Dying to Tell (15 page)

A chuckle caught in his throat. Of course,
he
had helped that along. And he’d considered drugging Sanderson. But he’d decided to make this one look like a random robbery in case police suspected a connection between Sanderson’s death and Coker’s illness...

Sanderson raked a hand through his thinning white hair. “You have to stop this. No one else needs to get hurt.”

His body tightened, coiled like a viper ready to strike. “I agree.”

One lunge, and he sliced the man’s throat. Sanderson yelped, his eyes widening in shock as blood spurted down his neck.

Then the doctor’s body jerked, and he collapsed face-first on his desk.

Relief spilled through him. One more problem taken care of.

He quickly tossed the office, took the man’s wallet and Rolex, then cracked open his safe and grabbed his cash. Sanderson’s iPad, smartphone, and computer went into his bag as well. All to make the scene appear to be a home invasion/robbery.

Now he just had to search the cabin and get rid of any incriminating evidence Sanderson had left behind.

Q
uestions filled Jake’s head as he studied the results of the ME’s report. “I still don’t understand why doctors would perform a lobotomy on Grace Granger if the practice had been banned.”

An eagerness lit the ME’s eyes. “In the first half of the twentieth century, the lobotomy, also known as a leucotomy, was used to treat serious mental disorders. António Egas Moniz was actually awarded half of the Nobel Prize for Physiology in 1949 for his discovery of the therapeutic value of leucotomy in certain psychoses. It was used in the forties and fifties, but its use was reduced once the antipsychotic drug chlorpromazine was introduced in 1954.”

Jake frowned. “How old was Grace when she died?”

“Thirty.”

“How long had she been at the sanitarium?”

The ME consulted the file. “She started treatment when she was five years old. But she wasn’t hospitalized then. According to her medical records, she received outpatient therapy and was diagnosed with schizophrenia as a teenager.”

“How long was she hospitalized?” Jake asked.

“The first time at thirteen, she stayed about six months. She went home for a while, but had to be admitted again when she was eighteen. That time she stayed another few months. At twenty-one, she started having bizarre mood swings. The doctor diagnosed her as bipolar. According to her mother, she cut up the bedsheets. Another time she took her car and crashed it. Then last year, she completely broke down.”

“What do you mean?” Jake asked.

“She became violent toward her mother.” Dr. Bullock said. “She attacked her with a butcher knife. That’s when her mother decided to commit her.”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Did her mother ever report that she’d used recreational drugs?”

“No. Because of her problems, her mother monitored her very closely. But tissue damage does indicate she suffered from long-term drug use.”

“What kind of drugs?”

“Psychotropic drugs.”

“What about the head injury? Were there any signs that her fall wasn’t accidental?”

Bullock pinched the bridge of his nose. “Actually, judging from the X-ray, it appears that she was struck over the head with a blunt object. That blow disoriented her and caused bleeding to the brain, which in turn caused her to fall.”

Jake contemplated the ramifications of Bullock’s statements. Grace had been intentionally hit her over the head; then she was found by a temporary employee with a fake identity who had disappeared the night of the fall.

Jesus. Had Grace been murdered?

Sadie’s cell phone buzzed from her purse as she walked Ms. Lettie to the door. “Please go home and rest,” she said. “I appreciate you
staying with Amelia last night, but I need some time with her now.” A pang of sadness squeezed her chest as she glanced back at her sister. “I think we both need it.”

Ms. Lettie gave her a hug. “I understand, sugar. But remember, the doctors will take good care of her.”

Would they?

Sadie hated to doubt them, but she couldn’t help it.

Still, she said nothing as Ms. Lettie left. Instead, she checked her phone log as she settled into the chair beside her sister.

Jake had called, so she listened to his message. “Sadie, call me. It’s about Grace Granger. We need to talk.”

She pressed redial and waited while the phone rang. “Jake?”

“I just talked to the ME about Grace Granger’s autopsy.”

Amelia began to stir and tug at her bindings. “What did he find?” Sadie asked.

“Some disturbing stuff. She definitely underwent radical treatment.”

“What kind of radical treatment?”

“There was evidence of severe shock treatments on Grace’s brain. And she received a lobotomy.”

The air in the room thickened as nausea climbed to her stomach. “My God, Jake.” Sadie took a deep breath, her mind racing. “Lobotomies were performed in the forties and fifties, but they were shown to have serious side effects. Why would they do one on Grace?”

“Good question,” Jake said. “There’s more, too. Her fall wasn’t accidental. She sustained a sharp blow to the head with a blunt object. That blow caused her fall, along with bleeding to the brain.”

“Which is what killed her?” Sadie asked.

“Yes. I tried to find the orderly who discovered her lying at the foot of the stairs after the fall, but he left Slaughter Creek.”

“What do you mean?”

“He worked for a temp agency, paid cash for a rental unit, then moved out the night Grace fell.”

“That doesn’t sound right, Jake.”

“I know. I ran a search on his name, but it looks as if the man used a stolen identity and false credentials to land his job at the hospital.”

Sadie tried to assimilate the information. “So you’re saying Grace was murdered?”

A tense heartbeat passed. “It appears that way.”

Tears blurred Sadie’s eyes, and she placed her hand on top of Amelia’s. Amelia’s fingers felt cold and clammy, and her skin was so pale her veins were clearly visible beneath the surface.

“I’m going to question Dr. Tynsdale,” Jake said.

“And I’ll talk to Amelia,” Sadie whispered.

And this time she’d listen to whatever her sister said.

Jake didn’t like the way this was looking. First Walt Nettleton had been murdered by his granddaughter, who had been a patient at Slaughter Creek Sanitarium.

And now another patient had been murdered inside those same hospital walls.

His gut tightened as a nagging thought hit him. Hell, his father had been the administrator there ten years ago, and he had disappeared.

No...it couldn’t be related, could it?

He phoned Dr. Tynsdale. The phone rang three times before the doctor answered it. “I need to talk to you, Doc.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s about Grace Granger. Can you meet me at the sheriff’s office in half an hour?”

“Sure.”

Jake drove to his office, wondering what in the hell was going on. He’d moved Ayla to Slaughter Creek to raise her in a
safe place, and now there had been two murders in a matter of days.

His deputy was gone, so he grabbed the file on his father’s case and studied it while he waited on the doctor to arrive.

Just as Sheriff Bayler had told Jake the first time he asked after he moved back, Bayler had investigated his father’s disappearance. He had questioned neighbors, the staff at the sanitarium, and family members.

Both Jake and Nick.

According to Bayler’s notes, his brother had been cold and uncooperative. But Bayler had chalked his behavior up to the fact that he was a scared teenager.

Jake pulled a hand down his chin, a memory surfacing. Nick and his father going off for one of his father’s campout/survival exercises. Nick shouting at his father when they’d returned.

Jake had tried to ask his brother about it, but Nick refused to talk.

The door opened, and Jake looked up to see Dr. Tynsdale enter. He stood and greeted him, then offered him a cup of coffee, but Tynsdale declined.

“What’s going on, Sheriff?” the doctor asked.

Jake explained about Grace’s autopsy. “She had a lobotomy, Doctor. Did you know anything about that?”

“Yes, I was aware of it, but I didn’t perform it,” Dr. Tynsdale said. “I only took over Grace’s care about four years ago, when her original doctor retired.”

“What was his name?”

“A psychiatrist named Dr. Sanderson. I think he still lives outside Slaughter Creek.”

“But you induced the coma after Grace’s fall?”

Dr. Tynsdale nodded. “The CAT scan showed severe swelling of the brain. I thought it was the only way to save her. Even then, we couldn’t be sure there wouldn’t be brain damage.”

“Were you at the hospital when she fell?” Jake asked.

“No, but I was told that one of the patient care workers found her lying at the bottom of a stairwell, unconscious. Given the fact that she was prone to outbursts, they said she must have tried to escape and fallen.”

“She didn’t just fall,” Jake said. “The ME said that she suffered a blow to the head before she fell.”

Dr. Tynsdale’s eyes widened. “You’re saying someone caused that fall?”

Jake nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Sadie was still stewing over her phone conversation when Brenda Banks poked her head into the hospital room. Anger surged through Sadie, and she stood and pushed Brenda back into the hallway. “What are you doing here? Trying to get some smutty photo of my sister to humiliate us?”

Brenda’s face blanched. “Listen to me, Sadie. I know I wasn’t your friend ten years ago, but I’m not that same girl. I’ve seen all you’ve done as a children’s advocate, and I admire you for that.”

Sadie didn’t know what to say.

But she didn’t have to speak. Brenda seemed intent on doing the talking. “I really want to help you now.”

“Help me?” Sadie whispered. “All you want is a story.”

“It’s true that I want a story,” Brenda said, straightening her suit jacket. “I’m tired of writing about the dog and pony shows in town. And I think I’m on to something now.”

Sadie scrubbed a hand through her hair. “What are you talking about?”

Brenda pulled her into a corner, then glanced around to make sure no one was watching. “I have a source, someone inside this hospital who contacted me and told me some things. So I’ve been investigating on my own. When I heard that Grace Granger died, I knew I had to talk to you.”