Chapter 10
Tennyson
Ten sat at the conference table in the cold case team’s office. He had a surprisingly light morning with client readings and wanted to do everything he could to get to the bottom of what happened to Natalie’s baby all those years ago.
In all of their work, they’d discovered three names that Ten wanted to take a closer look at; Doctor Andrew Savini, Nurse Kitty Maxwell, and Matron Elizabeth Peters. Starting at the top, Ten typed the good doctor’s name into Google and hit enter.
“Hey, you’re here early,” Jude said, as he walked into the office. “Where’s Ronan?”
“He’s at Cassie’s getting coffees and muffins for everyone. I don’t have any readings at the moment, so I thought I’d do some leg work on the people who worked at St. Agnes House.”
“That’s a good plan.” Jude shouldered out of his messenger bag and grabbed his computer.
“I’ll work on Dr. Savini and you can look up Kitty Maxwell.
We’ll give Ronan the matron.” Ronan’s time in Catholic school gave him the drive to become a detective, but Ten knew his husband was always on the lookout for people who took advantage of their standing in the church.
Ten had a feeling the matron knew where all the bodies were buried, pun intended.
“What are you giving Ronan?” he asked, walking into the office. Ronan set breakfast on the table and took his usual seat, grabbing for the coffee with his name written on it.
“We’re looking into the employees of the St. Agnes House. I’ve got the doc, Jude, the nurse, so you can take the matron.”
Ronan rolled his eyes. “I’m sure the matron was made of sugar and spice and everything nice.”
Ten would bet the house that she’d been involved in selling Amanda/Hope to Monica and Frederick.
He took a sip from his own coffee and turned his attention back to the search results.
There were several listings for Doctor Andrew Savini, which Ten expected.
What he hadn’t expected were results for Doctor Andrew Savini Jr., and the third.
It couldn’t be a coincidence that three men with the same name were doctors.
Ten had a feeling they were also related.
Clicking the link for Doctor Andrew Savini III, he prepared to dig in, figuring an article about the younger doc would provide information about the older ones.
Ten started to read: Born in Boston in 1997.
Suma Cum Laude Graduate of Harvard Medical School 2019.
Fourth generation doctor to join prestigious OB/GYN medical practice in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Practice founded by Doctor Anthony Savini in 1957.
A picture accompanied the article. Four men stood together in white lab coats.
Great-Grandfather, Grandfather, father, and son.
All four were over six feet tall and had dark hair, with the eldest Savini sporting more salt than pepper.
Ten had to admit he wasn’t bad looking for a man in his nineties.
Ten kept reading and hit the jackpot. “Bingo!”
Jude and Ronan startled in their seats. “You okay?” Ronan asked.
“I found the doctor’s family. Four generations of obstetricians, but here’s the most important part, Doctor Anthony Savini began working at St. Agnes House in 1955, only a few years after he got his medical license and started his own practice in 1957.
He’d been a medic in Italy during World War II.
” Ten looked up from his screen. Neither Ronan nor Jude seemed to understand what he’d uncovered.
“I don’t want to encourage long, drawn out explanations,” Jude began, “but you seem to have left out the explanation.”
Ronan chuckled. “Totally agree with Jude. I don’t know why what you said is important.”
Ten sighed dramatically. “The non-church staff who worked at St. Agnes House were volunteers. No one was paid for delivering babies or seeing to the care of the mothers and children after birth.”
Ronan’s eyes widened. “So, if Savini was working for free, how did he have the money to establish his own practice two years later?”
“Exactly,” Ten said. “It’s also interesting that it wasn’t Anthony who delivered Amanda, but Andrew, the second Savini doctor who worked at the house.”
“I’m guessing the elder hooked up the younger so he could make some extra money as well?” Jude wore a look of disgust on his face.
“Makes sense,” Ronan said with a grin.
“What Ten discovered is interesting, but nothing compared to what I’ve got.” Jude’s dark eyes danced with glee.
“Let’s hear it,” Ronan urged.
“I’ve been looking into Kitty Maxwell. She was born in Rockport and was a good girl from a good family. She got her RN in 1970 from Salem State College.”
“Sounds pretty ordinary.” Jude shrugged.
“You’re right. Kitty was ordinary. After graduation, she started working at Salem Mercy Hospital.
Where things get interesting is when she started volunteering at St. Agnes House.
” Ronan paused, his eyes darting back and forth between Ten and Jude.
“Kitty’s life was all pretty normal until she disappeared without a trace in 1974. ” Ronan waggled his eyebrows.
“You’re kidding?” Jude’s mouth hung open.
“Not kidding. According to the article from the Boston Globe, she was reported missing by Matron Elizabeth Peters after she failed to show up for work at St. Agnes House. No hide nor hair of her has been found in over fifty years.”
“Coincidence?” Ten asked, having a pretty good idea that it was not.
“I don’t think so.” Ronan stood up and paced around the room.
“Let’s say Amanda wasn’t the only baby sold by an employee of the St. Agnes House.
Let’s say a new nurse stumbled onto the Savini’s side gig and threatened to tell the police, or better still, the grieving mothers, what happened to their babies and either father or son bumps her off. ”
“That sounds crazy, Ronan.” Jude shook his head. “But then again, this whole situation is crazy. Empty graves. Stolen babies. Grief-stricken mothers.”
Ten was about to ask Jude if Kitty Maxwell had any family they could speak with, when Ronan’s phone rang.
“It’s Fitz,” Ronan said, before hitting the button. “Must be nice to sleep in.”
“Can it, Ronan,” Fitz barked. “I need you, Jude, and Tennyson to meet me at 27 Pickman Road. The sooner the better.” The phone beeped three times indicating Fitzgibbon had hung up. “What the hell is on Pickman Road?”
“Beats me,” Jude said. “According to Google Maps it’s a residential road that backs up to the South Campus of Salem State University.”
“We’d better hustle,” Ronan said, shutting his laptop and grabbing his coffee. “Fitz sounded pissed and for once not because of me.”
“Whatever the hell is going on out there has him in one hell of a mood.” Jude followed Ten and Ronan out of the office, locking it behind him.
Ten motioned for everyone to get inside his SUV. He was sick and tired of being stuck sitting in the back of Ronan’s Mustang or Jude’s Thunderbird. He started the car and headed off in the direction of the college, knowing Ronan would direct him where to turn as they got closer.
It turned out Ronan didn’t need to give directions.
The upper part of Pickman Road was swarming with police cruisers with their lights on.
An ambulance sat in front of the house with its lights turned off.
Yellow crime scene tape spanned from the driveway, across the front lawn to a neighbor’s fence post.
Ten parked the car half a block away from the scene. He started toward the police tape, when Ronan grabbed his elbow.
“Hey, isn’t that Jace’s Porche?” Ronan pointed to the cherry pepper red SUV parked in the driveway.
“Sure looks like it to me,” Ten muttered.
“Oh, shit. Is it Jace?” Jude asked. “Ten, please tell me something didn’t happen to Jace. Sweet Jesus, Fitz will never get over that. Aurora either for that matter.”
Ten shut his eyes and focused on the house. Jace was alive and well. “He’s sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands. Thank God.”
“Let’s get in there and find out what’s going on.” Ronan pulled out his badge and approached the police tape.
“Captain Fitzgibbon is waiting for you all inside,” the young patrol agent said, as he lifted the tape for Ronan to duck under.
“What the hell would Jace be doing here?” Jude asked.
“Remember a few days ago when Fitz told us Jace had fallen in love with a new property for a food pantry and shelter for LGBTQIA+ kids? I bet this is the property he had in mind.” Ten wasn’t getting that information from his gift.
It was only a guess, but Ten hoped he was right, or otherwise, what the hell would Jace be doing at a house on the other side of town from his own?
Ronan climbed the front steps and walked into the house. Jude and Ten were right behind him. For all the police activity outside the house, there was fairly little going on inside the house.
“Thank fuck you’re here,” Fitzgibbon said, stepping into the empty front room. “You’re not going to believe this. What a fucking shit show.”
“What’s going on?” Ten asked, acutely aware that he should at least have some clue thanks to his gift. He didn’t like flying blind like this.
“Jace put in a bid for this house a few days ago, with his offer contingent on an inspection. He’s going to turn it into a shelter, like Everly said.
The inspection was scheduled for this morning.
During the walk-through, Jace tripped against a wall that started to crumble.
When the dust had settled, he and the inspector saw that it was a fake wall with a crawl space behind it, which backed up to a bricked in fireplace.
Jace saw that the mortar was breaking apart.
He moved a couple of bricks and found a body. ”
“What?” Ten couldn’t believe his ears. He took a step back and noticed the spirit of a young woman was standing a few feet behind them, looking out the window. He stepped toward her and asked her name.