Dying to Tell (26 page)

Jake chewed the inside of his cheek. “Did she say anything else? Mention any specific doctors?”

A slight pause. “No, just that she thought that two doctors conducted some kind of experimental research there about twenty, thirty years ago, that the patients and their families had no idea what was happening. And that it caused terrible side effects in the children.”

About the time Grace, Amelia, and Joe started treatment.

“Are you sure about this?” Jake asked.

“My source is reliable,” Brenda said.

Jake rubbed his chin. “Why did you come to Sadie with this?”

Brenda sighed. “Because I didn’t think you’d believe me if I came to you.”

“And you thought Sadie would.”

“I figured she wanted answers about her sister.”

“So what do you get out of this?” Jake asked.

Brenda cleared her throat. “I want an exclusive if you find something.”

“That figures.”

“Listen, Sheriff, I am trying to help, but I also want to do my job.”

“All right. If there turns out to be some truth in this, the story’s yours.”

He hung up, then studied the forensics reports. So far, they hadn’t discovered any extraneous prints at Amelia’s studio.

And none at Sanderson’s house. They also hadn’t found a computer or cell phone, which made it appear to be a home invasion.

Unfortunately, CSU had also found no files, nothing to link the cases.

Which made him even more uneasy.

Only a pro would be as meticulous in his cleanup as this killer had been. The slice to Sanderson’s throat had been quick and lethal, neatly severing his jugular artery. It hadn’t been done by a first-timer. There were no tentative marks, no struggle.

Which suggested that Sanderson had known his killer.

And that the killer had known what he was doing.

But why murder Dr. Sanderson? What enemies had he made over the years?

According to Coker’s wife, Coker had been considered a saint, and if Sanderson had been giving free services, people thought the same about him.

Unless someone had discovered that the doctors had been mistreating patients, using them as research guinea pigs.

The doctor’s statement about Sadie’s mother echoed in his head. What if Mrs. Nettleton had stumbled onto the fact that Amelia had been mistreated? Had her and her husband’s deaths been an accident or murder?

He’d have to talk to the coroner back then, and to Sheriff Bayler.

He tapped a few keys and looked for complaints filed against Sanderson with the medical board, noting two names: Bertrice Folsom and Emanuel Giogardi.

Mike strode in, tucking his cell phone into his jacket pocket.

“Did you find out anything at the hospital?” Jake asked.

Mike shrugged and sank into his chair. “No. A couple of the nurses thought Foley was handsome, said he was a big guy, short haircut, he had some tat that looked like it was military.” Mike handed him a crude sketch. “One of the women drew this.”

Jake leaned forward in his seat to examine it and frowned. It was a scorpion with a number etched below it. It looked like one of the tats he’d seen on some of the Special Forces teams—a symbol that they were bound as one.

So why hadn’t the man’s name shown up when he’d searched for it?

“Research that tattoo and see if you can find out what unit had it,” Jake told his deputy.

“If it was Special Forces, we might not find it,” Mike said. “You know they’re pretty secretive.”

“I know, but we have to explore every lead we have.” He sighed. “Did anyone see Grace Granger trying to escape? See Foley rescuing her?”

Mike shook his head. “Happened during the shift change. People coming and going. Probably how she slipped through that locked door at the end of her ward.”

And a good time to cause an accident while no one was looking, Jake thought.

“Thanks, Mike. I’m going to plug this sketch in and see if it pops. But we have another problem.”

Mike crossed his arms. “What?”

“Another murder.” He explained about Sanderson. “Would you canvass the neighbors who lived near the old man and see if anyone heard anything suspicious?”

“No problem.” Mike rubbed a hand over his chin. “What do you think’s going on? Three murders in one week—that’s a lot for Slaughter Creek.”

“Sure as hell is.”

Mike left to question Sanderson’s neighbors, and Jake called the judge and asked him to amend the warrant. He wanted a list of all of Dr. Sanderson’s patients, especially those who’d been treated at Slaughter Creek Sanitarium.

And he wanted to question Folsom and Giogardi, the patients who’d filed complaints.

But first he planned to talk to the coroner about Sadie’s parents’ deaths.

Dr. Thad Grimes had worked as the country coroner for twenty years; four years ago he’d retired and moved to Nashville. Jake found his address and home phone and called the number. Five rings later, it rolled to voice mail, so he left a message.

“It’s important I talk to you about a case you worked a few years back,” Jake said. “Please call me back ASAP.”

Antsy for information, he headed to the door to drive out to Bayler’s house.

A second later, his phone buzzed, and he answered it.

“Sheriff, this is Dr. Grimes. What can I do for you?”

“Did you do autopsies on Mr. and Mrs. Nettleton when they had their car accident about twenty-five years ago?”

“Yes—why the interest?”

“Just tell me what you found. Anything unusual?”

“That was a long time ago, and I don’t have the files with me, but I don’t remember anything odd,” Dr. Grimes said. “Both their injuries were consistent with the impact of the car crash.”

“What about a tox screen?”

“That I can’t say. I’d have to look back at the files.”

“Would their records still be at the ME’s office?”

“Should be, although they’ll be in the basement. We never did get them all inputted into the computer system.”

Jake thanked him and ended the call, then called Bullock. “I know you’re busy, but will you have one of your assistants pull this file for me?”

“All right, but it might take a while. I’ll have to call you back.”

“No problem.”

He disconnected, then rushed to his car.

Maybe Sheriff Bayler had some answers.

Amelia trembled as she hid in the linen closet down from her hospital room. She had to be strong, had to get her head clear. Skid had attacked that nurse, and now she was out of that room.

She couldn’t go back.

But she’d heard Sadie’s voice in the hall. She’d peeked outside and seen that orderly dragging Sadie toward her room. Sadie was trying to tell them who she was.

Amelia’s throat clogged with a scream.

She couldn’t leave Sadie here. What if they hurt her?

She left you,
Bessie whispered.
Please, just get us out.

She doesn’t care about you,
Skid said.

It’s time for us to live,
Viola chirped.

Amelia clawed at her arms, hating the drugs. The sounds in here. The nurses and orderlies and smells...

Her ears were ringing with the noises, with the memories.

She’d tried to tell Sadie. Papaw. Ms. Lettie.

But no one believed her.

They’ll put us back in here for good if you don’t run,
Skid said.

He was right. It was up to her to find some proof. But how? She was so confused...She didn’t know what day it was. Couldn’t remember what happened with Papaw...

A sob caught in her throat, but she heard footsteps outside in the hall, then Ms. Lettie’s voice.

“Oh, my dear, she tried to escape,” Ms. Lettie cried. “I’d better go sit with her.”

Panic tightened her stomach, and she clawed at her arms again. Would Ms. Lettie know it was Sadie in that bed instead of her?

All the more reason for you to get us out of here fast,
Skid said sharply.

He was right. She couldn’t think straight or remember with all those drugs clouding her mind.

Her head throbbed, nausea rising, and her hands trembled. More side effects of that stuff they pumped through her.

Just like years ago.

She snapped her head up.

Ting. Ting. Ting
.

She heard the chimes ringing.

That was it—she had to find the room where they’d done those awful things to her. If she could show it to someone, maybe they would believe her.

She reached for the doorknob, but Viola’s voice stopped her.
You can’t go out in that hospital gown.

She was right!

Then she spotted the hospital scrubs on the shelf. Yes, no one would stop her if she was dressed like a doctor...it was the perfect escape.

Then she’d finally be free of this place, and maybe she could remember how she’d gotten here.

Jake passed over the steep mountain ridge to the east side, the hills giving way to farmland and apple orchards. Winter advisories warned there might be sleet, but at the moment it had held off. Still the wind whipped the trees into a frenzy, scattering leaves like a thick rainfall.

Bullock phoned just as he neared Bayler’s house, and he answered the call. “Sheriff, my assistant pulled that file like you asked.”

“Did Grimes note anything out of the ordinary?”

A pause. “Both victims were killed instantly, bruises and contusions all over their bodies. Hmmm.”

“What?”

“Looks like Mrs. Nettleton had some scratches on her arm that weren’t consistent with the accident, but considering the impact of the crash, he let it go.”

Scratches, as in, she might have fought with someone?

“What about the tox screen?”

“Mrs. Nettleton was driving, and no drugs were found in her system. The husband had some alcohol, but not enough to have impaired him.”

“I realize this is the ME’s report, not the sheriff’s, but does the report mention anything found in the car?”

“Just a note with the name
Coker
in the mother’s hand.”

Had she been on her way to see him? “Where did the accident take place?” Jake asked.

Bullock muttered something, and Jake realized he was skimming the file. “Says here it was out on Blindman’s Curve.”

“The one going out of town?”

“That’s it.”

Jake drove down Bayler’s drive with a frown. He had passed Blindman’s Curve on his way here. Could the Nettletons have possibly been coming to Sheriff Bayler’s house? “All right, thanks.”

Bullock hung up, and Jake noted that the silo and barn to the right of Sheriff Bayler’s house looked a little run-down, although a decent herd of cattle grazed in the pasture.

Then he saw the former sheriff sitting on the front porch. He tugged at the straps of his overalls and stood as Jake climbed out
and walked up the steps toward him. He looked different out of uniform, like an old man who’d never even worn a badge.

“What brings you out this way, Sheriff?” Bayler asked.

“I wanted to talk to you about some things that happened when you were in office.”

Bayler scratched his graying beard, then gestured toward the metal chair on the porch, and they both sat down. Bayler once again settled into the glider.

“What things?”

“The Nettleton family.”

Bayler murmured his regrets. “Heard about poor Walt. A bad way to go, getting shot by your own granddaughter. Especially after all he did for that girl.”

“That’s partly the reason I’m here,” Jake said. “I’m trying to find out why she killed him.”

“The fact that she was unstable isn’t enough?”

“Yes, but there are some things about that hospital where she was that are bothering me,” Jake admitted. “Another patient at Slaughter Creek Sanitarium died, and I started asking questions. Those questions led to more questions.”

Bayler worked his mouth from side to side. “I don’t understand where you’re going with this.”

Jake explained about Grace’s suspicious death, then her connection to Dr. Sanderson, and his murder.

“Jesus Christ,” Bayler said. “We haven’t had a murder around here in twenty years.”

Jake sighed. And they had all happened on his watch.

“I’m investigating the possibility that there was abuse at the sanitarium. Also that some doctors used patients in an unsanctioned research project.”