better part of an hour to get to Michael’s house on other side of town. He parked across the street, got out, and went up to the garage door. He had to step over several old newspapers lying strewn across the driveway.
He put his hands around his eyes and peered through the garage door glass. The car was gone. Jason rang the bell, not expecting an answer.
The detective went around the side of the house and through the alley gate. Going up to the sliding glass door, he again cupped his hands around his face, trying to see in. Nothing seemed disturbed, and the living room appeared as the detective remembered it.
Jason went back around front and got on his radio.
“Dispatch, this is Strong.”
“Go ahead, Detective.”
“I need a black and white to help with a wellness check.”
He gave them the address, and five minutes later, a patrol car pulled up. They used a pry tool to force the front door.
“Michael? Michael, it's Jason. You here?”
Jason moved into the living room while the uniformed officer went toward the kitchen.
“Kitchen, clear.”
“Living room, clear.” Jason called back.
The officer moved upstairs while Jason looked around the living room. The power was still on and the computer came to life when Jason touched the keyboard.
“Upstairs, clear.”
“Thank you.”
Jason sat down and opened the history. The last item was a search for ‘St. Luke’s Missouri.’ It showed one in Springfield and one in St Louis. He copied down the search results.
Moving around the house, Jason looked for other clues as to where he might find Michael. Upstairs, he found an open closet. Several dresser drawers were open with clothes hanging out. It was clear Michael had left in a hurry. Jason went back downstairs and outside, locking the door behind him.
Once back in his car, he called Detective Dan Carpenter in Hondo.
“Hondo Police Department.”
“Detective Carpenter, please.”
After several minutes, Dan Carpenter came on.
“Detective Carpenter.”
“Dan, this is Jason Strong, San Antonio P.D.”
“Jason, long time. How are you?”
“Good, Dan, thanks. You?”
“Fine. I ran into Vanessa Layne earlier today.”
Jason's voice turned serious. “That’s what Vanessa said. She mentioned you were telling her about a torture-murder case.”
“Yeah, that's right. Gruesome stuff.”
“She said the victim’s name is Benny Carter.”
“That’s right. That name ring a bell?”
Jason needed to be careful. “Do you remember the kidnapping case of the Barton baby, maybe ten years ago?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Well, the name Benny Carter came up in that investigation. Nothing serious, but I’m just curious what happened to him.”
Jason could hear Dan reach over and open a file folder. “Let me see. He had a blow to the back of his head. It looked like he'd been surprised from behind, and tied to a tree. He had a cut face and a broken kneecap. A gunshot to the forehead killed him.”
“Been able to come up with a motive?”
“Not yet. Nothing from the scene gave us a direction. You got anything from that old case that might help?”
“Don't think so. He wasn't a suspect, just a name I remembered.”
“Well, if something comes to mind, give me a yell.”
“You know I will. Thanks, Dan.”
“Sure, anytime.” Dan hung up.
Jason opened his laptop, pulled up a record search and entered Benny Carter's name.
His record began at age eighteen. If he had a juvenile record, it was locked. The rap sheet was long and extended out several years, ending with time upstate for car theft. He'd kept his nose clean, except for a DWI, since getting out ten years ago. Jason didn't like the coincidence.
Benny Carter was released from prison just six months before the Barton baby was kidnapped. Nothing in his record indicated Benny was capable of something on that scale, but someone wanted him dead, and Jason's gut told him Michael was that someone.
He started the car. It was time to face the lieutenant.
*******
Michael didn't know when Susan Turnbull's shift started, so he was up early and parked near the employee parking lot by five-forty-five the next morning. The sky was overcast, and a spitting rain would start and stop every few minutes. He finally saw her about an hour after he arrived.
Short with red hair, she had apparently traded in the van Benny had described for a bright red, Mazda Miata. She got out, opened an umbrella, and headed quickly for the entrance.
Michael, already out and almost to the hospital door, turned abruptly as if he'd forgotten something, and walked back toward the nurse. As they passed, he glanced at her nametag.
Susan Turnbull, that’s her.
He continued to his car. He would be back later.
*******
Jason Strong knew what he had to do. He didn't like it, but there was no choice.
He knocked on the glass surrounding Lieutenant John Patton's office, and though he was on the phone, the lieutenant waved him in. Jason shut the door and sat down.
John Patton was a big man. He worked out every morning, including his days off, and it showed. Every muscle was controlled and toned.
The same could not be said for his eyebrows and moustache. The eyebrows were bushy and unruly, and his teeth surprised you when he smiled, suddenly appearing from beneath the long moustache.
The call ended and he looked at Jason. “So, JD, what's on your mind?”
“John, this conversation needs to be off the record.”
The lieutenant’s eyebrows knit together, forming an untrimmed hedge. “Okay, off the record. What's up?”
Jason went on to describe the situation, including t
he call from Michael. When he was done, the lieutenant leaned back in his chair and studied Jason. “What do you propose?”
“I want permission to go to St. Luke’s, first the one in Springfield, and if necessary, the one in St. Louis. I want to find Michael Barton and make sure I’m wrong about my suspicion. But John, I think it’s too strong a coincidence, and we need to check it out.”
“Alright, I'll go along with it. You check in with me every day. If I think it's a waste, I'll pull the plug, and you come back. Agreed?”
Jason nodded.
“And JD, there's still the issue of the improper record search. When this is over, we'll have to deal with it.”
“Yes, sir. Thanks.”
*******
Michael was waiting when Susan got off work. The spitting rain had given way to a full-blown downpour, and she had her umbrella up again. When she pulled out of the parking lot, Michael slid into traffic behind her. The rain made him harder to spot, and he was able to stay well within range.
After maybe ten minutes, she turned and drove into an older subdivision on the north side of town. She stopped in front of a modest, single-story, ranch-style home with bright yellow paint, green shutters, and a green roof.
Michael parked down the street and turned off his car. He slid down in his seat and waited. His thoughts went to Benny Carter, who was doing the same thing ten years ago, in the Pontiac down his street. The image of Benny watching his family ate at him and fed his anger. He was getting closer every day to fulfilling his promises, he could feel it.
*******
Susan let herself into the house and folded her umbrella up. She liked the rain, and found herself looking forward to a quiet night of reading, curled up in her favorite chair.
After changing into jeans, she made coffee and grabbed the latest Grisham novel. She read until her eyes started to get heavy. Getting another cup of coffee, she decided to take a bubble bath and continue her reading in the tub.
With book and coffee, she slid down into the soapy water. It was her favorite way to relax. She read for a while and finished her coffee. Lathering up, she dipped beneath the water. When she came back up, wiping her eyes, a figure sat on the toilet watching her.
He held a pistol. “If you scream, I'll kill you.”
Susan's eyes cleared, and she slid down in the tub, letting the suds cover her. “Who are you? What are doing here?”
He stared at her with dead eyes.
“What do you want...and how did you get in?”
He smiled and it made her shiver involuntarily “It’s not important how I got in. What I want, now that's a different matter.”
Susan looked around for something to cover up with, but she’d have to get out of the tub to reach anything.
She turned her attention back to the stranger. “You don't know who you’re messing with!”
The next time he spoke, the smile was gone, and his voice was devoid of emotion. “What I want is information, and you're going to give it to me.”
She spat at him. “I'm not telling you jack!”
He picked up her hair dryer and threw it into the tub. Susan recoiled, closing her eyes. Nothing happened. When she opened them again, he was still sitting on the toilet, the cord to the hair dryer dangling in his hand.
Susan started to get out, but the gun came up until it aimed at her chest. “Don't move.”
She slid back into the water.
His voice dropped, almost hissing. “Now, where's my son?”
She did her best not to show her fear. “I've got nothing to say.”
The intruder slowly reached over and plugged the hair dryer in.
Susan's body convulsed and she bit her tongue, spewing blood into the tub.
When he pulled the plug back out, the searing pain released. She fought to collect herself. Her defiance was gone, and in its place was pure terror.
He leaned forward. “Where's my son?”
“I don't know...which...your son is.”
The look on the man's face told Susan he didn’t know there were others.
He narrowed it down for her. “Baby boy…San Antonio…ten years ago. I'm losing patience.”
“I don't know…I mean…I don’t know where.”
His hand raised the plug toward the outlet. “Where what?”
Susan freaked. “No…stop…I don’t know where he was put.”
He plugged it in again. This time her body arched as she screamed. He took the plug out.
“Last chance.”
“My…my…my brother,” she wept. “Number…in my…phone.”
The man stood up, staring down at her. She just wanted him to leave, and she thought he would, but he reached back and plugged in the dryer one more time. This time he didn’t unplug it.
Chapter 7
Detective Jason Strong got off the flight to Springfield anxious to get going. He rented a car and drove to police headquarters where he was to meet Detective Sam Garner.
The front desk called upstairs, and a couple of minutes later, Detective Garner emerged from the elevator. He strode—or was it shuffled?—over to Jason with his hand extended. “Sam Garner. Nice to meet you.”
“Jason Strong.”
Jason sized up the detective. He was round everywhere. His face, his chest, his arms, his legs. He reminded Jason of the Michelin Man with a goatee.
“Come on, I'll take you upstairs. Let’s see what help I can be.”
“Appreciate it. I brought a picture of someone I think may be in the area. He's tied to a kidnapping case from years ago, and he's gone missing.”
“Was he the kidnapper?”
“No, the father of the child taken.”
Sam gave Jason a sideways glance. “Ever find the kid?”
“Not yet.”
They got off the elevator on the third floor and Sam led the way to his desk. The squad room looked like a poorly organized cubicle farm.
When they got to Sam’s desk, the big detective sat in his chair and Jason took the one opposite him.
Jason slid the picture of Michael in front of Sam.
“His name is Michael Barton. The last search on his computer was ‘St. Luke’s Missouri.’”
Sam picked up the picture. “How can I help?”
“The search results showed one here in town, and another in St. Louis. I want to pay a visit to the one here in town. Do you know anyone I can connect with?”
“Sure, the head of security over there is an ex-cop. I'll give him a call for you.”
“Great, and can I get you to show this guy’s pic at the pre-shift patrol meetings? Maybe one of your beat cops has seen him.”
“That's no problem. Can I keep this copy?”
Jason nodded as Sam picked up the phone. “I'll call over to the hospital. When do you want to go over there?”
“Now.”
*******
Jason pulled up at St. Luke’s carrying with him another picture of Michael Barton. He wasn’t sure if Michael had been to this St. Luke's yet, but Jason hoped if Barton had been here, someone would remember his face.
When Jason came through the door, he found a horseshoe-shaped desk attended by a young lady in a candy striper outfit. Sam Garner had arranged a meeting with the head of hospital security, so Jason showed his badge and asked her to let Tom Evans know he was here.
She smiled, picked up the phone, said a few words, and hung up. While he was waiting, Jason pulled out the picture of Michael and showed it to her.
“Have you seen this man?”
She studied the photo before shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
Tom Evans walked up and extended his hand to Jason. “Detective Strong, I'm Tom Evans. Sam asked me to give you any help I can. He and I go way back.”
Jason shook his hand and looked back at the girl behind the counter. “Thanks for your time…Jessica, is it?”
“Yes, and you’re welcome. Sorry I couldn’t help with the photo.”
Tom
led Jason to his office while Jason filled him in. Before ever getting seated, they decided to take the photo from floor to floor, stopping first at the nurse’s stations, and then the offices.
They completed their tour two hours later. Nobody recognized the photo. If Jason came back the next day, there might be different staff, but he didn't want to waste time. Getting to the St. Luke’s in St. Louis seemed the next best step.
He thanked Tom for his help and told him he'd call when he decided whether he would return the next day. As he walked past the entrance desk, he saw a different girl there. He stopped to show her the picture.
“Hi. My name is Detective Strong.” He showed her his badge. “Could you tell me if you've seen this man?”
This girl’s nametag read ‘Britney.’ She looked at the photo for a moment. “Oh sure, I remember him. He was here a couple days ago.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Yes. It was definitely him.”
“Can you remember what he wanted?”
“Sure. He was looking for one of our nurses, and asked if I knew her.”
Jason's mind raced. “And did you?”
“Actually, yes. He was looking for Susan Turnbull. He said she took care of his niece and he wanted to thank her.”
“Did he see her that day?”
“No, she’d gone home already. I think he planned to stop in on his way back through town from somewhere. I don't remember where, though.”
“Is there anything else you can remember about the meeting?”
“Just that he seemed very upset to find she wasn’t here.”
“Britney, thank you very much. You've been a big help. If you think of anything else, will you call Tom Evans in security?”
“Sure. Is the man in some sort of trouble?”
Jason didn't hear the question. He was already on his way back to the security chief's office.
Tom Evans was still at his desk when Jason got there. “Jason, forget something?”
“No. I just showed the picture of my guy to a candy striper at the desk and she recognized him. She said he came in asking questions a few days ago about a nurse named Susan Turnbull. You know Susan?”
WHERE'S MY SON? (Det. Jason Strong (CLEAN SUSPENSE Book 1) Page 6
