Resuscitation (32 page)

Yoga classes?

Julian had been overworking his brain trying to come up with an ideal place to meet subject number five. His next bit of research required that his subject be a female in excellent health. How could he go to a bar, randomly select someone and be sure she was healthy? The short answer was that he couldn’t. But suppose he went to a place that promoted health? Suppose he went to a yoga class or a gym? Chances were if he selected a young, lean woman, she would likely be in good health.

Thank you, Emily
.

Before her scheduled meeting with Police Chief Larson and Captain Davidson, Sami sat in one of the interrogation rooms with Detective Osbourn and gave him a brief summary of what she discovered at Henry’s Hideaway. The young detective didn’t seem particularly interested, nor did he ask many questions, which concerned her. Considering his participation in the investigation thus far, she now regretted not having him with her when she interviewed Philippe and Tiny. He obviously needed more frontline experience.

As a rookie detective, Sami remembered driving her colleagues crazy with question after question, like a first-grader wanting to learn everything about everything. Osbourn didn’t seem to have that seed of curiosity so critical in a detective. She didn’t want to overreact, but to this point, she was not impressed.

She looked at her watch. “We’d better get moving,” she said to Osbourn. “Neither the chief nor the captain have much tolerance for tardiness.”

“Is it important that I sit in on this briefing?” Osbourn asked.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You’ve already brought me up to speed, so why—”

“What the hell is going on, Richard? I chose you to partner with me on this case over four seasoned detectives. And it seems to me that you’re somehow less than enthusiastic. Last night when I told you to stay home with your family and not to meet me at Henry’s Hideaway, you didn’t even flinch. Not one word of protest. Where’s the ex-Marine that used to disarm IEDs in Iraq? Where’s the guy who convinced me to partner with him? Did I make the wrong choice? Do you want out?”

“No, it’s not that at all. It’s just that…” His eyes filled with tears.

“What is it, Richard?”

“My wife had her second miscarriage two days ago.”

Now, of course, she felt like an insensitive clod. But she wasn’t a mind reader. “I’m so, so sorry.” His announcement brought a lump to Sami’s throat. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I wanted to leave my family business at home.”

“But clearly you didn’t. Under the circumstances, your lack of enthusiasm is perfectly understandable. But without that important piece of information, I could only assume that you had no fire in your belly and were sorry I chose you to partner with me. What would you think if the situation were reversed?”

“It wasn’t my intention to let you down.”

“Do you need a few days off?” She could see he was embroiled in an internal tug-of-war.

“I don’t know if that would help. Some things just have to run their course. Besides, I think my wife needs some alone time.”

“Let’s do this. Come to the meeting with me—that will give you a little time to think—and we’ll talk afterwards.”

“Thanks for being so understanding.”

The door to the captain’s office was slightly ajar. Sami could hear Davidson and Larson whispering, but couldn’t make out their words. Neither was known to be soft spoken; she could only guess they were probably making arrangements to tar and feather her if their meeting didn’t prove fruitful.

As a courtesy, she knocked on the door before walking inside; Osbourn tailed behind. Sami and Osbourn sat in front of Captain Davidson’s desk. Larson paced the floor.

“I hope you have something for us,” Larson said. “I haven’t bugged you but the mayor is driving me batty and I need to throw her a bone.”

“We’ve come up with a couple of leads,” Sami said.

“You mean
suspects?
” Larson said, his voice a few decibels higher.

She told Larson and Davidson about Tiny, that he was coming to the precinct this morning to work with a sketch artist, that he felt he could pick the alleged serial killer out of a lineup. She also told them about the symbol Tiny saw on the perp’s medical ID.

“Does this witness seem reliable?” Davidson asked.

“He looks like he could play the lead role in a motorcycle movie,” Sami said.

“What time is he coming?” Larson asked.

“Nine o’clock.”

“Is our sketch guy onboard?” Davidson asked.

She understood that both the captain and chief were under tremendous pressure, but did they think she was still a rookie? “It’s handled, Captain.”

“So what’s this about a medical symbol?” Larson said.

“Tiny is a bouncer at the bar where our perp met Connor Stevens. When our guy flashed his driver’s license, Tiny noticed a photo ID with a caduceus symbol on it.”

“A what?” Davidson said.

Sami had already anticipated this question and had the forethought to find a photo on Google and print a copy. She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her purse and handed it to Davidson. The captain studied it for a few moments and passed it to Larson.

“I’ve seen this symbol a gazillion times,” Larson said.

Osbourn finally spoke. “The problem, of course, is that our man could be anything from a doctor to an orderly, or anything in between.”

Sami didn’t want to undermine Osbourn’s attempt to participate, but based on the results of the autopsies and what Doctor Fox had told her, she had to correct him.

“Well, I doubt very much that our guy is an orderly. Based on the surgical procedures he performed on their hearts, more than likely we’re dealing with a doctor gone awry. Perhaps even a cardiologist. But we can’t rule out anyone working in health care.”

“How do we narrow the field?” Davidson asked.

Sami had some answers but hesitated a moment to see if Osbourn would continue.

“Not all medical IDs have an imprint of the caduceus symbol,” Osbourn said. “The process of elimination is going to be labor intensive. We are going to need every available body—detectives and support people as well—to find out who uses this symbol on their IDs and who doesn’t. We’re talking hospitals, clinics, outpatient surgical centers, anyone working for a health-care organization.”

The young detective was starting to catch on, Sami thought. “And don’t forget about private practices,” she added. “We need to contact the AMA, the California Board of Nursing, and any other organization that maintains a database of health-care professionals.”

“Well,” Larson said, “seems like you and Detective Osbourn have made some headway. I had hoped for more, but if our eye witness helps the sketch artist come up with an accurate composite, we might be cookin’ with oil.”

“Can we make arrangements to have the composite sketch posted in all public places—trolley stations, bus stops, museums, post offices, beaches, parks—anywhere locals congregate?” Osbourn said.

“Sure thing,” Larson said.

“And how about posting it on all the major billboards in the county?” Sami suggested.

“Those are all doable,” Larson said. “I’m sure the mayor can make a few phone calls and help us cut through the red tape.”

“It’s not a secret that our budget is in the crapper,” Sami said, “but is there any chance we can twist the thumbscrews and push the City Council to bump up the ten-thousand-dollar reward the Fosters are offering for the arrest and conviction of the perp?”

“Great idea,” Davidson said. “That’s how they nabbed the Parkside Strangler in LA. Cash is king.”

“Hey, it never hurts to ask,” Larson said. “Good job, Detectives. Let’s plan on another powwow tomorrow morning at eight sharp. And Sami, if you run into any roadblocks or resistance from your colleagues, call me on my cell twenty-four-seven.”

She thought the meeting was over, but when Osbourn and she stood and headed for the door, Chief Larson grabbed her arm.

“You can leave, Richard,” Larson said. “But we need to speak with Sami privately.”

She’d figured that this meeting wasn’t going to be
that
easy. Rarely could she walk out of this office without leaving a piece of her hide.

Larson closed the door and gave Captain Davidson a look. Sami realized it was an ambush.

“Can we speak off the record?” Davidson asked. “Technically, we shouldn’t be having this conversation with you, but—”

“If you two are comfortable, I’m comfortable.”

“Have you heard from Al?” the captain asked.

“I speak to him every day. Sometimes twice.”

“How’s his sister?” Larson asked.

“She’s holding her own. Still in a coma, but she’s improved slightly.”

“We hate to sound like ball breakers, but any idea when Al’s coming back?” Davidson asked.

If she blurted the first thing that came to her mind, she might be unemployed. “It all depends on his sister.”

“We don’t want to be insensitive,” Davidson said. “But we have a department to run here and Al is an integral part of the equation. We can’t just give him an open-ended ticket to stay in Rio indefinitely.”

“Under the Family Medical Leave Act,” Larson added, “you can take up to six weeks to care for a spouse, parent, or child. But there’s no provision for a sibling under this law. We want to support Al. Honestly, Sami. But there is no flexibility here. Our hands are tied. He needs to get back to work immediately.”

“So if there was a way for him to qualify for the Family Medical Leave Act, both of you are onboard?”

“Absolutely,” Larson said. “You have my word.”

She didn’t want to sound like a know-it-all, but if her superiors wanted to quote the law to her, they’d better damn well do their homework. “Neither of you have heard of Assembly Bill 849, which was passed in April of 2009? It’s an amendment to the California Family Rights Act.” She sensed that her tone was leaning toward sarcastic, so she had to be careful to tone it down. “This bill expands family leave to siblings, grandparents, grandchildren, and even a parent-in-law.”

Larson and Davidson stared at each other, looking like she was speaking Russian. “I don’t remember seeing that notice from HR,” Larson said.

“Al has already filed the application with Judy in Human Resources and all she needs is your signature and approval, Chief Larson, and he’s good to go for up to six weeks.”

The color drained from Larson’s face.

“Any chance you can sign it today?” Sami asked.

Clearly defeated, Larson coughed into his hand and folded his arms across his chest. “Well, um, I’ll get over to HR later this morning.”

“Thanks, Chief. Al appreciates your support. And so do I.” She had to enlist every ounce of restraint to suppress her grin. “Will there be anything else?”

With help from Captain Davidson and Detective Osbourn, Sami organized a brainstorm meeting with four of her fellow detectives, six support people, and two administrative personnel. The group assembled in the conference room and congregated around the beat-up table that had been part of this room since the precinct was first opened. Osbourn and she stood in front of the group next to a whiteboard.

Never much of an artist, Sami drew an image of the caduceus symbol on the whiteboard as best she could. “This is the symbol we’re looking for.”

She wasn’t surprised when her least favorite detective was first to speak.

D’Angelo stood with that smug look that made her want to smack him.

“So,” D’Angelo said, “we’re supposed to contact every doctor, lawyer, and Indian chief in San Diego just to find out if they have that weird symbol on their ID badge?”

“You can skip the lawyers and Indian chiefs,” Osbourn said. He passed around a list of all the organizations they needed to contact, along with a photograph of the symbol.

“Each of you has been assigned specific health-care organizations to contact,” Sami said. “We must verify whether or not this symbol appears on the ID cards of all their employees, associates, or members. If not, we don’t need to go any further. But if they do use this symbol on their IDs, then we need a list of everyone involved in the organization that uses an ID card.”

“Suppose they refuse to disclose any information because of confidentiality issues?” Debra Jones, Lab Tech, asked.

“They can either cooperate over the telephone, or we can show up at their doorsteps with search warrants and tear their offices apart. Whatever they prefer.”

Sergeant McBride stood. “Not for nothing, but how the hell will you get a judge to sign a bunch of search warrants?”

“Judge Foster’s daughter was the first victim. Needless to say, he’ll do anything within the law to support our efforts to apprehend our guy.”

“Okay,” D’Angelo said. “We have a list of a gazillion health-care employees with badges that have that symbol on it. How does that help us nail this guy?”

She wanted so badly to call him a pinhead. “Whoever produced the ID cards also has a database of photographs. We have an eye witness who just this morning worked with a sketch artist to come up with a composite drawing of our perp. Once these photos are sent electronically, we’ll compare them to the composite drawings.”