by Al Boudreau
Carter Peterson Mystery Series
Volume 1
by
Al Boudreau
Copyright 2016
Query Publishing, LLC
All rights reserved
Carter Peterson Mystery Series, Volume 1
is a work of fiction.
Names, places, and events are either products of the author’s
imagination, or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
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Book 1: A Case Too Close
Book 2: Case of Forsaken Identity
Book 3: No Deposit No Return
A Case Too Close
Carter Peterson Mystery Series Book 1
by
Al Boudreau
Copyright 2016
Query Publishing, LLC
All rights reserved
A Case Too Close is a work of fiction.
Names, places, and events are either products of the author’s
imagination, or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 1
I gave the wheel an abrupt yank to the left, dodging heavy two-way traffic while accelerating the Buick back toward Bridgeport Hospital. How could they have screwed this up? Sarah Woods, my partner on a personal and professional level, spent the last four days there recovering from a gunshot wound to the shoulder. Now, a benign call some administrator made to ask if I wanted Sarah’s belongings sent home by courier morphed into Sarah vanishing into thin air.
All in the course of ten minutes.
The on-hold click I heard from the cell phone speaker finally replaced the lousy instrumental rendition of “Here Comes the Sun” marking time in my ear.
“Mr. Peterson, sorry to keep you waiting. This is Jen at the nurse’s station. Kendra Pratt, the nurse who took care of Ms. Woods’s discharge, just left the building on her lunch break, but I do have her paperwork in front of me. Sir, the signature on the release form reads Carter Peterson.”
“I didn’t sign any release form,” I replied, doing my best to tamp down my exasperation. “She’s not due to be released till after her doctor sees her at three.” I checked my watch. 1:45 pm. “How on earth could this have happened? Don’t you people have security staff at that hospital of yours? I’m on my way back to you now. Be there in five.”
I ended the conversation and called the hospital switchboard, still in denial Sarah was gone. Why hadn’t she objected? Or called me?
“Yes, hello. Sarah Woods, room 307, please.” The call connected, yet the phone pulsed over and over again.
No answer.
I began running possible scenarios in my head of what might have taken place, but the only ones that made sense were those I didn’t want to think about. Sarah and I had worked together for the past 2-1/2 years doing private investigation work, living together as a couple for the last six months. I rarely felt fear – fifteen years as a Boston beat cop will take it out of a man – but when it came to Sarah, I often worried about her safety, especially now that she carried a weapon and had taken a slug to the shoulder while on our most recent case. She returned fire, killing the man who’d tried to end her life.
Go figure. In all my years as a cop and a PI I never had to shoot another human being. Not once.
I reached into the back seat while slowing for a red light and grabbed some files containing photos of individuals involved in our most recent cases.
“C’mon, c’mon, let’s go.”
I began weaving in and out of traffic as the light changed to green, horns and rude gestures the result of my haste. The hospital parking entrance was now in sight. A delivery van pulled in ahead of me, the driver appearing to be in no hurry. I careened into the first available parking spot, opting to sprint across the lot to the lobby instead of searching for a better parking space. Case files in hand I covered ground at a pace my fifty-four-year-old legs hadn’t attempted in quite some time, doing my best to avoid the dozens of people coming and going.
I burst through the double doors and shot a glance toward the elevator bank. Too many folks waiting. Stairwell it is. Fortunately, the climb didn’t seem to be anyone else’s first choice. I bounded up all three flights taking the steps two at a time and reached the nurse’s station quicker than I probably should have.
“Hi.” I paused to catch my breath, looking at the young woman’s nameplate. “Are you the Jen I just spoke with on the phone?”
“Mr. Peterson?”
“Yes.”
“Oh dear,” she replied. “May I see some ID, please?”
I fumbled for my license. “I need to speak to the person who signed off on Sarah Woods’s release. I think you said her name is Pratt. Also, the individual who left with Sarah? I need to know what that person looks like.”
Jen looked at my ID and nodded. “Thank you, sir. Yes, of course. So, Kendra Pratt did indeed take care of that paperwork, however, she’s still out on break at the moment. I did take the liberty of having our head of security print several still photos from our video feed for you.” She handed me the images. “This is the man who signed Ms. Woods’s release. Um … he’s obviously not you.”
I tried to maintain my composure as she handed my ID back. “I’ve been in this hospital almost constantly for the past four days. I don’t understand how a screw-up like this could happen.” Jen remained silent while I studied the images. Sarah was seated in a wheelchair with her head tilted to the side, eyes closed. The man pushing her wheelchair was clad in the same style leather jacket and boots I always wore. His face was vaguely familiar.
I opened the files and spread every single photo out atop the counter, my eyes darting from one to the next to the next. Much to my irritation, none of the faces matched that of the man in the surveillance stills.
Jen hoisted a plastic tote up onto the counter. “Here are the items that were left behind in Ms. Woods’s room.”
The fresh change of clothes I’d brought her from home were gone, along with her personal cell phone. All that remained were her get-well cards, the e-reader I’d given her for Christmas, and her favorite necklace. I sighed, closed my eyes, and pinched the bridge of my nose when a woman’s voice got my ear.
“Didn’t you hear me calling after you in the stairwell?”
I turned and encountered a short, stout woman in her sixties standing before me, her breathing labored.
“It was foolish of me to try and follow you up three flights of stairs,” she said. “I’m too old to be chasing after anyone.” She paused to catch her breath. “You were really moving. You nearly ran us down at the entrance. Here, you dropped these.”
She handed me two photos that must have slipped out of the files as I was dodging the crowd. “Thank you, ma’am, I …” Before I could finish my thought the image on one of the photos made my head swim. It was him. It was the guy.
Chapter 2
My brain felt like a food processor laboring to power through a handful of stones. I seldom had a hard time prioritizing what steps to take in order to get results in an investigation, but this was different. It was personal … and debilitating.
“Mr. Peterson?”
“What? Sorry, I ...”
“I asked you what I might do to help. Nurse Pratt should be back from her break. Would you like me to go get her? We could meet you in the head of security’s office. It’s located on the fourth floor, right next to the elevators.”
“Yes, that’s … a good idea.”
I looked at the notes on the back of the perpetrator’s photo as I made my way toward the elevators. His name was Mike Webber, husband of Rachel Webber, a woman we’d recently helped send to prison for embezzlement. She got five years thanks in no small part to our investigation. Mike Webber was now left to raise two young daughters on his own. The elevator door opened. I stepped inside the empty lift and slid Webber’s photo back inside the folder, feeling confident I had a suspect and a potential motive.
I stepped out on the fourth floor and rapped on the security office’s wired glass. A young man swung the door open and ushered me in.
“Mr. Peterson, I’m Jason Trask, head of security here at Bridgeport Hospital. I’ve been briefed on what’s transpired. Let me start by telling you the buck stops here with me. I’m truly sorry we’re faced with this situation. I’m not clear how this went down, but we’re going to find out together.”
As I shook Trask’s hand, he looked directly into my eyes. I was impressed with how he’d taken responsibility right from the get-go. “Thank you. Sarah is very important to me, so let’s not waste any time.”
“Understood, sir.”
I was about to tell him to call me Carter when Kendra Pratt, the nurse who’d handled Sarah’s release paperwork, appeared.
“Nurse Pratt, this is Mr. Peterson, Sarah Woods’s partner,” Trask said. I studied her face for a reaction. She averted her eyes as soon as I looked at her, seemingly at a loss for words. I couldn’t be sure if it was due to guilt or shame. Trask continued, “Did the man who signed out Sarah Woods identify himself as Carter Peterson?”
“Yes,” she said while staring down at the floor.
“Did he show you some form of identification?” he asked.
She hesitated. “I, um … I don’t recall.”
I jumped in. “You don’t recall, or you didn’t ask?” She shot me a look, and I sensed fear in her eyes.
“I … I was pretty busy when he got here. I may have forgotten to get that from him.”
“You failed to check the man’s identification?” Trask asked. He sounded as astounded as I was. He opened the door to a conference room adjoining his office. “Please. Both of you had better take a seat.”
“No offense, Mr. Trask, but I really need to put in a call to the Bridgeport PD if you haven’t done so already.”
“Ah, I have not, so by all means,” Trask replied.
I nodded and placed a call to Detective James, who worked closely with Sarah and me on most of our local cases, feeling confident he’d jump at the chance to get involved. The dispatcher put me right through.
“Hello, Carter. What’s up?”
“Not good news, I’m afraid. Sarah’s been abducted. She was taken from the hospital about fifteen minutes ago by Mike Webber, husband of the woman we recently helped put away for embezzlement.”
“I remember the case. You’re sure about all of this?”
“I am. I’m standing inside the hospital’s security office right now. They got him on closed circuit wheeling her out of here.”
“I’ll dispatch some units and issue a BOLO. Do you want me to come down there?”
“Not necessary at the moment, but would you be willing to head out to Webber’s house and see if there’s any sign of him or Sarah?”
“I’m on it,” James said and ended the call. I looked through the glass of the closed conference room door and saw Trask standing over the nurse. Tears were streaming down her face.
I needed to contact Sarah’s immediate family and let them know what had transpired. I chose to call Sarah’s 20-year-old son, Brian, first. He was home from Boston after having finished his final exams at Northeastern University.
“Hey, Carter. What’s going on, man?”
“Hey, Brian, I’m going to get right to it. I have reason to believe your mom has been abducted.”
“What? This is a joke, right? How could someone kidnap my mom? She was in the hospital.”
“Good question.”
“Well … who would do that? She’s already in enough pain with that bullet wound. The cops are all over it, right?”
“The police are actively involved. We have a suspect and we’re looking for the guy as we speak.”
“Uh, okay, well … what can I do to help?”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m at home, err … at your place.”
“Okay, good. The best thing you can do for your mom is to stay put in case she shows up or tries to get in touch with us. Monitor our land line. And keep your cell charged and clear.”
“If you think that’s the best plan then I’m all over it.”
“Thanks, Brian.”
“Carter, my mom’s gonna be okay, isn’t she?”
“If I have anything to do with it she will be. Look, I’m going to let you go. I’ve still got to call your Uncle Andrew and Sammy. Hang in there, all right?”
“Okay, but call me back if you hear anything at all.”
“I sure will.” I was about to place another call when Trask motioned for me to enter the room.
“I think you should hear this. Nurse, tell Mr. Peterson what you just shared with me.”
I took a seat across from her and she immediately started sobbing, burying her face in her hands, elbows resting atop the conference room table. Trask and I waited for her to regain her composure. She wiped her eyes then began to speak, avoiding eye contact with either one of us.
“The man who took your wife offered me money to cooperate with him … in getting her out of here. I refused so he threatened to hurt my kids.” She started sobbing again. “He … he knew their names, where they went to school, everything. I couldn’t take the chance of saying no to him again. He kept hounding me. He broke me down. I … I really think he would have done it.”
The revelation was as unsettling as it was enlightening. I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry you were faced with such an ugly decision. Did you contact the police or tell anyone here at the hospital about him approaching you?”
“I didn’t dare. I couldn’t take that chance where my kids were concerned. I’m so sorry.”
Not as sorry as I was. I gently squeezed her shoulder. “I know you did what you thought you had to.” I motioned Trask to follow me out of the conference room and into his office.
“Not sure what I would have done if I’d been in her position,” Trask whispered as he closed the conference door behind us.
“What’s going to happen to her?” I asked, despite feeling fairly sure she was screwed.
“Well, in terms of a job, I don’t see her keeping it. The decision she made, though understandable, is a gross violation of countless rules and regs the hospital has on its books. I can’t imagine anyone with authority here is going to make an argument for letting her stay on. The hospital’s liability in a situation like this is far too great.”
I felt sick as one piece of bad news after another got me in the gut. And I still had to break it to the rest of Sarah’s family. “That’s really unfortunate. I have to get out of here, but the cops are going to be asking her a lot of questions. Can you see to it that they don�
�t go too hard on her?”
“I’ll do my best,” Trask replied.
I nodded and headed out to the elevator while making a call to Sarah’s half-brother, Andrew. When he picked up, I took a deep breath. “Andrew, this is Carter. I’m afraid I have some unsettling news. Sarah’s been kidnapped.” He was silent as I explained the situation as well as I could.
“No ... that ... can’t ...” He paused, and I did my best to stay calm as he digested the news. “Do you have any idea who is responsible?”
My phone started clicking in my ear, indicating I had an incoming call. “Sorry, Andrew. I’ve got another call. Could you ...”
“Go ahead. But please get back to me as soon as you can. And let me know what I can do. I’ll let my dad know, okay?”
I clicked over to the new call and hit speaker. “This is Carter.”
“Carter, this is Detective James. I’m at Mike Webber’s place. 405 Seavey Drive. You’d better get over here.”
I swallowed hard. “Sarah? Is she ... did you find her?”
“She’s not here. But we found the guy.”
“You’ve got Webber? What did you get out of him?”
“Unfortunately, nothing,” James replied. “He’s dead.”
Chapter 3
“Where are you, Sarah?” I heard myself say as I tried calling her phone. Every single call went straight to voicemail. I dug deep to maintain my composure and not cause an accident as I sped toward Webber’s place, bits and pieces of Kendra Pratt’s confession playing back inside my head. The man who took your wife offered me money to cooperate with him.
My wife. I wasn’t married to Sarah, but I’d never loved another woman the way I did her. As far as I was concerned, we were together for life. The road ahead became blurry, and I blotted the tears away with a thumb knuckle.
Sarah was in trouble and it was my fault. Chasing criminals was dangerous work, and potential backlash for playing a part in putting someone behind bars a constant threat.
