Malevolent (Lieutenant Kane series Book 1) (16 page)

“Here.” The doctor rolled her hand over to show us the brand. It was the same as the others.

The captain let out a puff of air through his nose. “Were there any ligature marks on her wrists or ankles?”

“Yes, both.”

“But no stitches anywhere on her head?” I asked.

“Stitches, no. That’s the second time you have asked. Why would she have stitches?”

The captain took the question. “There have been two homicide victims dressed like this woman. Both victims had holes drilled into their skulls and damage to the brain,” Bostok said.

“Lobotomy?”

He nodded.

“There is a waiting area down the hall, please wait there. I need to look at something.” He herded us out the door. “They used to perform lobotomies through the eye sockets.” He closed the door to her room.

We waited where he’d instructed. An hour passed before the doctor came back out and met us. His face showed that we didn’t have good news.

“Let’s go to my office,” he said.

We followed him to the end of the hallway and sat across from him in his office.

“We took her for a CT scan. She has lesions to both frontal lobes of the brain. Someone performed a transorbital lobotomy on her. They broke through the bone behind her eye sockets and cut into the brain.”

The captain dug his palm into his eye. “What the hell. Can she recover?”

“I believe that this is permanent. She has extensive brain damage.”

We sat quiet. No words could describe how I felt. Someone had destroyed this woman, had taken her very identity—her mind. That might have been worse than killing her.

“We received the results from the toxicology screen. She has trace levels of a tranquilizer in her system.”

I nodded. “The tox screens on our other victims showed a tranquilizer as well, Xylazine. What about Buprenorphine?”

“Buprenorphine? No. The only other drug in her system was Alprazolam.”

“What is that?” I asked.

“Xanax.”

“Enough to put her in the state she’s in?” I grasped at a hope that her condition was drug induced.

A bite at his lip and a quick shake of the doctor’s head told me the answer was
no
. I wrote the name of the drug down in my notes.

“We’re going to run some more tests and a rape kit. If we find out anything further, I’ll have someone contact the police department.”

“Can we get as much information on the woman as we can before we go? Height, weight, hair color, eye color, identifying marks? I’d like to be able to give the guys in missing persons a profile of her in case we get a call.”

“Sure, Lieutenant.”

He gave me all the information he could put together from the woman. After the captain asked him if he and his staff could keep a lid on the woman until we found her identity, we left his office. Officer Tate’s car was gone when we reached the captain’s Ford. We hopped in and pulled away from the hospital. The captain was quiet for the short drive. He pulled up to the curb in front of my condo. I reached at the door handle to get out.

The captain threw the car into park. “What do you think was with the message written on her?”

“Who the hell knows? Guess the guy saw the press release we held. If this sick son of a bitch thinks he can play a game with me, he won’t like the outcome.”

“We should give this one to the feds, Kane.”

I pursed my lips and let the car’s door handle snap back. “Why?”

“This is getting out of control. We won’t be able to keep all the details out of the press much longer. It’s all that will be on the news. It will be splashed across every television, radio, and newspaper.”

“Give me more time. I’ll get something.”

“A day. No more.”

I got out and headed inside.

I was up before the sun. My lack of sleep would eventually catch up with me, but if that was my last day on the case, I planned to make the most of it. I made a cup of coffee for the road and sprinkled food in Butch’s dish. He dove from the couch and ran for the kitchen as soon as the first kibble hit the bowl. I gave him a pat on the head. His breakfast would distract him from the door as I walked out. I called my father on the way to the station. He was fine, as I’d predicted. As I expected, he made me feel guilty for not visiting. I let him know that I’d put in for time off and would come visit in the next few months.

I made it to the station by seven and to my office a few minutes later. The voicemail light on my phone was flashing. I hit Play.

The message was from Keller in tech. He let me know that he had watched both videos in their entirety. He spotted eight cabs on the footage. He got all the tag numbers and ran them. They all checked out as legitimate fares. He went on to tell me that he’d stayed until one in the morning.

I hit Erase. The red-light cameras were a bust.

I put it out of my mind. At the top of my list was calling the pet-medication wholesalers. The more I thought about it, the more I felt that was our best lead on the drugs. I woke up my computer and plugged Alprazolam into a search engine along with the other two drugs. Every result had something to do with the veterinary field. I was on the right track. We just had to find where it had come from and who’d taken it.

What Hank had said about the hospitals and clinics not wanting to own up to missing medications rang in my head. The same could be said about the vets I had called and the wholesalers I was about to contact.

I powered up my computer and got the addresses for both places. If I didn’t find a lead with the wholesalers, I was prepared to make face-to-face visits with the vets I had already spoken with. I dialed up Hank. He picked up within two rings.

“Hey, Kane. What’s up?”

“How long until you can be in?”

“I can come now. Karen just left for work. I’m just finishing up breakfast. What’s going on?”

“I want to stop in by the veterinary wholesalers and talk with some people face to face. I was thinking about what you said about these places not wanting to own up to missing drugs. People will have a harder time lying to two cops face to face.”

“Sure, I can leave in five minutes, be at the station in twenty. It’s only a couple minutes past seven. What are you doing at the station already?”

“This is our last day on the case. One way or another.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had another victim last night. This one was alive. They found her wandering in Ybor, wearing lingerie. The captain and I went to the hospital and spoke with the doctor—another lobotomy. I’ll go over the rest when you get here.”

A long silence came from his end of the phone. Hank cleared his throat. “I’m on my way.”

He walked into my office a little after seven thirty. We grabbed an unmarked cruiser from the lot and headed out.

“Where are we going to first?” he asked.

“The place is called Wholesale Pharm and Supply. They open at eight.” I looked at the clock on the dash. “We should be there a couple minutes after.”

I filled Hank in on everything the doctor had told the captain and me on the ride over, as well as the message in magic marker.

The wholesaler was in an industrial park out in Ruskin. It was a thirty-minute drive south from downtown—well out of our jurisdiction. The navigation on my cell phone told me that the address was coming up on our right. I saw it in the distance. It was a long, multiunit beige building. On the outside of the corner unit was the name of the business we were looking for. The remaining four units in the building were empty. Two cars were parked on the side and one in the front. I pulled up and shut off the car.

We walked in. A jingle of bells strapped to the top of the door sounded our presence. A man dressed in a black polo shirt emerged from the back hallway. He was in his fifties, tan and a hundred pounds overweight. A gold necklace wrapped his neck, and a gold bracelet sat on one wrist, a gold watch on the other.

“Morning,” he said. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“Good morning. I’m Lieutenant Carl Kane. This is Sergeant Hank Rawlings. We’re with the Tampa Police Department’s homicide division.”

He jerked his head back, causing the fat under his chin to wiggle. “Homicide division?”

“Yes, sir. We would like to speak with whoever is in charge here.”

“I guess that would be me, though sometimes I don’t feel that way. I’m Paul DiMarini, I’m the owner. What can I do for you?”

“We would like to talk about the products you carry and if any have come up missing.”

“We have a ton of stuff missing.”

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“We just did inventory last week. First time this year. A ton of stuff might be an exaggeration, but as the owner, I don’t want a thing missing. What are you looking for?”

“Xylazine, Buprenorphine, and Alprazolam.”

“Xylazine we have. Buprenorphine and Alprazolam we don’t carry—never have. You want to see the count?”

“Sure,” I said.

He opened a drawer under the front counter and pulled an inch stack of papers from it. “Here’s our inventory.” He thumbed through the pages, mumbling the word
Xylazine
. “Ah, here we go—Xylazine. Says here we should have forty-eight bottles. Let’s go check the shelf.” He motioned over his shoulder to follow him back into the warehouse, so we did.

He stopped at a rack and found the stock. I watched him count the bottles of Xylazine in front of him one by one.

I multiplied the bottles in the rows. “You have forty-two there.”

His mouth curled to the side. “Hold on.” He walked into an office in the warehouse and came back with another stack of papers. He flipped through them. “Pick sheets from the week.” He pulled one out and turned it toward me.

It was an order from a vet for Xylazine—quantity, six bottles.

We thanked him for his time and showed ourselves to the door. The next stop was Pet Med Plus in Brandon. The business was twenty minutes away as we headed back toward the city.

We pulled into the parking lot just before nine. A large gray warehouse with tinted glass front doors stood before us. A couple cars were parked on the side. We walked up to the front door. The business’s name was plastered across the front in stickers. I gave the door a yank—locked. I peered through the glass and didn’t spot any employees. We’d have to wait.

I leaned against the side of the car. Hank rested his arms on the roof on the other side. I checked my watch—8:58 a.m. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. The caller ID said it was the station. I hit Talk.

“Lieutenant Kane.”

“Where are you? You see Rawlings?” the captain asked.

“He’s with me. We’re looking into some pet-med wholesalers. On our second one.”

“So you’re not here?”

“No. Why?”

“The lights in your office were on, so I knew you were already in this morning. I’ve been walking around the station for the last fifteen minutes looking for you so we could start our morning briefing about last night.”

“This place should be open in a few minutes. I’m guessing we’ll be back within the hour.”

“Did you already fill Rawlings in?”

“Yeah, earlier.”

“Then don’t worry about it. I’ll go over everything with the guys here. You guys keep working on what you’re doing.”

“Sounds good.”

“Come to my office when you get back.”

“Yup.” I hung up.

“Captain?” Hank asked.

I nodded.

“This might be our guy here.” Hank pointed to a newer black two-door pulling into the parking lot.

The car pulled past us and continued around the back of the building. We saw the lights inside flicker on a few minutes later. A man came to the front door, unlocked it, and pushed it open. He stood in the doorway. He was shorter than me by a few inches but made up for it in width. His shaved arms stretched the sleeve holes of his T-shirt. His chest pulled the fabric around it tight. He held a water bottle filled with a bright-pink liquid—creatine or an after-workout drink was my best guess.

“Morning, officers.” He smiled, exposing bright-white veneers.

Hank and I walked up. “I’m Lieutenant Kane.” I nodded at Hank. “This is Sergeant Rawlings. Wanted to see if we could talk with who’s in charge.”

“That’s me today. The name’s Don. I’m the office manager. What can I do for you?”

“We’re looking into a case that involves drugs used in the veterinary field. Wanted to see if you had anything come up missing.”

“Not that I know of.”

“Mind taking a look for us?” Hank asked.

“Sure, I guess. Come on inside.” He held the door, and we walked in.

He walked past us and went behind the front counter. We stood across from him.

“So, missing drugs, huh? Do you know what medications you’re looking for?”

“Xylazine, Buprenorphine, Alprazolam,” I said.

“Let’s check the stock.” He clicked a few keys at the computer sitting in front of him. The printer at the side of the counter started making noise and shot out two sheets. He pulled them from the printer’s tray. “Buprenorphine, quantity seventeen. Xylazine, seventy-six. Alprazolam, fourteen. I’ll head back and check the inventory.”

“Mind if we look over your shoulder?” Hank asked.

He slapped the inventory paper against his hand. “Not at all. Come on.” He stood from his chair and motioned for us to head into the warehouse.

We followed him through the door to the back. Three delivery vans sat parked inside. Rows of shelving rose to the ceiling. A couple of warehouse workers entered through the service door at the back and punched in at the time clock on the wall.

“The Xylazine is right over here.” He pointed to a shelf an aisle over. “Have to get the stock picker to check on the Buprenorphine and Alprazolam, though. The stuff we don’t move a lot of sits higher on the shelves.”

We walked over to where he had pointed out the Xylazine. He pulled a bin from the second row of the shelf and set it on the ground. I saw two boxes and a handful of loose vials inside.

“Boxes have thirty a piece in them.” he said. He stacked the two boxes on top of each other.

I cocked my head and looked at them. Each vial had plastic shrink wrap around it.