Secure Desire Page 16

“Now the bad news—the camera in that area is disabled. I don’t think that had anything to do with Cassie. An analyst is sorting through discharge summaries, but seven patients died in the right timeframe—four dialysis patients. Martin spoke with Detective Ruiz after we discovered this.”

  “Yes, after a heads up from you, we arranged for exhumations. Autopsies showed high potassium was the cause of death in the four dialysis patients. Before we got curious, their deaths were attributed to their chronic disease. We’re looking into their backgrounds, but nothing is popping, and no commonalities were found other than they required the same fluid as Cassie. Looks like she was the intended target,” Javier said.

  “Otherwise, we have nothing. Our lab confirmed the entire case of Cassie’s solution was contaminated with lethal amounts of potassium. No prints, no other trace evidence. The hospital found the remainder of the other patients’ fluids. Same results. We’re checking other hospitals for unexpected dialysis patient deaths. The FBI product-tampering team is involved.” Martin frowned.

  “As are detectives from Metro,” Javier reminded them.

  Andy ran his hand through his hair. “Where does that leave us? We have Ames as her earlier and present attacker and very dead. We have Maddox as an attempted murderer. Was he the second attacker? We will need a bite impression.”

  “Well, we need to back up a bit. Phyllis Wilson was the previous holder of Cassie’s ticket. Phyllis Wilson died from manual strangulation, and her body was covered with bites from one attacker. She was drugged with scopolamine, heroin, and Rohypnol. She also showed signs of sexual assault. Her estimated time of death corresponds to a time we can show Dr. Maddox in the operating room with six witnesses,” Julian said.

  Javier slapped the table. “We didn’t know that. She was found just last night.”

  Julian looked to Kieran, following the chain of command. “Detectives, I will remind you, you are our guests. We’re certainly under no obligation to share our information with you. We’re doing so for Cassie and her family.”

  “I’m sorry. Every bit of info you beat us to reminds us of what resources we don’t have.” Javier frowned.

  “Social media confirms Ames knew Phyllis Wilson. She was dating Bynum Jr. on and off since high school. Here’s a grainy picture of the woman, about five-foot-six, thin, looks to be between eighteen and twenty-five, leaving Petals Florist with a dozen black roses. Black roses were left on Cassie’s bed the day after the stabbing—the only black roses sold in a twenty-mile radius. The store clerk said she paid cash. It’s a side view, but we’re running facial recognition now. A blonde fitting her general description bought black roses the day of Cassie’s first attack too,” Matty said.

  Ian scowled. “Isolate the central supply people until we can get them to look at a photo array. Create one with Phyllis Wilson. Put that in front of the florist. Get it done before her picture runs everywhere.”

  Javier poured himself another mug of coffee. “If Phyllis was part of this, who killed her? Ames was already dead.”

  “I would put money on Bynum Jr. He’s either involved, or he may be dead too. His family is not cooperating. We have someone in his office and his parents’ home. We are continuously checking departures at bus and train stations, airports, rental cars, and taxis. His black BMW remains parked at Mom and Dad’s,” Kieran said.

  Andy looked grim. “The problem is whoever else is committing these crimes is getting smarter. All the other victims are dead.”

  “All? There’s more than two?” Kieran shouted, surprised.

  “There are ten. The most recent victim was found at 0300. All were strangled, bitten, brutally assaulted, and drugged with heroin and scopolamine. Cassie differed by four things: the roses, the strange internal bruise, the bathtub, and she lived. The others were found in natural water or washed up from natural water. Is Bynum Jr. responsible? And if so, what do these women have in common? Who broke into Cassie’s home? Was it just to torment her? If so, why wait six years after the fact?” Andy asked.

  Julian stood as the screen lit up. “Review of cameras around Cassie’s home show, early Thursday morning after her attack, a figure walking along her front path. Two hours later, we see the same figure depart. I traced the arrival time and departure in an array of outlying streets. Based on the various images, I can say with reasonable certainty it is a male, approximately five-foot-nine to six feet tall, about 175 pounds, driving a black car. We are looking at reflection and pigment, but it’s a high-end luxury car. The description fits Bynum Jr. and his vehicle.

  “The night before Cassie was moved from the hospital, that same security camera caught a flash of light coming from the front of Cassie’s house. Extrapolating potential light sources, the flash could only come from inside the home. We found and ran a partial shoe print through Sole Mates. The print is a custom Mezlan boot. It’s costly, sold in only a few places in the area, but it is also sold online. We are culling through purchasers, trying to connect anyone to Ames or Bynum.”

  Andy pushed back from the table. “This is a giant pail of … poo. We have a whole bunch of clues leading to nowhere in particular. One way or the other, we need to find Bynum Jr. We need to find out if Phyllis was the rose-buying poisoner. Why did someone break into her house twice, and what did they take from there? I don’t have to tell you we spoke with all five sons, Luke, Rachel, and Sophie. None had any idea what she kept in that hole in her closet. Was it jewelry since there wasn’t even an earring back anywhere?” Andy asked.

  “What do the ten victims have in common with each other and Cassie? And since she is the sole survivor, where is she? This puts her in grave danger,” Javier worried.

  Ian realized both detectives had crossed an emotional line too. “Cassie is alive and safe.”

  “Chase, we need to talk with her,” Andy insisted.

  “I wish I could say something different, but she’s not conscious. She awakened from her coma for a total of seven minutes and was agitated and confused. Tomorrow at 1100, come to my McLean address. I will take you to see her.”

  “God, I’m so sorry. I never gave it a thought she was still so sick. It’s been thirty-four days since the attack. Andy and I will be there tomorrow. In the interim, we will try to find Bynum Jr., and we’ll get an arrest warrant for Maddox.”

  “Kieran has an appointment with him this afternoon at 1300. The board meeting starts at 1100,” Ian said.

  “Good, we will meet you at Maddox’s office at 1300.” Andy Blake stood. After an exchange of handshakes, the detectives headed out.

  Ian looked up at his staff. “Outstanding work. Julian, find Bynum Jr. Whatever you need. If it’s manpower, call the other branches. Martin, find that hostess, Franny. Linc, check the whereabouts of the Ames family at the time of the hospital attack. Also, see if you can get any more info on Andromeda. Check cell towers. Re-interview the operator and any staff who was with Maddox in the OR. Monique, please contact technical analysis. I want a background on Kevin Tyler and Burt Marshall. Look for any crossover to Cassie.

  "Kieran and I will look at the ten dead women, and I’m sure they looked, but we will check for any deaths in the area of Ames’s early life as well as Bynum Jr.’s. Zach, I want you to speak to Whitman Senior’s partners. If you have to, go in as part of Homeland.”

  Zach “Ice” Wentworth, trained as a site exploitation specialist, was the team chameleon. The founders held Homeland Security credentials, which facilitated the company’s work with the government.

  Ian reached into his jacket inner pocket. “Martin, when you are done with Franny, we need to find out why Cassie had this in her closet.” Ian placed the baby hat on the table.

  Monique drew a sharp breath. “You think she has a child?”

  Ian arched his brow. “I don’t know. It’s time to start pushing a little harder with the family.”

  Martin picked up the tiny hat. “If I were a girl, I would go to my best friend. If it’s okay with you, I’ll start with Sophie.”


  Esther entered the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Amy forwarded the following pieces of information. Cassie was admitted to the Franklin Clinic at 0400, seven hours after the Mellon 21 exhibition. I sent the publicity pictures from that night to your tablets. Brett notified me they have a five-point facial recognition match for Phyllis Wilson at Petals. And Greg Wilds called. He wants to see Ian at 1500. Ian, I told him you were out of town on business. Stephanie is Dr. Stephanie Reynolds, a psychologist specializing in post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  “Esther, call Wilds. Tell him I will meet with him instead of Ian at 1600. Also, call Stephanie Reynolds. Once you track her down, forward the call to me. Thank you again, everyone,” Kieran concluded the three-hour meeting.

  The group gathered their notes and headed out in different directions. Martin lingered behind, sitting on the edge of the table. “I’m glad Cassie is starting to respond,” he said in his usual soft-spoken manner.

  “Me too.” Ian looked up at his executive officer. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I was thinking about Columbia.” Martin brought up a SEAL mission from 2003.

  “Julian saved the team and a group of hostages. You and Wes saved my life. Your shoulders are bony.”

  Martin arched his brow.

  “I know, that’s not why you’re bringing up the story. I lost focus, and it almost cost a lot of lives.”

  Ian had been bitten by an aggressive venomous spider. His fever made him hallucinate and become paranoid and agitated, combined with other severe symptoms. Compromised, he refused to relinquish command, so Julian took over by force. The illness caused the irrational behavior; the breakdown in leadership never went further than the team.

  “I know there’s no spider bite…but…you’re not alone in this. You can’t do everything. You built an incredible company, filled with brilliant people—use us. Don’t get so hyper-focused, you lose track of the mission.” Martin stayed put.

  “Thanks, Martin.” Ian grabbed his files. “I hear you.” The men left the room together.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Declan Chase read Hunter Montgomery’s statement into the hospital board meeting record. “Dr. Montgomery is sorry he couldn’t be here. He is delayed taking care of a medical emergency, but he assured me he will be available to meet with you any other time.” Declan handed them all the evidence obtained regarding the sponge and meningitis.

  The eleven-member board—composed of doctors and lawyers—discussed the evidence. With Declan’s recusal, the vote against Maddox was unanimous. They decided on immediate termination of Maddox’s position as Chief of Surgery and suspension of his hospital privileges pending the outcome of a hearing. The board named Hunter Montgomery as the acting Chief of Surgery pending substantiation of his credentials and a new background check. The head of human resources advised Dr. Maddox’s letters would be completed in an expedited manner, and she would serve them in person, at which time he would be escorted from the building.

  After the meeting, Declan sat alone in the conference room and called both his sons on a three-way call. “It’s done. The board voted to remove him as chief. They also suspended his privileges pending a hearing. Hunt was named acting chief. Any word on Cassie’s surgery?”

  “Tuck called. It was running long. They were having some issues.” The words caught in Ian’s throat.

  "I’m sorry to hear that. Speaking of issues, I managed to put Mom off again. She knows you’re working on a big case, but she’s home from taking care of your new second cousin and wondering why she only hears from Kieran.”

  “That’s because I’m the good son.”

  “Dad, please. You know how she gets. She’ll want to help,” Ian said.

  “Ian Aiden Chase, I will not lie to your mom if she asks a direct question. Your mother is good at her job. Would it be so bad if she helped?”

  “I promise I will call her, sir.” Guilt tinged Ian’s voice.

  Cassie lay on the operating table under the watchful eye of anesthesiologist Juan Castroneves. As with everyone involved in Cassie’s case, he signed the nondisclosure agreement without hesitation. “This is some setup. Better equipment than the hospital. Who is she?” Juan never took his eyes off the gauges.

  Hunter's eyes softened over the top of his mask. “Let’s put it this way—Ian Chase is in love with her.”

  Pete bit his tongue. Hunter and orthopedic surgeon, Gabriel Simms, worked to repair Cassie’s right shoulder. Her heart was not tolerating the anesthesia.

  “Boys, no more lidocaine. She’s tiny. It’s too much in her bloodstream.” Juan pushed medication.

  “She doesn’t metabolize meds as expected.” Tucker sponged some bleeding.

  “Number eight.” Hunter tossed the eighth sponge in the waste bowl. The surgery was proving to be wearing.

  “This is going to require a lot of rehab. Is she right-hand dominant?” Simms asked.

  Pete murmured, “As far as we know.”

  Wearing microscope glasses, Simms sewed the stiffened, torn fibers. “That’s a work of art.” He leaned back from the table to look at the repair from another angle, then gave some instructions on her care. “All kidding aside, this is going to be an arduous recovery. The animal who stabbed her disarticulated the whole joint.”

  Pete and Tucker helped wrap and secure the arm. “Pete, get her back to bed. Let’s see if this dosage holds her. Tucker, your insight was right. She doesn’t metabolize these meds as expected. If she’s still in pain, go up slow. Try Toradol and then morphine.” Hunter pulled the mask from his face as Tucker and Pete lifted Cassie from the table to the stretcher.

  “She recognized Ian last night. Can you get neurology and psych in? Jamie reported the family might have unrealistic expectations. He reported anterograde amnesia and said she wrapped herself around Ian in fear. Should we give her a low dose anti-anxiety med?”

  “I’d prefer not. Get me a drug screen. Let’s see what’s still in her system.” Hunter looked at the stoic faces of his two PAs.

  “Okay, if someone can’t calm her, last resort is 0.5 mg Ativan IV to a max of 2.0 mg. Between the ice, lidocaine, and the ibuprofen-acetaminophen cocktail, maybe we’ll be lucky.”

  “We get the message. Low meds.” Pete tossed Tucker an ice pack. “We live and hope. Rich brought Sophie in this morning. I’ll bring her up.”

  Kieran waited in the very plush office of Dr. Joseph Maddox. Forest green leather couches and fox-hunting pictures showed off an old-world charm. Hunter Montgomery rushed in to join him. “Thought you weren’t gonna make it.”

  Hunter finger-combed his blond hair. “Cassie’s shoulder surgery ran long. Did you hear anything from the board?”

  Before Kieran could answer, Dr. Maddox’s nursing assistant beckoned them inside. Maddox stood behind his desk to greet his new patient, his expression turning sour when he saw Hunter. “What are you doing here? I’m calling security.”

  “Fine by me.” Hunter sat across from Maddox.

  “Dr. Maddox, I’m Kieran Chase. I have some questions for you.” He placed a series of photographs on the desk. “Cassie Modine. Tell me about her surgery.”

  The photos showed the infection and the sponge. “I will not violate her privacy.”

  “Okay, Doctor, no specifics. Let’s talk about how you would benefit from her death.”

  Beads of sweat bloomed on Maddox's forehead. “I’m a doctor. My God, I would never harm a patient. I value my oath.”

  “Joe, you’re a gifted surgeon. I can’t wrap my head around this. Even a kid at the bottom of his medical school class wouldn’t start on her leg. It was tied off with a tourniquet. She had life-threatening internal bleeding. Hell, she had an open chest. She could live without the limb.” Hunter was desperate for an answer.

  “A person named Andromeda called you before Cassie was brought to the OR. Who is Andromeda?” Kieran added a copy of the wire transfer to the stack on the desk. “I think Andromeda told you to kill Cass
ie—and this transfer was for payment. I think you put that dirty sponge in her wound so, if she made it off the table, she would die from the sepsis later. Chalk it up to a surgical mistake, and your malpractice insurance would pay out. No muss, no fuss.”

  “What do you mean by a dirty sponge?”

  “The piece of sponge you left between her femur and her semitendinosus muscle during a surgery you refused help on. You didn’t think I’d have it cultured? You bastard. You could still see the needle marks in it. It was loaded with staph.” Hunter vibrated with anger.

  Kieran slipped another picture in front of him. “Her arterial line.” It was a shot of Maddox going into Cassie’s room. A second picture was of the removed arterial line.

  “What’s this? So what? I checked on a patient. I’m Chief.” Maddox sounded smug.

  “You didn’t load her arterial line with bacteria? The same bacteria you bought in Manassas?” Kieran joined the stack of photos with the credit card receipt.

  “Was that your insurance policy? In case she didn’t die from the leg infection, she would die from meningitis,” Hunter raised his voice.

  Kieran put his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “I think if Dr. Montgomery hadn’t intervened, Cassie would be dead. Dr. Montgomery wouldn’t have given a second thought if you didn’t refuse his assistance. I also think, with the serious nature of her injuries, no one would be the wiser. Your debt clouded your oath.”

  Maddox squirmed in his seat. “I think you have suspicion and innuendo. I wouldn’t kill someone for a hundred grand.”

  “Are you telling us you would kill for more?” Kieran’s voice edged higher.

  Maddox glared. “My god, I wouldn’t kill anybody. How dare you insult me? You two are funny. What do you want?”

  Hunter leaned in. “I want your resignation turned in by close of business today. I want you to turn in your license. I want assurances you will never touch a patient again.”

  Maddox laughed. “You think you’re so smart. I was you once—young and cocky. I am God to my patients. You can’t prove any of this.”