Mercy (40 page)

Julie’s heart ached for him. Seeing him here, dressed in prison orange, fueled her resolve to get him out. As Jordan had predicted, the presiding judge denied bail at Jordan’s arraignment. They had led Jordan out of the courtroom in handcuffs with his mother and sisters crying, and Julie looking on dolefully.

Julie had not yet been linked to the murdered security guard. She planned to keep it that way until the time was right for her to come forward.

Jordan had been confined to a cell for two days, but reassured Julie he was doing just fine. The guards were treating him well. He was familiar with the routine and joked about how it was like riding a bicycle.

“Word I heard is the guy who tried to kill us was an ex-cop turned PI named Lincoln Cole,” Jordan said.

“I heard the same on the news,” Julie said.

“What you didn’t hear is that Dominick ID’d Cole as the guy who paid him to scare you.”

“Scare me? We both know that wasn’t the plan.”

“He still isn’t owning up to what he was really going to do.”

“You believe him about Cole?”

“Sure as heck, yes I do.”

Julie concurred.

“Who hired Cole to be a guard?” Jordan asked.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Julie said. “I’m waiting for a call from Allyson. When I get it, I’m going to see Detectives Spence and Capshaw. Then I’m taking down whoever murdered Sam. That’s a promise.”

Jordan gave Julie a sideways glance. “You know who it is, don’t you?”

“Let’s just say I have my strong suspicions.”

“How did they do it? The Kounis syndrome, how was it induced?”

Julie knew this conversation was being recorded. If her visits to Brandon Stahl had taught her anything, it was that the less she said the better.

“Let’s just say you’re not going to be in here for long,” Julie answered.

A guard whistled. It was her time to go. On the way out, Julie stopped to retrieve her personal items from the locker. She saw a missed call followed by a text from Allyson. This was a new phone, but Julie had Trevor look it over to be safe.

Her son had lived up to Jordan’s expectations. With help from Google, he had found a program called TrueSpy installed on her previous phone and learned about what it could do. Julie told Trevor it was a practical joke, and never to do such a thing to somebody else. It was unclear if he believed her.

She read Allyson’s text.

Julie had thought she knew who got Cole that security job.

And she was right.

CHAPTER 50

Detectives Spence and Capshaw kept their brows furrowed throughout most of Julie’s story, but she believed they would come around to her side eventually. They were crammed into an interview room with one-way glass and not enough heat. For this meeting, Julie had chosen a business suit from Lord & Taylor and the detectives both wore jackets and ties, making this a nicely dressed ensemble to discuss the dirty business of murder.

The conversation was being recorded, as the detectives made abundantly clear on several occasions. Also made clear was Julie’s right to have an attorney present. However, she came alone, against Paul’s wishes and those of Lucy, who had wanted to attend. A lawyer would get in the way, and Julie worried Lucy might confound the detectives with her science. She had one chance at this pitch, and it had to be a strike.

The detectives were cordial, much more so than when they came to chat about Shirley Mitchell. This time Julie had come to them, so perhaps they saw no need to apply pressure. They wanted answers as much as anyone. Julie had just finished giving them part of the story, including her involvement with Lincoln Cole’s death.

Spence said, “We could charge you for that, you know? Probably a number of other felonies in addition to murder.”

Capshaw agreed. “Like crimes against the dead.”

“What I did was get a tissue sample proving a murder took place. I think the district attorney will go easy on me.”

“Maybe,” Spence said.

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take, but I like my odds. And as for Lincoln Cole, Jordan killed a man who had come there to kill us, who attacked us first. Cole had two extra guns on him. Let me ask you, who did those guns belong to?”

Spence and Capshaw exchanged glances, then shrugged.

“We don’t know. Someone filed off the serial numbers,” Capshaw said. “Did a good job of it, too. Makes it real hard for forensics. We’re still looking into ownership.”

“Check your records. I don’t own a gun, and I certainly don’t know how to buy one with an expertly filed-off number, or file it off myself.”

“Yeah, well, maybe your pal from Dorchester knows his way around town, if you know what I’m saying.”

Julie flashed Spence a hard look. “You don’t really believe that, do you? The only scenario that’s going to add up and make all the pieces fit together is the one I’m telling you.”

“You should have come forward when Jordan did.” Capshaw’s tone was only slightly admonishing.

“If I had, then I wouldn’t have been able to get the sample tested.”

Julie showed the detectives the lab results Lucy wrote up for their benefit.

“At first I thought it might have been an unknown drug reaction killing the patients, my fiancé included,” Julie said. “Something a drug manufacturer would be willing to bribe, cheat, and kill to keep secret. But I was wrong.”

Spence looked confused. “It’s not a drug reaction?”

“No, it is,” Julie said.

“Oh, I got it,” Spence said. “Wait, I don’t got it. Do you confuse your patients like this?”

“What I mean to say,” Julie continued, “is that it’s not an accidental drug reaction. Someone is making the targeted victims alpha-gal allergic.”

“You told us about that. Alpha-gal is a—a—” Capshaw fumbled for the right words.

“It’s a carbohydrate that’s not found in humans or primates, but it is found in the meat of other mammals,” Julie said. “People who are allergic to the alpha-gal sugar in mammal meat will experience delayed anaphylaxis. The shock can be anywhere from four to eight hours following ingestion of meat, including beef and pork.”

“This isn’t some condition PETA invented, right?”

“No, Detective Spence, I assure you it’s quite real. Researchers think there’s something in the saliva of the lone star tick that makes people allergic to the alpha-gal in mammal meat.”

“So we’re fine so long as we stick to cannibalism.” Detective Capshaw smirked.

“In a way you’re right. I think the killer tested potential victims for alpha-gal sensitivity by feeding them meat. If they broke out in hives, they were essentially marked for death. Someone with access to the medical records system at White deleted the hives incident from the patient’s EMR, which was a smart move.”

Spence leaned forward in his chair. “Why smart?”

“We inventory the EMR system from time to time for health trends. Someone might have been curious about why White Memorial had a statistically significant outbreak of urticaria.”

Capshaw turned to Spence. “That’s doc jargon for hives,” he said. Then to Julie, “I had ’em once. Awful. Just awful.”

“How did these guys get tick bites?” Spence asked. “The vics were pretty limited, your fiancé included. I don’t think they were doing much hiking.”

Julie had been wondering the same thing for days.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just know these victims were somehow made alpha-gal sensitive, and then they were killed.”

“Killed by using—” Spence glanced at his notes. “Cetuximab.”

“That’s right,” Julie said.

“But not heparin.” Capshaw sounded dubious, though seemed pleased he had remembered the drug name.

“Shirley wasn’t killed in the same way as the others. Her death was much more obvious, intentionally so, as a setup to get me out of White.”

“Why?”

“Because I was too close to the truth.”

Spence and Capshaw seemed willing to accept this just to move forward.

“So, speaking of obvious, with—cetuximab, wouldn’t that be picked up in an autopsy?” Capshaw was looking at his knuckles when he asked the question.

“No. As Detective Spence so aptly put it, most of the victims were very sick and would not have been autopsied. Even if they were, like Sam was, there’d be no trace of the drug unless we specifically looked for it in a forensic toxicology screen, which is far more comprehensive than what might be ordered for, say, an overdose in the ER. We wouldn’t do a screen like that unless we had a good reason.”

“Like a court order to exhume a body.”

Julie had already given the detectives her theory on William Colchester’s involvement.

“Precisely. There was a chance that a full forensic toxicology screen might have yielded traces of cetuximab in the tissue, especially given the quantity we found in Albert Cunningham’s body. I think someone was worried what a full tox screen on Donald Colchester would reveal. Ask me, I’d say someone preyed on William Colchester’s fears, told him exhuming the body would get Brandon’s charges dropped. I’m sure he wasn’t told why, but like you said, docs can be confusing. Wouldn’t be hard to convince him of some falsehood.”

“You’re saying Colchester didn’t know about the cetuximab?”

“In my opinion, no,” Julie said. “William Colchester had one goal and one goal only: convict Brandon Stahl for the murder of his son. He bribed Sherri to get her testimony, and then offered another bribe to the judge so he’d deny the request to exhume his son’s body. I’m figuring Colchester’s the one who planted the morphine in Brandon’s apartment. That’s what I believe.”

Spence said, “And you think William Colchester killed Sherri and blamed it on a Brandon Stahl supporter because she was going to confess to the bribe?”

“Yes.”

“So this cetuximab stuff is really what killed his son, Donald, by causing that weird heart thing?” Capshaw looked proud of himself for following, and even better, contributing to the conversation.

Julie nodded. “Yes, what we thought was a condition called takotsubo cardiomyopathy was all along Kounis syndrome, an allergic cardiac event triggered by a massive overdose of cetuximab in a person who was alpha-gal allergic.”

“Alpha-gal allergic because of a mysterious tick bite.”

“Or not a tick bite,” Julie clarified. “Like I said, I don’t know how the victims got the allergy. But I do know anyone who had the sensitivity and was later infused with a high dose of cetuximab would suffer a massive and fatal coronary that would look exactly like takotsubo to any pathologist. Wouldn’t matter if the person’s heart was sick or healthy, it was going to develop a ballooned left ventricle before it stopped beating.”

Capshaw said, “And so your big plan is to get this guy to confess.”

“That’s right.”

“Why would he?” Spence sounded dubious.

“This individual tried to have me killed, Detectives. We know that’s true, or you would have me in handcuffs right now. I’ll show him the evidence from Albert Cunningham’s tissue sample. Then I’ll tell him I’ll bury it, in exchange for him guaranteeing my safety and the safety of my son. Something happens to either of us and my lawyer brings the evidence to you. I think he’ll believe me. I’m counting on it.”

Capshaw said, “Why is your suspect even doing this? What’s the motive?”

“Think about the victims. They were all very ill, severely incapacitated, or at the end of their lives,” Julie said. “I think the killer was taking a patient’s right to choose death and removing the patient from the equation.”

“Angel of Mercy kind of thing, is that it?”

“Yes, he’s picking the victims for that reason. That’s my belief.”

Actually, it was one possible theory—enough to convince the detectives to help, Julie hoped—but she had another theory, one she kept to herself. Lucy had coached her to think of this conversation like a chess match: “Always stay three moves ahead,” she’d said. So far, Julie had played it well.

“Since you and he share some of the same beliefs on death with dignity, he might just believe your offer to keep tight-lipped about it,” Capshaw said, thinking aloud.

“This all sounds very dramatic,” Spence said, “but in real life people can get really hurt.”

“And in real life people are being murdered at my hospital. I need to do something to stop it.”

“You’re sure of this guy?” Capshaw did not look convinced.

“Absolutely,” Julie said.

Spence and Capshaw exchanged glances, and some sort of understanding passed between them. It made Julie think of Jordan and the night they became partners at his apartment.

“If we get a green light—not saying we will, but if we do—you’d have to wear a wire,” Spence said.

Julie shook her head. “No. No. I can’t do that. I know him. He’ll suspect me going in. I’ll be searched, and then we won’t get anything.”

“We’ll be there. We’ll have your back.” Spence acted so sure of himself.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Then this conversation is over. You go home and we’ll talk about charges when we come to arrest you,” Spence said.

Julie hated being in this position, but she had put herself there. She knew going in they might demand she wear a wire, but what choice did she have? Jordan depended on her, Brandon too. And she faced jail or another attempt on her life if she did nothing. The only way to set things right, and bring the hammer down on those responsible, including William Colchester, was to get the police involved.

“Look, maybe you could try something else. Bug the office or something. There’s this technology called TrueSpy, my son found it on my phone. I think Lincoln Cole put it there. It secretly records phone conversations. Your team could use that, couldn’t they?”

The detectives’ expressionless gaze said no.

“I’ve done this rodeo plenty of times now,” Capshaw said. “Our tech guys have a way of doing things. We can’t just throw in something new, something we haven’t heard of or used before, and think it’s going to work. We have a process, and that’s the process we have to use. Now, I hear you, Julie. I get your concern, I really do, but these devices are so small nobody is going to notice them. I promise. You’ll be fine.”

Julie agonized. “May I make a phone call? I’d like to talk it over with my friend.”