Chapter 33 Kobe #2
I spent the next half hour writing up a warrant with reasonable grounds to back up my claim that our serial murders could have been committed by one or both of these unknown women, whose undocumented rape came to light by an officer who heard the story three years ago and failed to make a report.
It might get Yates in trouble, or a judge might say the lack of an official statement meant there was nothing that could be done.
I had to try.
If those girls had gone to the hospital, if they had been seen and dismissed by that fucker Navid Kordestani, I could very well have discovered the link I needed.
I sat back and considered my night. Dominique had invited me to ring in the new year, but I couldn’t seem to persuade myself to leave. My skin buzzed with renewed energy. I was onto something, and I hated waiting until a warrant cleared to get answers.
I shot Dominique a text. I’ll be late, but I’m coming.
I shut down the laptop, buried the useless USB and the drawn-up warrant in a drawer, and aimed for the parking lot.
The university hospital where Navid Kordestani worked was a ten-minute drive from the station. The general hospital was closer. If the teens were as young as Yates suggested, would they have had a vehicle? Was the unknown boy their ride?
He must have been. It made sense since I was seeking a connection to Navid.
I pulled into the emergency lot at University Hospital and parked, checking myself in the rearview mirror.
Finger-combing my hair into something resembling order, I considered my presentation and approach.
Ditching the tie—I hated the formal look anyhow—I undid a few buttons at my collar.
I didn’t have tufts of sexy chest hair like Dominique, but showing skin didn’t hurt.
I switched to my department jacket and popped a few breath mints I found in the glove box.
I’d never been a fan of playing by the rules.
I had lived in the gray all my life. The law was created in parliament by a bunch of politicians, and everyone knew that politicians made shady deals to get to the top.
How were they any better than me? If I could sweet-talk or flirt my way into information, I would do it shamelessly.
I paid the meter and stuck the printed permit in my window before heading inside via the ambulance bay.
It was early for the New Year’s Eve bustle, but I had no doubt the emergency room would be packed before midnight with drunken accidents, bar fight casualties, alcohol poisoning, and more.
It was the busiest part of the hospital, and the staff was at the highest risk of burnout. Under stressful conditions, people tended to take the easier way out instead of the right way out, particularly if they didn’t see the harm in it.
I scanned the waiting room, assessing the nurses in attendance as they slipped in and out of the examination area, calling patients to the back, while informing others to stay seated until it was their turn.
What I needed was a young female nurse who hadn’t been on staff long.
Someone who might have felt the wrath of Dr. Kordestani when he was around.
Like Jesse, Navid’s reputation preceded him.
The opportunity I was looking for came twenty minutes after I arrived, when a cute brunette with light brown skin and a soft demeanor called to the triage nurse, “If Geoff is looking for me, I stepped out for a break.”
“He’s not going to like that,” the triage nurse said.
“I’ve been here six hours, and I’ll probably be here for six more. Too bad.”
She awkwardly donned a white North Face jacket, her hospital ID tag getting in the way when she tried to zip it up, then pulled her phone from a pocket as she headed out the sliding doors.
I followed, hating myself for the deception but thinking of a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old girl who was too eager to grow up and had gotten herself in trouble.
The wind cut knives against my cheeks, biting at exposed skin.
The woman huddled against a pillar that held up the concrete overhang of the ambulance bay.
I pressed my cell to my ear and didn’t have to feign being cold as I pretended to leave a message for a colleague, speaking loudly for her benefit.
“Hey, it’s me. I’m at the hospital, but it’s busy.
I’m not sure anyone will be able to spare a second for the newbie detective.
Why does everyone make faces when I mention Kordestani?
What aren’t you telling me? Anyhow, if I can’t nail someone down in the next ten or fifteen minutes, I’m taking off.
I was hoping to go out tonight. This can wait until tomorrow.
The guy’s dead. Anyhow, call me when you get this. ”
I pretended to hang up with an irritable huff. Like I’d hoped, my fake conversation drew the attention of the pretty nurse. Catching her eye, I smiled shyly as she clocked my department jacket and holstered weapon.
In turn, I purposefully noted her scrubs and angled my head to the emergency room doors. “Are you a nurse?”
“No. I like to wear scrubs and hang out at the hospital when I’m bored.”
I smirked. “So you’re pretending?”
She stuffed her phone in a pocket, keeping her hands buried as well. “They make faces because he was an asshole.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Kordestani.”
I arched a brow, adding a slight flirty edge to my tone. “Oh yeah? Were you listening in on my conversation?”
“You weren’t exactly quiet.”
“It’s windy.” And it was, viciously so. “Is that a personal assessment of the dead doctor or just rumors?”
Her eyes sparkled with humor at the jab at Navid. “No, he was a certified jerk. Can’t say I miss him. Not sure many do.” She glanced at the door and back. “Why are you here, officer?”
“Detective. My partner—who is also a certified jerk, I might add—has ordered me to follow up on some leads for a case we’re working on. I think he likes to give me impossible tasks simply so he has the pleasure of yelling at me for not completing them.”
“I know all about that.” She rolled her eyes and checked the door again. No one was hanging outside in the cold, so apart from distant traffic and the occasional sound of drunken shouts of joy, we were alone.
She tugged a hand from her pocket and offered it. “Megan.”
I shook her icy fingers, hanging on a beat longer than was proper. “Kobe Haven.”
“Detective?”
“I think they might regret that decision.”
“You’re a flirt.”
“You’re pretty. I can’t help it.”
She blushed and looked away. “So, what are you looking for, Detective Kobe Haven?”
I tilted my head to the side, plastering on a doubt-filled yet bordering on playful smirk. She side-eyed me with her own.
“I’m not sure you can help, Nurse Megan Without a Last Name. Although I appreciate the offer.”
“I don’t want you to fail your impossible mission. Try me.”
So I told her what I needed, a frighteningly honest rendition of my mission.
“You see the futility of the task? Locating an unnamed girl who might or might not have sought emergency care after a rape that happened over three years ago is akin to finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. I’m certain that if she came, she would have been a patient of Dr. Kordestani.”
“You’re trying to solve his murder.”
“In essence, but really, I’m trying to prove why he died.”
Megan nodded, seeming to understand. She couldn’t know the fury in my heart. The ache that wouldn’t leave me when I thought of a helpless teen girl coming for help and meeting Navid’s cold indifference.
Megan promised to assist with my mission, but the timing was bad. Her break was over, and the emergency department, like the police department, had brought in extra staff that evening to accommodate what they knew would be an influx of patients due to the holiday.
“I have a date the visit would have occurred,” I told her and recited the one marked on Yates’s unfiled report from back in 2022.
“I’ll see what I can find. Give me your number, and I’ll text you in a few days.”
She handed me her phone, and I input my details. Handing it back, I didn’t miss the look in her eyes.
“What?”
She studied me in a knowing way I couldn’t quite read.
She glanced at the doors to the emergency room as she stuffed her phone in a pocket. “You have a cute smile, Kobe, and you know how to use it, but your acting skills could use some help.”
My eyes widened, and she laughed.
“I thought you were going to ask me out,” she continued, “but then I realized you were flirting to secure my help. Attached or gay?”
“Wow. You’re good. Both. How did you—”
“I’m smarter than you think, Detective. I didn’t offer to help you because I’m a sucker for a dimpled smile.
I offered because I hated Kordestani. I see too many young girls come through these doors as victims of assault.
I know he’s dead, and if his disregard for human decency got him there, so be it. I’d love to see his reputation ruined.”
She pecked a delicate kiss on my frozen cheek and headed inside, calling out, “I’ll text you if I find anything.”