In His Sights (20 page)

The maintenance man arrived, and Chris was impressed that he asked to see their badges. Chris had to dig out the one he kept in his wallet, since he normally just wore his clip-on badge while on the clock. He was wearing his holstered gun, though, which he'd put on his belt before Shane and Daisy arrived. Rafael eyed both of them before nodding and unlocking the door.

Robyn's office was dark except for the glow from the streetlights outside coming through the window blinds. Reaching in, he flipped on the lights. Empty. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not.

Shane followed him inside. They poked around the
modest space, but there wasn't much to see. Robyn was apparently tidy, leaving her desk clear and free of the haphazard papers or files that might be found in a different office. Given that she was a doctor, however, and most of her information was confidential, that wasn't surprising.

Upon trying her desk drawers, he found them unlocked. But other than the usual office supplies and some innocuous papers that didn't mean anything to anyone but her, there wasn't anything to give him a clue what she'd been looking at when she'd called him earlier.

“I wonder if she took the list with her,” he mused.

“What list?”

Belatedly, he realized he hadn't told his cousin about her call. He got Shane up to speed, telling him about her sleuthing, comparing the burglary lists to happenings at the hospital. “She didn't say what she'd found, though. She wanted to talk to me when she got home.”

Shane's eyes narrowed. “I hate to say this, but it's quite a coincidence that she'd disappear right after she supposedly found something. I'm not trying to scare you; it's just—”

“I know. In our experience, that's not a good sign.” The idea was taking that kernel of fear inside him and spreading it to fill every inch of his soul.

“Why don't we trace her steps to the staff parking garage, check on her car,” his cousin suggested.

“Good idea.” As they left, he pulled the door shut behind him and nodded to Rafael, who was hovering at the end of the hall. “We might be back.”

“No problem,” the man said.

Downstairs, they headed for the nurses' desk again and the same perky young nurse smiled at them. “Did you find anything helpful?”

Chris shook his head. “Not yet. Could you tell us exactly what route the doctors use to go from here to the staff parking garage?”

“Sure.” She pointed. “Go down the hallway past the elevators you just used, then keep going all the way to the end. After that you'll see a set of double doors leading outside. Go straight ahead and the lower level of the garage in front of you belongs to the staff.”

“Do you know if there are security cameras?” Chris asked.

“There's some up in the corners all around the garage, but I couldn't tell you if they actually work.” She shrugged. “Hopefully their presence is enough to keep anyone from getting mugged or whatever.”

He doubted that very much. Crimes were committed on camera all the time, and he rarely found the devices to be much of a deterrent.

“All right, thanks.”

They took the route she suggested and walked into a garage that could have been lit more brightly, in his opinion. There were too many dark shadows in the corners, places for an assailant to hide. Looking around, he searched for Robyn's car.

“What does she drive?”

“A silver Lexus, four-door sedan.”

There weren't many silver cars, so it didn't take long to spot one that looked like it could be hers. As they approached the back of the car and started around it,
Chris spotted what was on the ground—and his knees nearly buckled.

“That's Robyn's purse,” he said, voice rising in panic. Even when he'd almost died, his heart hadn't beat this fast or hard. “Someone's got her, Shane.”

“Shit,” his cousin said in shock. “I'll call it in.”

He couldn't answer. Could only stare at the purse with small items scattered around it—lipstick, a nail file, her keys. And the corner of a paper sticking from the top.

On shaking legs, he walked over and knelt by the purse. Then, very carefully, he extracted the paper. Unfolding it, he saw it was the cross-referenced list he'd given her, with her own handwritten notes all over it.

He stood and scanned them quickly, deciding he needed more time and a quiet place to study them thoroughly. And another set of eyes, like Shane's, to look as well, so he didn't miss anything.

Tonio and Taylor arrived, along with the captain and a couple of techs to dust for prints. That included the list Chris was holding, so he surrendered it for the time being. Rainey said the circumstances were enough to call it an abduction, though it was a horrible shock to hear the word out loud. He couldn't catch his breath, and didn't realize he was about to hyperventilate until a hand fell on his back and steered him away from the scene.

“Try to calm down and keep a clear head,” Shane said. “That's it—deep, slow breaths. You won't be able to help her if you pass out.”

“How are we going to find her? She could be anywhere by now!”

“I think whatever Robyn found in those papers is
going to help us identify our culprit, or at least give us a clue what's going on.”

“God, I hope you're right.”

The techs let him have the papers back, stating there were two sets of prints, probably belonging to him and Robyn, though they lifted them to be sure. They pointed out that the perp probably hadn't touched them, because if he had, he would have taken the list with him. Chris was even more sure Robyn had gotten too close to the truth and their man had kidnapped her because of it.

Either that, or to get back at Chris—the one victim who'd foiled his would-be killer's plans.

“I want the video feed from these cameras,” he told Rainey, gesturing to the corners next to the roof.

“I'll make it happen.”

They wrapped up quickly, then Chris and the other three detectives, plus Rainey, remained behind to obtain the video footage from the security office. Chris still had Robyn's notes in hand and was itching to read them. But looking at the video had to come first since it might show her kidnapper. Something was about to shake loose—he was certain of it.

In the office, security was already waiting for them, thanks to Rainey's intervention. A beefy guard pulled up the feed and started the conversation.

“We scanned the footage from the past four hours, and we've got something you should look at.”

Pushing play, he ran the segment. In the film, Robyn could be clearly seen walking to her car. When she was almost there, a tall, dark-haired man dressed in jeans and
a T-shirt emerged from his hiding place on the other side of the car next to hers and grabbed her from behind.

“Son of a bitch,” Chris swore. His hands clenched into fists. He'd never felt so goddamned helpless.

A brief struggle ensued, and Robyn did her best to break the man's hold, stomping on his instep and elbowing him in the stomach, dropping her purse and keys in the process. She almost managed to twist free, then the asshole fumbled for something and jabbed her arm. Chris realized it was a syringe and saw red. The bastard had drugged her.

“I'm going to kill that motherfucker.” His voice was cold, deadly.

“Any idea who he is?” Tonio asked the guard.

The man peered at the screen. “Can't really see his face very well with the grainy footage, but he looks familiar.”

Chris nodded. “We think he may be an employee here. We'd like to bring people in—especially those who work with Dr. Lassiter—and see if anyone recognizes him.”

“No problem. I want to help catch this fucker.”

They started with people already on shift, nurses who knew Robyn, bringing them in one at a time so they wouldn't leave the ER shorthanded. But Chris was as patient as he could be under the circumstances.

Kasey, the girl from the front desk, thought the man looked familiar, but couldn't place him. The same with Barb and Cori, which was disappointing. With each new person, he hoped
someone
would identify this guy. He'd
just about given up hope when Shea, working a late shift tonight, showed up.

One look at the screen and she gasped. “That looks like one of our nurses. Lee Miller.”

Chris bolted upright from his seat next to the guard. “Are you sure?”

“Run the tape again,” she asked. They did, and she frowned. “The guy's face is too grainy, so no, I can't say with one hundred percent certainty that's Lee, but given his build and hair, the way he moves? I'd be shocked if it wasn't.”

Chris almost pumped his fist. But they weren't in the clear yet. “Can you get us his full name and address from the personnel records?”

“You bet. I'll be back as soon as I can.” She rushed out the door, and Chris looked to the captain.

“It's not enough for a warrant,” he said in frustration.

“If she was sure and the video was sharper, we could swing it,” Rainey admitted. “But we're not giving up. Once we have his name and address, we're going back to the station to dig up every single fact about Lee Miller we can possibly learn, as well as how he might tie in to our cases.”

Chris blew out a breath. “I say we just walk up and knock on his door, ask him some questions. Maybe he'll get nervous and screw up, make a break for it.”

Rainey snorted. “Yeah, and tip off a possible serial killer that we're onto him and waiting on his doorstep? Are you hearing yourself?”

“Fine. Then can we put surveillance on his residence?”

“Yeah. That we can quietly do. If he makes a move with her in tow, we'll get him. I'll put Shane and Taylor on that
now.” Before Chris could protest, Rainey continued. “In the meantime, I need you and Salvatore doing the digging and making the puzzle pieces fit. We need that warrant.”

“Yes, sir.” He wanted to hit something. Hard.

They waited for tense minutes until Shea came back with Miller's full name and address, even his social security number. “I also managed to pull some personal info from his file and sort of make a copy of it,” she confessed. “He's received a number of complaints and reprimands since he's been here. There's even a note in here about trouble at the last place he worked, a hospital near Clarksville.”

“Interesting,” Tonio said.

“Thank you, Shea,” Chris said. “I hope you're not going too far out on a limb.”

“No, it'll be all right. Believe me, if he's guilty of murder, the hospital won't raise a fuss about how the information was found. They'll spend all their time hoping the victims' families don't sue them.”

Sad but true. That seemed to be all anyone cared about these days. Lawsuits and money.

They thanked her again, and then Chris caught a ride with Tonio back to the station. They had a long night of work ahead of them if they were going to break this case open—and then get Robyn free of that diabolical bastard's clutches.

Hang on, baby. I'm going to nail this fucker. Then I'm coming for you.

*   *   *

Robyn's brain began to come awake. Gradually she became aware that she was lying across the seat of a car.
The vehicle was moving, which made her slightly sick. Might be the sedative Lee had given her.

Lee Miller. She never saw that coming. Not from someone she worked with, who was supposed to
save
lives, not take them. Why had he gone to such trouble to poison all those people? What madness was behind his reasoning? Or was he simply insane, capable of no reasoning at all?

Instinct told her there was an underlying cause. But before she could think more about his motives, the car pulled into a driveway, from what she could tell. Then it slowed to a stop and the engine was shut off.

Next he got out and came around to the back, opened the door, and pulled her out by her feet. She kept her eyes closed and pretended to still be out, leaving him no choice but to carry her. He slung her over his shoulder, and she wondered whether he lived where his neighbors might see and call the police.

A quick glance from under her lashes sent disappointment and fear spiraling through her. His car was parked in a driveway next to a garage, and there were tall bushes and an equally tall fence blocking any view from outside. Basically, she was screwed.

How Chris or anyone would figure out Lee was responsible, she didn't know. Couldn't think too hard right now. She couldn't wrap her brain around much beyond the terror of what he was planning to do to her.

She knew this man, could identify him. He wouldn't let her live.

Lee carried her through a house she assumed to be his. Since he couldn't tell her eyes were open, she made
note of the route and where he was taking her. The interior was drab and depressing. The worn furniture looked like it hadn't been reupholstered since the fifties, and the drapes were dark olive green and dingy. There was even an old rotary-style dial phone on an end table next to the sofa.
Who still has one of those?
How weird.

She kept up the ruse of being asleep, all the way into a bedroom where he gently laid her on the bed. Then he said something chilling.

“There,” he said happily. “Now you can keep Mom company until I get back.”

Mom? What the fuck?
With that, he left the room. So she turned her head to speak to “Mom” and find out if she was her son's prisoner as well.

And found herself staring into the vacant eyeholes of the skull attached to the well-dressed skeleton on the bed beside her.

Robyn screamed herself hoarse, and thought she might never stop.

Chris bounded into the station with Tonio, and they retrieved every single bit of information on their case before hurrying to the conference room.

“Okay,” Rainey said, shutting the door behind them, “let's have a look at Dr. Lassiter's notes on that list.”

Chris unfolded the paper and flattened it out. “This is a copy of the cross-referenced list of burglary victims who later died from what we now know was poisoning. Robyn offered to do some poking around for us and see if she could find anything interesting.”

“Seems she did,” Tonio said, pointing to the first of the notes. “Check this out.”

Leaning over, they read together:

Charles Adams—fracture treated in ER May 5, Dr. Alan Chin. Burglarized May 19. Died July 14, poisoning.

Jean Caplan—laceration treated in ER July 16, Dr. Alan Chin. Burglarized July 24. Died Sept. 30, poisoning.

On the list went, as the three of them stared at Robyn's notations. She hadn't done the entire list, but she had a good start. Enough to show a pattern they had all missed through their own investigation.

“Fuck me,” Tonio exclaimed. “All of the victims were treated in Sterling's ER
before
their homes were broken into. Then they later died of poisoning.”

Chris buried a hand in his hair. “Shit! Why didn't I think of this angle from the start? The hospital was the perfect place for our suspect to come into contact with each victim and them be none the wiser. He could just sit back, pick and choose them, like he was ordering from a damned menu. And he had access to all of their information, including names and addresses.”

Tonio sighed. “We would have thought of it sooner or later. At least we know now. The question is, does Dr. Chin have anything to do with all of this?”

“Robyn doesn't seem to think so,” Chris said, pointing to one of her notes on the back of the page.

Alan Chin?? NO.

The word
NO
was underscored three times.

“He may or may not be guilty,” Rainey mused, “but we need to get the good doctor in here to speak with us, fast.”

Tonio pulled out his phone. “I'll call the hospital, get in touch with him. Hopefully he's got nothing to hide and he'll be cooperative.”

Tonio left the room to make his call and Chris stared at the list and Robyn's notes. “So now we know he chose
these specific people out of the hundreds who come into the ER on a weekly basis. What do they have in common that we haven't ruled out yet?” Chris racked his brain. “Hmm. All of these victims were authority figures. A school principal, a doctor, a teacher, a lawyer, etc.”

“And a cop—
you
.” Rainey eyed him in speculation. “So he hates authority. Some kind of rebel?”

“Yeah, maybe.” They thought some more. “All of those types of people are in their jobs to help others. Maybe he needed help somehow, and they failed him, so now he's taking revenge.”

“Where the hell did he get the cyanide, though? Not from the hospital.”

“No. But if he's in the medical field, he could possibly have purchased it legally, claiming it was for research purposes. Or he could have falsified medical credentials, or stolen it outright.”

“There haven't been any thefts of cyanide reported anywhere in the state, or elsewhere that we know of, within this time period,” Rainey reminded him. “That leaves purchase, either legally or illegally.”

“Or stole it from someone who didn't want to report it.”

Their speculation was interrupted as Tonio strode into the room again. They quickly filled him in on their discussion, then Chris asked about his phone call.

“Dr. Chin is on duty tonight. He'll be in to speak with us after he gets off at seven in the morning.”

Chris let out a vicious curse. “That's too fucking long! Robyn is out there waiting for us to make some damned progress and we're sitting on our hands!”

“Not quite.” Tonio took a seat at the table. “Dr. Chin
was shocked at what I told him, which didn't include a lot of details. I just said we're investigating the cyanide deaths and he was the attending physician in some of the cases, if not all. He volunteered to pull up records of who was on staff and working in the ER with him on the days the victims were first seen and treated.”

“That rocks,” Chris said in relief. “You didn't mention Lee Miller's name?”

“Of course not.” He paused. “Also, I spoke with Taylor. He and Shane are outside Miller's apartment staking it out, and it's dark. There's been no movement at all, and it's possible he's not home.”

Anger surged in his veins. “He
has
to be there. Where the hell else could the fucker be?”

“We'll find him. And we'll find Robyn, too. I think he'll make it easy for us. Care to guess why?”

Chris stared at his partner. Shook his head.

“Come on, my friend. This is Psychopath 101. He had a horrible life, and the people around him were an epic fail at protecting and nurturing him. So he kills people in a way that makes a statement—poison. And now, why is he breaking his routine to take a woman who's not on his agenda?”

Slowly, the truth dawned. It was like a window opening to reveal the sun. “It's a cry for help. He
wants
to be caught.”

“
Ding ding!
You've got it.”

“That's why he won't kill her,” he said, hope flaring. “At least not yet. He wants the confrontation, some sort of final justice. That's what this has all been about.”

“It could be he wants to grandstand, but we don't
know for sure,” Rainey emphasized. “Robyn is a doctor and an authority figure, so he could have taken her because of that, or simply because she was onto him. Or he could be enraged that Chris survived and is seeking revenge by taking her, or wants to lure him into a confrontation so he can finally kill you.”

Chris deflated some. “All true. But I know what my gut is telling me.”

Whatever Miller's sick reasoning, he prayed they had some time. He held on to that thought, because they had long hours ahead of them before they could gather enough for a warrant to search Miller's property.

He, Tonio, and the captain spent hours poring over the case files, making sure they had all the details down that they knew so far. Sometime shortly after four in the morning, Dr. Alan Chin arrived early, much to their surprise.

There was a knock on the door, and another officer showed the doctor in before closing it behind him. The doctor was a small Asian man with a kind, open, and honest-looking face. He was also very anxious to share what he knew.

“I was able to get another doctor to come in and cover the last part of my shift for me,” he said, glancing around anxiously. In his hand was a sheaf of papers. “I was most distressed by the detective's call, and I want to help however I can.”

Chris had learned long ago not to put too much stock in appearances, but his instincts shouted this man was sincere. “We appreciate that very much. Do you have something to share with us, Dr. Chin?”

“Yes. I compiled the names of the staff members who were on duty with me on the dates that Detective Salvatore mentioned.” He slid the papers across the table without commenting further. From the intense way he watched them, it was obvious he was waiting for them to reach their own conclusions.

The cop in Chris did a victory dance as he scanned the documents. “Some of these staff members were there when you treated more than one of the victims. But only one nurse was on shift when every single one of them was treated.”

“Yes.” Chin nodded.

“Do you recall Lee Miller assisting during these cases?”

“Some of them, though it's hard to remember all. We see so many people.”

“What is your opinion of Mr. Miller's performance as a nurse?”

Dr. Chin shook his head. “That young man has been on the verge of termination for some time. He's sloppy, as though his head is always somewhere else.”

“Why hasn't he been fired?” Chris studied the doctor's expression, which turned disgusted.

“His father was an important man, Detective. Dr. Jonathan Miller was chief of staff many years ago, when Lee was a young boy. Not at Sterling, at the old hospital before Sterling was built. But many of Miller's old cronies opened Sterling and memories are long, if you know what I mean.”

“So he was hired and keeps his job because of who his daddy is,” Chris summarized.

“Who his daddy
was
.” Chin's tone clearly communicated that the man's demise was no great loss. “I worked under him back then, and the man was an asshole. The kind to find fault with everything and satisfaction in nothing. When he died, I opened a bottle of sake and drank it all in celebration.”

Tonio coughed to cover a laugh. “You gave us your professional observation of Lee, but what of your personal opinion?”

Chin thought about that for a long moment. He spoke with a slight shrug. “The boy is a complete enigma. The nurses I work with are close. They talk and gossip constantly. They chatter like magpies, gossip until my ears bleed. They socialize. They smile. Lee Miller does none of those things. Ask anyone and they'll tell you the same.”

Chris exchanged a look with Tonio and the captain. Miller was antisocial, which meant working in an atmosphere such as an emergency room had to be sheer torture. He had to have a deeper motive for doing a job he hated.

A futile attempt to please a dead father who could never be satisfied? To show the old man he could succeed?

And to make those who had failed him—such as his authoritative father—pay.

“Dr. Chin,” Chris said, “is there anything else you feel is pertinent that you'd like to tell us?”

The doctor hesitated, then gestured to the list. “I realize this may be irrelevant, but something stands out in my mind from when I saw that first man, Charles Adams,
in my ER. Mr. Adams came in because he had fractured his wrist in a fall. Lee told me he was glad Mr. Adams would be okay, because the man was his elementary school principal here in Sugarland.”

Chris's eyes widened. “You're positive about that?”

“Yes. Because of my exchange with Lee, that particular patient stands out.” The doctor shrugged.

“One more question, Doctor,” Chris said. “Would someone like Lee typically have access to cyanide?”

Dr. Chin's brows shot up. “No, not typically. It would be very difficult for him to obtain, outside of stealing it. I just don't believe the young man has the kind of clout to get such a substance legitimately.”

“What about his father?”

“Jonathan Miller could have obtained anything he wanted,” Dr. Chin stated with absolute confidence. “No matter what it might have been. He had connections.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing that comes to mind.”

Chris stood and held out his hand. “Thank you for coming and being so open with us, Dr. Chin.”

The doctor shook his hand and gave a small smile. “My pleasure to be of assistance. Someone is doing terrible things, and I want him caught, whoever it is. If I can help again, please don't hesitate to call me.”

“We'll keep that in mind.”

Chris waited until the door had closed firmly behind Dr. Chin before he pounced, practically begging his captain. “We've got Lee tied to every one of the victims. So far, he's the sole common denominator. We've even got his elementary school principal as the first victim, and
there could be more who were part of his past we don't know about yet.”

“The last part is unverified.”

“Not for long,” Chris said desperately. “We'll make the connections.”

“Yes, but for now it's all circumstantial.”

Chris wasn't ready to give up the fight. He was so tired, ready to drop from being awake almost twenty-four hours. And he had much longer to go—they all did. “We've got bodies! We've got Lee in the room with every victim before they died!”

“We need something solid and you know it,” Rainey growled. “Dammit, Chris, I'm doing what I can.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Rainey called out, and Jay Stover, one of the techs who worked the scene around Robyn's car, came in holding a cell phone sealed in a clear plastic bag.

“Got something for you guys,” Jay began, holding up the bag. “Dr. Lassiter's phone was just under the edge of her car, with the screen smashed. From the casing, we were able to lift a print. Three guesses who the print belongs to.”

Chris bolted upright. “Lee Miller?”

“Yep.” The man looked pleased with himself. “Seems Miller was an army medic for four years before he came back to town to be a nurse. Fingerprints were on file.”

“Yes! Got that bastard,” Chris yelled, slamming his hand on the table. “Now can we get the fucking warrant?”

Rainey stood. “Yeah. Now we can get the fucking warrant. I'll call the judge.”

The exhaustion vanished and a rush of adrenaline fired through him. There was no way he'd sleep.

Not until the woman he loved was home safe and sound.

*   *   *

Robyn sat huddled on a chair in the far corner of the bedroom. As far away as she could get from the woman's skeleton—which wasn't nearly far enough.

Lee's mother. How totally, unbelievably sick.

How long had she been there? Years, if the condition of the skeleton could be believed. What little skin there was clinging to the bones was mummified, and the clothes were moth-eaten. Her death hadn't happened weeks or even months earlier.

Had Lee lived here with her since her death? Had he killed her?

Questions chased themselves around in her brain, each more terrifying than the last. She couldn't understand what would drive a person to do those things. To live this way. She had heard it said that the inside of your home was a reflection of your soul. If that was true, Lee Miller's soul was a very dark, desolate, twisted place.