Chapter 16
Leaving Dr. Quist's office left me with more questions than answers. She seemed to recognize Cole, yet pretend otherwise. And that second phone, I wasn't supposed to notice it. What unsettled me most was how she blatantly ignored me at the reception, even though her next patient didn't arrive until twenty minutes later. Something about her, about that whole visit, felt off. But like Russel always says, suspicion alone isn't enough.
He texted to say he was on his way to pick me up. I'd left home early to meet the doctor, so I hadn't checked in on my sister or niece. I called my sister, but it went to voicemail. A minute later, she called back.
"Everything's fine," she said quickly, but her voice betrayed her anxiety. "Jamie skipped her first session at school. She won't say where she went."
That hit me hard. My niece slipping back into her shell was our biggest fear.
Worried, I called Jamie.
"Hey, baby girl!" I said with forced cheer as she picked up.
"Can you stop calling me that? I'm in school. Gosh," she groaned. Distant and annoyed.
"Is everything okay? I haven't seen you in forever."
"We live in the same house, Stace," she replied, calling me by the nickname I secretly adored.
"Right, right. So, I heard you skipped class yesterday. What's going on?"
Silence.
"Jamie?" I asked again, now uneasy. Then the school bell rang.
"I have to go. Time for class."
"Ja—" The line cut off.
I stared at my screen, now black, my own confused reflection staring back.
Russel was parked out front, coffee in hand, watching me with a questioning look. I got into the car.
"Everything okay?" he asked, handing me the coffee.
"Yeah. No. Jamie skipped school. It's just a gut feeling, but I don't like it."
"Teenagers," he shrugged with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
I smiled weakly. "How'd your morning go? Any sign of Cole?"
"Nothing. Wasn't at home or work. Boss said he took the day off." He bit into his bagel. "Typical, right?"
"Doctor Quist wasn't any help either, as expected."
We were still parked outside the clinic, finishing our breakfast as the city bustled around us. The doctor's office was in a swanky office complex, with a view overlooking the street. Clearly, she had money and influence.
I glanced up. She was standing by her window, staring at us. After a moment, she pulled the curtain closed.
"Russel, let me ask you something. If you hear a buzzing from a table and your phone's on top, but it doesn't light up, what would you think?"
"That it's the phone on the table?"
"But it didn't light up. And the buzz felt like it came from the drawer."
"Ah… so maybe there's another phone?"
"Exactly! I think she has two phones and didn't want me to know."
"Might just be a work phone. She's a therapist, makes sense to separate clients from personal life."
"Yeah, I guess. Maybe I'm overthinking."
"You've been doing that a lot," he teased. "Come on, let's get to the office. Chief's waiting."
The drive was short. As we arrived at Police Headquarters, I looked up at the towering building. Three months had passed since our suspension. Now we were back, and it felt good. Really good.
Inside, our return was met with claps and smiles. Validation.
We took the elevator to the Chief's office, the 8th floor, high enough to feed his ego. He was on the phone when we entered, laughing. His office was huge and tastefully decorated, though oddly sparse.
"Welcome back," he said, ending the call. We saluted, and he waved it off casually. "How was the experience?"
"It gave us perspective," Russel answered smoothly. "We've reflected, and here's our report."
He handed it over. The Chief skimmed it, nodded, then slid a folder across the table.
"We suspect there's a serial killer. The murders looked random at first, but all victims have something in common, they were abusers. Over the past two years, eight victims. No connections, no leads. This is your new case."
My stomach twisted as I flipped through the folder. Eight victims. All brutal deaths. Six men, two women. No links except their abusive histories.
Russel took the folder and examined it, then froze.
"We looked at this teacher's file yesterday," he said, removing a page and handing it to me.
It clicked.
"This teacher, the old man mentioned him!" I exclaimed. The man had sexually abused students, and one girl even attempted suicide.
Sam, one of our team members, approached. "What's wrong?"
Russel handed him the file and explained. Our team had been eight strong until the hostage situation three months ago. We lost three. The loss still lingered.
"So," Carol said, thinking aloud, "an old man mentions a teacher, an actor, and David. And here's the teacher. Shouldn't the actor and David be in here too?"
Jake added, "Not saying David was an abuser, but if these victims all share that link, we need to rule out every angle."
I winced. "You're not saying David…?"
"Not physical abuse. Maybe something else?" Jake said gently.
I shook my head. "He wouldn't. He knew I'd catch on. But if....if it was true, then… would it be my sister? Or Jamie?"
"No," Russel cut in firmly. "We deal in facts. Let's get them."
He laid out our plan.
"Jake, go through each victim's background. Find a common thread. Carol, trace their last known activities. Sam, dig into Gerald Hayes. He's our witness. See what connects him."
They nodded.
"Stacy and I will look into David and check on the witness. Let's find our suspect."
As the team dispersed, Russel turned to me, lowering his voice. "I feel like the answer's right in front of us. We're just stepping over it."
I squeezed his arm in silent agreement.
My phone buzzed. It was Kyle, the officer watching our witness.
"He's awake. He's asking for you."
"We're coming."
I signaled Russel, and we rushed to the hospital. Excitement and nervous energy churned in me.
At the hospital, Kyle stood guard. We saluted, then entered the ward.
The old man looked frail, tubes everywhere, the monitor beeping beside him.
"Hey," I said gently. "How're you feeling?"
"Everything hurts. And the nurse won't give me more pain relief. Rude."
I offered a weak smile.
"Was it Cole?" Russel asked bluntly.
I gave him a look. Ease into it.
"You won't catch him with just that photo," the old man said, pointing.
"We saw him. At the store," Russel countered.
"He changes. I told you."
"What do you mean changes?" I pressed.
"He doesn't always look like that. I don't know why he used his real face this time."
"Start from the beginning," I urged.
He sighed. "I saw him a year ago. I was a guard at the actor's company. Got fired the same day the actor was killed. Cameras everywhere, and yet no arrest. I followed him to a store. Watched him. Then, a completely different guy shows up to work. But it was him. Same mannerisms, same vibe. Just… different face."
"You went to the police?"
"Yes! But they didn't believe me. Said I was paranoid."
"Because you never said who was after you," Russel said, exasperated.
"I was scared. He saw me."
Frustrated, Russel clenched his jaw.
"You know what? Get some rest," I said. "We'll try again later."
Russel stormed out. I lingered, hoping he'd change his mind, but the old man turned away, feigning sleep.
I exited and found Russel by the car, looking up at the sky, deep in thought.
"I want to check on Jamie," I said quietly. "Let's pick her up."
He nodded.
The sun was harsh and heavy above us, just like the weight of this case.