Shadow of Perception (34 page)

She shook her head as she followed David into the newsroom. “Give it to Ryan. He’s replacing me. If he’s going to build a fan base in Chicago, he needs the air time.”

“Ryan’s on assignment. Rodger wants someone on the scene ASAP.”

 
“Didn’t Les fill in last night with the Dr. Dread report? Have him do it.”

David rubbed his jaw with his knuckles. “I’m assumin’ you didn’t see Les’s report, otherwise you wouldn’t have suggested him.”

“That bad?” she asked, then looked around the newsroom for someone else who could handle the assignment.

“Rodger swore that if he didn’t have anyone else next time, he’d send Pete.”

“The meteorologist? Damn, must’ve been
very
bad.”

“Speak of the devil,” David said as Rodger approached them.

“Eden, I’m glad to see you,” Rodger said.

The man hadn’t spoken to her since Monday, the night she’d had the on-air tiff with Kyle, yet now he was glad to see her. Prick. Like Kyle, he’d been pissed off about her promotion to Network. While Rodger’s reasons had been different—he’d been forced to replace one of his star reporters—he hadn’t made the transition any easier for her. Avoiding her calls, cancelling meetings, blowing off any input she’d had on her replacement. None of this mattered anymore. She’d had a nice run with WBDJ, but it was time to move on to better things.

“Nice to see you too,” Eden said, then grabbed Hudson’s arm and began walking out of the room.

“Hold up,” Rodger called. “I need someone to head to West Adams and South Jefferson. It’s a parking garage not too far from the Chicago Union Station. It’s also the last place anyone has seen Dr. Leonard Tully.”

“Tully?” she echoed, and tightened her grip on Hudson’s arm. Her stomach somersaulted with a mixture of hope and dread.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who the guy is,” Rodger said with exasperation.

“Of course I do.” Her mind raced to come up with everything she’d ever heard about Tully. “What happened to him?”

“Missing. Police suspect he was kidnapped from the parking garage. Apparently he’d driven into the garage but never came out, not even to go to the clinic next door. His wife was supposed to go out of town last night, but her trip had been cancelled. When Tully didn’t show up at their house, and she’d found out he’d never made it into the clinic, she called the police. We’re trying to get a copy of the parking garage surveillance tape, but aren’t having any luck. Maybe you can sweet talk the garage owners into giving you a copy.” He nodded to David. “Ito will take you. Keep in mind, Tully is best buds with one of the station owners.”

Eden wanted to drag Hudson out of the station and run to the car. There was no way in hell she could waste time reporting this story. Not when they’d just been handed the identity of the third victim.

“Look, Rodger,” she began. “I—”
 

“Rodger,” Tabitha Wilkens called as she rushed into the room. “I heard you need someone to report the Tully kidnapping.”

Rodger glanced over Tabitha’s head and looked at Eden. He nodded, and said, “I did, but Eden volunteered.”
 

“No, I didn’t. Quite frankly, I don’t have the time. Let Tabitha go.”

Tabitha turned to face her. The shock and appreciation in the other woman’s eyes gave Eden the warm fuzzies. While she and Tabitha hadn’t always had the best relationship, the young reporter deserved a chance. There had been a time, early in her career, when a senior reporter had given Eden a shot at a story. That story had been the start of her successful career. Eden didn’t know Tabitha too well, but she had glimpsed the fire and hunger in the other woman’s eyes and believed Tabitha would, like her, find success as a reporter.

“Yes,” Tabitha said, then turned to Rodger. “Let me go.”

Rodger ran a hand over his balding head, then blew out a sigh of resignation. “Fine. Don’t screw up,” he said, then walked away.

Tabitha didn’t thank or acknowledge her as she followed after David and Rodger. Eden didn’t care. She had more important things to deal with right now.
   

 
Holding onto Hudson’s arm, she directed him out of the newsroom.
 

“Are we running from something?” he asked as she led him from the building and into the parking lot.

 
When they reached the Trans Am, she climbed into the car and closed the door. After he did the same, he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Dr. Leonard Tully.”

“Yeah, I heard what the bald guy said about him.”

“But you’ve never heard of him?” she asked as she used her smart phone to pull up a picture of Tully. He’d recently donated time and money to a new clinic in Chicago, helping people who didn’t have insurance with reconstructive plastic surgery. She’d sworn there had been an article about him in the
Chicago Tribune
. “Wait, got it.”

After starting the car, he took the phone from her. When he glanced at the screen, he quickly snapped his gaze to hers. “Holy shit. This could be our guy.”

“His physique definitely matches the third victim. We need to call Rachel. Tully could be our link to Elliot. I’m still not sure where the dentist fits in, but Tully definitely does. He’s a plastic surgeon. Wanna take a guess at what he specializes in?”

He handed her the phone. “Liposuction.”

“You got it,” she said, then gripped the door handle as Hudson hit the gas and raced out of the parking lot. “Slow down, Speed Racer.”

“Sorry,” he said, and eased off the accelerator. “Would you grab my phone from my jacket pocket and call Rachel?”

She reached into his front pocket and quickly found the phone. If she hadn’t been so eager to discover whether or not Tully had, at some point, worked with Elliot, she would have liked to have taken her time frisking Hudson. Scars and all, she loved his body, and would never grow tired of touching him.

Minutes later, Rachel was on the other end of the line, pulling up information on Tully and his work history. She crunched on a pencil as she searched. Although irritating to listen to, Eden didn’t care if the woman chomped on a broomstick. Miss Smarty Pants had proven her skills time and again, and Eden had faith that she’d help them bring this case to a swift end.

“Got it,” Rachel said.

Eden pressed the speaker phone button. “I’ve got you on speaker so Hudson can hear. What’d you find?”

“Tully worked with Elliot at Cosmetic Solutions and Med Spa during the three years it was open.”

“How many other doctors worked at this place?” Hudson asked.

“One. Dr. Victor Roth,” she said, then blew out a breath. “This is going to be bad if we don’t get to him before the killer.”

A chill swept over Eden. “What was Dr. Roth’s specialty?”

“Rhinoplasty.”

*

Michael Morrison parked the van in front of Dr. Victor Roth’s brownstone, and killed the ignition. He hadn’t planned on taking Roth today, but he also hadn’t planned on the sheriff and his posse of coyote hunters’ eagerness to tromp around on his land. Moving Roth’s surgery up a day actually worked out quite well. While he’d been confident that he could complete his death wish list by Eliza’s birthday, he’d been cutting it close. Now, though, he’d have an extra day. A little wiggle room, just in case things didn’t go to plan.

Originally, Michael had intended to take Roth when he went for his usual morning run. Unlike Tully, Roth maintained a fit physique. Like Tully, Roth also had extramarital affairs. Only he didn’t go for Latin men. On numerous occasions, Michael had followed him to an upscale gentlemen’s club where Roth had enjoyed the company of many young women. He’d often take them to the adjacent hotel. Sometimes there’d be one girl, other times, two. Roth obviously didn’t respect his wife of two years, or his young stepchildren.
 
In his opinion, Mrs. Roth was better off without her doctor husband.
 

Cheaters were assholes who broke vows of trust and monogamy without a thought for their partner. Never, while Michael had been married, had he cheated on his wife. Even when their marriage had begun to crumble, he hadn’t wandered into another woman’s bed. Although his wife had become a raving bitch, he’d been raised to value commitment and keep promises.
 

Make them pay, Daddy.

Eliza’s last plea filtered through his thoughts as he glared at Roth’s brownstone. Michael definitely knew how to honor a commitment, the corpses in his field proof, and as the door to the brownstone opened, he silently promised his daughter that Roth would pay.
 

Roth wasn’t alone. His pretty wife, and her equally pretty daughters, exited the home. While the young girls raced down the steps laughing and squealing, Mrs. Roth kissed her husband on the lips. She then turned, called to the girls, then ushered them into the Lexus parked along the street. Once she drove off, Roth closed the door.

Michael’s stomach tightened with anticipation and anxiety. He’d kidnapped Tully during the day, but in a quiet parking garage that he’d studied and inspected months prior. While familiar with the general layout of Roth’s home, he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about breaking into the man’s house. With the exception of Dr. Roth, he didn’t plan on stealing anything. Still, he’d rather Roth’s wife and stepchildren not endure the fear and violation that often followed a break-in, which meant he’d have to make sure he was careful. The house would have to look as he’d found it. Mrs. Roth couldn’t suspect that her husband had been kidnapped, at least not until Michael had finished his surgery and given Eden the final DVD.

He’d worked hard to make the doctors from Cosmetic Solution and Med Spa pay for their crimes against his daughter. The prize, the gift he’d promised Eliza, was only one surgery away from completion. No slip-ups, no screw-ups, no last minute jitters.
 

His confidence bolstered, Michael started the van, then shifted gears. He maneuvered until he backed the van into Roth’s narrow driveway. When the driver’s side back door was parallel to the house’s back stoop, he killed the ignition.
 

Heart beating hard, adrenaline racing through his veins, Michael climbed out of the van and closed the door. He surveyed the small backyard, and both of Roth’s neighbors’ six foot privacy fences. Listening for a moment, he heard nothing but the bitter wind whistling through the naked trees.
 

Pulling his cap low, he walked up the few steps leading to Roth’s back stoop, then knocked on the door. He counted to thirty, then knocked again. Harder. Louder.

“Coming,” Roth said as he unlocked the door. “Can I help you?”

“Dr. Roth?”

“That’s right,” Roth said as he eyed the van.

“I’m from Morrison Heating and Cooling. Your wife called about tuning up your furnace.”

Roth furrowed his forehead. “She must have forgotten to tell me.” He blew out an impatient breath, then muttered, “Stupid ditz.”

Michael looked away as if he hadn’t heard the man, his hatred for Roth intensifying. Roth had no respect for women. Not Eliza, not the pretty Mrs. Roth, not the women he used from the gentlemen’s club.
 

“You want to reschedule?” Michael asked, knowing there would be no change in plans. He did want to sound accommodating, though, to keep Roth at ease and without suspicion.

“No. It’s fine. Are you going to be long?”

“About an hour.”

“An hour?” Roth echoed with melodramatic outrage. “I have somewhere to be later, can’t you do whatever it is you need to do any faster?”

Michael shrugged. “You willing to help me haul the tools out of my van?”

With an exaggerated eye roll, Roth nodded. “If it’ll help,” he said, and without a coat or shoes, he jogged down the steps to the van. “I don’t know why she couldn’t have had you come out during the week. I swear the woman doesn’t have a brain sometimes.”

Michael pulled the syringe from his coat pocket, and hiding it in his palm, used his other hand to slide open the door. He climbed inside and pretended to struggle. “Damn it,” he shouted.
 

“What’s the problem?” Roth asked. “It’s freezing out here, give me what you need me to carry inside and let’s get the ball rolling. I can’t stand it when people waste my time.”

“Sorry, sir. The one tool box I need is wedged between the seats. If you could climb inside and pull from your end…” Keeping the syringe out of sight, Michael continued the pretense of struggling. Once Roth entered the van, he’d make his move, then leave.

Roth crouched inside the van. While not a large man like Tully, he crowded the small space. Michael reconsidered the syringe. For him to stab the tip into Roth’s neck, he’d need more room to move. Now he wished he’d removed the seats from the van.
 

Too late now, time to improvise.

“I don’t know what the hell kind of operation your company runs,” Roth began as he looked around the van. “But if this is any indication, be prepared for me to file a complaint with your superiors. Now what in the hell can’t you seem to remove from this piece of shit van of yours?”

Michael slipped the syringe into his pocket, then reached under the back passenger seat. He grasped the bat he’d used to subdue Tully, then pointed to the small tool box. “That box,” he said.