by Leslie Wolfe
“None,” Tess replied, a little colder than she would’ve liked. “I never miss.”
Melissa took a step back, surprised. Her jaw dropped, and Tess couldn’t tell if it was from hearing the statement of fact, or from processing what that meant.
“Never? You’re saying you never shot anyone who survived?”
“Nope. I can put a bullet dead center through a perp’s forehead from 20 yards, even if it’s a rainy night. I don’t know whose handiwork kept you busy in the ER, but it wasn’t mine, I promise you that.”
Melissa disposed of the used syringe and the empty vial in a biohazard container, then peeled off her nitrile gloves.
“You’re something else, Special Agent Tess Winnett, I’ll give you that, but you should take the doctor’s recommendations more seriously. You need rest, not a remote office. Why do you think we keep you here?”
Tess didn’t have the chance to reply. A quick tap on the door, and Fradella entered, followed closely by Doc Rizza. Melissa rolled her eyes and let her arms fall and slap her hips, in a gesture of both abandonment and despair.
“Whoa, look at all this stuff,” Fradella reacted. “Does this mean you can work with us now, for real?”
“Yeah, that’s what it means,” she replied. “You finally admit you need my help?”
Fradella scoffed. “We know how to do our jobs, but the more the merrier with this case.”
“Unsubs’ DNAs are not in CODIS, neither strand,” Doc Rizza said.
“What, the results are back? Why don’t I know about it?”
“Because the lab thought it needed to communicate those results to an active law enforcement officer, not to a patient in a hospital,” Doc Rizza said.
She frowned. “So much for being lucky this time. We got nothing.”
“There’s more,” Fradella intervened. “You were right about Lisa Trask. She was taken from the place where she saw the glimpse of death. How did you know? She was last seen leaving her hairdresser, at almost 7:00PM.”
“It was a hunch,” Tess replied. “How did you confirm it?”
“There’s 24/7 video surveillance at the bank where she worked. She must have carpooled with someone, because her car was at the bank, the last one in that parking lot after closing time. She came back for it after the hairdresser appointment; the recording shows her unlock her car at 7:49PM, but then she walked away from it and fell out of camera range. That’s precisely when she disappeared. A minute later, the car self-locked automatically. Detective Buchanan found it locked the next day, when she was working the missing persons case; that’s how we missed it, not that there’s any excuse.”
“No, there isn’t,” Tess snapped, feeling a wave of anger swell her chest. “Do you realize how much further ahead you could have been by now? Call Donovan, ask him to work with the Real Time Crime Center—the RTCC, pull all street cam feeds and look for cars that stopped near the bank that night. You have the precise time code; work from there. Maybe we can see him, catch a plate or something.”
Fradella frowned, taken aback by her reaction. “There was no way of knowing—”
“Yes, there was, damn it, it’s called diligence. You check. You don’t assume, you check, especially when lives are at stake. Who did she leave the bank with, and how did she get to the hairdresser? Did she take a cab, or did she leave with someone? Girlfriend, or secret lover?”
Silence fell heavy in the room, making the low hum of the medical equipment sound almost loud.
“Listen,” Tess said in a pacifying tone, “I guess I’m tired or—”
“No, you’re right. We fouled up on this one. I took everything in the missing persons case at face value and didn’t verify.”
She shook her head slowly, angry at herself for her reaction. No matter what the case, she should have conveyed her feedback in a more professional manner. Like that, she’d bruised a colleague’s self-esteem and upset a friend.
“I’ll get going,” Fradella said. “Michowsky’s meeting me at Katherine Nelson’s home. We’re interviewing her husband.”
“Will you dial me in when you get there?” she asked, and Fradella just nodded, then left.
Doc Rizza pulled a chair next to the bed and looked at her. She turned away from his scrutinizing glance, but Doc was not the kind of man she could keep many secrets from.
“He’ll be fine, Tess, he’s a big boy. He needed to hear it.”
She nodded once, unconvinced.
“How about we talk autopsy results for Sarah Thomas, and you tell me what you think?”
26
At the Mall
Melissa finished her lunch early, rushed by a call to tend to an assault victim, a young woman who’d just been admitted to University of Miami Hospital. She didn’t have an issue wrapping up her meal in a hurry, as she could barely force herself to swallow her food. She’d looked for Sophie everywhere in the cafeteria but couldn’t find her. Sophie must have been unable to take her lunch at her regularly scheduled time, so her boss’s request to help out with the rape victim didn’t interrupt anything much.
She took the elevator two stories up and found the room where the assault victim waited for an examination and a rape-kit evidence collection. With her specialty and seniority, Melissa was one of the few nurses authorized to collect forensic evidence in the aftermath of an assault, and she’d done it many times. That didn’t make it any easier though, and she cringed when she stepped into the room.
The young woman lay in bed with her eyes closed, but Melissa watched her breathing for a couple of seconds and knew she wasn’t sleeping. An IV drip was attached to her hand, and she looked pale and vulnerable under the white sheets. Melissa gave her chart a quick look: Virginia Mayer was only twenty-three, and still attended college. Luckily, her wounds were not too severe.
Melissa cleared her throat quietly, and the young woman opened her eyes.
“Hello, Virginia, my name is Melissa Henderson, I’m your nurse. I’ll be taking care of you,” she said, as gently as possible. “We have to collect evidence from your body, you know that.”
Virginia nodded, and a look of fear touched her eyes.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Melissa continued. “We’ll take this as easily as you’re comfortable with, and take breaks if you need them.”
Virginia nodded, and a tear welled at the corner of her eye. She sat on the side of the bed, and watched Melissa’s every move with the eyes of a scared child.
“Let’s get started,” Melisa added. “I’m sure you’d like to go home as soon as possible.” She took a camera out of the mobile equipment cart, labeled discreetly SAK for sexual assault kit, and took off the lens cover.
“Oh, no,” Virginia whimpered.
“Only a few close-ups of any bruises you might have, that’s all. I promise. Let’s get you standing on this paper mat, over here.”
Virginia obliged, and stepped with hesitation onto a large sheet of paper. She stood quietly, shivering at times, while Melissa disrobed her, carefully packing all her garments into paper evidence bags and quickly labeling them. When she pulled Virginia’s dress over her head, revealing her bruised skin, she almost gasped. Virginia’s bruises were a close match to her own, not at all that uncommon in rape cases. She’d seen those bruises before, on other rape victims. The truth about her own life was staring her in the face, as tangible as it could get. Earlier that morning, while looking at herself in the mirror, she’d closed her eyes and avoided reality; now she couldn’t, not anymore. It was time for a decision to be made, no matter the cost.
With trembling hands, she combed Virginia’s hair, slowly, careful to catch any bit of evidence that could have been entangled in her long, blonde hair. She took scrapings from under her fingernails, and numerous biological samples, moving as quickly and as gently as she could through the invasive exam. By the time she was finished, Melissa struggled to control her own tears. Her heart broke for young Virginia, for what she was going through, and for hersel
f.
She wrapped up the rape kit and sealed the evidence bag, then handed it to the law enforcement officer who waited outside the exam room. Then she helped Virginia get ready to leave, as soon as a doctor signed her discharge papers.
As soon as her patient left, she went straight to the restroom and washed her hands thoroughly, looking at herself in the mirror. As she did, her tears dried up and her irises caught a steel shade of color.
She didn’t return to her assigned case, the recovering federal agent with too many visitors and lots of spunk. Instead, she asked a colleague to cover for her and check in on Agent Winnett occasionally, then went upstairs and found Sophie. A few minutes later, armed with the keys to Sophie’s blue Subaru and a small camera Sophie deemed absolutely necessary, she went by her boss’s work station. He wasn’t there; that could end up posing problems, but she’d made up her mind. She scribbled a few words on a sticky note and affixed it to his computer screen, advising him she wasn’t feeling well and was leaving early. She time-stamped the note; it was 4:17PM. If she hurried, she could still make it on time.
She rushed into the nurses’ locker room and looked around. Most of her colleagues were as predictable as they came, and for once she was grateful for that tiny bit of help from fate. One of the younger male nurses had just pulled a forty-eight-hour shift, and he wasn’t going to be back for a while. His Miami Hurricanes jersey still hung from the locker door, sour with perspiration, as one would expect after being worn for two days. His baseball cap was also there, and Melissa put on both items, then gave her appearance a critical look in the mirror. The jersey was at least three sizes too big, but she was unrecognizable, even from up-close.
It took her ten more precious minutes to get to Sophie’s car, and she hit a bit of traffic on the Interstate, but through sheer luck, she managed to arrive at Derek’s office building a few minutes shy of 5:00PM. She parked in a visitor spot that was remote enough, but had a direct line of sight with the employee entrance, and waited, camera in hand, ready to zoom in and observe any details.
Her hands trembled and she forced herself to breathe slowly, to calm her nerves and come to terms with the monstrosity of what she was doing. She was crossing a line, a line of probably many more she’d have to cross until she could feel safe again. Yet she felt guilty for spying on her husband, for her endless suspicions, for her lack of courage to start an honest conversation with him. Was she being a coward? Or was she, in fact, being smart? Sophie would have voted for smart. She was inclined to believe her, but still felt ashamed.
At precisely 5:01PM, she saw Derek leave the office building and walk toward his car, alone.
“Not that much overtime today,” she mumbled to herself, surprised. “Let’s see where you’re going.”
She put on a pair of oversized shades and followed Derek’s car from two cars behind, an easy endeavor considering the rush hour. She drove for many minutes like that, feeling her palms sweat with anticipation anxiety, dreading the moment she’d uncover the truth about her husband. But soon she realized he’d been driving in circles, aimlessly wandering through the Coral Gables, slow-moving traffic.
She continued on his tail for another thirty minutes or so, grateful for Sophie’s full tank of gas, and wondering where Derek was headed, what he was up to. Was he just killing time, avoiding going home until late at night? What the hell was going on with her husband?
Suddenly, he pulled into a gas station, and she sank into her seat as she passed only a few feet by him, desperately looking for a place to stop. She pulled into the next-door convenience store parking lot, and turned the car around, getting ready to exit as soon as he filled up.
Melissa watched him from a distance through the camera’s zoom lens, and almost didn’t recognize him. Derek seemed serene, relaxed, almost happy. He took his time gassing the car, then strolled inside, probably to use the restroom. A few minutes later he emerged and stopped near his car to unwrap an ice-cream bar, then savored it with his eyes half closed.
He wiped his mouth with a small tissue and threw everything in the trash. Then he looked at his watch, and his entire demeanor changed. Suddenly hurried, he started his engine and left the gas station, forcing his way into the solid traffic, causing her to do the same.
She breathed with ease when she managed to slide in two cars behind him. Soon she realized he was going somewhere this time, no more driving around in circles. A few minutes later, he slowed and pulled into a corporate building parking lot, and parked on the last lane, backing the car in against the shrubs that marked the property line. Then he lowered his window and stopped the engine.
She parked on the street, behind a row of thick bushes, ready to pull out quickly and disappear. She looked at the building, surprised she’d never noticed it before. It was a seven-story high-rise wearing a stylized logo with the letters SOSO, and the name Something Software written cursively under the logo, in brushed metal font. It was getting close to 6:00PM and numerous employees started to leave the building. They probably worked different hours, like many companies offered, to ease the burden of the rush-hour traffic for workers.
Focused on the building’s entrance, Melissa almost missed Derek’s change in demeanor. He was tense now, clutching the steering wheel with both hands and squinting to see from that distance. Within fifteen minutes or so, the flow of employees leaving the building had thinned, and only the occasional individual was visible. Then nothing, no one came out of the building for a few long minutes, but Derek’s attention didn’t waver, and neither did hers.
The door opened one more time and a gorgeous, young woman stepped out. She was breathtaking; she must have been 5 foot 8, or so, walking proudly on 3-inch heels and donning a tight-fitting dress that hugged every curve on her perfect body. She had long, wavy, brown hair and her skin glowed with a healthy tan, making her legs seem almost too perfect.
Melissa turned her focus toward Derek, and felt a pang of sharp pain in her chest when she realized that the beautiful woman was the reason for her husband’s presence in that particular place. His eyes were fixated on that stranger’s face, and the camera viewer allowed Melissa to discern the intensity in his hungry look.
“Oh, no,” she whispered, struggling to breathe. Suddenly, the air was too thick and she couldn’t fill her lungs anymore.
The woman didn’t go to Derek’s car, and he didn’t make a move to meet her. Instead, the woman sat behind the wheel of a white Mustang convertible and drove away, oblivious to Derek’s attention. Derek followed her from a distance, and Melissa followed Derek, wondering where the entire situation was going. Was her husband a stalker? Or was he doing exactly what she was, suspecting a loved one of infidelity?
Twenty minutes later, the woman pulled into the parking lot at the elegant Dadeland Mall, and Derek drove in right behind her white convertible. Melissa followed Derek from a safe distance, and had to pass right in front of him, as he suddenly came to a stop. She held her breath, but his eyes were focused on the stranger, who was already clacking her heels quickly on her way to the mall entrance.
Derek stayed in the car again, but his eyes were intently watching the mall entrance. Melissa braced herself for what could be a long evening, knowing how much time a mall visit could take for a woman who looked like that. She suddenly felt the urge to know more about that woman. Who was she? Where had Derek met her, and why was he following her?
The stranger took less than an hour to finish her shopping, and came out of the mall carrying only one small bag. It was almost entirely dark, but in the powerful parking lot LED lights, Melissa could see her clearly, every single detail. She stared at the woman’s incredible figure again, and almost forgot to take pictures. She eventually trained her camera on her face and snapped a few photos. Then she turned to see what Derek was doing He was gone, but his car was still there.
She looked for him everywhere, and eventually she saw him standing near a shrub, at the edge of the parking lane where the woman had left her
car. She’d have to pass by him, within 20 feet at the most. Melissa watched the interaction that was about to happen with her hand over her mouth, holding her breath.
The stranger walked toward her car, seeming carefree and relaxed, then froze. She stared at Derek for a quick second, then took a detour, avoiding him by quite a distance and almost running toward her car. She threw her shopping bag into the car and sped out of there, flooring the gas pedal and leaving the smell of burned rubber behind her skidding Mustang.
Derek didn’t rush to follow her this time. He continued to stand for another minute or so, then he put something in his pocket and slowly walked to his car. She couldn’t see what that object was; the spot where he stood was almost completely dark, hidden from the parking lot lights by the foliage of a massive, magnolia tree.
She watched Derek leave eventually, but she didn’t follow him anymore. Drained and petrified, she drove by the hospital to swap cars and clothing, then drove home, dreading her arrival, postponing it as long as she could.
When she finally pulled into her driveway, Derek’s car wasn’t there, and she breathed with ease. Somehow, she didn’t even want to know where he was anymore, or what he was doing; she was too afraid to learn the truth.
Her neighbor, Ryan, stopped unloading groceries from his car and greeted her warmly, then commented on what he thought was a rough day, considering how tired she looked and how late she’d managed to get home.
He had no idea just how tired she really was. And desperate.
27
DNA
Tess angrily bit her fingernail, racking her brain to find something she could use. She felt better since she’d made it back to bed, and she could focus on the case instead of her precarious balance. At least she didn’t have to force herself to support her own weight on wobbly, weak knees. She still felt weak, exhausted, and Melissa swore she wasn’t secretly drugging her. “No painkillers, no sedatives,” she’d told Melissa, and the nurse seemed willing to honor her directive. After all, it was the law; medical personnel can’t force patients to accept a drug against their will.
