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  “Yes.”

  “Can we speak to you? I promise not to take more than five minutes of your time.”

  The man hesitated, weighing up the request, before saying, “C’mon.”

  His name was Javier Rivera. He was a Ford dealership mechanic and the younger Myda’s godson. He walked them over to his front yard, five houses away on the opposite side of the street.

  “Your five minutes start now.”

  Terry explained everything he and Oscar had unearthed. He showed Javier Sarah’s list of names and the news articles he’d printed from the library. He handed him Myda’s article last. Tears welled in the young man’s eyes.

  “You know that son of a bitch she turned in is still practicing medicine. She proved he’d screwed up, killing a man and turning those kids into vegetables. What a joke.”

  “I thought the doctor lost his license,” Oscar said.

  “He lost his Nevada license. He’s in the Midwest somewhere, probably killing more innocent people.”

  Terry asked the vital question. “How did Myda die?”

  “Dr. McKethen was finished. After the last hearing was over and the medical board ruled against him, we thought it was over. But things turned nasty.”

  “How?” Oscar asked.

  “Doctors are their own little club. Myda was dumped on at work. Every kind of crappy job, she got it. She was a charge nurse, man, and she had to slop out bedpans.”

  “They decided she’d sold them out,” Terry suggested.

  “She was a nurse, not a doctor. She wasn’t one of them. Unless you have a string of letters after your name, you’re nothing.”

  “But they saw her as a squealer,” Oscar suggested.

  “Yeah,” Javier agreed. “Even her friends.”

  “How long did this go on for?” Oscar asked.

  “A couple of months. She found herself on the graveyard shift all the time, so when she didn’t come home that night, we didn’t know anything was wrong.”

  “When was she found?” Terry asked.

  “A week later, a hundred feet from the highway. A traveling salesman stopped for a leak and found he was going on Myda’s half-buried body.” Javier wiped away a tear. “He pissed on her body, man.”

  “Christ, I’m sorry,” Terry said.

  “Her throat was slit and her tongue was cut out.” Javier sniffed and ran a hand across his nose. His eyes were red. “They never pinned it on anyone.”

  “Is anybody working on Myda’s case?”

  “No, they have other cases to work on,” he said sarcastically. “You think your wife will be next?”

  “Yes.”

  “I hope she isn’t, man.”

  “So do I.”

  “Thanks for your time, Javier.” Oscar offered a hand. “We appreciate it.”

  Taking Oscar’s hand, he said, “I’m sorry about getting in your face earlier.”

  Terry put out his hand. “I probably would have done the same. We weren’t being very considerate. Please give our apologies to Mrs. Perez.”

  Javier vice-gripped Terry’s hand. Terry felt his bones of his hand shift. “You and me, man, are brothers—family. We fight the same evil. You find this son of a bitch; you call me, okay? We’ll take care of this. There is plenty of desert out here. You call me.”

  Terry gave Javier a pen and a pad. He scribbled his telephone number down.

  “You call me,” Javier said again, seeing them to the Monte. It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

  “Have no doubt,” Terry said.

  Oscar gunned the engine and pulled away.

  “That was serious,” he said. “Will you call him?”

  “I will if I have to.” Terry turned to Oscar. Fear and shock flashed in his friend’s eyes.

  Oscar had been quiet for ten minutes. Terry’s promise to Javier was the cause, but he’d meant what he said. He couldn’t help that. It was the way he felt. Terry broke the silence.

  “What’s our next step?”

  “Myda’s hospital is on the next street. Do you want to check it out?”

  “We can, but I’m not sure it’ll help much. Javier gave us all that we needed to know.”

  “Do you want to go home? We’ve got a good five-hour drive ahead.”

  Terry thought it over. “Let’s see if we get lucky with the hospital. Then we’ll go home.”

  Terry had been hoping to make it to Southern California to dig up what they could on Hope Maclean and Christy Richmond, but there was no way that happening this weekend. He was discovering yet again that America was a big place.

  It didn’t take long to reach the hospital. As they turned into the visitors’ parking lot, Oscar said, “Another name change.”

  When Myda had exposed Dr. McKethen’s malpractice, the hospital had been called Silver State General. Now the hospital was called the Nevada State University Children’s Research Hospital. Whether Myda’s action had caused the change, Terry wasn’t sure.

  Oscar switched off the Monte’s engine and opened the door to get out. Terry didn’t move.

  “You coming?”

  Terry had seen the hospital’s name only few days ago on a piece of paperwork he’d signed. The children’s hospital had been the sender of the urgent samples FedEx had delivered to Pamela Dawson.

  “You okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  “Get back in the car, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “What?”

  “Just drive.”

  Oscar gunned the engine and roared out of the parking stall. Hightailing it out of the parking lot, they passed in front of the hospital. As the Monte sped past the outpatient exit, Terry kept his gaze fixed on the man leaving the hospital. He hadn’t seen a ghost. It was much more disturbing than that. Frosty Frazer strode toward the parking lot with a refrigerated chest in his hand.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Six months earlier

  Terry had left as late as he could. His London-bound flight would begin boarding soon. Sarah walked him to the security checkpoint.

  “I suppose this is it,” Terry said. “The honeymoon is over.”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Don’t look so glum. It shouldn’t take long before immigration clears me to come back.”

  “You’re not going to forget me, are you?” Sarah asked. She looked away and fiddled with the wedding ring, only days old, on her finger.

  Her insecurity was ridiculous. Terry laughed and placed a hand under her chin to raise her face. “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, our romance is hardly conventional.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “Yes, because it’s a novelty, but what happens when we have to settle for normality? Will the novelty wear off?”

  He’d slipped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her to him. “You have nothing to fear. There is no way I could get bored and forget you.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Of course I’m sure,” Terry mumbled to himself in the confines of the bedroom. He couldn’t stop replaying that day in the airport. He rolled over in bed and looked at the time glowing red in the darkness: 2:20. He couldn’t believe he was still tossing and turning.

  After he’d dropped Oscar off and driven home, he’d been ready for bed. It was after eleven by the time he closed the garage door and he was too dog-tired to do or think about anything. It took all his remaining strength to carry himself to bed. He thought sleep was seconds away, but the moment his head hit the pillow, insomnia struck.

  Sarah was the source of his insomnia. He couldn’t get her out of his head, for once. Finding her had become such a priority that he’d stopped thinking about her as a person. Sarah was no longer his wife. She was a goal, a prize to be attained when he’d solved the puzzle. Little day-to-day recollections that had seeped into his consciousness had dried up. How many times had their song played on the radio and not struck a chord with him? When had he last picked up a photograph to study he
r face? And what did her face look like anyway? He was having trouble recalling the nuances that made Sarah Sarah. He tried to summon an image of her in his mind, but managed only a hazy reception.

  The road trip had been the wake-up call. All the women on Sarah’s list they’d checked out so far were not only dead, but had been mutilated in the same way. He hated his pessimism, but he believed the chances of finding Sarah safe and sound were getting slimmer with every revelation. Death was courting her and it was only a matter of time before it snatched her. That realization sliced through all his thoughts. At last he was thinking about Sarah in the right context. She was his supreme concern. Life without her seemed inconceivable, but it was becoming a possibility.

  He rolled out of bed and wandered into the kitchen, switching on the lights as he went. Reaching for a carton of orange juice, he spotted the bottle of French champagne with the red silk bow wrapped around its neck that Sarah must have bought for his arrival. He left the orange juice and pulled out the champagne.

  He examined the label and had no idea whether it was a good vintage or not. He knew as much about champagne as he did about Sarah’s whereabouts.

  “Silly cow,” he said with love in his voice and a sad smile. “You know I don’t like this stuff.”

  Setting the bottle on the countertop, he picked at the foil covering the top until he exposed the wire and cork, then stopped. The champagne wasn’t for drinking alone. It was for drinking with his wife. He returned the bottle to the refrigerator.

  He reverted to the orange juice and wandered over to the wedding photo on the dining table. He picked it up and took it onto the patio. The patio lights sensed him and zapped him with a burst of blinding light. There was a chill in the air, a stark contrast from the heat of the day. The night was probably no warmer than a May night in England. The frigid concrete patio numbed his toes in seconds. He chugged the orange juice until the carton buckled.

  He stared at their wedding picture again. It was a trivial image to represent their marriage. Taken outside the Luxor Las Vegas, the two of them were hugging while making rabbit ears behind each other’s heads and flashing cheesy grins. He remembered the confused Japanese tourists who’d taken the picture. It seemed funny at the time, just another example of their disrespect for convention. They hadn’t even gotten dressed up for the ceremony. They’d both worn jeans and T-shirts. They had made one concession to wedding convention. Sarah had worn a veil. Now he wished they’d done things right. Sensing no movement in a long while, the patio lights went off and plunged him into darkness.

  He shifted position and the patio lights snapped back on. He moved to the warmer, sprinkler-moistened lawn to put some feeling back into his feet. He flopped into the garden hammock, safe from the glare of the patio lights. He hugged the wedding picture and orange juice carton to him and stared into the sky.

  It was a cloudless night. The moon and constellations could be seen clearly. Lights as bright as stars blinked from a passing jet, its engines a distant roar. Jet trails scarred a perfect night sky.

  He’d never felt so alone in his life.

  Sitting at his lab bench the next morning, Terry felt left of center. He’d fallen asleep in the hammock and had been rudely awakened by the six o’clock sprinkler cycle. Regardless of the hot shower following his impromptu cold one, he still felt like an unmade bed. He sipped his coffee, hoping the caffeine would get his motor running.

  He’d hoped to avoid Pamela and Frosty, but there proved to be no need. Pamela had signed herself out to some breakfast meeting and Frosty was nowhere to be seen. He found their absence disconcerting. He recalled his conversation with Oscar on the ride home from Nevada.

  “So what does Genavax have to do with the women on this list?” Oscar had asked.

  “I don’t know. But something weird is going on there.”

  “Like what?”

  “First, there was Sarah’s argument with my boss. Then, a delivery I signed for at Genavax came from this hospital—Myda Perez’s hospital. And now, Frosty Frazer is here leaving with a medical cooler.”

  “What’s going on?”

  The lab doors swung open and Frosty breezed in, making a beeline for his corner lab bench. He acknowledged various not-so-heartfelt greetings with dismissive grunts. Within a minute, his coat was off and he was already into the thick of his work.

  Terry noticed Frosty wasn’t carrying the refrigerated cooler he’d walked out of the hospital with yesterday. Terry guessed the cooler was already here, dropped off the same night. It was all too cloak-and-dagger for his liking. Pamela, Frosty, and Genavax were doing their damnedest to cover their tracks.

  Frosty realized Terry was staring at him. He glared and Terry tried to determine whether it was just a dislike of being stared at or something more. He hadn’t been sure whether Frosty had recognized him outside the children’s hospital. But if he saw the Monte in the parking lot, it wouldn’t take long for Frosty to put two and two together. Terry’s phone rang.

  “Terry Sheffield,” Terry said.

  “It’s Oscar.” Road noise interfered with the reception.

  “Are you on the road?

  “Yeah. I’m on I-5. I didn’t get much sleep last night, thinking about what we’d talked about.”

  Terry knew the feeling.

  “I can’t wait until next week to check out Hope Maclean and Christy Richmond’s stories. I should be in Delano by this afternoon.”

  “I wish you’d told me. I would have come too,” Terry said.

  “It’s best you stay there. If you take too much time off, they might start to suspect you.”

  It was a fair point, but Terry didn’t like it. “How long do you think you’ll be?”

  “A couple of days, maybe three. Today Delano. Tomorrow, Anaheim, then back.”

  “Just be careful, okay?”

  “I will be, Mom.”

  “Shut up,” Terry said, smiling.

  Oscar laughed. “I’ll give you a call when I’ve got something. And don’t forget you’ve got a task of your own.”

  Terry hung up. Frosty was still staring at him. He left his bench and cut a path toward Terry.

  “Yes?” Terry asked.

  “Terry, you’ve got a visitor.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I think it’s the sheriff.”

  Terry marched out of the lab. His blood was boiling. What new stunt was he trying to pull? He pushed open the door leading into the reception area.

  “What the bloody hell do you want?” Terry demanded.

  “In this country, we start a conversation with hello.”

  “And in this country, as in England, impersonating a law enforcement officer is a crime.” Terry grabbed Jake Holman by the arm and shoved him through Genavax’s main doors into the parking lot.

  “Hey!” Jake stumbled but caught his balance before he went sprawling. “No need for the rough stuff.”

  “Isn’t there?”

  “Okay, I shouldn’t have pretended to be my pop.”

  “Damn right, you shouldn’t have.”

  “But would you have spoken to me if I’d said it was me?”

  “No, and for good reason. Do you know what I’ve had to do to repair the damage your dad’s done to my reputation? And your little stunt has ruined all that.”

  “Sorry.”

  Terry wasn’t won over.

  “I said sorry.”

  Terry glanced over his shoulder. They were drawing flies. Faces stared out from the reception area. He led Jake to the shade of a tree in the parking lot.

  Terry crossed his arms and leaned against the tree. “What do you want?”

  “To make up. Last time we ended things badly.”

  “You stormed off, as I remember it.”

  “Yeah, well, the prison crack wasn’t funny.”

  “Because it was true?”

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “But that’s not what I came to say. I wanted to say you did a number on my dad.”

  “
And you’re upset?”

  “The opposite. Good job. It’ll take a long time for him to get that egg off his face.”

  “And that’s it? You’ve embarrassed me in front of my coworkers for that?”

  “Hey, Terry, I’m doing my best here. I’m trying to make it up to you.”

  “You’re a piece of work, Jake.”

  Jake frowned. “I’m not the smartest guy, but don’t treat me the same way everybody else does.”

  Terry’s alkaline compassion neutralized his acid anger. Maybe he was being a little harsh on the guy. “Jake, couldn’t you have come to my house to tell me, or called?”

  “I tried over the weekend, but I didn’t get any answer. I thought you were avoiding me. I left a couple of messages.”

  “I was away all weekend.”

  “Oh. Have you heard from Sarah?”

  “No.”

  “How long has it been…three, four weeks? That’s a long time for someone not to come up for air.”

  Terry didn’t need to be told this. “Look, Jake, I have to get back to work. Is there anything else?”

  “Yeah. Be careful of my pop. You’ve bloodied his nose in public, and he won’t forget it. He holds a grudge. He’ll find a way to get back at you. He’s not the upstanding keeper of the peace that people around here like to think he is.”

  It was obvious Jake was speaking from bitter experience. His father was a demon he’d never managed to exorcise. Terry had the feeling that his confrontation with Holman was satisfying Jake’s desire to get back at his dad. He didn’t like being the host for Jake’s parasitic needs. It was a little too twisted. Frosty poked his head out from the doorway.

  “I’ll bear that in mind, Jake.” Terry offered his hand. “I appreciate you coming.”

  “Are we cool?” Jake said, shaking Terry’s hand.

  “Yes.” He smiled. “We’re cool.”

  “Terry, I would like to be friends. Can we hang out?”

  “Sure. Call me.”

  Terry pushed himself away from the tree. Frosty retreated back into the building.

  “How about tonight?”

  “I can’t tonight. There’s something I’ve got to do.” Terry walked back to Genavax.