The Last Word (21 page)

“Of course,” Mark said, pacing beside his car.

“There’s an organized-crime connection to the two funeral homes in this body-parts ring,” Steve said. “They were both owned by Gordon Ganza. The funeral homes were investments made on Ganza’s behalf by Malcolm Trainor.”

Mark stopped in his tracks, stunned by the news.

Ganza was a major figure in organized crime in Southern California who was killed a few years back. Mark knew that only too well, since he’d been the one framed for the killing by Malcolm Trainor, Ganza’s accountant. Trainor engineered the frame from prison, where he had been serving a life sentence for the murder of his wife, a crime that Mark had solved.

“After Ganza’s murder, his sons sold off everything but the funeral homes,” Steve continued. “I guess they knew better than anyone that death is a booming business.”

Could Trainor be responsible for what was happening to Amanda, Jesse, and Susan? Mark wondered. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Trainor had managed to pull off a complex criminal conspiracy from within his cell at Sunrise Valley.

There was a reason why those words had haunted him all night.

It was his subconscious screaming the answer to the puzzle to him, over and over and over again.

And yet he still didn’t hear it.

Now
he did.

He knew why Mercy Reynolds tainted the organs with West Nile virus.

He knew why the funeral homes claimed Amanda was supplying them with body parts.

The only thing he didn’t know was how it was all done.

But he knew
why
.

When Mark spoke, he tried to keep his voice even and calm. If he told Steve what he was thinking, his son would think he was crazy. He had no proof at all to back up his conclusions.

Not yet, anyway.

There was still one common element of the two cases left to explore.

“Steve, what do you know about MediSolutions International?”

“I was just getting to that,” Steve said. “They’re based in Phoenix. The guy who runs it is Noah Dent. Wasn’t he once the chief administrator at Community General?”

In his short time at Community General, Noah Dent had closed the adjunct county medical examiner’s office, laid off half the nurses, and tried to fire Mark.

But then, without explanation, Dent abruptly reversed all his actions, quit his job, and disappeared. Mark never looked into Dent’s sudden change of heart and mysterious resignation, though he suspected that Jesse had motivated it in some way. Dent left, and that was all that mattered to Mark. Good riddance.

Now Dent had reemerged at MediSolutions and at the center of the two scandals that plagued Community General, leading to the morgue’s being shut down and Mark’s getting fired. Had Dent somehow achieved what he’d set out to do at Community General after all?

Whatever the explanation, it was clear that Mark’s lack of interest in pursuing the mystery was coming back to haunt him.

“Find Mercy Reynolds,” Mark said.

“I told you that I would,” Steve said.

“Find her fast, Steve. She’s the key to it all. The body-parts ring. The murders. Everything.”

“The two cases are connected?”

“If we can get Mercy to talk, we can clear Amanda, Jesse, and Susan.”

“Where are you going to be?”

“Pursuing another angle,” Mark said. He hung up before his son could press him any further.

Steve hurried out of the beach house and was surprised to see Chief Masters’s Lincoln Town Car parked out front, at the edge of the private road that ran parallel to the Pacific Coast Highway. The tinted rear window slid down as Steve approached. Masters sat in the backseat, scowling.

“Get in,” the chief said.

“I’m in a hurry.” Steve stood outside the door and didn’t make a move to open it. “Can we make this quick, sir?”

“Have you made any progress on your assignment?”

“Everything is in place, but we haven’t learned anything yet,” Steve said. “We’ll let you know when something comes up.”

“Then what’s your rush?”

“I have work to do,” Steve said.

“Not if it involves the trafficking of stolen body parts from the adjunct county morgue or the two doctors accused of infecting organ donors with West Nile virus,” the chief said. “They don’t concern you.”

“My friends are in trouble, and Burnside is using the bogus charges against them to smear my father,” Steve said. “I’m concerned.”

“Let me rephrase that,” the chief said. “We’re talking about federal cases, which are outside the jurisdiction of the LAPD. And even if they weren’t, you have a conflict of interest that would exclude you from being part of either investigation.”

“You’ve ordered me to eavesdrop without a warrant on the private conversations between a defense attorney and his client,” Steve said. “You are in no position to lecture me on jurisdiction, ethics, or the finer points of the law.”

“I’m the chief of police,” Masters said, his face taut with anger. “I’ll lecture you on whatever the hell I want to, and you’ll do as you are told. Burnside is using your father and these arrests to attack me. If you and your dad start investigating, you will be playing right into Burnside’s hands.”

“You expect me to turn my back on my father and abandon my closest friends?”

“If Burnside discovers that Dr. Sloan is using LAPD resources for his own purposes, it will confirm all the allegations that he’s made. It would be disastrous.”

“For you,” Steve said.

“For everyone,” Masters said. “Stay out of it and let the FBI investigation run its course.”

“Even if it means my friends are imprisoned and my father’s reputation is ruined.”

“Yes,” the chief said.

“I can’t live with that,” Steve said.

“Too damn bad,” the chief said. “You have no choice.”

“Sure I do,” Steve said. He reached into his jacket, took out his badge, and tossed it into the limo. “Problem solved. I’m a private citizen now.”

“You don’t want to do that.”

Steve stood up straight. “I want to do whatever I can to help my father and my friends.”

The chief picked up the badge. “Without this, you’re no good to them anyway.”

“It’s nice to know you think so highly of my detective skills.”

“Have you forgotten about Carter Sweeney?” the chief said.

“He’s your problem now,” Steve said.

“You’re deluding yourself if you honestly believe that,” the chief said and nodded to his driver.

The Town Car pulled away.

Steve watched as the vehicle drove up the driveway to the Pacific Coast Highway. As it surged forward into the traffic, the chief threw Steve’s badge out the window into the plants along the shoulder.

The badge glinted in the morning sun. It could have been a crushed beer can, a shard of glass, or some other piece of glittering trash.

Steve walked over and picked it up. The badge was dented. Somehow, that seemed fitting. He brushed the badge off on his pants leg and put it in his pocket.

His cell phone rang. He took it out and glanced at the caller ID on the readout. It was Tanis Archer.

“What’s up?” Steve asked.

“Tony Sisk just got a very interesting call at his house,” Tanis said. “You’ll never guess who is demanding an immediate face-to-face meeting with Carter Sweeney.”

Oh hell, Steve thought.

“Erase the recording,” Steve said.

“The chief is going to find out that your father is meeting with Sweeney,” Tanis said. “He’ll probably get a call the moment Mark shows up at the prison gates.”

“That’s not why I want you to delete the recording. I don’t want my father tied in any way to these illegal wiretaps,” Steve said. “He’s got enough problems.”

“And he thinks that seeing Carter Sweeney is going to make things better?” Tanis said. “If your dad was smart, he’d run off to a secluded beach somewhere until after the election. Why does he want to see Sweeney?”

That was a good question. Steve didn’t have the answer, and he was angry with his father for not confiding in him.

He could understand why his father might want to confront Malcolm Trainor. At least there was a strand that connected Trainor in some way to the players in the body-parts case.

But why Carter Sweeney?

Did his father think that Sweeney was responsible for what was happening to Amanda, Jesse, and Susan?

If so, based on what? There was nothing tying Sweeney to those cases.

It was insane. And that, Steve realized, was probably why his father didn’t tell him anything about his suspicions.

“I don’t want to get into it now,” Steve told Tanis. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“I need you to find out everything you can about Mercy Reynolds, a nurse at Community General.”

“Does she have something to do with Sweeney?”

“I’m hoping you can tell me,” Steve said.

“Oh, boy,” Tanis said. “This is bad.”

“Frankly,” Steve said, “I think you’re being overly optimistic.”

Amanda slept soundly on the hard cot in her cold, miserable jail cell. She could sleep anywhere, regardless of whatever discomfort or stress she was experiencing.

“It’s like a superpower,” Jesse had once told her.

It wasn’t quite that great, but it was a handy skill nonetheless. She was sure it was what allowed her to juggle two demanding jobs and not collapse from exhaustion.

She was awakened by a guard at six a.m., given a tray of dry toast, scrambled eggs, and a lukewarm cup of horrible coffee. For her appearance in court, the guards let her change out of her yellow county jail jumpsuit into the clothes she was arrested in. She was handcuffed and escorted to a van, which took her to the federal courthouse a few blocks away.

Arthur Tyrell was already in the courtroom, as were Jesse and Susan, a prosecutor, and several reporters, who had notebooks ready, pens poised for action.

Tyrell was immaculately dressed in a tailored suit. He exuded power and confidence.

Jesse and Susan were both disheveled and pale, with dark circles around their eyes. They stood with their shoulders touching, the only reassuring physical contact they could manage to give each other under the circumstances. They seemed relieved to see Amanda, a familiar and rested face.

“How are you holding up?” Amanda whispered as she stepped up beside them.

“Better now that I’ve seen the two of you,” Jesse said with a smile.

Amanda found herself warmed by the smile, which she returned with one of her own.

“I’m finally past being terrified,” Susan said. “It took too much energy. I’m so tired now that all this seems surreal.”

“It’s having Arthur Tyrell represent us that makes it feel that way,” Amanda said. “Our world has definitely tipped off its axis.”

“I just want to go home,” Susan said.

“That’s our next stop,” Jesse said.

The federal magistrate came in through a back door and took his seat at the high bench. He was in his sixties and tried to hide his enormous bald spot by combing over a few strands of hair from either side of his head. It was a wasted effort.

The federal prosecutor, a stick figure of a woman in a dark suit that made her skin appear white as chalk, spoke first, laying out the charges against Jesse and Susan.

Tyrell spoke up. “My clients are upstanding members of the community who have saved countless lives. Not only that, but they have aided law enforcement on many occasions. To accuse them of these crimes, on entirely circumstantial evidence, is an affront to justice as well as to basic common sense. There are more than a dozen other people you could arrest at Community General using the same circumstantial evidence.”

“Susan Travis treated the West Nile virus patient as well as the two donors. Her husband, Dr. Travis, was the surgeon who supervised the testing of the donors and harvested their organs,” the prosecutor said. “And the fingerprints of both of them were on the vial of the patient’s virus-infected blood hidden in the doctors’ lounge refrigerator. The only thing missing here is a signed confession.”

“Which is what the prosecution would need to convince any jury on such preposterously thin evidence,” Tyrell said. “Dr. Travis and his wife are innocent.”

“Save the drama for the trial, Mr. Tyrell,” the magistrate said, turning to the prosecutor. “What is your recommendation?”

“These are two cold-blooded thrill killers who preyed on the vulnerable and the sick. They represent a grave danger to society if they are released,” the prosecutor argued. “We oppose bail and ask that they be held in custody pending trial.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Tyrell said. “These are two upstanding professionals with no priors who have dedicated their lives to the betterment of their fellow man. We ask that the court release them on bail pending trial.”

The judge didn’t take even a moment to consider the arguments.

“Given the heinous nature of these allegations, I share the government’s concerns. Bail is denied, and the accused are remanded pending trial.” The judge banged his gavel. “Next case.”

Tyrell blinked hard, surprised. He wasn’t used to losing. He didn’t know what to say to his clients, not that he had much of a chance to speak. The guards were already stepping forward to take them away.

Jesse and Susan looked at each other in shock. Realizing that they had only a few more seconds together, they leaned toward each other to kiss, but before their lips could touch, they were pulled away by the guards and taken out the back door.

“I love you,” Jesse called out.