Cries in the Night

by Debra Webb

  “Ain’t no use, I don’t guess.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but her face, her eyes told a different story. “Dr. Wilcox said he knows a real good family that’s looking for a mixed baby.” The girl shifted in her seat and looked at Mel then. “Black-Asian babies are hard to find. Dr. Wilcox said so. He knows people who wants them really bad. I can stay in school and even get my college paid for and a brand-new car if I let them have my baby.”

  Mel stilled. Her heart slowed to a near stop. “They’re going to pay you?” she whispered…unable to manage more than that. This girl was clearly underage.

  The girl glanced around the room and swore softly. “I don’t think I was supposed to tell that part.” She looked at Melany wistfully. “You won’t tell him I said so, will you? Please, lady,” she whispered harshly. “I want my baby to get a good family and if I get a decent education maybe I can make something out of my life.”

  Somehow Mel placed a hand on hers. She wasn’t sure how the message got from her brain to her hand, but it did. “Don’t worry. I won’t say a word. It’ll be our secret.”

  Relief replaced the terror in the girl’s young face. “I just want to do the right thing,” she murmured.

  Mel closed her eyes and blocked the images. All these young girls. All those babies. Surely Dr. Wilcox wasn’t…

  Her train of thought abruptly derailed when Ryan breezed back into the lobby and hustled her outside before she could even say goodbye to the girl she’d been talking to. “We have to talk to Bill,” he said. “There’s something going on here.”

  “Tell me about it,” Mel shot back. “I just learned that—”

  Her cell phone rang. She snatched it from her belt clip and flipped it open. “Hello.” She held her breath, praying it would be the nurse.

  “Mel.”

  Bill. She swore softly. “Yeah, Bill, what’s up?”

  “I need to talk to him,” Ryan reminded her.

  She held up a hand for him to wait while she listened to what Bill had to say. The silence on the other end of the line made her frown. “Bill, are you there?”

  In the seconds before he answered, dread flooded through her chest, pooling in her stomach. Her face must have paled for Ryan suddenly reached for her.

  “Mel, they pulled Helen Peterson’s body out of the river this morning. She’s dead…murdered.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The numbness had returned. In some ways Melany was thankful. She sat now, perfectly still, in one of the chairs around the small conference table in the makeshift command center at the Downtown Precinct.

  Helen Peterson was dead.

  Shot twice in the chest.

  Murdered.

  Before she could tell Melany what she desperately needed to know.

  Bill and Ryan were arguing. She wasn’t sure about what since her brain had practically shut down an hour ago. Both had shed their jackets. They circled the room, growling at each other like male dogs marking their territory.

  Bill mentioned the hospital administration, Lance Upton, and Mel’s senses perked up a bit, though she wasn’t sure it really mattered at this point. She could feel the depression, the desire to give up, bearing down on her. She didn’t want to believe it was too late…over…finished. But holding on to hope had grown so hard. She tightened her fingers into fists in her lap and forced herself to focus on the conversation around her that grew more heated with each exchange.

  “There have been five other cases in the past four months,” Bill argued. “All low-income single parents who were fatally injured, and in each incident the child or children were killed, as well.”

  Ryan threw his hands up. “What the hell does that prove? That low wage-earning single parents drive carelessly? If the accident was bad enough, nobody would be expected to survive no matter their income or marital status. Surely you’ve got more than that,” he snapped.

  Bill glared at him for five full seconds. Mel recognized the strategy. He was cooling down, preparing for the next parley.

  “This is personal, Ryan, I’ll give you that,” he said in a quiet yet lethal tone, “but I’m not going to make a mistake of this caliber even if it is personal.” He reached for his shirt pocket and swore. “I need a smoke.”

  “You said you were quitting,” Ryan grumbled.

  Bill exhaled a disgusted breath. “Oh, yeah.” He reached for a piece of the gum that was supposed to thwart his craving.

  Mel shook her head to clear it. She’d missed the part about Bill taking this too personally or something similar. Apparently Ryan had accused him of falling down somewhere along the lines since this one was personal. She’d heard him toss that accusation at Bill a couple of times in the past two days. She hated the tension thickening in the room, between old friends. But what could she say to stop it?

  “So what other relevant factors do you have?” Ryan’s voice sounded a bit calmer, as well. “We need a connection between Letson and Wilcox.”

  Both men were on the edge. She couldn’t say how much sleep Bill had had, but Ryan hadn’t slept at all last night. She was pretty certain of that.

  “I cross-referenced the MVA reports. What do you think I’ve had Carter doing? It was the same each time. The children appeared to be fine, and suddenly took a turn for the worst after being transferred to the pediatric ward.”

  Mel snapped to full attention. “Dr. Letson is the one behind this, then,” she said, anticipation pounding through her veins. Helen Peterson was a nurse in his department. “Do you think he killed Helen?”

  Both men looked at her then. “I don’t know. Maybe,” Bill allowed. “But Wilcox has to be in on it, too. He screens the situations, lets Letson know which ones are candidates. There’s the connection. According to my guy at Quantico, both men have unusually high incomes. If we look closer, I’ll bet we’d find that the hospital doesn’t lay out all that dough.”

  “That’s it.” Melany pushed to her feet, the legs of her chair scraping across the floor. It all came to her at once…why hadn’t she thought of this sooner? “He thought I was Rita. Single parent, low income, no health insurance, no family. I wouldn’t be missed and neither would my child.”

  “But you didn’t die,” Bill said, the same realization dawning on him. He swallowed hard, his gaze connecting fully with Mel’s allowing her to see just how right she was. “Not only did you not die, you’re former FBI. Can you imagine how Letson and Wilcox felt when they learned the truth?”

  “It was a mistake.” The motive, the opportunity, the means. They all came pouring into Mel’s thoughts. “Helen said it was a mistake. It wasn’t supposed to go that far.” She looked to Ryan then, knowing he would hold out, be the skeptical one. “I was a mistake. I didn’t meet the agreed upon criteria, only no one knew.”

  Ryan held up both hands. “Stop right there, both of you.” When he was satisfied that he had their attention, he went on, “This is a great scenario. You’ve even got a few raw, emphasis on the raw,” he said to Bill, “statistics. But a case this does not make. All we’ve got here is speculation. Hell, we can’t even get a warrant based on your theory. When I said we needed a connection, I meant a solid one.”

  “I didn’t need one at the hospital,” Bill countered. “Upton was glad to cooperate.”

  “The girl told me that Wilcox was taking care of everything,” Mel reminded them of what the girl in the clinic had told her. “She would get paid in the form of a college education and a brand new car. If the counselor was right, that they only provided advice, what the hell kind of offer was Wilcox making?” She purposely left off the title of doctor since she’d come to the conclusion that he didn’t deserve that much respect.

  “Hearsay,” Ryan threw at her. “Did you even get the girl’s name?”

  Mel plowed her fingers through her hair. “No, I didn’t get her name. She looked about fourteen years old and she was scared. Why would she lie to me?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Who said she lied? She’s fourteen, perhaps
she misunderstood Dr. Wilcox’s intent. Then again, you said yourself she was scared. Most lies start out based in fear.”

  Bill swore like a landlocked sailor and started pacing again. “Well, throw this into the mix and see what you come up with,” he growled at Ryan.

  Ryan waited for him to go on. Not a single crack in his impervious objectivity.

  “Memphis General has the highest infant mortality rate in the state. In nearly every case, Dr. Letson ordered an autopsy. Why not in Katlin’s or the other five cases so similar to hers?”

  “You really have been busy this morning,” Ryan commented dryly.

  “Can’t take credit for that one,” he mused. “One of the clerks told me there’d been talk of an investigation, but nothing has come of it so far. But I did cross-check the deaths and saw the orders Letson had written. I find it strange that there appears to be no rhyme or reason to his selection of who should have an autopsy. I even noted identical cases, one would get the order, one wouldn’t. Is the man senile or simply stupid? We both know Tennessee’s law on autopsies. Same doctor, same hospital, same kinds of cases and absolutely no continuity or apparent reasoning for who gets one and who doesn’t.”

  Mel held her breath as Ryan weighed the additional information. She could feel the tension pulsing like a living, breathing thing in the room. This was it…the defining moment. Did they have reason to pursue these accusations?

  “This could all be about malpractice,” he countered, looking from Bill to Mel and back. “It might have nothing to do with the fact that Katlin’s—” he caught himself “—is missing.”

  “But it could have something to do with Katlin,” Bill persisted. “We’ve operated on less before.”

  “All right,” Ryan conceded. “Call it in. We need warrants for both doctors’ offices, their homes, and, hell, get one for the hospital just in case Upton changes his attitude.” He thought for a second. “And that north side clinic, too. Something’s going on there. It may be totally unrelated, but my hunch tells me it plays into all of this, somehow.”

  Bill hadn’t needed Ryan’s authorization or agreement. For that matter, Bill was the one in charge. But he knew that Ryan had an instinct for this sort of thing. If Ryan Braxton had a hunch, you’d better listen up.

  The door opened and Greg Carter, the rookie gopher Bill had recruited, rushed into the room almost colliding with Mel “Ah…ma’am,” he stuttered, “Dr. Upton, Memphis General’s administrator, left a message for Mr. Collins.”

  Bill had asked that Carter catch any calls they might receive while they hashed out the meager facts they had so far.

  “Yeah, Carter, what’s the message?” Bill massaged his neck. He looked tired. They were all tired.

  “He said you’d probably want to know that Dr. Wilcox didn’t show up for his shift this afternoon. No one’s been able to reach him at home.” Carter looked from one to the other. “He thought that might be important.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Carter. I’ll work on the warrants,” Bill said, the stakes rising with this new information.

  “We’re going to Wilcox’s house. And Peterson’s,” Ryan announced as he grabbed his coat.

  “Grab some coffee or something on the way,” Bill said as he punched in a number on the telephone. “Don’t you dare go in until the paper’s done.”

  “Don’t keep us waiting.” He turned to Mel. “Let’s go.”

  Ryan pressed his hand to the small of her back and ushered her toward the door. As they left she heard Bill barking additional orders to Carter.

  Her anxiety was spiraling out of control and she tried to slow it…tried to keep her thoughts organized, but she couldn’t do it. It was all happening at once. Too much information, too many questions and possibilities. But no real answers.

  All she wanted was her little girl.

  * * *

  PETERSON’S HOUSE had been their first stop. A homicide detective had allowed them entrance to the property. Bill had realized that crime-scene techs would have been there today already and the house would be part of the ongoing homicide case so he’d tracked down the detective in charge and sent him in their direction. The man hadn’t lost his touch.

  To Ryan’s utter disappointment, Helen Peterson’s house offered nothing. Small two-story cottage. Ordinary furnishings and decorating, no hidden secrets, no files, no nothing.

  Two hours scouring over the place wasted.

  Ryan hoped Wilcox had made at least one mistake. If he was gone and hadn’t left behind a single scrap of evidence then this thing might just grind to a halt or drag out forever. He wasn’t sure Mel could hang on that long. He could see her wilting with each dead end. She needed something to hang on to. She needed a single shred of hope.

  He had to find it for her.

  The Wilcox home turned out to be an extravagant town house in a gated community. It had taken an act of congress to get through the gate. Carter had had to rush over with the original warrant in hand in order for Ryan to get in. A phone call or fax would not suffice. To say Ryan was ticked would be putting it mildly.

  One of the guards accompanied them to the home and unlocked the front door. Ryan thanked him, but the man didn’t go. He took up a post in the front yard, determined to see that no liberties were taken.

  Ignoring the man’s persistence, Ryan escorted Mel inside.

  “We can move faster if we split up,” he suggested. “And since Wilcox is likely already on the run, we need to make this quick.”

  Mel nodded. “I’ll start upstairs.”

  “I’ll cover everything down here.”

  Before moving deeper into the house, he watched as she climbed the stairs that ascended from the entry hall to the second-story landing. The entry hall rolled out past a parlor on the left and a guest powder room on the right to merge with a great room that made up the dining room, kitchen and family room in one. The furnishings were upscale though the decorating was a little drab. Like the man, Ryan mused.

  He surveyed the great room for a time. Checking drawers and cabinets. Bookcases and under sofa cushions. Nothing. He’d figured as much. He liked to eliminate the least likely places quickly so he could focus on the higher yield possibilities.

  Moving on from the great room, the guest powder room held no surprises, either.

  But the parlor might be another story. On one side of the room Wilcox had set up an office. The desk was locked and required some time, but Ryan managed.

  But his efforts were for nil. Wilcox had been careful. There was no computer, thus no electronic trail to follow. His paper files were clean. His Rolodex was empty, didn’t contain even the first telephone number or address. This was scarcely an office at all. Wherever he kept the details of his “extracurricular” activities, it wasn’t here.

  Ryan walked through the downstairs portion of the house once more, looking for anything out of place in the orderly environment. The walls looked clean, painted in recent months. The carpet and tile showed hardly any traces of wear, much less signs of soiling.

  Ryan wondered vaguely if the man even lived here.

  Melany was still upstairs.

  Maybe her search had turned up something.

  He climbed the steps slowly, surveying left to right, top to bottom as he had on the first floor and finding nothing he hadn’t expected.

  The first bedroom he passed was empty. No out-of-season items stored in the closet. Not even a single stick of furniture. Nothing. Bathroom turned up the same.

  He moved down the short hall and entered the master suite. The first thing his gaze landed on was Mel sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. Fear jolted through him. He was kneeling beside her in three strides.

  “What have you got there?”

  She was frantically pressing buttons on her cell phone. “It’s…” She shook her head and let out an exasperated breath. “I can’t get the call log up.”

  He reached for the telephone and started to ask why she suddenly needed to view her call log
but she answered the question before he could ask.

  “I found it on the floor near the bed.”

  Right where she was sitting, he’d wager. It wasn’t her phone. “You think it belongs to Wilcox.”

  She nodded, then shook her head. “I don’t know, but it belongs to someone who’s been here.”

  As Ryan put the menu through the steps, he asked, “You didn’t find anything else?”

  “Clothes in the closet and dressers, toiletries in the master bath, but nothing else. Not even a magazine.” She glanced around the room. “It doesn’t look like he even lived here. Not really. There aren’t any pictures. No jewelry.”

  “There are several numbers listed,” he said, showing her the display. The phone chirped a warning. He frowned. “Is the battery low?”

  “I don’t know, it was on menu when I came in. I guess I got nervous or excited and I kept screwing up every time I tried to access anything.” She trembled as if to punctuate the claim.

  “It’s okay, I’ve got it,” he told her, his own hands rock steady. Oddly enough, it was during the calm that Ryan usually met with his own demons. Whenever he was preoccupied like now, he was the eye of the storm. A cool, tranquil center to the mayhem. But when things slowed down and the case was over, that’s when he lived out the tension that had been building inside him for however long it took to solve the case.

  “He has a voice message.” Ryan punched the necessary buttons and held the phone where they could listen together.

  “Wilcox, you son of a bitch! I don’t know what’s going on over there, but you’d better give me some answers today or else. That last payment was shy a couple thou…don’t make me play hardball.”

  The message ended and Ryan pressed the save button, then checked the number from the received call. He fished his cell phone from his pocket and tapped in Bill’s number. When Bill answered Ryan quickly rattled off the number of the caller who’d left Wilcox what was basically a threat.

  “He’ll call us back.” He pocketed his phone as well as the other one. “Maybe Wilcox’s friend will call again.”