Fatal Reaction (24 page)

CHAPTER 63

Mike led Ana into an empty lobby where a uniformed officer stood silently by the metal detector. Benches lined the perimeter of the otherwise bare-bones room, the only decorations being signs relating to dress code and conduct. It was outside of visiting hours, but Mike had arranged for Ana to have a private chat with Dorian.

Standing there, waiting to be let in, she felt like she was going to be sick.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Mike said.

Ana nodded. “Have you told Dorian that Colby’s been found yet?” Jared had filled in the gaps of what little Mike had told her, Colby’s condition raising more questions than answers.

“No,” Mike said, “and I prefer you didn’t, either. His lawyer will let him in on the news soon enough. I don’t want to give him time to make up another explanation.”

“Empty your pockets, please.” The officer, a thirty-something-year-old man with a brush cut and piercing green eyes, held out an empty plastic basket.

Ana turned in her keys and wallet, having brought only what she needed.

“Feet apart, arms out at your sides, please.” The man swept her, twice, with the metal-detection wand, sent her wallet through the X-ray machine, and handed her back her things. “You’re all set.” He pushed open the door to the visitation room.

Ana took a seat on a hard plastic chair along a C-shaped, metal counter where more than a dozen chairs on either side of her spoke of group inmate visits. A lump formed in her throat as she pulled the chair forward and leaned into the cold counter with her elbows. The echo of metal on tile gave her chills.

The door connecting the visitation room to a large holding cell opened, and the officer led Dorian in.

“Fifteen minutes,” he said.

Dorian sat in the seat across from her.

Ana had met Dorian only once, on the day of Sydney’s surgery, when he came out to the waiting room to tell her and Mike that Sydney had made it through. She had thanked him, a gesture that now angered her, and she had thought him both charming and handsome.

This defeated man, sitting head down, in handcuffs and shackles, was neither of those things.

A long silence passed between them before Ana, in an acknowledgment of their limited time, spoke. “What am I supposed to say, here?” She didn’t know where to start.

“You’re the one who asked to see me.” Dorian looked up from his clasped hands, his expression emotionless and hard, despite the faint shiner beneath his eye that said he’d been beaten.

“You’re the one who agreed to meet.” Ana mustered the strength needed to be direct. “Why did you lie to my sister?”

Dorian didn’t bother playing stupid. “Greed, narcissism . . .” He unlaced his fingers and held his palms face up. “Desperation? I don’t know anymore. Would it help if I said I would take it all back?”

“Sydney lost everything—her husband and her chance at having a family—all for you to, what, give it to somebody else for money?”

Dorian shrugged. “It wasn’t all about money. She was a donor match, and my program needed to move forward. I didn’t think things through. I didn’t see the harm I was doing until it was too late. I thought she’d accept the diagnosis I gave her and move on.”

“And when she figured out you lied to her, you killed her for it.”

“No, I didn’t,” he said, his stern tone full of conviction. “I admitted lying to her. Why would I kill her, and then tell the truth?”

It was the question she’d come to get the answer to.

“Then why did you send flowers to the funeral home?”

“What flowers? What funeral home? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Matrazzo’s has your credit card on file. You sent three dozen roses to Sydney’s wake. The florist said it was absolutely you who ordered them.”

“Or someone with access to my credit card.”

“Are you saying someone
else
ordered the flowers to make it look like it was you?”

“I’ve had some time to think in here, Ana, between beatings. What I did was unconscionable. I deserve to lose my medical license, but someone is setting me up for much worse. I’m not a rapist, a murderer, or a kidnapper, though someone’s trying damned hard to make it look like I am. Someone”—he lowered his gaze—“is hurting people I love.”

“People, or just Colby Monroe?”

Dorian’s demeanor changed altogether. “What do you know about Colby? They won’t tell me anything. Is she all right?”

Ana, desperate for leads in Sydney’s case, exploited Dorian’s obviously genuine concern. “I’ll tell you what I know if you’ll tell me who you think is setting you up, and why.”

Dorian gnawed his bottom lip, as if contemplating an answer.

“What could be worse than what you’ve already admitted to?”

“It’s not that, but my lawyer would have my head.”

Ana pushed back her chair and stood. “Then I guess we’re done here.”

“Wait. Just wait a minute, please.”

Ana sat down.

“All right. Okay.” A long pause followed. “I slept with Noreen. I didn’t rape her. She’s been, I don’t know,
obsessed
with the idea of us as a couple. I shouldn’t have done it, I know that, but I thought she was blackmailing me. She was the only person who knew the truth about what happened with Sydney, or, at least, I thought she was. Marco Prusak knew, too, though I still don’t know how or why he was so intent on ruining me.”

“So, you’re saying Noreen is framing you for murder, rape, and kidnapping out of what, disappointment? That’s some ego you have.”

“Not disappointment. Jealousy. Nothing else makes sense. I didn’t kill anyone, and yet everyone who knew about the transplant is dead. I didn’t rape Noreen, and I admitted to having sex with her. DNA will prove that I was careless, nothing more. I don’t know how she got the bruises, but she’s the only person with motive. Maybe she did it to cover her own ass. Maybe she figured she was covering mine. And Colby, why would I hurt her? What makes sense about that? But it makes sense that Noreen would hurt her, especially after making me say I didn’t love Colby. I do love her, and Noreen could see it. That hurt look on her face, I can’t get it out of my head.”

“And you thought having sex with her would fix this?”

“Two minutes,” the guard called through the door.

“I was stupid, I admit it. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions and there’s a lot to set right, but I don’t belong in here. Please, tell me what’s happened to Colby. Is she okay? She can tell you that I had nothing to do with her kidnapping. They haven’t charged me with it, but it’s obvious they intend to. Did they find her?”

“Yes, they found her, at
your
office, but she can’t tell anyone anything, not in her condition. She’s in a hypoglycemic coma. Someone hooked her up to an insulin drip and left her for dead.”

Dorian covered his mouth with his hand, and Ana couldn’t help staring at the cuffs. “Is she going to be all right?”

“I don’t know. She’s in the County ICU.”

The jingling of keys announced the guard coming through the door. “Time’s up.”

Tears spilled from Dorian’s eyes as the guard tugged him out of the chair.

“Wait a minute,” Ana said. “One more question.” The guard waited for her to finish. “Do you think Noreen’s behind Sydney’s murder?”

Dorian sniffled. “I’d bet my life on it.”

CHAPTER 64

Kim hunched over a microscope, reexamining a specimen she’d looked at a half-dozen times. A clear plastic container, the size of a 35 mm film case, held a dozen or so yellow larvae. A silver tray displayed Marco Prusak’s tongue.

“You know, you haven’t been in my lab this much in years. You keep it up and I’m going to think you have other reasons for coming here.” Kim winked at Mike over her shoulder.

“I’ll try not to make it a habit.” Mike worked at a smile. “Any usable evidence?”

“Based on the blowfly larvae, time of death is confirmed as seventy-two hours ago. The DNA and wound patterns are a match. This is Marco Prusak’s tongue.” Kim discarded her gloves and rinsed her hands at the sink. “Come on. Let’s get a coffee.”

The break room clock read 11:00 p.m., but it felt much later. Halfway into a double shift, Mike felt strained, as if he were running out of time.

Dorian Carmichael’s attorney had already met with the judge and district attorney. Given his admission of having had consensual sex with Noreen, and the lack of physical evidence, including that his prints were nowhere to be found, not even on the items taken from his house, there was a remote possibility of his being released on bail. Rumor had it that Dorian was calling the whole thing a setup.

Mike needed something tying him directly to either Sydney’s or Marco’s murders, or to Colby’s abduction if he was going to thwart Dorian’s release.

Kim hung her lab coat on a hook behind the break room door and tugged at the hem of her emerald-green sweater, which hugged her athletic figure and brought out the green in her hazel eyes.

In all the years Mike had known her, he’d seen her in jeans only a handful of times. A pity, really.

“Casual Friday?”

Kim shot him a playful but annoyed look and brewed a fresh pot of coffee. “Day off.”

He didn’t realize that she’d come in just for him. “Kim, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We’ll just say you owe me one. Can we be candid here?” Mike nodded. “You look like hell.”

“It’s nothing a shave won’t fix.” Mike ran his hand over the former scruff on his chin that had, without his really noticing, grown into a full beard.

“I don’t just mean the facial hair. This case is tearing you apart, Mike. I know the connection to Sydney, and I know you well enough to know you’re not going to stop until you make this case, but you have to be objective. When’s the last time you slept? I mean,
really
slept, not just an hour here or there.”

Mike couldn’t remember a time since Sydney’s death. “It’s been a while, I guess.”

“Then you know I’m right. You need fresh eyes, and I don’t mean just mine. Everyone who tells you something you don’t want to hear gets replaced by someone else. You’ve got me sorting through evidence, for Pete’s sake. I’m an ME, Mike, not a CSI.”

“It fits, Kim. It all fits.” The lack of conviction in Mike’s tone had even him doubting himself.

“It fits
too well
.” Kim poured two cups of coffee. “I’ve been over the file a dozen times, and there’s nothing that says the evidence you found at his house wasn’t planted. Not a single print, Mike. Not Dorian’s or anyone else’s on those medical supplies. Your suspect is a well-educated man, levelheaded by all accounts, and he admitted to wrongdoing. He also vehemently denies everything else. There are a dozen accounts in the interview files from other staff at County Memorial who said that Dorian and Colby Monroe were secretly some kind of item. Why would he hurt her? What is her role in any of this?” Mike had been so busy persecuting Dorian that he hadn’t really thought about that.

Kim pursed her full lips and blew across her coffee before taking a sip. “You asked me if there was any new evidence, but I’d say it’s the opposite. The tongue doesn’t look like any trophy I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been on enough serial homicides to spot a souvenir when I see one. That isn’t what this is. The crude cutting doesn’t fit. Dorian Carmichael is a surgeon, with microvascular training, correct?” Mike nodded. “Do you honestly think that someone with his skill set would be able to throw out all of his training to hack out a tongue with a kitchen knife?” She shook her head. “My gut tells me something isn’t right. Someone wants you to find all of this evidence. Get some rest, Mike, put everything you
want
to add up out of your mind, and look at what’s missing.”

Mike finished his coffee in silence. He needed the knife, or the pad that matched the paper used for Sydney’s suicide note, and he needed Dorian’s prints on one of them. “You’re right.” He sighed.

Kim set her hand on his. “You’re one of the best detectives I’ve ever known. You’ll figure this out. You just have to look at the bigger picture.”

Mike let her hand linger a moment longer, and gently pulled away. “Thanks for coming in tonight, and for the coffee. You’re a lifesaver, Kim.” He just wasn’t sure whose.