Worth Dying For (A Slaughter Creek Novel) (15 page)

Rafe nodded. “Yes. Why don’t I look at them while you and Agent Lucas talk?”

Mr. Loggins nodded, punched his intercom, and requested a security guard. A heartbeat later a husky bald man appeared and escorted Rafe into the hall.

When they’d left, Loggins faced Liz. “How else can I help you?”

“I received an anonymous call about the second murder victim, Beaulah Hodge.” She paused to see if he recognized the name.

“And that brought you here because?”

“The caller said that Ms. Hodge worked at the sanitarium at one time. I hoped you could find records to confirm that.”

He steepled his hands on the desk. He had blunt nails, calluses, and a jagged scar on his right hand that ran deep. “How will that help you?”

“Studying victimology, knowing as much as we can about victims and finding a common pattern among them, can often lead to the killer. Most repeat killers—”

“You mean serial killers?”

“Yes, they establish a pattern and target victims for a specific reason, usually because the victims remind them of someone who hurt or abused them. The first victim, Ester Banning, had a nursing background and was fired from a nursing home for abusing patients. When she left, she applied for a job with a company that provided home health care for patients.” She paused. “Our working theory is that both victims worked with the CHIMES project.”

“I see. So why did you come to me?”

Liz checked her notes. “Because we believe our unsub is one of the subjects. And if he’s targeting nurses who worked with the project, we need a list of those nurses so we can warn them.”

His dark gaze shot to hers, a muscle twitching in his jaw. A minute later he stood, walked over to a filing cabinet, and dug inside. “Actually the files for that period burned in a fire a while back. Employee records were lost. But . . .”

“But what?”

“I’m a resourceful man. I managed to find a backup copy of a file regarding the project.”

Adrenaline pumped through Liz like a shot of caffeine. “You did? Where?”

“In a file box that had been placed in the basement.”

“Can I see it?” Liz asked.

“Yes, of course. Although I’m afraid it’s pretty slim. Not a lot of details inside.” He removed the folder and handed it to her. “I believe it has the names of the subjects of the experiment. There were seven, correct?”

“Seven that we know of.”

His eyebrows rose. “You think there are more?”

“It’s possible that there were sister experiments performed in other towns.”

“Oh, I see. That makes sense.”

Liz opened the folder and skimmed the first page. It was indeed a list of the subjects. There were scattered notes on treatments, shock therapy, pharmaceuticals they’d tested, hallucinogens, sensory deprivation, and mind control techniques. It sounded like something out of a horror movie, bringing back the reality of the pain that victims like Amelia had suffered.

She studied the few names listed, for the first time seeing concrete evidence of the subjects’ names, not just the numbers they’d been assigned. Amelia had first given them that clue—she was number three. Seven had no name as far as she knew, other than Seven. Here she was listed as Seven Blackwood.

She zeroed in on the sixth listing.

But just as with Seven, there was no name listed, just the number—as if he hadn’t been important enough to have a name.

Unless Blackwood had found a way to erase the names so they would never be found.

Chapter Sixteen

R
afe finally managed to get hold of the security tapes from the hospital—damn red tape had nearly made it impossible.

He studied the footage of the hallways leading to and from the senator’s room, noting very little activity. A nurse popped in to check on the senator during the two hours of footage that Rafe was scanning; he recognized her as Mazie, the head nurse on the floor.

She’d worked at the hospital for years, and had insisted that she didn’t know about the experiments when they were running. She certainly had no reason to kill the senator and was middle-aged, not the age of the subjects. But she might recognize Six and be able to offer a description. She also might give them a list of other nurses who’d worked with Blackwood.

He checked the camera inside the senator’s room and frowned. The senator seemed to have lapsed into a catatonic state—whether from the narcotics prescribed by the doctor or from depression was unclear. Probably it was both. But the senator was nonresponsive when Mazie checked on him, as well as when a young nurse’s aide brought him his meal.

In fact the young assistant spoon-fed the once vibrant, confident senator, who was now as pale and listless as an injured bird.

But the senator hadn’t been innocent. He’d allowed the Commander to take advantage of children.

The nurse’s aide left the senator sitting in his chair, staring out the window. Rafe scrolled through the footage. Twenty minutes later, according to the time stamp, the door to the senator’s room squeaked open and a figure dressed in scrubs, complete with mask and cap, eased into the room.

The figure was tall, broad-shouldered—a man’s physique. Keeping his face averted from the camera, he padded so softly that only a slight footfall sounded.

The senator didn’t respond at all, as if he hadn’t heard the man enter.

Without a word, the man slipped a Glock from inside his scrub suit, gripped the back of the chair, and walked around to face the senator. For a millimeter of a second the senator stared his killer in the eye.

Rafe searched for a flicker of surprise, of fear, for recognition. But the senator simply blinked as if he’d been expecting his attacker. Slowly the killer lifted the weapon, placed the barrel point in the middle of the man’s forehead, and fired. The silencer kept the weapon from making a loud noise.

Rafe gripped the chair edge as blood and brain matter splattered everywhere.

It soaked the killer’s scrub suit, but the mess didn’t faze him. Keeping his face averted again, he backed toward the door and eased out.

Because of the angle of the cameras, Rafe lost sight of him for a fraction of an instant as he ducked into the hallway, but picked him back up as he neared the stairwell.

Looking again at the time stamp on the video feed, Rafe realized that the killer had struck during mealtime to take advantage of the fact that most of the staff would be busy, and the food carts would drown out noise.

Unfortunately there were no cameras in the stairwell, but Rafe caught sight of the killer again as he darted out a side exit door, setting the alarm off.

Frustrated, Rafe knotted his hands into fists. The tapes gave him nothing. Not once had he seen the unsub’s face.

Judging from the killer’s size and build, and the cold, calculating ease with which he took the senator’s life, the man could have been the Commander.

Or a hired gun.

His phone buzzed to announce the arrival of a text:
Meet me at the car asap. I have a lead.

Rafe turned to the security guard. “I need a copy of this tape to send to the lab. Maybe they can work their magic and tell us more. Can you page Mazie for me?”

The guard tapped a few keys on the computer, then shook his head. “Says here she left early.”

Rafe gritted his teeth. “Can you give her a message to call me asap?”

The unsub was targeting nurses who’d participated in the experiments. Mazie might be one of them.

Liz met Rafe at his SUV, anxious to show him the file. It provided no new information, but at least it contained the list of subjects, confirming that there had only been seven in Slaughter Creek.

Rafe was waiting in the parking lot when she reached his SUV.

“Did you see anything on the tapes?” Liz asked.

He lifted his sunglasses. “Not much. He wore full scrubs and kept his face averted.”

“Maybe a scar or defining feature?”

“No, but I’m sending the tapes to the lab. Maybe they can find something.”

“You think the Commander shot the senator?” she asked as they settled into the car and fastened their seat belts.

“Either him or a hired gun.” Rafe rubbed a hand across his chin. “The senator appeared to be catatonic. Killer walked right in, stared him in the face, and the senator didn’t even react. In fact, he looked up at him but didn’t seem surprised.”

“He was expecting someone to silence him.”

Rafe nodded. “There’s something else,” he said. “I wanted to talk to Mazie, the head nurse, but she went home early.”

“You think she killed the senator?”

“No. The body frame of the killer looked like a man’s. But apparently Mazie has worked here for twenty years—right back to when the experiments were going on.”

Liz swallowed hard. “Which means the unsub might be after her. And if he’s not, the Commander might want to silence her.”

“Exactly.”

Liz pushed the folder toward Rafe. “Mr. Loggins gave me this file. It lists the subjects of the experiment and the treatments and procedures used on them.”

“Jesus.” Rafe’s face lit with excitement as he skimmed it. “Finally some documentation.”

“I’m not sure it’ll help much if the subjects are dead, but maybe Amelia’s doctor can use the information in her treatment.” After all, she was redeemable. Seven had committed too many heinous murders to ever be released or be whole again.

And Six? If he was the Dissector, slicing and dicing women, he needed prison time as well as a psychiatrist.

They had to talk to Castor now to see what his story was, and whether he had an alibi for the time of the murders.

Anticipation fueled Rafe as he drove toward the crime lab. He considered calling Lieutenant Maddison and giving him a heads-up, but surprising Castor would be more valuable.

“We need all the background we can get on Castor,” he said.

Liz retrieved her tablet from her purse, clicked on it, and frowned. “Damn, we must be in a dead zone, no cell service.”

Rafe glanced back at the sanitarium as he wove down the long drive. Live oaks dripping with Spanish moss dotted the background, adding to the eerie feel of the hospital.

He braked, shifting gears as he wove down the mountain, the sharp ridges jutting out over the canyon below. Liz kept trying to get a signal on her tablet, finally managing to connect as they turned onto the main highway leading to the lab. She wanted to find out everything she could about Castor before they questioned him, so she accessed the TBI personnel database and ran a search.

“Brian Castor grew up in Memphis, graduated from college with a degree in premed, then decided to study to become a crime-scene investigator.”

“Premed would supply him with knowledge of the human anatomy. Any other background information?”

“No prior arrests or record. And nothing in his file about emotional disorders or problems in school.”

“He would never have made CSI if he had.”

“But most serial killers, especially sociopaths, exhibit violence as children. Killing animals is a common red flag.”

“What about his family?”

“It says here they live in Memphis. If we don’t get what we want from him, we’ll pay them a visit.”

Rafe parked, and they hurried to the crime lab door.

“Good work, Liz.”

“Let’s just hope the lead pans out.”

They entered the county police building and headed toward the lab. Rafe handed the tapes he’d brought from the hospital to the tech team to analyze, and then they walked to Lieutenant Maddison’s office.

Rafe knocked, but the door stood ajar, and Maddison was on the phone, so they waited in the threshold until he waved them in.

“Any news on that DNA from Truitt?” Rafe asked.

“Not yet,” Maddison said. “The lab is backed up. And we have another problem. The sample scraping beneath Truitt’s fingernails was lost, so we have to collect another one.”

Rafe’s fists clenched. “How did it get lost?”

“Lab incompetence, but we’ll take care of it. One tech has already been fired.”

“You need to make this a priority,” Rafe said.

Maddison grunted. “Every case is a priority.”

Liz explained the reason for their visit, and Lieutenant Maddison’s brows flew up in question. “You think one of my men is the Dissector?”

“Ester Banning gave a child up for adoption. Castor’s last name shows up in an adoption file at the same time, so he could be her son,” Rafe explained.

“And you think he killed her because she gave him away?”

“It’s possible that when she did, he wound up in the experiment,” Liz said. “That’s why we need to question him.”

“Do you mean he could be Six?”

Rafe nodded. “He also has a background in premed, his father was a vet, and he worked both crime scenes.”

Maddison’s face darkened. “So you suspect he insinuated himself into the investigation to cover his tracks. But technically he was already working here before the murders.”

“He could have planned ahead,” said Liz.

“At any rate, we need to question him,” Rafe added. “Even if he isn’t our unsub, if he was part of those experiments he could provide valuable information about the participants, hospital staff who assisted, and leaders. He might even know where the Commander is.”

Lieutenant Maddison raked a hand through his hair. “All right—let me call him in.”

He punched a button on his desk and requested that the CSI come to his office.

“I see your logic,” Lieutenant Maddison said. “But I know Brian, and I don’t think he killed those women. He’s a little strange, obsessive about cleanliness and meticulous in details, but he always seems so controlled.”

Liz’s expression softened. “True sociopaths can fool the people around them.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Rafe opened it to let Castor in. Liz had seen him at the crime scenes, but hadn’t paid much attention to him.