Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 01 - Headaches Can Be Murder (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Brain Freeze

Two Harbors & Duluth, Minnesota

John entered the condo and shed his parka. Caddy greeted him as a long lost friend and stood on back legs while he rubbed at her ears. Her tail swung back and forth with pure canine joy. “Nothing like forty laps in the pool to get the brain firing again, eh, girl?” John had taken a break from the files, hoping the exercise would jar something loose in his brain. The answers still hadn’t come to him, but his energy had been recharged.

Jo stood up from her spot at the table and walked over to him. She smiled at John and ran her fingers through his still wet, slightly frozen hair. She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. You smell like chlorine.”

John pointed to the notes scattered across the table. “Come up with any good schemes?”

“Getting there. I …” Jo’s cell phone rumbled across the tabletop, and she reached for it.

“Hey, Frisco, get any hits on the names I gave you yet?” She pulled a pad of paper toward her and took notes, listening intently. At one point, her eyes widened. “Cause of death?” More notes. “No, no. I’ll be right there.” She clicked the phone shut.

“New developments?”

She turned to face John. “Frisco followed up on the microchip patients I found in the surgeon’s files. His people are still tracking down some of them, but Kurt, the security guard from the accident last night was on the list. Last name was Manning. The tattoo on his neck matches the one from the DVD of Sid’s murder. He was definitely one of the guys.”

“Any leads on the other killer?”

Jo rubbed her face with her hands. “No. They’re still working on it. Wish we would have found out about Manning sooner. Would’ve been nice to question him and find his partner.”

Jo’s eyes looked tired and her shoulders slumped. “I haven’t told you the worst part. Remember Thomas Falco from the files? Frisco recognized that name right away.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because Thomas Falco fatally shot his wife and teenage son last night, before he died.”

The calming effects of John’s swim evaporated quickly. It infuriated him that medical technology was being used to destroy lives. He said, “Jesus. Let me guess. He turned the gun on himself.”

“No, not a mark on him. The ME says it was another aneurysm and that he found a microchip in the same spot as the others. Frisco is meeting us for the autopsy review.”

Frisco met them at the door of the medical building. No one remarked on the strangeness of being back at the coroner’s lab without Sid. Jo felt a shiver when she entered the room. The office showed no sign of the chaos and murders that had taken place the prior week. It was back to business as usual.

Except the music was gone. Bobby Henke, the acting ME, no longer sang along with Neil Diamond. The whoosh of air through the ventilation system was the only background sound in the room. Jo briefly wondered if Bobby was the one who had performed the autopsies on Sid and his wife.
Poor man.
She had thought watching the murder on the DVD was horrible enough, but she couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Bobby probing the lifeless bodies of his former boss and Martha.

Jo glanced toward the corner where Sid had been discovered. She found it hard
not
to look. It was as if the absence of a body made it possible for Sid to still be alive. She sighed and squared her shoulders.

“So, Doc, did you find anything else? Frisco said it was an aneurysm, like Mitch Calhoun’s case.”

Bobby looked up from the body of Thomas Falco. Eyes gazed out of thick glasses, giving him the perpetual appearance of a startled owl. Unlike Sid, his voice was timid and strangely high-pitched. “Same thing. By all appearances, could almost be the same brain. Same spot on the Circle of Willis.” He shook his head. “Even though I knew to look for it, I almost missed that little bitty microchip.”

Detective Frisco pulled Jo away from the table, while John and Bobby talked more about the victim.

“Agent Schwann, I’m getting quite a pile-up of dead bodies in my county. People are calling for my head on a friggin’ platter. How did you come by those names?”

“I found them in files from the chief surgeon’s office in NeuroDynamics. Looks like they’re all guinea pigs for testing. Dr. Goodman thinks that the microchips cause the aneurysms. It was like they were implanted to take out the test cases when their assigned tasks either failed or were completed.”

“Holy shit! But how the hell—and why—are they controlling people?”

“That’s what we still have to figure out.

We’re getting close, Frisco. I know it. John and I are going to talk to the CFO today. We’re hoping she’ll help put the final pieces together.”

Frisco grabbed her arm. “Is that a good idea? What makes you think she won’t take Candleworth’s side?”

“John thinks he can convince her with the evidence we have so far. Seems like they’ve been using her head as their personal playground, too.”

Frisco said, “Just remember, keep your eyes open. If she so much as reaches for her telephone when you tell her what you’ve been up to, you get some back-up. These guys aren’t messing around. Hell, if Two Harbors was in my jurisdiction, I’d be there myself.”

“I don’t think it will come to that …”

Frisco continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Normally, I’d contact the sheriff up there, but word’s out that he’s been awfully cozy with Candleworth. Likes the perks that come with having a big-ass company in his county.” Frisco shook his head. “Fucking sell-out. Never liked him anyway.”

“I called my boss in Minneapolis. He’s aware of what’s going on and is sending up some additional agents. Now that we’ve established a connection between Sid’s killers and NeuroDynamics, the investigation can proceed much quicker. We shouldn’t have any trouble getting a warrant now.” She put her hands on her hips. “This has got to end, Frisco. We owe it to Sid and the others.”

“Got some fire power with you?”

She patted the slight bulge of her coat pocket. “Got it covered.”

The detective nodded. “Be careful.”

“You can count on it.” She indicated the lab with her chin. “Weird being back here without the old man, isn’t it?”

The corners of Frisco’s mouth turned down. “Weird doesn’t begin to cover it.”

Jo and John drove northeast along the lakeshore on Highway 61, towards the home of NeuroDynamics’s CFO. The all-weather tires squeaked on the snow-covered roads, a sure sign of frigid cold. The skies were a brilliant blue, but the sun was at its farthest point and did little to warm the day.

Not taking her eyes off the road, Jo said, “Do you think we can convince Ms. Peterson to help us?”

“There’s obviously a chance that she won’t believe us. I know we’ve uncovered enough of NeuroDynamics’s blatant criminal acts so that the FBI will discover the full truth with or without her help.” John paused, then said, “But at the very least, I want to be the one to tell her what they’ve done to her. She deserves to hear it from someone who can explain it all to her. If she agrees to help us, it’s icing on the cake, as far as I’m concerned.”

Jo thought for a moment about the compassionate man sitting next to her. He wanted to bring down Candleworth and his organization, but he never stopped thinking about the welfare of the individuals who were little more than pawns. If she was honest with herself, it was one of the main reasons she was falling in love with him. He cared about the victims as much as she did.

She reached out a hand to John and they rode the rest of the way to Belinda Peterson’s house in silence.

Just south of the turn-off for Split Rock Light House, they found the house number on a weathered post on the lake side of the highway. The unpaved driveway disappeared into the woods, and they wound their way down until they reached a honey-colored wood log home, with a green shingled roof. Jo parked the Highlander behind a blue sedan, and they got out of the SUV. She heard the chatter of crows as they walked up the sidewalk.

Jo rang the doorbell and shivered in the cold while they waited for someone to answer. After a minute without an answer, John pounded on the door. Finally, they heard the click of the deadbolt being turned and the door opened, revealing a gaunt-looking Belinda Peterson.

She shielded her eyes from the bright sunshine and said, “What do you want? Can’t you read?” She pointed to a small sign pasted to the sidelight next to the door. It read: NO SOLICITORS.

When Belinda started to close the door, Jo stuck her booted foot in the opening, afraid that they wouldn’t be given a chance to explain. She felt the pain radiate up her leg as the door struck, but ignored it and said, “We’re not here to sell you anything. We just want to talk to you. It’s important.”

Her eyes widened when she took a closer look at Jo. “Hey, aren’t you the cleaning lady from the office?” She pointed to John. “And who’s this?” Confusion mingled with indignation on her face.

Jo said, “I’m sorry to have deceived you. I’m not part of the cleaning crew at NeuroDynamics. I am Special Agent Jo Schwann, with the FBI, and I’ve been working undercover in your company.” She pulled out her credentials.

Belinda scrunched up her features as she glanced at Jo’s badge. “I don’t understand. This must be some kind of mistake. What does the FBI want with me?”

Jo said, “May we come inside?”

Belinda cut her eyes toward John. “And who’s this? Another FBI agent?”

John spoke up. “No, ma’am. My name is Dr. John Goodman. I’m assisting Agent Schwann with the investigation into your company. Please, may we come in and explain everything?”

Jo held her breath, willing Belinda to let them enter.

The CFO kept her hand on the door and Jo watched the indecision cross her features. Belinda finally stepped aside to let them in.

Jo waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit house. All the shades had been drawn and only a sliver of sunshine escaped around the edges of the windows. She and John followed Belinda into a spacious family room. There was a blazing fire in the gas log fireplace at the far end of the room and Belinda asked them to be seated on the leather couch in front of it. She eased down in a chair next to them, curling her feet up beneath her.

To Jo, the woman no longer resembled the commanding CFO she had first met in her office only a few days earlier. She wore a tattered bathrobe and her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her face was free of makeup and the firelight accentuated the dark circles under her eyes.

Belinda reached for a bottle of ibuprofen on the end table next to her and swallowed three pills without a drink of water. Jo glanced at John. His brows came together and he said, “Ms. Peterson, are you all right?”

She waved off his question with her hand and said, “Just a bad headache.” John’s frown deepened, and Jo thought he would say something more, but he just shook his head.
He’s biding his time, waiting to help her. He knows we have to gain her trust first.

Belinda rubbed at her temples. “So, tell me. What is this all about?”

Jo leaned forward. “About two weeks ago, the FBI received a call from the medical examiner’s office in Duluth. They had discovered a NeuroDynamics microchip in the brain of recently deceased young man, by the name of Mitch Calhoun. Does that name sound familiar to you?”

Belinda frowned. “Yes, he was one of our test patients. But you aren’t insinuating that the microchip caused his death, are you? Dr. Candleworth, the CEO of my company told us about his death and said that he died of natural causes.”

John sent a fleeting look at Jo and then spoke. “You were told a lie. Mr. Calhoun died of an aneurysm that resulted from the microchip. And he’s not the only one. Thomas Falco died yesterday. I saw the brains of both men and I saw the damage the microchips inflicted.”

“You must be mistaken …”

“I have copies of the ME’s reports here with me. May I turn on the lamp and show them to you?”

He flicked on the table lamp and pulled a stack of papers from his bag. He retrieved several pages and showed them to her.

Belinda quickly read through the reports, and then looked up in shock. “No, no that can’t be. There must be some kind of mistake.
I
have one of the microchips. Are you saying they’re defective?”

Jo said, “Not exactly. Functionally, it appears that they are operating exactly the way they are intended. However, it is the
intent
that we are concerned about. Were you aware that you were also injected with some substance called NC-15 when you received the microchip?”

Belinda crossed her arms. “No, I don’t believe you. That microchip was put in my head to relieve migraines. Dr. Candleworth would never do such a thing. He’s a good man. You’re making this all up just to scare me.” She stood up. “I think you should leave now.”

John spoke quickly. “Believe me, I wish this weren’t true. But it is. Here is a copy of your medical file. It proves that you received the injection and that they have been testing your ability to be controlled ever since.”

Belinda plopped back onto her chair as if her legs could no longer support the weight of what she had been told. Her face was chalk white as she said, “Control? Let me see that.” She snatched the papers out of John’s hands.

Jo watched as the horror spread across Belinda Peterson’s face. Belinda released a cry of pain and read aloud from the report. “
Early work with subject indicates willingness to abandon inhibitions, including committing petty crimes.
What have they done to me?”

John said, “It appears that this NC-15 has some kind of mind control properties. Do you know anything about it?”

Belinda’s eyes filled with tears. “No, I’ve never heard of this substance. This is a nightmare. What can I do?”

Jo spoke rapidly, seizing the opportunity to gain Belinda’s help. “You can get us inside information.” She reached out and placed a hand on her knee. “Will you help us?”

The tears spilled down Belinda’s cheeks as she said, “Tell me what to do.”