by Robin Mahle
Eva Duncan and Nick Scarborough traded glances before he spoke up. “If he doesn’t agree to this…”
“He already said he would,” Denton replied. “All we can do now is hope his memory is intact. Let’s go set him up with the sketch artist.”
They made their way to the first-floor forensics unit where the composite artist sat at his computer.
“He’s in the lobby. I’ll bring him in.” Denton left the room.
“You two are with BAU Quantico?” The artist asked.
“Yep,” Duncan replied. “We flew in last night with the hopes Denton’s witness would cooperate. Agent Scarborough pulled a lot of strings to get him what he wanted.”
“I hope it’s worth it for you folks.” The man turned back to his computer. “I’ll get this ready to go and see what I can pull from him. Why don’t you two take a seat over there? This will take a while.”
“We have all day,” Nick replied.
Agent Denton, a young hotshot looking to make a name for himself, returned with the man who’d basically blackmailed Nick into promising a green card in exchange for his testimony. “Have a seat right here, Mr. Ramirez.”
Denton got him settled in and returned to Nick and Duncan. “You two want to stay down here and wait or you want to head back up? This will take at least an hour. We can grab lunch if you’re hungry.”
“I can wait,” Nick began. “I want to make sure he doesn’t renege on the deal.”
“Suit yourself.” Denton sat down at another desk and waited.
Ramirez took a seat while eyeing the BAU agents. He’d leveraged himself and appeared to understand that if he didn’t come up with something good, the deal would be taken off the table.
“Okay, Mr. Ramirez, I’d like for you to tell me about the man you witnessed,” the artist began. “We’ll start off with the shape of his face. Was it round?”
“No, it was more pointy. He had small, squinty-eyes, too.” Ramirez gestured using his face as an example. “Black hair.”
“Okay. Good.” The artist began to draft the sketch.
Nick leaned closer to Duncan. “Do we know where Ramirez was when he spotted who we think was Bishop?”
“According to Denton, he said Ramirez was serving food to the rescue workers when he noticed several people being brought to a nearby triage tent for burns and smoke inhalation. He swears he remembers the victim and the man who brought him in.”
Nick grunted. “I guess we’ll see soon enough.”
Agent Denton walked toward Ramirez and the sketch artist and peered at the computer before looking at Nick. “Where’s your photo of the man in question? The guy you think is the same one who volunteered?”
“I emailed it to you before we flew out,” Duncan replied.
“That’s right.” Denton pulled out his phone and scrolled through his emails. “Here it is.” He opened the image and held it next to the monitor. “It’s a little too early to tell, but I am seeing some similarities.”
“We’re a long way from finalizing this,” the artist began. “I’m going to need you to step back a minute and let me do my job.”
Denton raised his hands. “Sorry, man. Do your thing.”
Agent Mitch Palmero walked into the lobby to meet his witness. “Dr. Valente, thanks for coming down. Please, follow me.” He started back to his office. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your cooperation on this.”
“You believe someone was impersonating a doctor during the hurricane rescue efforts?” Valente asked.
“Something along those lines, which is why we need your help.” He held open his office door. “Right through here. Please take a seat.” Palmero followed him inside and sat at his desk. He straightened his bolo tie and smoothed back his short dark hair. “What can you tell me about the man you spotted wheeling in the elderly gentleman who had passed?”
Valente crossed his stumpy legs and folded his arms in his lap. “Well, I can tell you that he seemed perfectly normal. Legitimate. Not like he was there for any other purpose than to help.”
“What made you believe otherwise?” Palmero asked.
“It wasn’t until I received a call from the Oakview Police Detective. He asked if I recalled seeing this man and I said I had. The wife had been rescued, as had her granddaughter. But what struck me was the look on his face. I can’t put words to it exactly.” Valente turned away to gather his thoughts. “We were all very solemn. Many people had died, and our hopes had dwindled that we would find anyone else alive. When the woman was brought in, the rest of us, myself included, were filled with hope. But what I saw on that man’s face was, well, sinister.”
“Sinister?” Palmero asked. “In what way?”
“Like he was happy the man was dead. Triumphant, I would dare to say.”
The agent nodded. “And you recall his face?”
“Oh yes. I do indeed.”
It was easy to lead a witness one way or another and Palmero had to be very careful he didn’t mention Bishop by name or show him the picture Walsh had gotten from Bishop’s former employer. He needed Valente to recall his version of this man all on his own. It was the only way to be sure. “Then we should get started,” Palmero replied.
13
The reluctance of some of Bishop’s previous employers to disclose his history was a red flag for Agent Levi Walsh. While this task was outside his wheelhouse, as he generally coordinated with local authorities on crisis protocols, the team was stretched thin and his experience prior to joining the BAU lent to his credibility.
Walsh served as an Army Intelligence Officer in the mid-1990s before joining the Bureau in 2003. After 9/11, everything in the intelligence arena had changed and Walsh’s tradecraft had been honed to the point that he had been courted by the CIA. But protecting his homeland was critical to Walsh, so he opted to pursue a career at the Bureau.
Knowing when someone was evading and deflecting came with his background. That was exactly what at least two of Bishop’s previous employers had done. The Baltimore EMS station and the EMT contracting service Bishop had signed onto about a year prior. Before that, he’d been a medical resident at Our Lady of Mercy Hospital in Providence. Walsh got nowhere with them due to privacy laws. This was where he hoped Kate had made progress.
He stood outside her office and looked in on her. Kate hadn’t noticed him as her eyes appeared glued to her computer screen. “Hey.”
She glanced at him. “Levi, you startled me. Come in.”
He walked inside. “You looked pretty intense. I obviously interrupted something.”
“I was just reading an email.” Kate waited until he sat down. “How’s it going? Are you making progress?”
“As a matter of fact, things are moving along at a decent clip. I thought we should compare notes and see what we need to do to keep our momentum.” He set down a file on her desk. “This is what I have so far on Bishop’s employment history. A lot of foot-dragging and vague responses.”
“Interesting. Sounds like his employers might be a little worried about what they did or didn’t do,” Kate added.
“You could be onto something. What about you?”
“Fisher got a judge to grant us a warrant for Bishop’s medical school records,” she replied.
“Well, hell, it’s about time.” Walsh adjusted his suit coat. “When’s our flight?”
She laughed. “I’m not sure Fisher will let us go until we get those sketches from the two witnesses.”
“Any word on when that might happen?” he asked.
“Let’s find out.” Kate picked up her phone. “Hey, it’s me. I’m sitting here with Levi. Did you two get it?”
“It’s hot off the presses. I’ll send it to you now,” Nick replied. “Stay on the line and take a look.”
“I’m going to put you on speaker.” Kate set down her phone and pressed the speaker button.
“Okay, it’s been sent,” Nick replied. “Hey, Walsh. How’s it going?”
“
Doing all right over here. You and Duncan?”
“I think after you two see the composite sketch, we’ll be on the next flight home.”
“I got it.” Kate opened the email. “Levi, come take a look.”
Walsh walked behind her desk and waited for the file to load. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Kate left open the photo of Bishop she received from the National Registry and next to it, opened the sketch. “I’m not saying it’s a perfect match, but it looks like Dr. Theodore Bishop to me. Levi?”
“That would be a great big affirmative from me. Hey, Scarborough, you and Duncan should head on back. We got ourselves a match.”
Fisher sat at his desk and examined the photo alongside the sketch. “And what have you heard from Palmero in Houston?”
Kate sat in the chair across from Fisher while Walsh leaned against the credenza on the back wall. She’d been in this very spot many times with Nick. Presenting her argument, asking if it was enough to move on a lead. Here she was again doing the same thing with Fisher. “He indicated that Dr. Valente was finished with his description and that his composite artist was cleaning up the image. We should have it any minute now.”
“Is it a match, too?” Fisher asked.
“According to Palmero,” Walsh began. “Yes.”
“Then I don’t see much point in waiting on confirmation. Go. Both of you take the plane to Providence and get those medical school records.”
Kate stood up to leave. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Just get some proof we can use to bring this guy in.”
Walsh followed Kate and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Great job, Reid.”
As they stepped into the hall, she turned back to him. “Now all we have to do is piece together Bishop’s life and find out where the hell he is right now.”
It had been almost a week since Theodore Bishop, now known as Dr. Eli Parnell, arrived in Nassau. His time was running out thanks to an administrator from the volunteer group he had latched onto who had figured out he wasn’t, in fact, with the group at all. A bill for the hotel arrived under his door this morning. It was time to go.
Bishop threw his belongings into his duffle bag. His supplies had run low in any case and perhaps it was best to call it off. The idea of going back to Charlotte, though, seemed risky. The law firm that filed the wrongful death suit would’ve tracked him down at his new place of employment. He would certainly be fired. The one thing he needed to remind himself of was that this had been a civil suit. He had been charged with nothing illegal. However, as the case progressed, it would become clear Bishop was guilty of a crime, several, in fact.
He slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and walked into the corridor. Many of the volunteers were already onsite continuing with their work cleaning up and helping the injured. Most of the victims who had been missing had already been recovered, the dead and the living.
Upon stepping off the elevator and into the lobby, Bishop eyed the front desk. He needed to slip out unseen. Since it was still early in the morning, he stood a reasonable chance as there were several volunteers still in the process of heading out for the day or heading home. As people milled about, he weaved through the crowd and made it to the doors where he slipped away. That might have been the easy part. Bishop needed to get on a plane, but would he return to Charlotte?
He started on foot toward the city center which had remained virtually intact after the hurricane. There were few, if any, volunteers there and he could catch a ride to the airport in a cab with just a few dollars. On consideration, maybe the best option was to return to Charlotte. Maybe he’d overreacted and could explain away the lawsuit. After all, could he really be fired for just being named in the suit? If he was going to be fired, it would be for the fact that he took off without asking for leave. He might not have a job to go back to, but he still had his belongings at the apartment. Rent had been paid until the end of the month. He could lay low and figure out a plan.
Walsh pulled to a stop outside the building in downtown Providence. “This is the place. Let’s go talk to these guys.” He opened the driver’s side door and stepped onto the sidewalk that fronted the building.
Kate stepped out to join him, securing her overcoat and tucking the files beneath her arm. “Ready when you are.”
Walsh approached the door and pulled it open. “After you.”
Kate approached the man behind the desk. “Hi. I’m Special Agent Kate Reid.” She held out her credentials. “This is Special Agent Levi Walsh. We’d like to take a look at the records of one of your former students. A Dr. Theodore Bishop.”
The man eyed them. “I’m afraid I can’t give you that information without some sort of a warrant.”
“It just so happens that I have one.” She placed it on the counter.
“I see.” He looked over the document. “Let me get my supervisor for you.”
“Sure thing.” Kate watched as the man walked into the back and turned to Walsh. “Should we mention the pending litigation?”
“Let’s just wait and see what they’ll offer up. We have a warrant that has nothing to do with the Baltimore case. We’ll have to play this by ear.”
The man returned with his supervisor. “This is the Dean of Admissions, Dr. Reese. Dr. Reese, this is FBI Agent Reid and Agent Walsh. They have a warrant to pull the records of Theodore Bishop.”
The woman examined the warrant and looked at Kate. “Can I ask why the FBI needs Dr. Bishop’s records?”
“We’re conducting an investigation.” Kate was purposely vague in her response understanding that she didn’t want rumors to spread and end up reaching Bishop. If that happened, they’d squander all tactical advantage.
“Oh, I see. Please follow me back and I’ll get them for you.”
“Much appreciated,” Walsh added.
“This seems quite serious,” Reese began. “Dr. Bishop graduated only a few years ago. I’m sure there must be some sort of misunderstanding.” She keyed a locked door and pulled it open. “We keep the student records in here.” She continued inside to a room lined with file cabinets and two workstations. “I’ll just need to locate the files. It’ll take me a moment on the computer.”
“We’re in no rush, Dr. Reese.” Kate stood beside Walsh and waited for the woman to find the files. “From what I understand, this is one of the best medical schools in the country.”
“Yes, it is. We’re very proud of our success rate.” Reese jotted down something on a sticky note. “Here we are.”
Kate approached her. “Are the files in this room?”
“Oh yes. Only files older than ten years are sent to storage.” Reese stood. “Come. Right this way.” She walked along the south wall near the back and pulled open a cabinet. “His records are in here, according to the database.”
Kate watched as the doctor thumbed through the files until it appeared that she finally landed on the correct one.
“I believe this is what you’re looking for, Agent Reid.” Reese turned to her and handed over the files. “This is everything we have on Dr. Theodore Bishop.”
“This is great. Thank you. Do you mind if my colleague and I take a look in here?”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask that you go into one of our conference rooms. These files are all confidential.”
“That won’t be a problem, Dr. Reese,” Walsh began. “Thank you.”
She led them to a small conference room. “If there’s anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to ask the front desk. They’ll be more than happy to track me down.”
“We’ll need copies of these as well,” Kate added.
“When you’re ready, I’ll have them copied for you.” She closed the door.
“If your hunch is right, we’ll be in Providence for a while.” Walsh sat down.
“What makes you say that?” Kate took a seat next to him.
“Because if we find negligence in these files, then I’ll have no doubt we’ll find t
hem throughout Bishop’s career. Including his time at the hospital here in the city. So let’s get started.”
They split up the duties, each reviewing the files in chronological order from the time Bishop finished his bachelor’s degree and headed into medical school to his graduation.
Walsh shook his head. “You know what I’m seeing here? Our guy is smart. His grades are impeccable. He graduated in the top 1% of his class. How do you do that and then throw it all down the drain?”
“I don’t know. With what I’m looking at, he was a problem at least to some of his professors.” She pulled out the papers. “These are disciplinary actions written up on multiple occasions. Three are from the same instructor; a Dr. Simmons.” She peered at him. “I bet he still works here. Should we talk to him?”
“Why not?” Walsh stood up.
Kate followed him to the front reception area again.
“Excuse me,” Walsh began. “We’d like to speak to one of your professors. Dr. Simmons. Is he available?”
The man appeared anxious but picked up the phone anyway. “Sorry for the interruption, Dr. Simmons. Two FBI agents would like to speak with you. Do you have a moment?” He listened and nodded. “Great. I’ll send them your way. Thank you.” He ended the call. “Dr. Simmons is in his office.” He pulled out a map of the grounds. “You’re here. Dr. Simmons is right over here within walking distance.”
“Thank you.” Walsh grabbed the map and walked through the door. He turned up the collar on his coat and buttoned it. “Bishop graduates with exceptional grades, gets accepted into a residency program at one of the top hospitals in the state, but somehow for some reason, got under the skin of at least two of his instructors. So much so that they wrote several disciplinary reports.”
“Which didn’t count against him,” Kate said. “What top-notch hospital would accept a resident with that kind of history?”
“Maybe the kind that didn’t know about the disciplinary actions,” Walsh added. “This is the place.” He opened the door for Kate as she walked inside.
