“It wasn’t instantaneous?”
“Probably took a little time. She wouldn’t be able to move, her organs would shut down one by one, and she would die of asphyxiation. Endrophonium is an antidote for neuromuscular blockers, or atropine. There might be others, but it needs to be administered relatively quickly to stop and reverse the effect.”
“What do these drugs do?” Swan asked.
“They’re used for anesthesia. Common in hospitals, and I can think of at least half a dozen cases in the last fifty years where medical personnel used Tubarine or Pavulon and similar drugs to kill patients. This isn’t coming out of left field.”
“But they’re closely regulated.”
“Yes, but if you know how the system works, you can bypass anything.”
No one argued that point.
“I believe that Parsons was suspicious, but didn’t know who was guilty. She compiled information about these dead patients, but when Sarah Peterson died she panicked. Maybe she saw something, or sensed something, and she reached out to Sarah’s brother.”
“Why the supervisor?” Will asked. “This is a good theory, but there are no facts to support it.”
“Fifteen years ago, Marilyn Todd’s older sister Maureen died of breast cancer at the age of thirty-eight. She was diagnosed at the age of thirty-four, so she presumably fought it for four years. It wasn’t in this hospital, and we’d need a warrant for her records. But Maureen had no other family; she died in Indio, and Marilyn was a nurse in the same hospital. From what Sean was able to find out through newspaper articles, Maureen had no children, had never been married, and Marilyn was her only caregiver. She’d been in remission, but the cancer returned and had spread before she ultimately died.
“I think in Marilyn’s head, these women, even though they were in remission, weren’t going to survive. They would be a burden on their siblings, on society, on the hospital staff—she saw her sister in each of them, and was repeating the past.”
Dillon spoke for the first time. “She killed her sister. She justified it as a mercy killing.”
Everyone turned to face Dillon. He always commanded respect whenever he spoke. And he’d clearly said what she’d been thinking.
“And she’s killing these others who remind her of Maureen in order to continue to justify her actions fifteen years ago,” Lucy concluded.
No one said anything for a minute, then Swan said, “But you have no proof.”
Lucy shook her head. “It’s a psychological profile. It’s motive, but not evidence.”
She looked at Will. He and Carina stared at each other, as if silently communicating. Then Will said, “We need her to confess.”
“Why would she?” Swan said. “She got away with murder for years. If you’re right, these eight victims in San Diego weren’t her first.”
“Once you go back to her previous employers, I think you’ll see the pattern. It’s all circumstantial, a difficult case to prosecute,” Dillon said. “Will, I’d like to take a stab at interrogating Todd. I can break her, and it won’t take long.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because once she realizes that she murdered her sister, the guilt will tear her apart.”
“I don’t know,” Will said. “She’s cold and calculating.”
“But you thought she was sweet when you met her,” Dillon said. “When you first interviewed her, during the standoff with Peterson.”
Will reluctantly agreed. “How do you want to do this?”
The hospital security officer said, “I’m looking at the duty roster. She’s not on duty tonight. But with everything that happened, this might not be accurate.”
“I’ll send a patrol to her house to pick her up,” Will said. “I hope you can do this, Dillon—because if we can’t get a confession, we don’t have enough evidence to arrest her.”
“But we have enough to put her on administrative leave,” Dillon said. “Can I get a ride with you to the station?”
* * *
Agent Swan approached Lucy after Dillon, Will, and Carina left. “That was an interesting deduction. I looked up your file after our meeting earlier, and it makes sense now.”
“What makes sense?”
“I hadn’t realized you had a degree in criminal psychology, or that your brother was Dr. Kincaid. I should have known, duh, the same name. Chip off the old block, right?”
“I learned a lot from Dillon,” Lucy said.
“You should be there for the interview. With Todd.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need to be.”
“I hope they get a confession, because that’ll make this a lot easier.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to get home. My wife is going to kill me for being late when I told her I was off at four. Good work, Kincaid.”
Lucy hadn’t realized it was already six. She and Sean walked back to the south tower to see her father before they left for her parents’ house. Everyone was at his bedside, except Dillon, and Lucy felt at peace with her family. It wouldn’t be the big Christmas Eve dinner they’d planned, but they’d be together, and that’s what Christmas was about. Family.
Thirty minutes later, Dillon called her. She left her father’s room and stepped down the hall so she could hear.
“Marilyn Todd isn’t at her house,” he said. “Will and I are driving back from the station. Will just got off the phone with hospital security, and her car is in the garage. They’re searching for her.”
“What do you think she’ll do?”
“I don’t know. But she must suspect something. Or maybe Peterson’s desperate actions made her realize what she’s been doing. Maybe she can’t justify it to herself anymore. Be careful.”
“I think she’s more of a threat to herself,” Lucy said.
“And anyone around her.” Dillon hung up.
Lucy looked around for Kate, but didn’t see her. That wasn’t a surprise, because Kate didn’t like crowds. She grabbed Sean and told him what Dillon said.
“Charlie,” she muttered.
“What?”
“Dillon said that maybe Peterson’s actions caused Marilyn Todd to realize what she’s been doing all these years. But I think when she killed Wendy Parsons, that was the first time she recognized herself as a killer. Before, she’d justified her actions as mercy killings. That she was doing good—it didn’t matter that the victims were in remission, she was saving them from future pain and suffering like her sister’d had. But Wendy was a nurse, possibly a friend, who was researching these suspicious deaths, and Marilyn panicked. She killed her, hid her body, and the guilt of that—I think she may be going after Charlie Peterson next.”
Lucy called Carina and told her they needed a guard for Charlie Peterson’s room, because she thought Marilyn Todd was going to kill him. Carina said she’d call security.
But Lucy didn’t know how long that would take. Charlie was two floors up from her father. She took the stairs, Sean at her heels.
She stopped at the nurses’ station and showed her badge. “Charles Peterson?”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Peterson died twenty minutes ago.”
Lucy felt sucker punched. She was too late. He should never have died.
Sean showed the nurse a photo of Marilyn Todd. “Did you see her this evening?”
“Ms. Todd. Yes—she’s a nurse here.”
“In the cancer ward.”
“Well, yes, but she’s worked in ICU in the past. What’s wrong?”
“Do you know where she went?”
“No. She didn’t say anything.”
“But she was in Peterson’s room.”
“I doubt it. It’s a secure room, with a guard at the door.”
“Security is going to want those camera feeds,” Lucy said. She turned to Sean. “She’s gone.”
“You said yourself that she is breaking apart with guilt. She killed a nurse, and that would cascade, right? Where would she go?”
“The cancer ward.”
Lucy ran from the south wing, across two courtyards, to the north tower where things were just now getting back to normal. She called Dillon and told him Peterson was dead, and that she was checking the cancer ward for Marilyn Todd.
“We’re only five minutes away, and hospital security is on their way,” Dillon said.
Lucy hung up. She got off the elevator on the eighth floor. The desk nurse told her visiting hours were over.
Lucy showed her badge. “Is Marilyn Todd here?”
“Yes. What’s wrong? Is this about the hostages this morning?”
“I need to talk to her.”
“She’s in room 808.”
“Is there a patient in there?”
“No, it’s empty. We evacuated earlier, and not everyone has been returned to their rooms.”
Lucy walked down the hall to room 808. She looked in through the narrow window in the door and saw Marilyn Todd sitting in the chair in the far corner. She was staring at the bed. “Sean, stay out.”
“Luce,” Sean began, then nodded. “I’m watching.”
Lucy walked in. “Marilyn,” she said quietly. “Marilyn, I’m Lucy Kincaid.”
Marilyn looked from the bed to Lucy. “I know. You were one of the hostages.”
Lucy nodded. “I did the autopsy on Sarah Peterson. This is where she died, isn’t it?”
Marilyn didn’t say anything. She looked back at the bed.
Lucy took a couple steps forward, keeping her hands visible. Marilyn didn’t appear to have a weapon on her, but she had poisoned at least ten people. She didn’t need a gun or knife to be deadly.
“Marilyn, you didn’t want to kill Wendy. She was your friend. Your colleague. But she gave Charlie Peterson information that scared you. She knew Sarah’s death was suspicious. And the deaths of eight other women. Women who reminded you of Maureen.”
Tears slowly ran down Marilyn’s cheeks. “It was an accident,” she said slowly.
“Maureen was sick for a long time. You were with her every day. Through all her treatments. Through all her pain. You hurt when she hurt. When you found out she was in remission, you both rejoiced, but then the cancer came back and was worse than before.”
“She wanted to die,” Marilyn said. “She’d given up. Everything I did for her, and it wasn’t enough.”
“She asked you to help her commit suicide,” Lucy said.
“I didn’t want to. But … she begged me. They all begged me to stop the pain. So I did.” She looked up at Lucy. “It was for the best. They would have suffered. Their families would have suffered.”
“Sarah was in remission,” Lucy said. “So were the other women.”
“It wouldn’t last. The cancer would return, bigger, blacker, more insidious. And the pain would be unbearable. Watching Maureen not even able to lift her arm after treatments. The vomiting. Wasting away. No one is safe. Cancer’s a monster. It eats you up. I saved them all from years of suffering.”
“And Wendy couldn’t understand that.”
“I followed her. I saw her give something to Peterson. She’d been acting strange all week. So I followed her and … I didn’t mean to kill her, but she looked at me and she knew, just knew, and her eyes were scared, and she turned away … she would have called the police. I had to.”
“But you didn’t want to.”
“I didn’t know that man was going to take hostages, shoot my nurses, I didn’t know!”
“It’s going to be okay,” Lucy said calmly.
Marilyn jumped up. “No! It’s never going to be okay! Nothing is going to be okay. I—my sister—God. Dear God, I killed her!”
There was movement outside the door and Will Hooper was on the threshold. “Ms. Todd, remember me? Detective Hooper? Let’s talk.”
He stepped inside. Marilyn took a step back.
“Will, please leave,” Lucy said. She’d been so close to getting Marilyn to give up peaceably.
“I’m done talking,” Marilyn said.
She pulled a syringe from her pocket.
Will rushed her and grabbed her wrist as she was about to inject herself. A wild look crossed her face, fear and anger, and she jabbed the syringe into Will’s shoulder. His muscles immediately went lax and he slumped to the floor.
The syringe was still in Will’s shoulder. Lucy pushed Marilyn Todd to the ground and put a knee in her back. The woman froze.
Carina was at Will’s side, while Sean rushed to Lucy. Will’s mouth was moving, but no words came out.
“Get a doctor here with endrophonium stat,” Lucy ordered. “I need handcuffs.”
Carina handed her Will’s pair, took the syringe out and rolled him over to his back.
Sean said, “The medics are on their way.” He eyed Lucy, seemed to know she was okay without her having to speak.
Lucy cuffed Marilyn Todd and pulled her up, leading her from the room.
“I want to die,” Marilyn said. “You should have let me die.”
“Now you’re going to have to live with the guilt,” Lucy said.
Medics rushed into the room and worked on Will. Lucy turned Marilyn over to two uniformed officers, and turned back toward the room. She stood with Dillon and Sean.
“He’s going to be okay, right?” Sean asked.
Lucy nodded. “They got to him fast enough. The blocker reacted immediately, but it’s a process. Look.”
Already, Will was able to move his limbs, though he was pale and unsteady. “He’ll have to stay here tonight—there could be side effects.”
“I heard most of your conversation,” Dillon told Lucy. “You continue to amaze me, little sister.”
“I learned from you, big brother.”
Carina stepped out and said, “They’re keeping Will for a while. I need to call Robin, his wife, and tell her what happened.” Carina smiled at Lucy, then gave her a spontaneous hug. “You’re staying all week, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “Through New Year’s.”
“Good. We have a lot to catch up on.”
Carina and Dillon left, and Lucy said, “I’m exhausted. It’s been a long weekend.”
Sean draped an arm over her shoulders. “I would say we need a vacation—but really, I think we both need to get back to work. Then, maybe, we can have some peace.” He kissed her. “Are you really okay?”
“Charlie—he should never have died. If I’d only seen this sooner—”
“Shhh,” Sean held her close. She buried her face in his chest and let his love wrap around her.
He didn’t need to say anything else.
EPILOGUE
Lucy stepped out onto the front porch on Christmas Day after dinner. Dinner wasn’t the same with her dad still in the hospital, but they planned on doing it all again, since he’d be home tomorrow.
Andrew Stanton walked up the pathway, dressed in a suit and tie and looking more uncomfortable than she’d every remembered him. “You can come in,” she said.