Unintended Consequences (23 page)

“Yeah?”

“Excuse me, miss. I’m looking for the folks who live next door,” Tommy said as he pointed to the beige house.

“What about?”

“It’s a personal matter.”

“Well, I can’t help you anyway. I’m just a baby sitter.”

Tommy thanked her and moved on to the next house. A middle-aged woman dressed in casual pants and a loose-fitting sweater answered the door with a bright smile.

“Good morning, ma’am. I’m looking for Trudy Harrington. She lives at No. 4 over there. Do you know where I might find her?”

The woman’s smile disappeared. “Are you a friend?”

“No, ma’am. I’m an investigator, and it’s urgent I find her or her husband.”

“Well, I’m sorry to tell you, they’re both deceased. Ed passed away a number of years ago, but Trudy just died recently, maybe ten or so days ago.”

Tommy’s face dropped. “Do you know their daughter?”

“Sunshine?”

“Yes, I need to find her.”

“Can I ask what this is about?”

“It concerns an inheritance.”

“Her daughter was just here, for the funeral, I assume. I wasn’t really friends with Trudy, just knew her to say ‘hello’ to.” The woman pointed to a home across the street. “The woman who lives there was friendly with Trudy, I think. Her name is Laura Devine. She might know something about Sunshine’s whereabouts. But she works on Saturdays. I usually see her car in the driveway around six.”

Tommy thanked her and moved on. His years of investigation work taught him that it was often painstaking. He knocked at each of the homes along Aspen Road. The street was in the process of turning over from families who had lived there for decades to new families seeking their first home in the suburbs. Where someone answered his knock, the newcomers knew little about the family at 4 Aspen Road. Older residents weren’t able to tell him much more than he’d already learned. He made a note to come back that evening to speak to Laura. Nothing more could be done until then.

At exactly seven o’clock, Tommy knocked on Laura Devine’s front door.

“Hi.”

“Ms. Devine, my name is Tommy Noorland.”

“You’re the investigator, right?”

Tommy nodded.

“My neighbor told me about you. I figured you’d come back to find me. I’m really the only one of Trudy’s friends left. There were a whole bunch of us from the block who were close when our children were young, but you know how it is. The kids grow up, the parents move on. Winters are so hard here that a lot of folks head to warmer areas when they retire. I’ve still got a few years to go, but you can be sure I’ll be heading to Phoenix when I’m done. Come on in. I’ve got a pot of coffee just made. Can I get you a cup?”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

Laura led Tommy into her kitchen, which clearly had never been remodeled. Tommy guessed the homes on Aspen Road had been built in the early ’70s, when ornate dark-wood cabinets were in vogue, along with avocado-green appliances and linoleum tile floors. He took a seat at the table. Laura brought over two mugs of coffee, along with cream and sugar, and sat across from him.

“So, what’s this about?”

“It involves an inheritance.”

Laura reached behind her to the formica counter and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Go right ahead.”

She walked to the stove and lit a cigarette with a gas burner. After two long, deep puffs, she put out the cigarette and turned back to Tommy. “Sorry, every now and then I just need a few drags. I’m trying to quit. I figure if I don’t finish them, eventually I’ll be able to give it up entirely. I started with six puffs and now I’m down to two. Pretty good, don’t you think?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Let’s talk now about what you’re really here for. I doubt it’s about an inheritance. Neither Trudy nor Ed had any siblings, and their parents are long gone.”

“It’s nothing that anyone’s in trouble for.”

“You’ve got to give me more than that.”

Tommy sized up the woman. His years in the field taught him to do that—make snap decisions about whom he could and couldn’t trust. He didn’t see a downside to being honest with her. He’d reached a dead end anyway, so he told her about George, about his upcoming execution, and about his claim that he’d left Angelina at the Mayo Clinic. As he spoke, Laura didn’t say a word, just listened intently. “So, yesterday, I met with a nurse over at the Mayo Clinic, and she says Trudy suddenly showed up one day with a four-year-old, claimed it was her niece whose parents had just been killed in a car crash. And she says the little girl was injured or sick or something. Now, here I am, trying to find out if Sunshine Harrington is really Angelina Calhoun.”

Laura took another cigarette out of her pack. “I need another drag to process what you’ve just said. I almost found it more believable that you were here about an inheritance, except you couldn’t have made up a story like that.”

“You now know everything I know.”

“Well, I may be able to help a little, but that’s all. I moved here when Sunny was about eight. I remember because she’s a year younger than my daughter. She seemed perfectly healthy all the time I knew her. She got married a few years ago, to a medical student. They moved away from here when he finished school, I guess for his internship or residency. I don’t remember which. Trudy may have told me where, but frankly I don’t remember. And if she told me her son-in-law’s name, I don’t remember that either. I saw Sunny last week, when she was here for her mother’s funeral, but we never talked about where she lived now. Oh, and she has a daughter. Rachel. She’s almost three. Trudy never told me she adopted Sunny, so whether she could be your Angelina Calhoun, I have no idea.”

“Do you know any of Trudy’s friends? Anyone she might have confided in?”

“There was one woman, Nancy Ferguson, used to live right next door to her. She moved away four or five years after I bought this house. They were real tight. Nancy was here last week too. I’m pretty sure she handled the funeral arrangements.”

“Do you know where Nancy lives now?”

“Up in Minneapolis.”

“And her husband’s name?”

“Gone. Left ten years ago. She and Trudy used to travel together, since both were singles.”

“That’s a help.”

“If Trudy confided in anyone, it would be Nancy. Find her and you may get your answer.”

Tommy thanked her and left. Before he pulled away, he called information. There were two Nancy Fergusons in Minneapolis and one in a nearby suburb. Tommy reached two by telephone, neither of whom knew Trudy Harrington. At the third number, he got a machine. He left a message, stressed the urgency of a return call and headed back to his hotel, where he planned to get good and drunk.

The ringing of Tommy’s telephone woke him. The bedside clock read 8:30. “Shit.” He’d missed his 8:00 a.m. appointment with Jeffreys. Normally an early riser, he shook himself awake and grabbed his cell phone.

“Hello.” His voice sounded thick.

“Mr. Noorland? This is Mandy, Dr. Jeffrey’s assistant. You had an appointment with him at eight this morning.”

“Mandy, I screwed up and overslept. I can get there in thirty minutes. Any chance he can squeeze me in?”

“He’s got appointments all morning. But I told him what you were looking for, and he said he could squeeze you in at lunchtime, say around 12:30?”

“You’re a sweetheart. I’ll be there.”

His head ached from tying one on last night, something he hadn’t done in years. When he was at the Bureau, the guys would go out drinking on Friday nights, and he always downed quite a few those evenings. He left that behind when he joined HIPP. He shuffled to the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the shower. He brushed his teeth while the room steamed up and then stepped into the tub. The hot water streaming down his face and body felt good, and gradually the ache in his head subsided.

He’d expected to see Dr. Jeffreys first and then drive up to Minneapolis. There wasn’t enough time to reverse the order. He’d just have to wait to try to find Nancy Ferguson. He tried calling the third number one more time and still got only her voicemail.

Before he knew it, the morning had disappeared, and he made his way to the Mayo Clinic. He arrived with time to spare for his meeting with Dr. Jeffreys. Mandy ushered him into the office with a promise that the doctor would be back soon. She was good to her word. Five minutes later, Dr. Jeffreys walked in.

“Sorry about this morning, Doc. I appreciate you rescheduling.”

“Not a problem. Sorry you had to wait two days. So tell me, how does Sunshine Harrington fit in with Angelina Calhoun?”

Tommy filled him in on his conversation with Jody. “So there’s a real possibility they’re the same person.”

“It’s possible. The problem I have is getting around the patient privacy laws.”

“I’ve got the signed release from her father.”

“Yes, but we don’t know he’s her father. And won’t know unless I show you her file, which gets us back to the privacy problem.”

Tommy thought for a moment. “Were the privacy laws in effect twenty years ago?”

Dr. Jeffreys hesitated. “Probably not as federal law, as it is now. But we still had a policy of respecting a patient’s privacy.”

“We know that Angelina was treated for leukemia back in Pennsylvania. If Sunshine’s the same age and was treated for the same thing, isn’t it probable that they’re the same person?”

“Leukemia is pretty generic. And it’s the most common cancer in young children.”

“Wait a minute.” Tommy opened his briefcase and riffled through a copy of the medical records for Angelina Calhoun that he’d received from Dr. Samson. “Here it is. She had acute lymphoblastic leukemia, pre-B-cell. Does that help?”

“Actually, it does. Pre-B-cell is a less common form.”

Tommy handed Dr. Jeffreys a stack of papers. “These are copies of her medical records from Pennsylvania. It shows her treatment before the cancer reoccurred.”

Dr. Jeffreys leafed through the papers.

“So how about it, Doc? Can you take a look and see if Sunshine Harrington was treated here? And if she matches up with Angelina’s records, can you share it with me?”

“I’ll check with our lawyers, but I think that should work. Why don’t you get back to me tomorrow?”

Tommy grimaced. “You know, most of the time when someone says, ‘Every minute counts,’ it’s bullshit, but in this case it’s true. If I’m right about Sunshine, then in nine days a man’s going to be executed for murdering someone who’s now married with a child of her own. I don’t want to live with that. You gotta help me, Doc.”

“I’ll do my best. Give me a call at five o’clock.”

The drive to Minneapolis took a little over an hour. Tommy drove directly to the address he’d been given for the third Nancy Ferguson. The new-looking, high-rise apartment building had no doorman and no security, something unheard of in New York City. He searched the mailboxes for her apartment number and then rode the elevator to the twelfth floor. He followed the winding corridor to her apartment and knocked. No answer. He banged harder. No answer, but this time he thought he heard a cat meow.
She can’t be far gone if she left her cat behind.

As he’d done on Aspen Road, Tommy began knocking on her neighbors’ doors. He got lucky—or maybe it was unlucky—with the first one. The woman who answered the door knew Nancy Ferguson. “Nancy’s on a little trip right now,” she told Tommy. “I’m taking care of her cat for her. She’ll be back next week.”

“Do you have a number where you can reach her?”

“Well, I have her cell number, but she’s on a rafting trip, on the Colorado River. I don’t expect there would be cell service there. It’s something she always wanted to do but kept putting off. Then a good friend of hers died a week and a half ago and she said to me, ‘I’m not going to put anything off anymore. Life’s too short.’ She up and went, just like that.”

“If she calls you, would you give her my phone number? It’s extremely urgent that I speak to her as soon as possible.”

Tommy handed her his card and the woman looked it over. “As I said, I don’t expect to hear from her, but if I do, I’ll give her your message.”

One more dead end.

Just before five o’clock, Tommy dialed Dr. Jeffreys’s number. When Mandy answered, Tommy asked, “Is the doc in?”

“He had an emergency come up, but he gave me a message for you. He got the go-ahead on searching the records, but because it’s so long ago, it’s not on the computer. One of the file clerks is doing a manual search, but so far—nothing. He’ll give you a call if he finds something.”

Tommy felt as if he were continuously butting up against a wall. Each morsel of information led to a dead end and further frustration. There wasn’t any more reason to stay in Minnesota. Time to go home.

C
HAPTER

26

G
od had watched over him again. Or maybe it was just dumb luck, his calling the detective at just the right time and learning that he was heading to Minnesota. A nurse knew something. A lead. From the beginning, he’d known it was important to make the detective his friend. Now he pumped him for more information, learned where and when the meeting with the nurse would take place. He got there first and waited. A pasted-on mustache and sideburns helped to disguise him. He was good at waiting. Security probably thought he was a distraught parent who just needed some air.

He didn’t know what he’d learn when the investigator arrived. He only knew he had to prevent him from exonerating George Calhoun. That was his salvation. George’s death for a crime
he’d
committed meant he’d remain free. If the lead was good, if it proved George’s innocence, he had to stop the investigator before he acted on it. He thought about killing him. It would only delay the information—someone else would probably follow up with the nurse—but delay was all he needed. Eleven days. Surely, eliminating the investigator could buy him eleven days.

Tucked away in his inside jacket pocket was his brother’s badge. Even though Charlie had bullied him ever since they were toddlers, he missed him at times. It made sense that Charlie had become a police officer—he could bully plenty of people without anyone blinking an eye. Still, he hadn’t deserved to die. It had been an accident, really. Just like the child.