The White Carnation (11 page)

“Tom, it's Rob.”

“Hey, I'm glad you called. I'm sorry I was such an ass last night. Just too tired to think straight. I've thought about what you said—”

“Faye's been attacked.”

“What?” Tom yelled into the phone, forcing Rob to move the device away from his ear. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I was supposed to pick her up this morning at nine. I overslept. Her place was trashed, like Lucy Green's, and Faye's unconscious.”

“Son of a bitch. Did he beat her? Is she going to be okay?”

“He didn't beat her. I think he did something far worse, but I don't know for sure, and I don't know if she's going to be okay. She's been drugged. I'm going into the hospital shortly.” Tom tried to interrupt, but he wouldn't let him. “Listen. I need you to go into the precinct. Pierce is questioning those kids who found the body last night. They were stoned, so I doubt they saw much, but I'd feel better if you were with him.”

“Sure thing. You know how I feel about our Columbo clone. Whatever I can do to piss on his parade works for me. Where are you?”

“Mount Auburn. I know you don't think much of my theory, but I'm sticking with it. I'm more convinced now than ever that the Green murder and the Harvester are connected.”

“Whether they are or aren't isn't important. You're my partner, and I should've supported you at least until your theory was disproved. We could've parked an unmarked unit outside her place. I'll call Pierce and get down there as soon as I can. Once we're done, we'll meet you at the hospital.”

“Thanks, Tom. I'll see you later.”

Rob stared at the bloody paper towel on his hand. Tom might not have been convinced the Harvester was the man who'd killed Lucy Green, but at least he'd be willing to listen now. Until he had proof, that's the best Rob could expect.

As much as he wanted to get inside and see what was happening to Faye, now that he'd spoken to Mira, he had one more favor to ask of Boston's crusty ME.

Rob got out of the car and stretched, waiting for his call to go through.

“City morgue.” The voice at the end of the line was pleasant despite the gruesome words.

“This is Detective Halliday. Is Dr. Flynn there?”

“He's currently in the autopsy room.”

“Get him on the line, please. This is an emergency.”

“Right away, Detective.”

Rob swallowed. Amos hated being interrupted, but he needed answers yesterday.

“Halliday, this had better be good.” Amos's voice echoed through the phone, proof he was using the speakers.

“I need you to check all of the victims for scopolamine.”

“Scopolamine?” Amos's voice rose in surprise. “You suspect they were drugged? That's not necessarily a safe drug for a pregnant woman, but it would certainly explain why none of the victims put up a fight. Our usual drug test wouldn't discover that particular poison, but it does leave a metabolite trace in the body. If it was administered to them, I'll find it.”

“Faye was attacked in her apartment, and I think the doctors will find that drug in her system, too,” Rob said, unable to keep the guilt out of his voice.

“You think the Harvester attacked Faye?”

“I do, and her apartment was searched, just like Lucy Green's.”

“Wait a minute. Are you saying the Harvester killed Lucy Green? That's a completely different MO. How the hell does the murder of an old woman fit his methodology? Her throat was slashed, and I can assure you she hasn't given birth lately.”

“I don't know how the cases go together, Amos; I'm following my gut here. If the drug's present in the corpses and in Faye, I'll have my first concrete link.”

“Well, I may have some good news for you,” the medical examiner said gruffly. “The Harvester's made a mistake. The latest victim's body has arrived from Beverly. Mira did a good job. They've identified the girl as Meredith Howard, Virginia Congressman Howard's niece, the missing coed from MIT. The congressman's a powerful man. He wants the killer, and his brother wants his grandchild. Anything to do with your case is now urgent, so that DNA test we discussed last night has been moved to the top of the pile. This place will be crawling with FBI agents within a few hours. They need to find those babies.”

“They've had a team looking for the children from the beginning, and I'm sure with a senator breathing down their necks, they'll redouble their efforts. Keep me posted. I'll be at Mount Auburn. Right now, Faye is the only living witness we have. I'm not letting her out of my sight.”

• • •

The trauma unit was full of people rushing from room to room. Rob saw the paramedic standing by the nursing station.

“Where is she?” he asked, no longer able to control his patience. His hand hurt like hell, and his nerves were shot.

“Room four,” he answered. “The doctor's in there.”

Rob crossed the ER and ignored the nurse who tried to stop him from entering the examination room.

“Who's in charge?” he barked.

“I am, and who the hell are you?” The small Asian woman in the lab coat was in her late forties. A stethoscope hung around her neck. Her black hair with strands of gray in it was pulled into a knot at the base of her neck. “And unwrap her,” she said to the nurse beside her. “I can't see anything with her in a cocoon like that.” The nurse nodded and pushed Faye out and down the hall to the examination room.

The woman turned to Rob. “I asked you who you were.”

“Detective Sergeant Rob Halliday, ma'am.” He flashed his badge, trying to pull rank.

She sneered and crossed her arms in front of her. The petite woman seemed to grow taller with every word she spoke.

“I'm not a ma'am, I'm a doctor. We have our own police department in Cambridge as well as campus police for Harvard and MIT. You have no jurisdiction here. What's a Boston police detective doing in Cambridge?” She stared at him, daring him to lie.

He felt like a kid who'd been caught cheating and had been dragged into the principal's office. He swallowed and straightened. He was a good foot taller than she was. Doctor or not, there was no way he was going to let this woman intimidate him.

“Ms. Lewis is a material witness in a Boston murder investigation. She was attacked in her East Cambridge apartment. The place was ransacked. She's been drugged, and she's in a coma.”

“Thank you for the diagnosis. By the way, where did you get your medical degree?” Her voice dripped sarcasm.

Rob felt flushed, not from embarrassment, but from the slow boil of anger he was fighting to suppress. The muscle jumped in his clenched jaw. If he lost his temper, he might not get the help he needed, and time was of the essence. The clock was counting down for Mary, the missing infants, and how many others? Since the congressman would be taking an active interest in the case, it might be harder than ever to protect Faye.

“Detective, this is the way things work around here. You go and sit those cute buns down while I examine my patient. Once I've done that,
I'll tell you
what happened to her. I'm the doctor, you're the detective. I don't tell you how to do your job, and you sure as hell don't tell me how to do mine. Go back through the ER and have someone look at your hand.”

She turned on her heel and headed in the same direction the nurses had taken Faye.

“Wait, Doctor. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so abrupt, but this case is critical. I need your help. It's really important. Please?”

She turned back to him. He ran his fingers through his messy hair. His desperation must have convinced her to give him a second chance. He was a proud man, not used to begging, but he'd grovel if he had to.

“What do you need?”

“I need a rape kit done, and I want you to check her for a specific drug: scopolamine.”

The doctor's face darkened, and her eyebrows creased. Her hand moved up to rub her chin. She stared at him as if she could see into his soul, and for a minute, he thought she'd refuse. The doctor seemed to reach a decision, and he held his breath. She nodded. “That's dangerous stuff, not a common drug used around here. Are you sure?”

He hung his head. “About that particular drug, I'm not, not a hundred percent.” He looked up at her, his face no doubt a mask of determination. “That's why I asked you to check. About the other, I hope I'm wrong.”

She smiled for the first time and nodded. “And let me guess—there's no time to get a court order. Am I going to get into trouble for this?”

“I hope not,” he answered, praying his honesty would make his case.

“I hate people who take advantage of others. Baxter,” she called to the nurse exiting the room. “Send someone in here with a rape kit. Take the detective into room six and clean his hand. He's bleeding all over my clean floor. Give him a shot if he needs one. When you're done, bring him back to me.”

Nurse Baxter smiled at him. “Follow me.”

She led him into a small cubicle. “Sit, please. Dr. Chong is one of the best doctors on the faculty for Women's Health at Harvard. She can be a bit abrupt, but she really knows her stuff. How did you cut your hand?”

She ripped open gauze swabs and wiped at the drying blood. He flinched when she hit a sore spot.

“I picked up a broken picture frame. There must have been glass left in it. I didn't even feel it happen.”

She nodded, moved his hand under a powerful magnifying glass, and finished cleaning the cut.

“I don't see anything in it, but it's going to need stitches,” she said. “I'll get one of the other ER docs to have a quick look at it before I sew you up. I'll be right back.”

Rob leaned back in the chair. God, what he wouldn't give to be able to go back in time, if not to the day Faye had thrown the ring in his face at least to the day he'd been called in on the Harvester case. Would realizing Faye resembled the first victim have made a difference? Probably not since it would have been considered a coincidence, but maybe if he'd seen it, he'd have approached the case differently.

The nurse came back with the doctor.

“You're right. A couple of stitches should do it, and then give him a tetanus shot.” Turning back to Rob, he smiled. “She'll fix you right up.”

Thirty minutes and two stitches later, his hand bandaged and his hip sore from the injection she'd given him, he followed her back to where he'd left Faye.

Dr. Chong smiled as he entered the room and pointed to two paper bags on the bedside table. “The small one is your rape kit. I added a tube of blood for additional testing. The larger one contains the sheets in which she was wrapped.” She pulled up the blankets to cover Faye, nodded to the nurses, and then led Rob back out into the main trauma room.

“I've checked her fingernails, but they've been thoroughly cleaned. It's as if someone bathed her and gave her a manicure. Strangest thing I've ever seen. There's no sign of vaginal trauma, but I did recover semen from deep in the vagina. If she'd awakened in her own bed at home, she might not have even realized anything happened. Of course, you can't be sure that it did. She might have had consensual sex late last night, but she's definitely been given something, which leads me to believe you may be right.”

Rob ran his fingers through his hair. He hadn't considered the fact the Faye might have a lover, a man she'd called after he'd left for Beverly. He forced down the unexpected jealousy raging within him. Faye was free to date and sleep with anyone she wanted, but he was pretty damn sure this hadn't been a boyfriend. The man who'd trashed her apartment was the man who'd done the same to Lucy Green's. He'd bet his pension on it.

The doctor walked over to the basin and washed her hands. She pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser and turned to look at him again. “We won't know about the drugs for an hour or so, but there's a needle mark on her leg that looks suspicious. She's already starting to bruise. I've swabbed her nose on the off chance that she somehow inhaled the drug. The devil's breath is often administered that way. I've sent instructions to the lab that the blood be tested for all known rape drugs and anything else that might account for the coma. We're a teaching hospital with some of the best equipment in the world.” She shook her head. “Do you know if she's had any alcohol in the last twelve hours?”

“I put whiskey in her tea last night around half past six. She might have had more after.” Had that been a bad thing to do?

“That might explain it. Some medications don't play nice together. Most people don't realize how dangerous alcohol can be. It increases the effects of a number of other drugs, including scopolamine. Regardless of what he gave her, she's going to feel like hell when she wakes up. They're going to transfer her upstairs in a few minutes. I take it the police officers outside my ER go, too?”

“Yes, Doctor, they do, and no one goes in or out but your staff—I'll need names and photo ID—and my men.” He indicated the paper bags he'd picked up in Faye's room. “I'll take care of these.” He'd give them to Tom or Pierce as soon as they arrived. He noted that the bags had been sealed and signed. At least Dr. Chong understood the importance of chain of evidence.

The doctor chuckled humorlessly. “There's more to this than you've told me. Boston and Cambridge police don't work together that often. Material witnesses don't usually get this kind of treatment either. Follow me.”

She led him to a small, windowless room that served as her office. She removed two bottles of water from the mini-fridge that did double duty as the base for a two-drawer filing cabinet and handed him one.

“Alright, before I move this woman upstairs and put any of the hospital's patients at risk, I want the truth. It won't leave this room, but I need to know what I'm up against. Who is she, and who are we hiding her from?”