Justification for Murder (21 page)

S
orensen leaned back in his chair and watched the activity around him. The station hadn’t been this busy since they had that series of bank robberies the year before. Virago had demanded all hands on deck and told everybody she wanted the entire team ready to provide valuable information by eight p.m.

Saffron Meadows appeared at the door, next to a uniform.

“Thank you for bringing me over here. I was going insane at the hospital with nothing to do,” she said as soon as she reached Sorensen.

“No problem. I was hoping that you could help us, actually.” He pointed at the chair by his desk for her to sit. “Can I get you anything?”

She thought for a while. She placed her purse on the chair and, still standing, said, “Coffee. I would kill for a coffee.” Then she realized what she’d said. “Sorry. Poor choice of words.” She blushed and passed a hand over her face. “I would love some coffee, please.”

Sorensen smiled to make her feel more at ease. “After you’ve tried our coffee, you’ll never want a cup again in your life.”

She returned the smile and followed him into the kitchen. He poured two generous cups. “Do you have milk?” Saffron asked heading towards the fridge.

“No. Only half-and-half.” Sorensen apologized. She emptied four of them into her cup.

On their way back to his desk, Darcy walked in holding a large evidence bag and stopped in mid-track when he saw her there.

“Saffron,” he said. “I was going to get you as soon as I dropped this off.”

She nodded, looked at the empty chair by Darcy’s desk, but ended up settling by Sorensen, where she had left her purse. Darcy took the chair he used for guests and set it closer to where she was. Sorensen sat behind his desk.

“Would you rather go to an interview room?” Sorensen asked, worried she would be overwhelmed with all the activity.

“No. If it’s okay, I’d rather stay. It feels better to be surrounded by people.”

“We know who tried to kill you,” Sorensen said, focusing the conversation on what they needed to get done. “We just don’t know why, and we need your help.”

Sorensen told Saffron what they knew about Harper Johnson. Every once in a while, he stopped and asked if she had been in the same places or knew the same people. But she didn’t.

Darcy changed angles to see if they could get luckier. “How long have you known Emma Hughes?”

She smiled, “I remember the first day we met. She was my boss, about ten years ago. It was my first job out of college. Emma was only a few years older than me, and she was the best boss I’ve ever had. And my best friend.” A somber shadow covered her face.

“You both saw Dr. Leavenworth, right?”

She flinched at the sudden change of subject but didn’t comment on it. “Yes.”

“Do you know Juliette Davis?”

She shook her head and did so again every time Lynch mentioned another name from a long list of victims.

“Would you mind if I ask you why you were seeing Dr. Leavenworth?”

“I discovered a lump in my breast half a year ago.”

She explained that they gave her options for having it checked, and she decided to have a needle biopsy. The results came back negative.

“That’s why I was at that coffee shop. I had just gotten my follow-up done and I wanted some coffee.”

“How about Emma Hughes?” Darcy asked.

“Same thing. We actually went out to celebrate when we both got our negative results.”

“Was there anything peculiar about the doctor or the procedure?”

“No.” She stopped for a second, then added, “Actually, yes. They told me it was nothing, but apparently they put a little titanium marker where the lump is when they do a needle biopsy. This is done so they can easily identify the lumps they’ve checked already, in case there are more in the future. Anyway, they couldn’t find mine.”

Sorensen and Lynch exchanged glances.

“And the same thing happened to Emma?”

“I don’t think so. At least she never mentioned it.”

Sorensen went through the files on his desk until he found Hughes’. He searched through the ME report. When he found what he was looking for, he met Darcy’s eyes and nodded.

“What? You guys know you’re terrible at hiding things, right?”

“Sorry.” Darcy swallowed. “The ME couldn’t find the marker either but did find the lump.”

She stared into empty space. “Why is this important?” she asked, not comprehending.

“We don’t know yet,” Sorensen said.

While he collected his files, Darcy and Saffron got refills on their coffees. They came back and she took a Red Vine from a box sitting on top of Darcy’s desk.

“I bet that’s all you’ve eaten today,” Darcy said.

“Haven’t been hungry.”

He pulled a Clif Bar from his drawer and handed it to her. She devoured it in silence in less than a minute. She declined when Darcy offered her another one.

Sorensen excused himself and went into one of the interview rooms to make some phone calls. He walked back into the bullpen a few minutes later, beaming. He was unsure of whether he should talk about his findings in front of Saffron but not able to keep it quiet any longer, he blurted out, “Out of the five vics we have, three relatives confirmed that they had commented on the same thing happening to them. Another one couldn’t remember but was going to check around to see if she had told anybody else.”

“What’s going on? What does this have to do with this asshole killing all of these people?” Saffron asked, her voice strained with frustration.

Lynch got out of his chair and turned the whiteboards around so they faced her. She looked at the photos of the dead women and Dr. Leavenworth’s name circled in the middle with arrows from each victim pointing to it.

“I don’t know what the connection between Harper Johnson and Dr. Leavenworth is,” Darcy said, “but I can guarantee you that there is one and it isn’t good.”

F
or the first time since the hit and run on Saffron, Darcy felt that the puzzle pieces may be coming together. “You know what comes next?” He asked Sorensen.

“You better believe I do,” he said and headed to Virago’s office to get the court order to force the doctor to give the names of her patients.

From the corner of his eye, Darcy saw Rachel walk into the office with a couple large photographs in her hand. She didn’t have her white lab coat on. She was wearing a burgundy skirt and matching jacket that made her look more like a lawyer than a scientist. She reached Darcy’s desk but didn’t say anything.

“Rachel,” Darcy said, happy to see her, “meet Saffron Meadows.”

Saffron stood, towering almost a foot over Rachel, and shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Addressing Darcy, she said, “Can we talk?”

He didn’t move but nodded.

“The burnt papers you found in Johnson’s house?” She phrased it as a question, as if she needed him to acknowledge he knew what she was talking about. “They were in pretty bad shape, so I wasn’t able to get anything from the other pages.”

Darcy sighed and slouched back in his chair. He had really hoped to find a link to the initials on the envelopes.

“I was able to get a list of names on the first page, though.”

Her face didn’t show as much satisfaction as it normally did when she carried her findings in person. She offered the photos she had brought.

Darcy took them and looked at the first one. It was really hard to see anything. It just looked like a picture of a burnt piece of paper. He changed the angle to see if a different light reflection helped. There were three names printed on the paper. The first name was unreadable, the second was David Jameson, the third Emma Hughes.

Before Darcy could say anything, Sorensen came out of Virago’s office and, waving a couple sheets of paper announced to the world, “We got the court order. I’m going to get that bitch.”

“You may want to look at this before you go,” Darcy said, pointing at the pictures.

Sorensen stared at them for a few seconds. “This is what we got from the tin can?”

“Yep.”

“Holy shit.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

Saffron ping-ponged from one to the other, “What?” she finally asked.

“It looks like Harper Johnson didn’t kill Emma because he thought she was you,” Darcy said. “He had a hit on her.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense.”

“You kids work this out. I’m going to get some answers.”

Sorensen grabbed his jacket, stuffed the paperwork in the inside pocket and left with some spring in his step.

“I know. We still don’t know what the connection is, but there’re too many things going on that can’t be mere coincidences.”

“Okay, I’m going back to the lab,” Rachel said. “If I find anything else, I’ll let you know ASAP.”

“Thank you, Rachel.”

“Add another caramel macchiato to that long list you already owe me,” she said over her shoulder.

Darcy took the photo where the three names were most visible and went to see Jon.

“Can you run this guy’s name and let me know what you find?”

“On it.”

Before Darcy had time to walk back to his desk, Jon said, “Holy crap!”

A few heads turned to look at him.

“Sorry.” His face turned beet red. “It’s just that I typed David Jameson’s name in ViCAP, and I get a report that he was killed on Wednesday.”

“How?” Darcy asked, standing in the middle of the room.

Jon scanned the computer screen. “Hunting accident.”

“Hunting accident, my ass.” Darcy said. “What happened?”

“The notes are scarce, but apparently he was hunting with a guide and another guy and was shot in the back.”

Darcy looked at Saffron. Her eyes were intense and a brilliant green.

“Who’s the detective on the case? What jurisdiction?”

“Santa Cruz police. A guy name Peppernickel.”

Jon gave him the number as Darcy dialed.

S
orensen decided that catching Dr. Leavenworth while she was still at work was more important than abusing his power. So he pulled the red and blue lights from under the passenger seat and ran them with the sirens all the way from the station to Good Samaritan Hospital. Traffic was insane, but most people pulled to the side to let him pass without much nudging. Part of the road was still blocked because of the shooting at the coffee shop but, after showing his credentials, they let him drive through.

The receptionist had red lipstick on again. It looked freshly applied, as if she were ready to close the shop and head out. Her face showed disappointment when he walked in.

“I’m Detective Erik Sorensen,” he said, showing his badge just in case she didn’t remember him. “I have a court order to get the names of all of Dr. Leavenworth’s patients.”

The woman refused to take the paper and just stared at him, as if she didn’t know what to do. Sorensen snapped his fingers in front of her face, which startled her into motion. She picked up the phone and dialed extension thirty-two.

“Dr. Leavenworth, I’m so sorry to bother you, but I think you need to come to the front desk.”

Sorensen couldn’t hear what the doctor was saying on the other side. The receptionist nodded a few times and tried to interrupt the doctor, with no success. She then looked at the phone and hung up.

“You are going to have to wait until she’s done with her patient.”

“I don’t have to wait for anything. You need to pull these records now, or I’m going to arrest you for obstruction.” He was bluffing, but he knew she couldn’t tell.

She started typing some commands in the computer but was so rattled that she kept making mistakes. She stopped, wiped the nascent sweat from her forehead and picked up the phone again.

“Doctor, please, you have to come here. It’s the police.”

Less than a minute later Dr. Leavenworth appeared inside the reception area.

“What is it this time?” Her face was sour and her voice curt.

“I have a court order to get your entire list of patients and what they are being seen or treated for.”

Dr. Leavenworth grabbed the ruling and scanned it for a few seconds. Then she pushed the receptionist out of the way and typed a few words into the computer. The printer started hissing and spitting papers out. Nobody said anything. When the printer stopped, Dr. Leavenworth picked up the sheets and slammed them on the counter. Sorensen wondered if she’d hurt her hand and wished she at least felt a little pang of pain. He grabbed the pages and skimmed through them to make sure they had all the information he needed. When satisfied, he said to the doctor, “Make sure you don’t leave town. We may need to have you visit us at the station.”

The receptionist looked away, as if she were afraid he was going to summon her as well.

Neither said anything as he left. When he got into the car, he turned the inside light on and took pictures of the sheets of papers with the names. He then emailed them to Jon. After the photos were sent, he called him.

“Did you get my emails?”

“Coming in now.”

“I want you to check on our victims first. Write on the board what they were being seen for.”

“Okay.”

“Then I need you to check all the other names on the list.”

“You want just a database check?”

“For now that’ll be enough. If there’s anybody who’s died in the last two months, write them up on the board, regardless of cause of death. Don’t forget to write what the doctor was seeing them for.”

“You got it.”

“I want it done before I get there.” Sorensen said.

“Any pit stops?”

“No, and I’m driving with the sirens.”

“Shit,” Jon said before Sorensen hung up the phone.

S
orensen walked out of the elevator and got a Red Bull from the vending machine on his way to the bullpen. He drank half of it before he reached his desk.

“What do you have for me, Jon?” He placed his jacket on the back of his chair. He had sweat marks under his armpits.

“Well, right after you left we found out that David Jameson was dead. He was also a patient of the doctor and funny enough, he was seeing her for breast cancer.”

“Was he a transgender?”

“Huh?”

Sorensen looked at Darcy to get some support, but caught him exchanging glances with Saffron. “David’s a dude’s name,” he said, as if trying to explain something hard to a small child.

“Right.”

“About one percent of all breast cancer patients are men,” Darcy interrupted.

“You’re shitting me,” he said, suddenly uncomfortable with his own man boobs.

Jon went on, “I talked to the detective in Santa Cruz who had the case. He closed it as a hunting accident. He interviewed everybody who had been at the hunting grounds. Apparently nobody was around the area at the time of the shooting and since nothing looked too suspicious, and ‘These things happen’—his words—that was all he did.”

“You’re kidding me. This guy gave up after a couple interviews?” Sorensen finished his Red Bull.

“He couldn’t find any evidence. It was a through and through and”—Jon made quotation marks with his fingers—“‘You know how hard it is to find a bullet in the forest.’ Since the evidence trail went cold, he just closed the case.”

“This guy needs to be written up. What’s his name again?”

Sorensen crunched the Red Bull can into a ball and threw it into the wastebasket, missing it.

“Shit,” he grunted as he moved his body out of his chair to pick up the metal ball.

“Peppernickel,” Jon said.

“Oh fuck. With a name like that, what can you expect?” He shook his head and asked, “Okay, next?”

“All of our victims were patients. All of them were seeing her for breast cancer or some type of breast lumps,” Jon said, sneaking a peek at Saffron for confirmation, who nodded back at him. “All of them had a needle biopsy done in the last six or seven months.”

“How many people outside of our list have had needle biopsies?” Darcy asked.

Jon checked his notes. “Seventy-three.”

“Out of those seventy-three, how many are still alive?”

“Sixty-eight.”

“There are five additional dead bodies out there?” Sorensen asked, raising his voice.

“In addition to our victims, yes,” Jon confirmed, recoiling from Sorensen’s intensity.