Trace Evidence

by Elizabeth Becka

  “No, thanks. That’s a good question, David. I think there would be more signs of a struggle if they were conscious, either before or after they went into the water. Both of them had some scrapes on their hands, but I think that’s from when they were placed on the edge of the bridge. They had some bruises from the chains around their neck and their wrists. Destiny had minor scratches from clawing her way out of the river. But there were no head injuries sufficient to cause unconsciousness, and there were no bruises where you would expect them if the girls were overpowered—like on their upper arms, their necks, or their face.”

  “So he probably put a gun to their face and told them to behave.”

  “I would still expect more bruising around the wrists. You think he would have sat there the whole time the cement hardened?”

  “Obviously he didn’t, since Destiny loosened her legs enough to slip out once he pushed her over.”

  “But Lia Ripetti didn’t.”

  “Maybe Lia just couldn’t get out of the chains. I still don’t know how Destiny did it.”

  “No.” Evelyn shook her head. “I examined her legs while they were still in the cement. That girl was stuck, chains or no chains. How long would it take for it to harden?”

  “I talked to a guy in Street Crimes who does cement work on the side. He said a couple of hours, with the quick-drying kind.”

  “So either she couldn’t move while the cement dried, or she had been knocked out.”

  The waitress left the check, which David grabbed. “I’m using your professional services, I can at least provide lunch. Destiny could have been slipped some Rohypnol in the bar; that could have made her complacent enough to grab her off the street without a cry for help. But what about Lia?”

  “Durling could have slipped her something—they ate together. That would mean he either killed her or is working with someone who killed her.”

  “An accomplice? That’s not likely, is it?”

  “The Hillside Strangler case,” she reminded him. “But no, it’s not likely.”

  “Could he smother them until they passed out?”

  She thought. “Possibly. They would have petechial hemorrhaging—that’s broken blood vessels in their eyes, but they would anyway from the drowning and, in Destiny’s case, the strangling. So it wouldn’t be conclusive under these circumstances. If he’d smothered them, they’d still fight for a while first, and I’d expect to see at least a few bruises on their face, maybe a cut on the inside of their lip.”

  “Couldn’t he have something on a cloth or in his hand that would knock them out?”

  “Like in old detective novels?” Evelyn grinned. “Yeah, ether or chloroform would work, though they’d leave burns on the face. I have Ed working on it.”

  “Who’s Ed?”

  “The best-kept secret of the Toxicology Department.”

  David paused. “I know it’s selfish, but what really bothers me the most is that this guy might simply pick up and move to another city, and we’ll never catch him. I’ll never solve the case.”

  “Don’t even think it.” Evelyn shuddered.

  “At least your career isn’t riding on it. Besides, you’re a scientist. You love puzzles, right?”

  “Not puzzles,” she corrected. “I like stories. And if I can’t know the ending, I lose interest. And don’t be so sure my career isn’t affected by our conviction rate.” Absently she tied her napkin in a knot. “This guy can’t leave on us. He just can’t.”

  David patted her hand again. “I think the waitress wants us to go. She’s hovering.”

  Evelyn rubbed her abdomen. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret having three pieces instead of two.”

  “Well, if you get food poisoning, you can probably buy this place.” He stood up and pulled on a leather jacket with languid movements that caught the attention of two young women at the opposite table. “Coming?”

  Evelyn looked up at him, her skin abruptly pale. “David? Didn’t you tell me her supervisor said that Lia Ripetti had come down with food poisoning?”

  “Yeah. Only time she missed work.”

  “Bad enough to go to the hospital?”

  “Yeah.”

  Evelyn felt an ill wind blow through her heart. “Which hospital?”

  David pensively consulted his notebook, then looked at her with both fear and a frightening kind of thrill in his eyes. “Riverside.”

  chapter 23

  THE STAFFING COORDINATOR’S DESK at Riverside Hospital could have been declared a monument to nonconformity. Files that appeared to be in imminent danger of sliding to the floor at any moment had managed to gather dust. Sticky notes of every conceivable size and color clung precariously to a plaster figure emblazoned with You don’t have to be crazy to work here . . . but it helps. The coordinator’s stained smock sported cartoon cats and bore only half a hem. She took a long drag on her cigarette and blotted the stub in an ashtray, placed defiantly in front of a “No Smoking” sign.

  “Don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you this,” she said in a voice suspiciously like Mrs. Anderson’s. “I don’t mind, understand, I just don’t want to get reprimanded.”

  “We just want someone’s work schedule.” David gave her a sweet, earnest smile that didn’t come close to fooling her. “Not their medical records.”

  “It’s still records.” She looked at Evelyn, who huddled in a folding chair with her sweater pulled tightly around her body. The hospital’s interior had not warmed any since her last visit. “Well, what the hell. Who did you want to know about?”

  Before he could answer, a teenage girl in a candy-striper uniform leaped through the doorway. “Letitia!” she said breathlessly. “When do I work next?”

  “Thursday and Friday. Six to nine.”

  “Great, thanks.” The girl disappeared in a puff of youthful energy. Evelyn looked at the staffing coordinator with new interest.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Real good memory. And a healthy concern for job security. Anyone who tried to take over for me would get lost in here, never to be seen again.”

  “James Neal,” David told her. “He’s a nurse. I think he said he’s a floater. Did he work on October twenty-eighth or twenty-ninth?” Admissions had already told them the dates of Lia Ripetti’s hospitalization.

  That proved too much even for Letitia’s memory. She pulled a heavy blue binder to the edge of her desk and balanced half of it on her knees while she flipped the pages over. The resulting wind denuded the plaster statue of half its remaining sticky notes.

  “Let’s see. He worked in ER on the twenty-eighth, eleven to three, and in OR three on the twenty-ninth.”

  Evelyn shivered.

  Lia Ripetti came in to the emergency room on the night of October 28. They could not tell if James Neal took care of her without access to her medical records, but the ER consisted of only four exam areas. He had to see her even if he had not worked on her.

  David asked the woman to check the night Destiny Pierson came in with her broken finger, and just as Neal had said, he had worked that night on her floor. Then she added, “He’s on six right now, if you want to go talk to him. Pediatric unit. He’s always a big hit up there.” She gave them a curious look, obviously dying to know what was going on but too proud to ask. “He gets off at three.”

  “Maybe we’ll do that,” David said. They thanked the staffing coordinator and made their way to the elevator.

  “It’s nothing substantial, really.” He spoke as if trying to keep a lid on his rising hope. “A whole lot of people pass through this hospital every day, it’s not surprising two would have the same nurse. But it’s the only thing we’ve found so far that the two girls definitely had in common.”

  “And Angel.” Fear spread rapidly through Evelyn.

  David turned to her, the ebullience wiped off his face. “What?”

  “Angel has the same denominator. Neal took care of her, fussed over her, made her laugh.” Her voice rose
with every word. “God! It’s how he’s picking his victims! They come in here, he’s got access to their address, phone number, next of kin, their damn cell phone number!”

  “Where is Angel?”

  At least he didn’t try to reassure her, tell her everything would be all right or not to overreact. “She’s at her father’s.”

  “Then she’s safe.” He held her with one hand on each shoulder. “Neal wouldn’t be able to find his house, would he?” The elevator doors opened and they were surrounded by four children with one harried mother.

  Over their excited chatter Evelyn tried to think. Had Rick’s address been included on the ER admitting form? She didn’t think so. Phone number, maybe. “I guess not.”

  “Then don’t worry. She’ll be okay. Neal must see a lot of pretty teenagers every week, that doesn’t mean he kills all of them.”

  The children’s mother gave him a startled look and wildly pushed buttons until the elevator stopped, herding her brood out into the hallway. David and Evelyn got off at the ground floor, which smelled damply of wool overcoats and people.

  “I need to get back to the office, David.”

  “I think you should be with us. If you do have any worries about Angel, let’s let him see you. Let him figure out that your daughter is the one girl he should stay away from unless he’s got a death wish.” He stepped outside the automatic doors and pulled out the antenna on his cell phone to call Riley. Evelyn remained in the warm lobby. She couldn’t shake the chill she felt seeping through her blood. It wasn’t fair, she thought.

  I spend my life trying to thwart the forces of evil. Shouldn’t I be immune to them? Is that so much to ask?

  She pulled out her cell phone. As usual the display was dead. She hadn’t recharged the battery.

  She dug a coin out of her purse and crossed to the pay phones. She dialed Rick’s number without hesitation and wondered what the hell to say when he answered. Don’t let Angel out of your sight because some psycho bastard might have the hots for her. Never mind why I say that, I’ll explain later.

  The answering machine, with Terrie’s resolutely animated voice, told her that they were not in at the moment but would call back as soon as they could.

  Evelyn could not formulate a coherent message and hung up. They couldn’t call her back; she would just have to try again later. If Rick had a pager, he had never given her the number. He might have given it to Angel, but of course that did not help.

  Get a grip, she told herself. As long as Neal stayed up on the sixth floor, he couldn’t be out murdering Angel. And if she’d gone missing before Neal’s shift began hours ago, Rick would have called by now. Calm down. Everything’s fine.

  Particularly if they took Neal into custody. Then Angel would be safe.

  Riley showed up fifteen minutes later, at five minutes to three, and joined them in the lobby. “Sorry it took me a while. I was on the phone with our esteemed County Prosecutor Rupert, getting the ‘arrest somebody before I start to look bad’ speech. Let’s follow Nurse Neal home. All cars from the employee parking lot go through one exit gate. We’ll wait for him there.”

  “We don’t know what he drives.”

  Riley smiled, his so-sharp-I’m-scary smile, and held up a DMV report. “Yes, we do.”

  Outside, Evelyn slumped in the backseat. She didn’t want to be there at all, but had finally agreed with David. Let Neal see her. Let him figure out that he had become suspect number one and that she knew he had a connection to her daughter. It might put him off. On the other hand, it might turn him on.

  “A blue Chevy Camaro, 1997, license number 435 GHU,” Riley repeated for the fourth time.

  “Say Neal is our guy, Evelyn,” David said to her. “Why is he doing this?”

  “I’m not a behavioral scientist,” she protested gently.

  “Stop qualifying, you’re not in court. Just give me an opinion.”

  “Because he’s nuts, that’s why. And that’s my scientific opinion.”

  “Why cement?”

  “He appreciates the classics. And he likes to keep his secrets. Unlike most of us, who are dying to blab them”—David gave her a nervous look—“he really doesn’t want the bodies to be found. But he had bad luck with Lia and then Destiny escaped.”

  “You think there are others?” he asked.

  “You can bet on it.”

  “What’s he likely to do when we question him?” Riley asked.

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “Apply the scientific method.”

  “Okay. He kills girls, young women, small, slender. He knocks them out with something and then ties them up with chains. Conclusion: He needs the other person to be at an intense disadvantage before he’s comfortable with them. He is not a brave man. He will probably crumble if you, a big guy, give him a stern look.”

  “Good. I can look real stern. Hey, there’s—no, that’s a Corvette.”

  “However, he’s been thorough with these murders and gone to a lot of effort to do them a particular way. He’s not stupid and can pay attention to detail. He may not crumble. He may be just smart enough to keep his mouth shut.”

  “This is him,” Riley said.

  He followed the car just closely enough to keep it in sight. They already knew where Neal lived—Riley had gotten that from the DMV as well—but they couldn’t be sure Neal would head home. They spoke little during the trip. Once Evelyn asked what they were going to ask Neal, and both detectives said they would wing it. This did not reassure her.

  chapter 24

  JAMES NEAL LIVED IN a small brick bungalow in Lakewood with a neat lawn under a layer of snow; this unassuming piece of real estate most likely had a six-figure value purely because of its location. They parked behind his car in the narrow driveway and knocked on the door he had entered minutes before.

  Still in his printed scrubs, the young nurse answered the door and looked merely puzzled to see them. “Hi.”

  Riley held up a badge. “Hi, Jimmy. Can we talk to you?”

  Neal’s kitchen consisted of grimy fake wood cabinets, a small table, and wallpaper patterned with twining ivy. It took Neal a moment or two to figure out the relationship of Angel’s mother to the police.

  “You work for the ME’s office?”

  “Right.”

  “That’s cool,” he said. “You want some coffee?”

  Always trying to be her pal, always working for her trust. “No, thanks.”

  As easily as if he were entertaining friends, Neal popped up, did not notice how the two cops immediately felt for their sidearms, and plucked a Diet Coke from the ancient refrigerator. “You sure? I have some broccoli-caper muffins. They’re really good.”

  “No thank you, Mr. Neal,” Riley said so firmly that Jimmy took his seat without another word. “As you may have gathered, we’re investigating the two recent deaths. You were at Destiny Pierson’s funeral, right?”

  “Yeah.” Again he told them how he had cared for her at Riverside.

  “You were friends with Destiny?”

  “I wouldn’t say friends exactly. I didn’t know her that long.” He looked around the kitchen, decorated in early American bachelor, with pseudowood Formica cabinets that hadn’t seen a bottle of degreaser in several years. The whole place smelled of french fries and bleach. “She was just a nice girl.”

  “You meet a lot of nice girls at the hospital?” David asked.

  “Yeah. Like Angel.” He smiled at Evelyn, then seemed hurt when she gazed at him in horror.

  “How about Ophelia Ripetti?”

  Neal’s face went blank. “Who?”

  David pulled out the picture of Lia on the hotel balcony and slid it across the table. Her face smiled up at the nurse.

  Neal didn’t touch the picture, but gave it his attention for a second or two. Then he began to fiddle with the scalloped edge of the tablecloth, gathering each fluted section together like a seamstress measuring material, then dropping them and starting over.
“I don’t know her. Why are you asking me all these things? I’m sorry Destiny’s dead, but it’s got nothing to do with me.”

  “Did you see this girl in the hospital?”

  “No.”

  “In the emergency room, maybe?”

  “No.”

  “Funny, because you worked that night.”

  Neal looked up, the first sparks of real worry igniting in his eyes. “What night?”

  “October twenty-eighth.”

  Neal snorted. “That was weeks ago. How am I supposed to remember?”

  “You remembered Destiny,” David pointed out. He didn’t mention Angel, to Evelyn’s relief. If she had to listen to Neal speak her daughter’s name even one more time, she would leap across the table and strangle him with her bare hands. She laced her fingers together in her lap and took a deep breath.

  “I don’t remember this girl. Did she break something, too?”

  “She had food poisoning.”

  Neal shook his head. “I don’t remember her. I don’t remember having anyone with food poisoning lately.”

  “She visited your ER,” David insisted.

  “Lots of people do,” Neal said with reasonable exasperation. “That doesn’t mean I work on each one. I don’t remember seeing this girl that night, if I even worked that night.”

  “You worked. Miss Letitia says you’re quite reliable.”

  Neal flushed as if he’d been insulted. “I am reliable. I do a good job. I don’t know why you guys are trying to make trouble for me, but I had nothing to do with what happened to Destiny, and I’ve never even seen this other girl.”

  “Nobody said you did.” Riley’s tones were smooth and utterly rational. “But both our victims were at the hospital, so we have to check out any connection between them. And so far, Jimmy, the only connection is you.”

  Beads of perspiration began to squeeze out of Neal’s face. He forgot the tablecloth, clasped his hands together on the table as if pleading, and sat very still. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I want you to go now. I don’t have to talk to you if I don’t want to, and I can’t call a lawyer to be here because I don’t have one. So you’ll have to go.”