Chapter 44
Ridge
The head nurse sitting across from me is a human male called Rowan Howe. He’s in his mid-forties, has neat hair, and is clean-shaven. He’s in pale blue scrubs with the hospital lanyard around his neck. He’s been answering my questions for the last ten minutes. He seems forthcoming and relaxed.
I glance down at my notes. “Let’s go back to the high-end equipment storage room for a minute. Who signs out from there most often?”
“Mainly the charge nurses. Sometimes one of the surgeons does, but that’s rare. Ninety percent of the time, it’s me or one of my counterparts, either from the hangar or the main hospital.”
“How often are you in that room on an average shift?”
“Once a shift. Maybe more, if it’s busy.”
“Walk me through the access procedure.”
He nods and tells me.
“Who has the code?”
“It’s not just a code. You need a lanyard, as well. It’s a double-entry system.”
“Have you ever given out your code or loaned your lanyard to someone who does not have access?” I ask.
“No way. That’s grounds for dismissal.”
“Have you ever been in that room and noticed anything that didn’t belong? Anything out of place? Anything that looked like it had been moved?”
“No.”
I ask a few more questions about the storage area. I ask about him seeing a cell phone in a drawer in that area.
He frowns. “A cellphone? No. Why would there be a phone in a supply drawer?”
“One more thing. Where were you on Wednesday night, the eleventh? Between roughly 11 p.m. and 3 a.m. on the Thursday morning.”
His eyebrows pull together. “Wednesday the eleventh.” He pulls out his phone and scrolls. “I was at home. I came off a long shift at six and went to bed early. I crashed all night. I was on duty bright and early the next day.”
“Is there anyone who can verify that?”
“No, I live alone.” He shrugs.
“Did anyone see you? A neighbor, perhaps?”
“I don’t think so. I keep to myself.”
I have his address. I’ll have to check. He is of medium height.
“Last thing. What is your shoe size?”
“My what?” He blinks.
“Your shoe size. Humor me.”
“I’m a nine.” He looks down at his work shoes as if he needs to check. “A standard nine.”
I keep my face flat, but my pulse ticks up a notch. That’s the same size as the print found in the flowerbed.
This could be our guy.
“Do you own a pair of Italian loafers?”
He snort-laughs. “No.” He shrugs. “At least, I don’t think so.”
I open my cell phone and show him a picture. “They’re high-end and from the Mainland. The brand is Raffinato.”
“Nope. I’ve never heard of it. I don’t own fancy shoes.”
“Okay, then. Thank you, Rowan. That’s everything I need for now. Is there anything you’d like to add? Anything you’ve thought of while we’ve been sitting here that might be useful?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I wish I could give you more, but I can’t think of anything. I don’t believe that Dr. Keller would do the things they’re saying. That’s all.”
So far, every person has said as much.
“I appreciate your time. I might need to ask you a few more questions in the coming days.”
“Sure thing.”
He gets up, gives me a small nod, and leaves.
I sit there for a long moment, tapping my pen against the page.
I check the time. Dr. Patel is up next, and he’s running late.
I’ve already worked through the other eleven on the access list this morning.
Three of the males came back as roughly the right build and size to fit the loafer profile.
Howe is now the fourth. Two are the head surgeons I interviewed first thing.
None of them so much as flinched at any of my questions, so it’s hard to tell.
I have to keep reminding myself that the shoe print might be nothing. It could be any of them.
There’s a knock on the door, and it opens before I can answer.
Dr. Patel comes in with his white coat half-buttoned, a stethoscope hanging off one shoulder. He’s wearing scrubs. There are dark spots on his shoes that look like blood. There’s another red smudge on his pants.
“Commander. I am so sorry. I was in surgery, hence moving out our meeting and being late.” He’s still a little out of breath.
“We had a case come in. A bad one. Dr. Keller would normally have handled it, but obviously…” He trails off.
“It came to me. I nearly lost him on the table. He’s stable for now, but it was close.
I really need to get back to him, so if we could keep this brief, I would appreciate it. ”
“Of course. Sit down. I won’t keep you long.”
He sits but doesn’t lean back. He’s perched on the edge, like he might bolt at any second.
He puts his phone on the table, face up. “Just in case I’m needed.”
“No problem.”
I run him through the same set of questions I’ve used all day. His access to the storage room. How often he goes in. When he was last in there. Whether he’s noticed anything out of place. He answers each one quickly, his hands clasped in his lap.
“Where were you on Wednesday night, the eleventh, between 11 p.m. and 3 a.m. on the Thursday morning?”
“At home with my wife,” he answers. “I was off that night. We had dinner. We watched something. We went to bed at nine because I was working the day shift on Thursday. Does that answer your question?”
“Did you go out at all after coming home?”
“No. I went to bed and slept until my alarm went off the next day.”
“What is your shoe size?” I ask.
“Pardon?” He frowns.
“I need your shoe size, please.”
“Ummm…eight.”
I look down at his feet, and they are small. Patel is slight for a male, even by human standards.
“Thanks.” I make a note and put the pen down. “I think that’s everything for now.”
“Great, because I need to get back.” He stands.
“Go. Good luck with your patient.” I stand too. “I may have to follow up with you. I kept this short because of your situation.”
“Of course. Anytime. Just let Carla know, and I’ll be there. I’m sure that Dr. Keller is innocent. She would never do something like this. I hope you know that.”
He’s out the door before I’ve sat back down.
I stare at the page in front of me and decide on a list of follow-ups, which I write down. I need to speak with neighbors and family members to verify that all the information given is accurate. I need to recheck the camera footage.
My list of follow-ups runs to nearly a full page by the time I’m done.
Before I leave the building, I want one more pass at the storage room. I go in and take my time, but nothing new jumps out. I take pictures to look at later.
I lock up behind me and head back through the hangar to the main corridor. I take the stairs up to reception. I need some information from Carla.
She is at the reception desk and looks up as I approach. Her smile dies as soon as she sees me.
“You have got to be kidding me.” She says it loud enough that an orderly turning the corner glances over and decides to keep walking.
“Hi, Carla.”
“Don’t ‘Hi, Carla’ me.” She stands. There’s color high in her cheeks. “Do not. I cannot believe you have the gall to walk through these doors. You had better not be here to ask me for something, because those days are gone.”
“I just finished with the interviews, and—”
“The interviews.” She lets out a hard laugh. “Right. So that you can put the final lock on Robyn’s cell door. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Her voice has gone lower now, but it cuts harder for it. “Robyn is in jail because of you. She could be found guilty.”
“I was doing my job.”
“Your job.” Her eyes are bright. “Really, now? Was that what you were doing when you slept with her, Ridge? Was that the job?” She lowers her voice.
I don’t answer.
“Because that’s what you did. You slept with her while you were investigating her. While she was opening her door to you and trusting you and letting you into her life. You were collecting evidence the whole freaking time.”
“I was in the wrong. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She looks a little shocked that I admitted it.
“You know what kills me?” She steps out from behind the desk and folds her arms. “I liked you. I encouraged her because I thought you were good for her. I sat at this desk and watched her come alive in a way I hadn’t seen in years.
I thought, finally… Finally, she’s met someone who makes her happy.
I was wrong. I was sooooo wrong, and now she’s paying for it. ”
“Carla. Listen to me. I am not done with this. I am going to keep digging. I am going to find who set her up, and I am going to get her out. That is exactly what I’m doing here today and what I’ll be doing tomorrow and every day after that, until she’s home.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t expect anything from you. I’m telling you what I’m going to do and why I’m here.”
“You’re full of it.” She shakes her head. “You have a hell of a nerve showing your face in this building. After what you did. After what you put her through.”
“I need a printout of—”
“No!”
“I’m trying to help her, dammit! I need a printout of uniform and shoe sizes for all of the staff who have access to the high-end equipment storage room. Once you give it to me, I’ll leave.” I keep my voice even.
“What, so that you can use it to bury her even further?” Her eyes are shimmering with tears.
“No, I swear it. I’m trying to get her out.”
“Fine,” she growls, going back behind her desk and sitting. She types, and a minute later the printer fires up. “Here.” She drops them on the desk in front of me. “Now go away. For the record, I don’t believe a word you are saying. You’re an asshole!”
I give her one short nod and walk past the desk and out through the front doors.
The parking lot is half-full. The sun is starting to slip, and the asphalt is hot under my feet. My SUV is in the third row.
As I go over there, I hear a slapping noise. Someone curses.
I round the corner, and Dr. Patel is looking down at a stack of files on the floor. He clearly dropped them because loose pages are skidding across the parking lot in the small breeze. The male crouches to grab them, his back to me.
I lengthen my stride. “Got it. Hang on, Doctor.”
His head whips up, and there’s a second where his face does something before he gets it under control. He scrambles to his feet, holding the bulk of the stack against his chest. He’s changed out of his scrubs and is wearing a suit without the tie.
“It’s fine, Commander. I have it. Don’t worry. Please.” His voice is thinner than it was in our interview earlier. “It’s fine. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m a little out of sorts with what’s happened to Robyn.”
“No problem.” I’m already crouching. “Let me grab those before they blow away.”
There are three or four sheets a couple of paces away. I scoop them up. He’s standing over me, still clutching his pile.
I reach for the last sheet, which has skidded under the lip of a wheel. As I straighten, my eyes catch on his feet.
He’s in a pair of soft, dark leather loafers. They’re polished, with thin stitching along the side. There’s a brand stamp on the inside of the heel, half-hidden where the leather creases at his ankle.
Raffinato.
Holy fucking shit.
It’s the shoes. It’s them.
Fuck!
My heart goes still in my chest. I stand up slowly and hold out the loose papers to him.
“Nice shoes,” I tell him. “I don’t see those around here very often.”
He glances down and gives a small smile.
“Oh, yes. They were a gift from my wife.” He takes the papers from me. “She gave them to me last Christmas.”
“Did she get them around here? I’d love a pair.”
“No, no.” He shakes his head. “They’re from the Mainland. From some shop in New York that imports them.”
“That so?” I keep my voice level.
“She has good taste.” He tries a small laugh. “I’m on my way home now, so…”
“I take it that your patient is stable?”
“Yes, yes. Dr. Jenkins has everything under control.”
I take a breath. Then I do it.
“Did you plant the burner phone in the storage area, Dr. Patel?”
His head snaps up. “I’m sorry?”
“The cell phone. Did you plant it?”
“What on earth are you talking about?” His face has gone a shade paler. His voice has gone up. “Commander, I beg your pardon. What kind of question is that?”
“A serious one. I would like you to answer, please.”
“That is insane.” He’s clutching the stack of files harder. “We just had our interview. I already gave you my answer, and it hasn’t changed. Of course I did not. Why would you even ask me such a thing?”
“Someone tried to break into her apartment a few nights ago. It was around two-thirty on Thursday morning.”
“I told you I was at home in bed with my wife.”
“They left a print in the flowerbed by the emergency stairs. The print was made by an Italian loafer. The exact brand you have on your feet right now. A brand that is not sold anywhere on this island. There would not be many men on Draig with a pair of these.”
There is a size discrepancy. I look at the printout that Carla gave me, and his size is listed as an eight. Patel said he was a size eight but the shoe print found outside Robyn’s apartment was a nine.
Fuck!
It can’t be.
This can’t be a coincidence. It can’t!
“This is plain crazy.” His voice has gone thin. “I would never do anything like that. The very suggestion is disgusting.”
“I am going through every second of the camera footage from her building and the surrounding area.” I keep my voice level. “Inside the lobby, the streets around it, the corner cameras. If there is anything to find, I am going to find it. It would be better for you to tell me now.”
It’s a bluff. I doubt I would find anything. I’ve searched for Patel’s vehicle and come up with nothing.
“There is nothing to tell.” He’s almost spitting it. “You have nothing, and you are trying to put this on me because I happen to own a pair of imported shoes. I will not have my reputation dragged through the mud because you can’t do your actual job.”
He turns toward his car and fumbles for his keys.
“Dr. Patel.”
He whirls around. His face is a different color now, blotchy at the cheekbones.
“If you come anywhere near me with this kind of accusation again, I will have my attorney on the phone before you finish the sentence. I will sue you personally. I will sue the Council and Security Central. I will not have my name attached to this. Are we clear?”
“I want to help you.”
“Liar!”
He drags the door open, throws the files onto the passenger seat, and gets in. The door slams. The engine turns over. He reverses out of the spot too fast. The tires give a small chirp as he straightens, and then he’s gone, out of the lot and onto the main road.
The male was flustered when he walked into the interview. I chalked it up to being wired after dealing with such a difficult case. Perhaps I was wrong. Then he dropped those files.
I think he might be afraid.
I need to figure this out. I need to work the case step by step. Robyn’s life depends on it.