“Certainly, sir.” He nodded.
“Good.” Peter sucked back his drink and eyed Johnson. Loose lips sink ships. He shook his head. Peter could get rid of Johnson easily enough. The rest of The Brotherhood would understand why he’d done it. The bigger problem remained…where was Dr. Ryan Horner and his family?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Back at her house, Kelly glanced over the charts she’d brought home. Eric was right. Nothing stood out. It was discouraging. Maybe she’d been wrong all along and Baby S. was just another sick infant in her unit and Lupe had died from natural causes. Same as the two other teenagers. It sure didn’t feel right though.
Tony finished his paperwork. Although it seemed awkward at first, they’d agreed to be on first name basis. “Would you like a glass of water, Tony?” she asked.
“Sure. Thank you. I’m actually going to give my son a call. It’s getting close to his bed time.”
She nodded. “I’ve got some laundry to do.” She also saw it as an opportune time to call Tamara.
She handed him the water and started down the hall towards the laundry room.
“Hi, Mom. How are you?” Kelly heard him say. “Good. Everything is fine. I’m just working. As I said I won’t be home tonight. I know. I’m sorry.” There was a pause. Kelly felt guilty listening to his conversation. She didn’t know why she was eavesdropping. His call was none of her business, but she didn’t move. “I love you, Mom. Yes you are the best mother in the world. I will. I will. I will be home this weekend and cook with you. Promise. Now can I please talk to the kid? I said please.” He laughed. “Because I’m scared of you.” He laughed a little more and Kelly found herself smiling. His laughter was robust and warm. Great. No way in hell was she attracted to the detective. How stupid. Hadn’t it only been a few hours ago she thought he was teetering on jerk status? She had to admit though she had gone back and forth on that verdict.
“Hi, bud. You treating grandma okay? Good.” Kelly turned around and watched him from the hallway. She could see his face, lit up with a tenderness she hadn’t seen before. Something flip-flopped in her stomach. Behave, Kelly! She turned and headed determinedly to the laundry room, shoved a pile of whites into the washer, and took out her cell phone.
Tamara answered on the second ring. “Dr. Swift.”
“Tamara, it’s Kelly.”
“Oh hey, I’m glad we connected. So, I got some results back for you and I don’t know what the hell you’re up to, or whose blood this was, but you said it belonged to a patient of yours?”
“It belongs to a baby girl in my unit.”
“She has traces of Ketamine in her system. No one picked up on that in your labs? I didn’t think you guys used that any longer. Did she need anesthesia?”
“Ketamine? No, it isn’t used often. Sometimes in pediatrics, but this baby was not anesthetized at all. And her mother wasn’t either. We didn’t have a lot of time to control her pain anyway. She passed away.”
“My guess is her mother took it. That is the only answer. But you’re also lucky your little one is alive in the unit, because she has Testerogen in her system.”
“What? I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s a relatively new drug out on the market. It’s proven effective in sterilizing mares. Obviously we don’t use it much because there is some controversy around its use. But there are some horses I have given it to. What I can’t understand is why a human patient had it in her system.”
“I don’t know either.” Kelly was perplexed by everything Tamara was telling her.
“I can also tell you we can’t give Testerogen to pregnant mares because it can cause spontaneous abortions. The drug is given to horses if a vet spots a problem early on in an ultrasound or through fetal tests, in order to abort the fetus.”
Kelly was stunned. The only noise was the soft whoosh-whoosh of her washing machine. “Hey Doc, you okay?” The detective called out. He’d obviously finished his phone call.
“Tamara, I have to go.”
“What is going on? This is strange stuff, my friend. Talk to me.”
“Listen, I can’t talk now,” Kelly replied. “I’ll call when I can and explain it to you. Thank you.” Kelly turned off her phone and called out to Tony. “Uh yeah. Fine. I was just adjusting the washer. It can be a bit difficult.”
He came into the laundry room. “Oh. Want me to take a look? I can be handy sometimes.” He squeezed past her. “What’s the problem?” He grazed her hand with his arm, and she couldn’t help feel a bit of heat rise through her.
“Oh nothing.” She waved a hand at him. “It’s fine. Sometimes the spinner comes loose. I fixed it. Maybe once the wash goes through, you can take a look.” She was totally full of it and hoped he didn’t know that. She needed to make sense of the information Tamara had just given her and then figure out how to tell the detective…Tony…about it. He hadn’t thought her theory valid before. Would he now? And would he follow through? Check into things? Or would the pendulum swing the other way again and he’d think she had concocted some story to cover tracks she didn’t need covering? She shook her head and sighed because she knew ethically, she needed to let Tony know what she’d learned.
“There’s something I just found out about Lupe Salazar,” she said.
“The girl who died in the emergency room, right?”
Kelly nodded. “The one whose baby is in my unit now, and, well, I don’t know what it means.”
“Okay. Why don’t you tell me and I’ll see what I think.”
“Can we go in the other room?” The quarters in the laundry room were tight and that warmth that she’d been feeling had intensified. She needed an iced tea and some space between the two of them.
“Sure.”
Once they were seated in Kelly’s family room, she took a deep breath. “I got some lab results back on Lupe Salazar’s baby. There are two drugs in her system that shouldn’t be there.”
Tony leaned in closer.
“Ketamine for one.”
“Ketamine? Don’t doctors use it for anesthesia?”
“We do, but not as much as we used to. And the baby has not been under a general. The drug had to have come from her mother.”
“That might be your answer, then. She must have died from an overdose of Ketamine. Unless she was given it in the emergency room.”
“No. We wouldn’t have, because as you are probably aware, there is a hallucinogenic quality it induces and it would not have been our first choice with a pregnant woman.”
Tony sighed. “I do know there is still street use of the drug. It’s mainly produced in Mexico, and we still see it in batches of ecstasy at times, so it is out there. I think you can’t rule out an overdose.”
“I agree, but there was also a second drug in her system.” Kelly told him about the drug used on horses and how it caused spontaneous abortion.
“Now that is odd. But maybe the girl changed her mind about having a baby. It does happen with these young girls.”
“She was 32 weeks pregnant. The delivery was only eight weeks premature. I don’t think this girl wanted to get rid of her baby. She seemed concerned and wanted to care for the baby.”
Tony leaned back into the couch and didn’t say anything for a minute. “Okay. Okay, let’s say your theory about a new street drug is possible. New drugs and variations of old drugs pop up all the time. But you also said you thought this girl’s death was related Dr. Hamilton’s murder.”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. I do think Jake was in some trouble and it got him killed. I don’t know if it is all related but it feels awfully coincidental to me. On top of that, I don’t know why the Ketamine did not show up in the labs. I get the other drug. If it’s not something we ever see, I can understand reports coming in as inconclusive, but Ketamine should have been detected. I have to wonder if the results were tampered with.” She looked down at her hands, which were clasped tightly together. “I hate to say this, but I wonder if Jake did it.”
“Would he have had the time?”
She shrugged. “He might have scrambled after I went down and spoke with him. He was so scared, Tony. I mean really frightened of something. Maybe he was covering his tracks.”
“Maybe. I’ll tell you what. I will find out where Lupe Salazar lived. I’ll go ask some questions, and see if I can get some more insight into what she was like. Someone could have drugged her. Possibly the father of the baby.”
“Thank you,” Kelly said. But her gut said Lupe Salazar didn’t want to kill her baby, and no boyfriend or father of the baby tried to kill the girl. There was something way bigger going on.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Jeanine couldn’t stand it any longer. She and the kids were holed up in some podunk, crappy motel off the interstate. The girls were whining. She’d just cut off a good chunk of their hair after she’d cut and dyed her own. She’d bought cheap clothes at Wal-Mart and dressed them like boys, telling them they were playing a game.
“This game is stupid, Mommy,” Taylor whined.
“Yeah, stupid,” Chloe agreed. “I wanna go back home. I wanna see Daddy.”
“Soon.” She knew she needed to call this Gem Michaels person. How Ryan knew her, Jeanine didn’t know. And on top of that, would the journalist think she was a total nut? Probably. Her instructions were to tell Gem her husband was Chemmadderhorn. Then she was supposed to tell her to look into Redding and Frauen Pharma. It was already past six in California. Jeanine had made a couple of attempts to call the woman when they checked in. The bad news was the motel manager required a credit card to make phone calls. Jeanine thought it safer to use her cell phone.
“Mommy! I hate it here. It stinks.”
“It does stink,” Jeanine said and lifted Chloe up off the bed. “You know what, let’s get out of here.”
“Yay!” The twins clapped their hands.
She shoved the few belongings they had into her backpack and left the motel. She knew where she was going. It was only a couple of hours away. Ryan would not be happy about it, but the further she was from Ryan, the more she began to doubt his sanity, and her own. She needed a sounding board—a reality check. She gave Melanie a call.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Peter sipped his just-poured scotch. He loved having money. He’d married an extremely wealthy—albeit fairly neurotic—bitch. He gave a quick thought at how insane she’d become. Had he made her that way? Not that it mattered much now—she was no longer his problem. She currently resided in a private psychiatric hospital in Vermont. Beautiful place, really.
The day Peter had her committed was rough but he’d had no choice. She’d been screaming and carrying on to the medical staff that he’d made her lose their child—that he had deliberately killed their unborn baby. Okay, so maybe he had, but Jesus, bringing up some sniveling brat with a sense of entitlement didn’t appeal to him in the least. He hadn’t been about to allow a fortune to slip away through his fingers—which is exactly what would have happened if she’d given birth to the heir she’d so desired. Ah, poor Evelyn. Such is life.
Peter had never liked children. He hadn’t even liked himself as a child. He’d been born into a family where children were everywhere. Nine of them, to be exact. He never liked his siblings. With nine kids around, toys were scarce—clothes, food—all of it scarce. His father left the family when Peter was about four-years-old, and he couldn’t blame him. His stupid mother became a drunk and a whore and the kids were eventually spread out amongst foster homes.
Peter was so happy when he wound up with the Reddings, who had the right social connections and were good people. Mr. George Redding taught Peter everything he possibly could about purifying the human race.
He remembered his nightly talks with George, very clearly.
“Son, who is it we don’t like?” he’d ask little Peter every day while drinking his highball and scanning his newspaper.
“Niggers, spics, dagos, Jews, Indians, towel heads, chinks, and beaners.”
George laughed. “There’s a few more, but you forgot a very important group.”
“Oh yeah, faggots.”
“Good boy. No, we do not like homosexuals at all.”
“Who do we like, Dad?”
“Good, God-fearing, white people, of course—the people who built America. Now what do we need to do in order to make this country a great place again, in order to rule the world?”
“Purify.”
George smiled and nodded. “That is right, my boy. You are learning everything correctly. One day, you will be running this great country of ours, and we will take it back again. This will be the place it was meant to be.”
“We’re not so far off,” Peter whispered aloud. “It might look like it to some, but I promise you, Dad, we are not far off.” The doorbell rang and his on-and-off-again companion, Susan, quickly appeared showing Chad into his office. The kid stood between the mahogany double doors of the library. “Hey. Come on in!”
Chad stepped into the dimly lit, elegantly furnished room. “Sit down.” Peter motioned to one of the chairs opposite his desk. ”Would you like a drink?”
“No thank you, sir.”
Peter got up and poured himself another drink, then came around and sat next to Chad.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes. There is a little matter that needs your attention, and it’s delicate. That’s why I asked you to come here. I know my home is a safe place to discuss matters at hand. Not that the compound isn’t, mind you, but this is the kind of matter that must be handled in a certain way because it concerns a brother.” He clucked his tongue. “I am afraid Mr. Johnson is causing us some difficulty and I’m troubled. I don’t like to be troubled. I think we to need to be certain Mr. Johnson doesn’t concern us any longer. Understood?”
Chad nodded. “I do.” He hesitated. “Here’s the thing, sir. I’m in a very tough position.”
“Why is that?” Peter could see Chad begin to perspire.
“It’s my uncle, sir.”
“What about the senator?”
“Um, you see, he gave me some clear orders and one of them was I was not to get involved with…” he lowered his voice “…any dirty business.” He sat back in the chair and crossed his leg.
Peter clasped his hands together. The kid thought he could pull out his uncle’s name and get out of a job? This was truly amusing. Where did Senator Wentworth think his continual cash flow was going to come from? Peter chuckled. “I’m confused, Chad. Isn’t everything we’re involved in “dirty business?” Wouldn’t taking care of Dr. Hamilton be considered “dirty business?”
Chad uncrossed his legs and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “Yes. That’s true. My uncle does not know I did that. I…he just had this conversation with me. I get you. Trust me, I do. I want to do everything I can to further The Brotherhood and the Covert Reich project. But I’m in a difficult position. I want to avoid upsetting my family further…especially if they found out the extent of what I’m doing for you…”
“For me? This isn’t simply for me, Chad. This is for you, for the country, for your uncle who is positioning himself to be the ruler of the free world. There is a higher purpose here.”
Chad hung his head.
“Tell you what, I will find someone else to take care of this, and from now on as your uncle wishes, I will make sure your position within The Brotherhood is maintained at a level the senator is comfortable with.”
“Thank you, sir,” he muttered.
“You’re welcome. You may go.” Peter watched as Chad left the room. He heard him shut the massive front doors as he let himself out. Peter stood, sighed, and poured himself another drink. He’d liked Chad. He really had. But it was time to send Senator Wentworth a very strong message.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Mark felt a sharp kick in his ribs. His eyes opened wide as he looked up at two burly dudes—guys he recognized from The Brotherhood. Mark immediately pulled his k
nees up to his naked chest, blubbering, “Hey, man, what the fuck?”
“Get up, asshole. It’s your lucky day,” one of them said, a German accent clipping the end of his words. He was bald, big, and ugly. Mark recognized him. He’d led a few of the local Brotherhood meetings.
“What do you mean?” Mark eyed him, full of suspicion.
“What he means, shit for brains, is you just received a promotion and now you have to earn it,” The other guy was taller, skinnier, with plenty of hair—all slicked back with light blue eyes that bore into Mark. He wasn’t as big as the other dude, but he looked meaner. “Get dressed. We have a job to do. Orders came all the way down from the head brass, so you can’t fuck this up.”
“Whose orders?” Mark asked, not entirely convinced what these guys were telling him was true.
“I don’t really think that matters. What does matter is you get your ass up, dressed, and ready in two minutes. Something tells me if this job is done right, you’ll be a very happy man.” Baldy gave Mark one of those, I fucking mean it stares, and Mark decided it was probably in his best interest to do as they suggested.
Twenty minutes later they were parked in front of Chad Wentworth’s townhome. Mark had been there once before. His boss. His brother. Chad seemed like a decent guy. He wasn’t an asshole like these dudes. He’d treated Mark with respect. They’d even had beers together and shot the shit. Of course, it was all very hush-hush because everyone knew Wentworth had major family connections. That’s why Mark was surprised Chad would be going with him and these goons to do any kind of job. Chad didn’t do jobs. He gave orders. Except Mark suspected Chad had been the one to do Dr. Hamilton. So, maybe he was going with them. Maybe this was kind of like a final acceptance thing. Maybe he was graduating into the big league.
“Hey, I thought you guys said I wouldn’t be meeting with the boss until all was said and done.” Mark chuckled nervously.
Baldy, whose real name was Thomas, turned around and faced him in the backseat of the Mercedes sedan. “You will.”
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