Night Blood

by James M. Thompson

  “Yes. Until recently, anyway.”

  “Well, these are the very people who have the highest incidence of CJD, and AIDS and every other disease in the city. I’ll bet it’s close to a mathematical impossibility to pick even twenty of these people at random and not have one with one of those illnesses. Therefore, it’s almost certain that he somehow knows which people are safe and which aren’t.”

  Barbara interjected. “Of course, he might have some sort of extrasensory power that tells him the potential victim is safe, or maybe he can ‘smell’ the sickness if they have some blood disease, like dogs who won’t eat tainted meat.”

  “That’s right,” Matt snapped with some irritation, “any of those things could be true. But speculating on what this creature may or may not be able to do doesn’t help us. All I’m saying is that if he’s testing them for blood diseases, perhaps we can use that fact to track him down.”

  “There’s only one lab that does CJD and AIDS testing,” said Sam, “the state lab in Austin.”

  Shelly held up his hand. “Well, not quite. It’s true that the state lab is the only lab that actually does the testing, but all the reference labs in town send their tests to the state lab, so we’ve just got to see if all of the victims had their tests sent in from the same reference lab.”

  “There’s something else to think about,” added Barbara.

  “What, Barbara?”

  “Shelly, you’ve often complained about the laws concerning lab testing, and about how the results are so secret that sometimes doctors can’t find out a patient’s results without a signed consent.” She looked around. “If the access to the results of blood tests is so limited, how could the killer find out the results?”

  Matt concentrated for a moment, working it out in his mind. Suddenly, he realized that made their task even easier. “Of course. The blood tests are coded, and the results are confidential. Very few people know both the results and the identity of the patient.”

  “And who might that be?” asked Damon.

  Matt glanced around the room but Sam answered for him. “The patient, the doctor who ordered the test, and the employees of the reference lab that drew the blood.”

  Shooter snapped his fingers. “And our witness said one of the victims called the perp Doc. All we have to do is get the state lab to check and find out if our victims had blood tests, and who ordered the tests, and we’re halfway home!”

  “Right!” Matt said. He went to Barbara and took her hands in his. “Thanks, Barb. Your questions will help us catch the killer.”

  Sherry was listing on her pad what they had to do. She looked up. “Doctor Silver, if you’ll get on the phone and start waking people up in Austin, I’ll crank up the computers at police headquarters and with any luck we’ll have some solid leads by the morning. I can have the computers link up via modem and run a cross-check on the names of people we think may have been victims and see if they had laboratory tests in the recent past for this CJD or AIDS or anything else exotic.”

  Matt held up his hand. “Just a minute.”

  Damon looked up. “What is it, Matt?”

  “I hesitate to bring this up, but when we left the house earlier, I felt like we were being watched.”

  Shooter jumped to his feet, hands clenched into fists. “What? Why didn’t you say something?”

  Matt shrugged. “Shooter, I looked around and didn’t see anyone. I just didn’t think it meant anything.”

  Shelly frowned. “And what made you change your mind, Matt? Maybe it was just a coincidence after all.”

  “I don’t think so, Shelly. It would be a tremendous coincidence that the killer just happened to be at the same location as three of the people investigating his activities, and just happened to kidnap someone close to one of the investigators.” He stood and faced the group. “No, I think it means that he has somehow become aware that we are tracking him. It’s much too soon for him to be killing again . . . he’s not due for another week and a half.”

  Shooter’s face was full of anguish. “Then why did he take TJ?”

  Matt glanced at Damon, who said grimly, “It can only mean that he took her to try and find out how much we know, how close we are to catching him.”

  Twenty-six

  I stood over the unconscious body of TJ and wiped the blood from my lips with one gleaming claw, then absentmindedly licked it off as I stared down at her. It had taken all of my control to limit my taking of TJ’s blood to a safe amount. The Hunger and my own sexual urges had demanded more, and I had barely been able to control the temptation to rend and tear and gorge. Only by continually reminding myself of the plans I have for TJ could I stop in time to spare her life.

  She was the key to my salvation. For only with her help would I be able to find not only a cure for CJD, but also, God willing, a cure for the vampirism that consumed my soul, my life. If there was some way for me to stop the Hunger, I would do anything to find it.

  I left the room, locking the door behind me, and headed for my house. I planned to rest awhile before going to work in the morning. I knew I must try to keep to my normal schedule and avoid any suspicious actions that might bring me to the attention of the investigators, especially now that I had my helpmate in my quest for salvation.

  * * *

  The next morning, the bedraggled and haggard group of investigators gathered in Clark’s office to share the information they had compiled during a long night’s search. He again warned them to be careful and to avoid Hillary James if they saw her hanging around the station.

  Shooter passed out coffee and sweet rolls, while Shelly and Sherry Landry compared computer printouts. Clark stood with his back to the group, looking out the window at the morning haze that obscured the Houston skyline. Sam saw the way Matt was holding his head and guessed that his neck was stiff from the evening’s work. She stood behind him and gently kneaded the muscles, trying to undo the knots.

  Clark returned to his desk and cleared his throat for attention. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, what have you got for me this morning?” he asked, looking in Matt’s direction. Sam ceased her rubbing and sat at the table next to him.

  Matt had spent most of the night at the medical library of the Texas Medical Association. It’s located in the middle of the medical center and has computer hookups to every significant research center in the country and copies of almost every medical paper ever published.

  He shook his head, looking down at his hands, which were still shaking from too little sleep and way too much coffee over the past twelve hours. “Chief, I couldn’t find an answer to our question about whether the killer is at risk for CJD or other blood-borne diseases from drinking blood. There just hasn’t been any research along those lines.”

  Clark frowned. “Then, we don’t know if we’re barking up the right tree or not?”

  Matt leaned his head back and shrugged his shoulders; it didn’t help to relieve the tightness coiled there like a snake. “Oh, I think we can safely assume he is. Plenty of papers have shown that swallowing infected semen, as in oral sex, or engaging in deep kissing is a risk factor for AIDS and hepatitis, so most likely all of the blood diseases can be transmitted the same way.” Clark started to speak but Matt held up his hand and continued. “Of course, the biggest risk factor he has may well be the rough sex. Any sexual act that draws blood, such as anal intercourse, can be a tremendous risk factor.” He glanced over at Shelly. “And we know from the autopsies that he engages in sexual acts that cause a significant amount of bleeding.”

  There came a stifled grunt from Shooter, and Matt could have cut out his own tongue for his last remark. In his haste to make his point, he had forgotten momentarily that the killer had TJ. He rose and went to stand next to Shooter, his hand on his shoulder, letting him know he was sorry.

  The chief cleared his throat, avoiding Shooter’s eyes. “Okay, Matt, thanks. How about you, Shelly? Did you find out anything?”

  Shelly looked up at Clark with weary
, bloodshot eyes. He was too old to work these hours under this kind of pressure.

  “You wouldn’t believe how many favors I had to call in to get access to the state computers last night,” he said, his voice raspy and thick. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, causing them to tear and become even redder. “Over three-quarters of the names we have listed as possible victims had multiple blood tests run by the state lab in the month preceding their death.”

  “Jeez, Shelly,” Matt said, “that seems like an awfully high percentage of patients having tests for what are relatively rare blood disorders.”

  Shelly nodded. “You’re right, Matt. I thought it was pretty suspicious too.”

  Shooter didn’t wait to let him finish. “Where were they sent from . . . what doctor ordered the tests?”

  “Well, of those we were able to find and verify, almost ninety percent were referred from either Methodist Hospital or Ben Taub. Unfortunately, they were ordered by many different doctors, and no particular pattern emerged as far as the victims were concerned.”

  Shooter jumped up. “Then it has to be one of the lab techs or hospital employees . . . right?”

  Shelly rubbed his face and answered in a tired voice, “I suppose so. . . .”

  Clark turned to Sherry. “Can you get me a list of the laboratory employees and anyone else who might have access to those results?”

  She stood, picking up her pad and pencil off the desk. “Sure, Chief, I’ll get right on it.” Just before she reached the door, Sam called out, “Just a minute, Sherry.”

  Sam glanced at Shelly, as if afraid to contradict him, then said, “Shelly, when we’re doing an autopsy on a patient, and you want to know the lab tests that were done on that patient, how do you find out?”

  Shelly thought for a moment, tiredness slowing his usually quick mind. “One of two ways. I can either look in the chart that accompanied the body to the morgue, or I can enter the patient’s medical record number and my password into my computer terminal and print out the results.”

  Sam looked at Sherry to see if she understood what she was getting at. Sherry shook her head and said, “Damn! That’s not good.”

  Matt felt a sickening feeling in his stomach as the implications of what Sam asked sank in. Their suspect list just became larger by several hundred people.

  Shooter, not following the conversation, said, “What difference does that make?”

  Sam explained, “That widens our list of suspects to anyone with the access code to the hospital computer and a password. All they have to do is log on to the computer and have it do a search of all the tests they’re interested in and their results; then they could backtrack through the computer to match patient numbers with names and they would have a list of hundreds of people who had tested negative for whatever test they’re checking, along with their addresses and phone numbers.”

  Clark leaned over his desk. “Shelly, who all has access codes and passwords to the computer?”

  “All of the hospital staff members, and that’s virtually all of the doctors on this side of town.”

  Clark sat back and lit a cigarette, his expression somber. “Well, it can’t be helped. It just means we’ll have to work harder and faster to ferret out the killer. Any ideas, anyone?”

  Matt spoke up. “Damon, I think we should concentrate our efforts on the doctors or other professional staff.”

  Clark raised his eyebrows. “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, if we’re right and this killer is over a hundred years old, and has managed to kill hundreds, maybe thousands without being detected, I think he must be exceedingly intelligent.”

  “So?”

  “So, I don’t see someone that intelligent working as a lowly lab assistant or tech for menial wages. I’ll bet he’s one of the professional staff. Either a doctor or nurse.”

  Clark hesitated a moment. “You’re probably right, but who says this psycho has to be logical. Shooter, you and Sherry concentrate on the doctors, with Matt and Shelly and Sam’s help. I’ll assign some uniforms to do the background checks of the lab employees.”

  * * *

  Sam, Matt, Shooter, and Sherry met at Shelly’s office to plan their strategy for investigating the hospital personnel. Shelly took charge and asked, “Okay, team, does anyone have any bright ideas about what we do next?”

  Sherry said, “Doc, if you’ll give me your password, I’d like to play around with your computer terminal and see if I can find anything else out.”

  Shelly asked, “Such as?”

  She shrugged. “Such as if there’s any way to track who ordered what searches in the computer, or which doctors accessed the lab modules of the computer program the most during the past year.”

  “Good idea, Sherry,” Matt said. He turned to Shelly. “How about if we make a list of all the male doctors on staff that we know personally and grade them according to weirdness? Then we can interview the weirdest ones first.”

  “That sounds good, Matt,” Shooter said, “At least it beats doing it by alphabetical order.”

  Sam held up her hand, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Speaking of weird, I think we ought to interview Gregory first, before we start with our list.”

  Shelly frowned, then nodded his okay.

  “Is this Gregory a doctor?” Shooter asked.

  “No, just a morgue assistant, but he’s four-plus weird,” Matt answered. “Seems he likes to . . . get close to his work, especially if it’s a female body.”

  As they walked down the basement corridor to the morgue, Shooter mumbled, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Sam shivered, saying, “No, no he’s not.”

  Once at the morgue door, they entered without knocking. The lights were off in the main room, but against the far wall the cooler door was partially open, and a razor edge of light showed through the crack. Although the darkness was thick enough to cut with a knife, several dark objects could be seen outlined against the light coming from the cooler. The half-seen shapes looked like giant toadstools growing in some primeval forest gloom. The room was cold enough that their breath escaped in tiny puffs of fog as they exhaled. The idea of what they were hunting in this subterranean morgue flitted across Matt’s mind, complete with pictures of its victims laid out on the autopsy tables with their necks open to the sky. He wondered what he was doing here, and why.

  Sam nudged Matt and whispered, “Autopsy tables,” pointing at the barely visible shapes scattered throughout the room. As he peered into the chilly darkness, standing just inside the entrance, he felt Shooter shiver next to him. Matt didn’t think it had anything to do with the temperature of the room. As they started through the gloom toward the cooler, a series of grunts and groans could be heard from inside, making the hair on the back of Matt’s neck stand up.

  Shooter put his arm out, restraining the others, and Matt heard the snick of his revolver slipping from its holster. “Stay here,” he whispered, only a slight quaver in his voice. Then he crept toward the door, melting into the blackness.

  He was briefly visible as he peeked around the door; then he rushed out of sight into the cooler. Shelly and Sam and Matt hurried forward as a bloodcurdling shriek shattered the quiet.

  They found a disgusted looking Shooter holding Gregory by the scruff of his neck. Gregory was naked from the waist down, his erect penis bobbing up and down as he sobbed hysterically, “Let me go! I didn’t do nothin’!”

  Sam averted her eyes as Shelly said, “Shooter, what’s going on?”

  Shooter wrinkled his nose as if he were smelling something rotten. “When I came in, he was leaning over that female body, sucking her breast and masturbating.” He pointed toward the corpse of a teenage girl that had been brought in as an accident victim the night before.

  Shelly shook his head, sadly. “Gregory, get your pants on and come out here and tell us what the hell is going on.”

  As they waited for Gregory to get dressed, Matt chuckled and said, “I don’t know about
you guys, but me, I’m relieved.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam asked.

  “When we heard that scream and rushed into the cooler, I half expected to find the count dining on Shooter’s skinny neck.” He shrugged as Shooter’s face flushed crimson. “I’m just glad it was a routine pervert case and not the real thing in here. I don’t know how anxious I am to confront the thing who’s killed all those people in a basement morgue with only one gun between us.”

  Sam whispered amen as Gregory stepped out of the cooler, zipping his pants.

  After a full hour of questioning, Gregory admitted that he occasionally used the bodies for sexual gratification, but denied having anything to do with the murders. He also confessed that he had been fired from his last job as an embalmer for similar indiscretions.

  Shooter decided to call a patrol unit to take him to a holding cell until his story and alibis could be verified.

  Twenty-seven

  After Gregory had been sent downtown, the team returned to Shelly’s office and checked with Sherry, who had found nothing new on the computer to help with their search for the killer’s identity. They were sitting around, looking as discouraged as they felt, when Sam suddenly snapped her fingers. “Matt, if you were a vampire and needed a constant supply of blood, and worked in or had access to a hospital, where would you look?”

  He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t know, the lab maybe?”

  Sam scowled impatiently. “No, that blood hasn’t been tested, it might be infected with any type of disease. Think . . . who tests every bit of blood they collect for all types of blood-borne diseases before it’s accepted?”

  “The blood bank!” Matt answered, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

  “Absolutely! And do you know who’s in charge of the blood bank at Methodist Hospital?”

  “No.” Matt had some vague memory of a redheaded RN who always delivered the blood to the ER, but he had no idea what doctor was serving as medical director of the blood bank.