You Can't Hide (16 page)

When the SA was gone, Spinnelli looked at Aidan, Murphy, and Jack, his eyes weary. “We can try to prove it’s not Tess or we can find out who’s really behind this. So far, we’re not doing too well with the first one, so let’s focus on the second. Who do we like for all this?”

Murphy glanced at Aidan. “We thought it might be one of Adams’s irate lovers, but given Winslow, it doesn’t make sense to subpoena the Health Department’s records.”

“No,” Aidan agreed. “You’re right. Right now we could take this two different directions. Option A, somebody wants to discredit Tess Ciccotelli.”

“Why?” Spinnelli asked. “What’s the motive? This is elaborate. Somebody would have to have one hell of a grudge and the intelligence to pul this off. Most of the people she evaluated aren’t bright enough to pul off a setup like this.”

“An appeal is a good motive,” Murphy said. “And these people have families.”

Aidan pul ed the trial printout from his notebook. “Then we’re back to one of the names on this list. I haven’t had time to check them out, but Tess said she’d go through her old files tonight. Maybe she’s found something.” He stared at the printout, then shook his head, still troubled by something Rick Simms had said. “But there’s an Option B that’s nagging at me. What if she isn’t a personal target? What if somebody figured she’s a good source of people who can be manipulated to kill themselves? Her specialty is people who have attempted suicide. What if somebody is picking victims from her patient list and juicing them up, tormenting them with their own guilt until they kill themselves?”

“And then catching the whole thing on streaming video,” Jack finished grimly. Spinnelli looked unconvinced. “Seems like a whole lot of trouble.”

“Somebody enjoys their work, Marc,” Aidan said sharply. “And given the right audience willing to pay the right price… The motive could be simple greed.”

“There’s nothing simple about this,” Spinnelli said. “But you’ve made your point, Aidan. We’ve all dealt with sociopaths who wouldn’t bat an eye to abuse another person for profit. So who are we talking about here?”

“If Tess is just a conduit and her patients are the real commodity…” Aidan shrugged. “Then we don’t have a connection. We could be talking about anyone.”

Spinnelli blew out a breath. “You’re as optimistic as Rick Simms. Give me some better news, gentlemen, before
I
become suicidal.”

Jack pushed a sheet of paper to the center of the table. “I went by to check on Julia on my way over here and she had your tox report on Winslow.” Julia Vanderbeck, the ME, was also Jack’s wife. “She found PCP in his blood, same as Adams,” Jack went on.

“The pills switched?” Murphy asked and Jack nodded.

“Yep, and Tess’s name was on the Xanax bottle as prescribing physician and her fingerprints were on the bottle, same as Adams.”

60

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

Spinnelli scowled. “I said
better
news, Jack.”

“Patience, Marc. What was outside the bottle isn’t as interesting as what was inside. I had a spectral analysis done on the residue in the bottom of the bottle. It was just dust caught in the crease of the bottle’s base. You couldn’t see it with the naked eye. The better news, Marc, is that it wasn’t either Xanax or PCP. It was Soma. Julia says it’s a muscle relaxant. And it’s in both bottles.”

Spinnelli nodded slowly. “Then somebody reused the bottles.”

“And since her prints are on the bottle, maybe they were Tess’s to begin with,” Murphy said.

“But that doesn’t clear her, Jack. In fact, it makes it worse.”

Jack lifted a brow. “Unless they were stolen.”

Spinnelli shook his head. “Too many maybes, people. Find out if Tess ever took Soma and when. We’l put it in the pile with the rest of the maybes. What else do you have, Jack?”

“We’re checking to see how long that dol was in the oven based on how much of it melted and we vacuumed both apartments. We’l look for common fibers to put the perp in both places.”

“Assuming there’s just one,” Aidan said. “Tess said the caller today sounded different from the one Saturday night. Older.”

“You pul her LUDs?” Spinnelli asked.

“We got her home phone LUDs. The call on Saturday night looks like it came from a disposable cell. Today’s call was to her office phone, so I requested those LUDs, too. The report wasn’t ready before we came down. I’l let you know. What about the serial numbers on the guns, Jack?”

“My people couldn’t raise the number on Adams’s gun so I sent it to the Bureau lab. Their equipment’s better, but it’l be a few days before they get to it. Winslow’s is filed down, too. Same story. Sorry.” Jack slid another sheet of paper and a stack of photographs in front of Spinnelli.

“Here’s an inventory of what we took from the two apartments. The teddy bear Winslow had in his hand is a standard model. Nothing special about it. We found it in Wal-Mart and Toys “R” Us, so that’s likely a dead end.”

Aidan leaned across the table, bothered by the memory of the bear in the dead man’s hand.

“Let me see the picture of the bear.” When Spinnelli had passed it over, Aidan opened the folder he’d retrieved from Records on his way to the conference room that evening. “Damn. It’s special all right. This is the police report from the Winslow baby’s death.” He pushed a photo from the folder next to the picture of the bear so everyone could see it. It was a wider view of the death scene, showing the entire backseat of the minivan. A diaper bag rested to the left of the car seat, a plush bear to the right. “It’s the one found next to the baby’s car seat the day he died.”

“Bastard doesn’t miss a trick,” Murphy muttered. He looked up from the pictures, disgust on his face. “Do you have the file on Melanie Adams?”

“Yeah. I had them both pul ed.” Aidan slid the police photo taken at Melanie’s death scene to the middle of the table, while Murphy searched Jack’s stack for a copy of the picture he’d found in Cynthia Adams’s apartment.

“They’re the same,” Murphy pronounced. “Same pose, same clothing. Same shoes. Only thing different is the background. The one the police photographer took looks flatter. This one,” he tapped the new photo, “is glossy. Bolder.”

“You can do that with Photoshop,” Aidan said, then met Murphy’s puzzled look. “I took a graphics class for my degree. It’s a software program. You can take a picture, crop it, change colors, even. Somebody with experience could make this picture look like Melanie had hanged herself from the Eiffel Tower if they wanted to.”

“So somebody has access to our files,” Spinnelli murmured. “Sonofabitch.” He leaned back in his chair, jaw taut, clearly unhappy with the implication. There was absolute silence for a very long moment. Then Aidan spoke the words nobody else seemed willing to say. “There is one other group that could have a grudge motive against Tess Ciccotelli.”

Spinnelli met his eyes and Aidan could see his boss had already reached the same conclusion. “Us,” he said.

61

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

Aidan nodded. “Us.”

Spinnelli looked away, closing his eyes with a brief shake of his head. “Murphy, go to Records, pretend like you and Aidan got your signals crossed and you’re there to check out the files. Ask to see the logs. We need to find out who’s viewed those files.” He looked at the three of them, his eyes sharp. “And for now we keep this to ourselves. I’l give Internal Affairs the heads up when I have to.”

“They might not stop at two,” Murphy said quietly. “Her other patients are at risk, no matter who’s behind this. We’re going to need to see her patient list.”

Jack winced. “She won’t give it to you. Doctor-patient privilege.”

“Let’s show her the courtesy of asking first,” Spinnelli decided. “She’l say no, then we’l get a subpoena. For now, we’re looking for someone who has a knowledge of medicine and electronics, who may or may not be the woman in the video. Now go and get me something to work with. We meet back here at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow.”

With that, they were dismissed. Murphy cast Aidan a sideways look as they walked back to their desks. “Call me after you’re done talking to her.”

“What do you mean, after
I’m
talking to her? You’re coming with me.”

Murphy shook his head. “You heard him. I have to go to Records.”

“Fucking coward,” Aidan grumbled. “You just don’t want to face her.”

“She won’t talk to me yet. She’s still hurt. Besides, you’re the one who likes to watch her move.”

“Shut up, Murphy.” They’d reached their desks and Aidan grabbed his coat from his chair. “I haven’t done a thing on Danny Morris all day. His scumbag father is still out there somewhere while Danny’s in the morgue.”

“So stop by the bar where Morris hangs out on your way to Tess’s. Maybe you’l get lucky and he’l have dropped by for a brew.”

“While you hang out in Records. Not fair, Murphy.”

“Seniority, Reagan. See you tomorrow.”

Monday, March 13, 11:15 P.M.

Tess leaned over the stack of folders on her dining room table to fill Jon’s glass with a nice merlot. “You don’t have to keep checking on me, you know. I can take care of myself.” Although after hours of reading court-ordered evaluations and knowing one of the names in one of those files could be responsible for the deaths of two of her patients… well, she was grateful both for the break and Jon’s company. Her apartment was too quiet. Normally she could make herself comfortable with the quiet, sometimes even enjoy it, but tonight every little creak, bump, and rattle of the wind against her window made her jump.

Jon scowled at her over his wine. “Of course you can take care of yourself. You just choose not to. You walked ten blocks to the Lemon in freezing rain. Dammit, Tess, Robin said you were frozen solid when you got there. You didn’t even have a hat, much less an umbrella.”

She’d headed to Robin’s Blue Lemon Bistro after Amy had exited stage left and Robin had welcomed her with open arms, just as she’d expected. “I left my umbrella at work along with my purse. Look, I run in worse weather all winter. I was cold, but I warmed up easily enough. Robin clucked over me, gave me soup. I was fine.” She tossed him a cheeky grin she hoped would erase the frown from his face. “Then Thomas gave me a shoulder massage. Robin’s wasting that man’s talents in the kitchen. He has wonderful hands.”

Jon’s lips twitched. “So I’ve heard.” He shook his head with an overly patient sigh. “Just next time you find yourself on the street with no money, call me, okay? I’m allowed to worry about you.” “Well, you can stop for tonight. Robin loaned me cab fare and I went back to my office for my things and drove myself home. Took a nice long soak and got cozy. See?” She stuck out her sweatsock covered feet.

62

Karen Rose

[Suspense 5]

You Can't Hide

Jon laughed. “Only you could make silk and sweat socks work.” But the smile quickly faded from his eyes. “How much trouble are you in, Tess? I worried about you all day. Then when that story broke about the second suicide… It was all over the TV news and each reporter made sure to mention your name.”

Tess swallowed hard, the levity they’d shared gone, the horror of the afternoon back in its place. “The police say I’m not a suspect anymore.”

“That’s good. But?”

“But it was awful. Him lying there, holding that bear. Half his head was gone, Jon.”

He covered her hand with his. “Not your fault, Tess.”

She dropped her eyes to his hand. “Everyone in his life had left him. His wife couldn’t forgive him. He couldn’t forgive himself. Most of their friends couldn’t look him in the eye anymore. I was the only one he had to talk to.” Jon’s hand grew blurry as her eyes filled, the first time that day she’d allowed them to do so. All she could think about was how he must have felt, seeing that picture. “It was hideous,” she ended in a hoarse whisper. “Obscene.”

“Tess, look at me.” Jon’s voice was so rarely sharp she did as he asked. His expression was a mix of fierce loyalty, anger, and worry. Gently he wiped at her wet eyes with his thumb. “You can’t do this to yourself, honey. How many times have we talked about your getting too involved with your patients?”

Her temper roused itself, just enough to give her tongue some edge. “It’s different for you. Your patients are out cold the whole time. They might as well be slabs of beef.”

Jon took the criticism with equanimity. “Which is the way I like it. I can’t think about them the way you do, Tess. It would tear me up. And the next time I picked up a scalpel, I might hesitate. That hesitation could cost a patient his life.”

She sighed. “I know. Professional distance. You can, I never could. You win.”

His smile was rueful. “There are some that would say you win. My point is, you have to play to your strengths, kid. You’re a good doctor because you care, but what’s it costing you? Too much, I say. Maybe you should rethink the population you deal with. All these suicidal patients eat at you.” Suddenly he brightened, adorably, Tess thought. Until he went on. “What about treating some nice phobias for a change?”

She gave him a narrow look. He was one of a handful who knew of her embarrassing phobia.

“Like claustrophobia?”

One side of his mouth lifted and she knew it was as much of a smile as he dared. “Perhaps. Hell, maybe you just need a vacation. When was your last one?”

Her jaw automatically clenched. “My honeymoon.” The cruise she’d taken with Amy because she’d have walked across hot coals to China before letting that sonofabitch Phillip take his little floozy tramp and because the tickets were, of course, nonrefundable. Jon winced. “Sorry. Robin and I are going to Cancъn next month. Come with us.”

Her laugh was hol ow. “No thanks. The only thing worse than going on your honeymoon with your best friend is being the
trois
in your
mйnage
.”

Jon grinned, waggled his brows. “C’mon, Tess. Live a little. Robin won’t mind. We could find somebody for you.”

She smiled back in spite of herself. “Go home, Jon. I’m exhausted.”

He set his glass aside and stood up, pul ing her to her feet. “Walk me out and-”