“Boy, you just don’t realize how dreary a day is until you see something like that.” Jack McTavish’s chair squeaked as he let out a huff of approval. “Like an angel from heaven, I tell you. Brightens my day every time I lay eyes on her.”
“Who?” Cole busily arranged the additional files Mona had sent over, the techno-medical jargon boggling his brain. The buzz of activity from his fellow officers and detectives was the white noise he needed to focus. He’d compile a list of doctors and see what, if any, commonalities the victims’ blood had. Then, maybe, he’d bring Agent Simmons up to date. And throw him a bone by having him do a quick check on all those who’d commented on Eden’s blog.
When Jack let out a low whistle, Cole glanced up. Eden and Simone were headed his way, Simone in one of her attention-grabbing white outfits, wearing a tasteful thin gold chain and heels sharp enough to pierce a man’s heart. “Trust me, my friend. She’s way out of your league. Did you two decide to take me to lunch?” Cole’s teasing grin faltered when he noticed Simone’s pallor rivaled her clothes, and still she had more color in her cheeks than Eden.
“What’s wrong?” He looked down at the wicker basket of flowers Eden dropped on his desk. “What,” he finally asked, “are those?”
“Those are flowers, man. Get with it.” Jack joined them and reached for the card. “Secret admirer, Ms. Assistant DA?”
“I hope not,” Simone muttered.
“Leave it be, Jack.” Eden smacked his hand away. “It’s evidence.”
“Whoa, easy, Eden.”
“Evidence of what?” Cole asked. What was she up to now? “What do you want me to do, send them down to the lab for fingerprint and DNA analysis? What’s the deal, Simone?”
“Those were delivered to Simone’s office a little while ago.” Eden’s voice sounded overly controlled, as if she couldn’t trust herself to speak. “They’re violets, Cole.”
“Violets.” Silence rang in his ears. He scrubbed his fingers across his forehead as if he could scrub away the past.
“And before you ask,” Eden plowed on, “Kyla just texted us to let us know they didn’t come from the florist listed on the envelope.”
It took a long moment for the information to sink in. When it did, he looked at the basket, at the flowers. He shook his head, not wanting to think, not wanting to believe... “That could just be a—”
“Coincidence?” Eden interrupted. “We’ve been down that road and we aren’t buying it. Not when it’s almost twenty years to the day. And not when the card—on stationery that looks like the type Simone used as a kid—says ‘happy anniversary.’”
Eden crossed her arms over her chest, jaw set in that stubborn “no one is going to convince me I’m wrong” stance of hers. “It’s him.”
“Right now, it’s a basket of flowers,” Cole said even as a cold, sick feeling washed over him. He’d finally gotten through to her where the Iceman was concerned, or as much as he was going to. Adding this to the mix would only stir up an entirely new tempest. “And flowers don’t prove anything other than someone has either a sick sense of humor or a bad sense of direction.”
“We just told you they weren’t delivered by mistake. What are you going to do about it?” Eden demanded.
“Someone want to fill me in?” Jack shifted from one foot to the other, the pretense and humor fading from his face. “Who’s this Chloe you’re talking about?”
“Chloe Evans.” Cole kept his eyes on Eden as he answered his partner. “Nine-year-old girl found strangled in a field...”
“In a field of wild violets,” Eden finished in a voice so tight he thought she might shatter. “Nice summary of the crime, Cole. Simple and succinct.”
“Eden, don’t.” Simone placed that motherly hand of hers on Eden’s arm.
“Yeah, Eden, don’t.” Cole’s temper snapped. “You don’t get the monopoly on grief where Chloe’s concerned. She was my friend, too.” To prove it, he yanked open his bottom desk drawer and pulled out the dog-eared file to hand to Jack. “Feel free to catch up.” He rounded on Eden. “You really want to bring all this up again? With everything else going on? You’re going to use a basket of flowers and a pink note card to push that pain to the surface?”
“You have to ask?” Eden shot back with something akin to hurt in her eyes. “There’s no beneath the surface for us, Cole. The pain is always there. That man...that murderer, is why I do what I do. He made me.”
“Why would you give Chloe’s killer that much credit?” Cole demanded. “You made you and you did a good job of it, but just to remind you, we’re already buried in one of your cases. You’re good, Eden, but I don’t think even you can juggle two killers at the same time.”
“You asked me to stop going off on my own. You asked me to trust you,” Eden said, her expression full of confusion. “I could have gone to Tammy, asked her to do it or to put me in contact with someone else who could. But I didn’t. I came to you, Cole. I’m trying here, I really am. So are you going to help us or not?”
Wow—he’d lost this argument before it had even started.
“Simone?” Cole looked to his usual voice of reason. “Help me out. You want to dive into the deep end with her?”
“It’s the absolute last thing I want to do.” Simone fingered the tiny heart pendant she always wore. The pendant that once upon a time had belonged to Chloe. “But if we don’t, I’ll always wonder. If it’ll help, I can have an official request from the DA within the hour.”
He didn’t need any paperwork. He needed a level head. He was weak enough when it came to Eden. No way could he withstand both of them coming at him. “You’re that sure about this?”
“No, I’m not,” Simone said. “That’s the point.”
“We should call Allie.” Eden touched her hand to Simone’s shoulder.
“And tell her what, exactly?” Cole could feel exhaustion creeping over him. “You don’t know anything for certain at the moment except that your imagination is working overtime. The chance these flowers are connected to Chloe’s murder is remote at best. Don’t let your paranoia get ahead of you.”
“It’s not paranoia—it’s logic. It’s him, Cole.”
He should just start naming his headaches Eden. “Why do you always jump to the absolute worst conclusion possible?”
“Because in my experience it’s usually the right one.”
“Fine.” Cole snatched up the basket and headed toward the elevator. “It’s not like we have anything else going on around here.”
“I’m coming with you.” Eden raced up behind him.
“I’ll just stay here, then,” Simone called. Cole glanced over his shoulder as he pushed the elevator button. Jack pulled a chair over to his desk for Simone and said something to her, earning a thin smile. Good. Jack was good with people; he could always put them at ease. Simone looked as if she could use a distraction right about now.
“I didn’t mean to imply you don’t care about Chloe,” Eden said in that too-tight voice of hers.
“Could have fooled me.” The elevator doors opened and they got in. “You know as well as I do this is probably some crackpot who’s spent too much time reading your blog.”
“I don’t blog about Chloe. And who would have known about the stationery?”
Good to know there were some lines she didn’t cross. “Pink isn’t exactly a unique color, Eden. Maybe it’s someone who’s getting off taunting you and Simone about the anniversary. You’ve been in the headlines these last few days. Your past is bound to be mentioned, as is your friendship with Simone, and she’s certainly made her share of enemies. It isn’t out of the realm of possibility someone’s jabbing at her by using this case.”
She folded her arms across her chest and glared up at him. “Those flowers are from him. I know it.”
“And Eden St. Claire is never wrong, is she?”
“Not about this.” She jutted out her chin in that way that forced him to choose between arguing with her and kissing her. “Never about Chloe.”
“Why can’t you get panic attacks or a crisis of faith like normal people?” He stepped out of the elevator, Eden right on his heels. “This case, these cases, they’re going to be the end of you, Eden.” Why couldn’t she see how obsessed she’d become? How much damage this did? He turned to face her before he pleaded, “Why can’t you let it go?”
She didn’t waver, didn’t blink. If anything, her face turned to stone as her eyes hardened. “Are you going to reopen the case or not?”
“Reopen the—” Now he was the one who stared. “Eden, I can’t reopen a case because Simone got a basket of violets.” But he could inch closer to starting a new investigation if the lab found anything useful. Cole prided himself on knowing Eden better than she knew herself, but at this moment, she’d dropped a curtain around herself he couldn’t pull open. He couldn’t see, couldn’t identify, but he knew, without a doubt, something was twisting inside of her that even she couldn’t stop. “There’s more to this than you’re letting on. What aren’t you telling me?”
She pursed her lips, as if keeping the words locked inside her. He could almost hear the words, hear her begging him to let the subject drop.
“Eden—” He pushed a little harder but she backed up a step.
“Run the tests, Cole. Or don’t. I’ll see you back at the boat.”
He didn’t know what struck him harder. The defeat in her voice or watching her walk away.
* * *
“LT.” Cole knocked on the door frame of his boss’s office after the final shift change of the day. “You wanted to see me?”
“Come on in.” Santos waved him forward. “I swear if I’d known this much paperwork was involved with being head of a department, I’d have stayed in uniform. If Selena ever leaves me, she’ll be able to claim the department as a respondent in the divorce papers.” He slapped a file folder shut. His brows knit as Cole closed the door behind him. “How goes our vampire hunt?”
Cole smirked. “We’re making progress. I’ve made copies of all of Eden’s notes, and they’re ready to go up on our boards in the conference room. Eden’s working her way through the list of doctors Mona provided and I came across a number of support groups for patients with blood disorders.”
“Speaking of Eden.” Santos cleared his throat and leaned in. “Heard you had a bit of a row this afternoon.” The lieutenant looked wary. “Everything okay with you two?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” He settled into his seat. He knew he could trust his boss. “I can’t decide if I want to debate her or...” How had he let her get this far under his skin?
“The or might be a more productive use of your time.” Santos stretched and rolled his head against the back of his chair. “Test results came back, by the way,” he said before Cole could think of a diplomatic response. “The ones you had Tammy run on that basket of flowers. Want to fill me in?”
So much for keeping this quiet. “Depends. Did she find anything?”
“Enough to make me worry.” The lieutenant nudged a thin file toward him. “About you, anyway. We’re both aware of how the Chloe Evans case has affected you in the past. Now isn’t the time for you to go to the dark side, Cole.” Santos’s penetrating gaze was more effective than any lie detector on the market. “I need you on top of your game. You know that, which tells me you had a very good reason for requesting the tests. I also know how persuasive Eden can be. Especially when she wants something.”
“It wasn’t Eden,” Cole said, hearing the defensiveness in his own voice. “It wasn’t only Eden,” he added at Santos’s dismissive snort. “Simone did, too, and made it official. Yes, Eden was angry and forceful and demanding—”
“What else is new?”
“But Simone.” Cole shook his head. “I remember that look from when she was a kid, Lieutenant. She was lost. And scared. Simone does not scare easily. And she doesn’t cry wolf.”
“And you? What did you think when you saw those flowers?”
That he’d been hurtled into a past that continued to haunt all of them. “Truthfully? I wanted those tests to prove them wrong. Someone’s messing with them. Someone who knows their history.” A stalker, an obsessive, they could manage. A child killer?
As far as Cole was concerned, there wasn’t a more vile or evil creature roaming the earth.
“Well, whoever it is, they know the case,” Santos said. “Your hunch about the soil samples was dead-on. They’re a match to the field where Chloe was found.”
Whatever reassurance the lieutenant’s company had provided evaporated. Instead of rushing off, he pushed to his feet, walking the few steps to the window in an attempt to lose himself in the growing darkness of the city. “What now?”
“I’ve scheduled a meeting with Captain Montague in the morning.” Santos’s reference to his superior in the Office of Investigations offered both hope and dread for the coming weeks. “I’ll fill him in on what’s going on. Maybe give Simone a heads-up in case he wants to talk this over with her in her capacity as assistant DA before any decisions are made. But I want you to listen to me, Cole. However this shakes out, whatever happens down the road, I will back you up. I understand how you feel.”
Cole clenched his jaw. Impossible. His lieutenant hadn’t helped Chloe pound the heck out of a donkey piñata when she was six years old or hoisted her onto the ladder leading to the tree house in Allie’s backyard. Or wondered every day if there was something he could have done to prevent the little girl’s disappearance and murder.
“I was three weeks out of the academy when Chloe was killed.” Lieutenant Santos continued, “I helped work the crime scene. I went with the lead detective to notify her parents and brothers. I remember what that case did to this city. While I’d love to lock up the creep who killed her, I’m not in any hurry to reopen those wounds.”
“I want in,” Cole said before he could think too long on it. “If it’s reopened.”
“Get in line,” Santos said. “But for now you’ve got enough on your hands with the Iceman, Cole. Let me run with this for the moment. Let me shoulder it, and when and if something develops, I will let you know. But for now, put it as far out of your mind as you can.”
“Yeah.” Sure. No problem.
“Agent Simmons has been patient, but he’s getting antsy again. He wants an update.”
Right. “I’ll give him a call first thing in the morning.” He faced his boss. The lieutenant was right. He couldn’t afford any distractions, not with Eden’s life at stake. He needed to focus on the case.
And on her.
“Go home, Cole. Relax, talk to your girlfriend—”
“She’s not my—”
“And you call her stubborn? I couldn’t do this job without Selena.” He knocked a knuckle against the photograph on his desk. “Knowing she understands this job, that she understands me, that she’s waiting for me, even at—” he glanced at the clock above the door “—ten at night, ready to listen to me, or let me sulk, it’s why I’m sane. Eden might be one of the most infuriating, demanding and aggravating people I’ve ever met in my life, but she gets you, Cole. And when the chips are down, I’m not the only one who will have your back. She will, too.”
* * *
The sound of footsteps on the deck above woke Eden out of a fitful doze. She shot up on the sofa, sending the files on her lap sliding to the floor, eyes narrowed against the table lamp beside her.
“Cole?” She rubbed her eyes as his feet appeared on the ladder. “Is that you?”
“Sorry I’m late.” He ducked inside and pulled the hatch closed. Instant warmth enveloped the cabin. “I wanted to get my desk cleared and I had a meeting with the lieutenant. Plus—” he held out a shiny new manila folder “—I was waiting for this.”
Eden bit her lip and accepted the results. He’d run the tests.
If he cared about the mess she’d made of his boat—dozens upon dozens of notes, photographs and reports taped to the walls, stacks of miscellaneous bits of information all over the table and floor—he didn’t say. Instead he headed for the fridge and grabbed a beer.
Eden looked down at the file, the thank-you stuck in her throat. “Did Tammy find anything?”
“No prints, not even a partial. No DNA or prints on the note or envelope, either.” He took a long drink and leaned his arms on the kitchen counter.
“So you were right.” She’d been so sure. Especially with what had happened at the newsstand.
Or she’d been paranoid. Just as Cole had suggested.
“She also ran the dirt samples from the flowers themselves.” He cringed, as if the beer had slit his tongue. “The soil content is identical to the readings from the field where Chloe was found.”
“How would she—”
“Because I drove out there and collected a sample this afternoon.”
Eden closed her eyes so tight she saw stars. She should have known he wouldn’t let her flounder out there on the edge alone. “So what now?”
“It’s not conclusive enough to reopen the case. But it’s got the lieutenant’s and the DA’s attention. The latter probably due to Simone.”
“You told her about the results?” So if they weren’t reopening the case, what were they doing?
“She waited for a while, but I called her when I was driving home. Nice of you to leave her behind, Eden. How did you get back, by the way?”
“Bowie drove me. He was coming off shift.” Nausea rolled in her stomach. “And I told you I’m a rotten friend.” A friend who wasn’t sure Simone or Cole would believe her about the perfume. She’d sounded crazy enough for one day, hadn’t she?
“You’re lucky Simone isn’t.”
Luck had nothing to do with it. “So what happens now?”
“Now we leave it in my lieutenant’s hands and focus on the Iceman.” He took a deep breath and stood up straight, as if he expected her to argue. “I know how important this is, Eden. I’m not going to let it go. I need you to believe me.”
Anyone else, she might not have. “The Iceman first,” she said softly with a nod. As determined as she was to track down her friend’s killer, Chloe didn’t deserve any less than Eden’s best. And that would only come once they closed the book once and for all on the Iceman.
“Figured out who the Iceman is yet?” Cole asked with what she could tell was forced humor. “Tell me my boat hasn’t been sacrificed in vain.”
Was that a tease or a taunt? Or a distraction? “Before we get into all that, there’s something I’d like your opinion on.” She retrieved her laptop from the kitchen table and passed it to him. “It’s my blog post for tomorrow. I’m not asking your permission, but I wanted you to be aware of what I was doing before I did it.”
“And you’re going to do it whether I approve or not. Never mind.” He held up his hand in surrender. “Let me read it and we’ll go from there.”
“Why don’t I fix you something to eat while you read.”
He eyed her with suspicion. “You don’t cook.”
“I can make a sandwich and open a bag of chips.” More than one, as evidenced by empty bags in the trash. Her iron levels might be normal, but she’d bet her sodium was sky-high. “Besides, it’s after ten and I’m betting you haven’t eaten anything.”
“I had a candy bar from the vending machine.”
She didn’t care for this new way they had of interacting, as if both of them were walking on eggshells.
She missed her friend. She missed the Cole she could tease or goad without wondering if her words were destroying their relationship, whatever relationship they had. But she also couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities he’d talked about this morning. Or how he’d made her feel last night. What if she was missing out on something that could be...what she never thought she could have?
“Ham and cheese okay?” She moved around him as he settled down at the table.
“Sounds great, thanks.” He was already reading, his eyes flying side to side as if he were gobbling up her words.
“I’m not walking away from the case,” she said as if what she’d written weren’t clear enough. “I’m not letting him scare me off. I can’t. Not if I want to be an effective voice for victims and their families who think they’ve been forgotten.”
Cole held up a finger. “Reading, here.”
“He needs to know I’m still onto him. That I’m going to use whatever and whoever I have to in order to stop him. I didn’t put anything in there about the blood or Mona’s tests—”
“This will go faster if you stop talking.”
She almost ripped the plastic zip-top bag apart. Would he pick up on the fact that she agreed with what he’d said? Or what she’d been doing since she’d left his office?
Hence the wallpaper job she’d done on Cole’s boat. She had a plan of action now, beginning with what would probably amount to a tour of every medical facility in the city. Good thing her hospital paranoia had ebbed in the last couple of days.
She set his sandwich on a plate, added a handful of his favorite multigrain chips and placed it on the counter beside him on top of her files.
He looked at her, that unfamiliar expression on his face making her stomach do a combination somersault. “Well?”
“It’s good.” He nodded, a slow approving smile stretching across his lips. “It’s colder than your regular posts. More determined, detached even. Focused. It’s like you’re speaking directly to him.”
“I am.” And here she thought he was going to blow his last gasket over this. “You’re not mad?”
“Mad? No. Concerned? Always. What you allude to will only make him guess and question what you plan for him, which should keep him off his game. He already messed up once coming after you. There’s a chance he might again.”
“Something I’m ready for.” It was a risk, but she’d rather he come after her than another innocent victim. “And it’ll be good timing since the Tribune is going to run the first feature of my blog in the morning.”
“Something we’re ready for. I had a feeling you were going to do something like this, especially after what happened today with those flowers. Which is why starting tomorrow, you’re going to have police protection around the clock.”
“I have police protection. I have you.”
“Let’s just say I think my judgment where you’re concerned might be a bit cloudy these days. I need some more objective eyes on you. For my own peace of mind.”
“Even if it drives me out of mine?” She didn’t like the idea of being followed. By anyone.
“You won’t even know they’re there,” Cole said. “This is nonnegotiable, Eden. You post this tomorrow, that’s the price you pay. You’re putting an even bigger target on your back, not only for the Iceman, but for whoever is playing with you and Simone.”
“Are you giving her an armed escort, too? What about Allie?”
“We can talk to her tomorrow, see if she’s noticed anything strange.”
“Like weird flower deliveries? She’d have told us.”
“She’s also been testifying in court all day. Simone rarely leaves her office, but there will be a couple of officers assigned to watch her apartment, as well. We’ll also talk to the security team in the building. Not that she’s any happier about it than you are. We want to keep things under wraps for now. Until we see what else develops.”
“Yeah.” She swallowed hard. “Yeah, I understand.”
“You do?”
“You ran the tests, Cole.” And her heart tipped slightly. “You’re willing to pursue whatever this is. I’ll follow your lead.” Unless he stopped leading. But that was a decision for another day.
“I appreciate that. Whether I’m happy about what’s going on or not, the truth is, if you hadn’t taunted the Iceman the way you did, we wouldn’t have these new leads to follow.” He grimaced as he scanned his once-beautiful wood room. “And the sooner we get this case solved, the sooner we can focus on other things.”
Other things. “If you’re trying to keep me confused and off guard, you’re succeeding.” Why wasn’t she fighting him? Why wasn’t she angry? Why...?
Why wasn’t she running like a scared jackrabbit the second he stood up and walked over to her?
She backed up until she’d wedged herself into the corner, nowhere to go, nowhere to direct her gaze other than at Cole as he looked her straight in the eye.
“What you do has value, Eden. I realized today I’ve never made it a point to tell you that. The truth is, you’re good at what you do despite the recklessness. It also makes me furious that you don’t give yourself the credit you deserve.”
“Ah.” She nodded and tried to duck her head, but he caught her chin with his finger. “This is because of what I said about Chloe’s killer, isn’t it?”
“That depends. Are you still clinging to the ridiculous idea he’s responsible for what you’ve made of your life? Does that mean he made me a cop or Allie a psychologist?”
“No. Yes.” She frowned. “I don’t—”
“What he did do was change our lives.” Cole continued, “He changed all our lives in a brutal, inhuman, cruel way. None of us has been the same since Chloe died, but don’t give him credit he doesn’t deserve. Don’t give away what and who you are because of someone else’s actions. You’ve been fighting for Chloe and every other victim you’ve come across ever since. That was all you. Not him.”
“There’s a but in here, I know it.”
“There’s going to be a price to pay, Eden. None of us is going to come out of this clean. Please, please don’t take any more chances than necessary. You trusted me today, you came to me first with those flowers, and I can’t tell you what a relief that is. It’s like you’ve finally heard what I’ve been telling you all these years.”
“Yeah, well, a girl can only take so much before she has to admit she’s wrong.” She nibbled on the corner of her lip, her eyes widening as his gaze fell to her mouth. Finally, she understood what he’d been saying this morning, about him wanting more than just fun-time sex. And yeah, okay, that was what she’d called it for the better part of the day, but at this moment, she knew what he was asking for. He didn’t just want her body. He wanted all of her. Her mind, her emotions. Her soul.
How did she know? Because she wanted the same from him.
She lifted her hands and captured his face in her palms, a battle between reason and desire waging inside of her. “Please don’t push this anymore today.” She pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes. “I need to think—”
“Instead of just feel?” He moved in and up, breaking contact with her hands even as his lower body shifted hot and hard against her. “Imagine what will happen when the two of us are on the same page.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, the sound of his heart pounding against her ear soothing her frayed nerves. “How about I eat my dinner before it gets cold and you can fill me in on what you’ve found.”
“Sandwiches don’t get cold.” But she smiled anyway.
“Not around me they won’t.” He brushed a kiss across her cheek and released her. “Now let’s catch this guy before he finds his next target.”
* * *
“Detective Delaney? Ms. St. Claire? I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Dr. Avery Tanner.”
Eden stuffed the brochure for the Sanguinem Clinic into her bag as Cole returned the curvy brunette’s enthusiastic greeting. For a medical facility, the abundance of color was a nice change, as were the overstuffed chairs and cubby spaces designed exclusively for children’s entertainment. Eden never would have imagined so many people being affected by blood disorders, yet apparently there were enough to keep a steady stream of employees, not to mention patients, milling about the first-floor waiting area.
“Thank you for being willing to answer our questions, Doctor,” Cole said. “Yours is the fourth facility we’ve visited today, so we hope not to take up too much of your time.”
“Not at all. I was just finishing up in the lab.” Dr. Tanner stuffed chubby fingers into the pockets of her lab coat and smiled at Eden. “My apologies for the less-than-formal attire. Sometimes I live in scrubs. How may I be of help?”
“We’re looking into the deaths of a couple of your former patients,” Eden said. “Callie Woodrow and Nathaniel Hoffstead.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I should have realized.” She motioned for them to follow her up the curving staircase, her thick plastic shoes squeaking slightly against the metal.
“Those look comfortable.” Something niggled along the edges of her mind.
“They’re called Gators,” Dr. Tanner said over her shoulder. “And they’re a godsend for anyone who spends a lot of time on their feet. Not very attractive, I know.” She kicked her foot up as if to confirm their bulky detour from fashion acceptability. “But at least they make them in more neutral colors. I had a heck of a time matching my neon pink or green ones to anything in my closet.”
Eden slipped her phone out of her bag. Once Dr. Tanner resumed leading them down the hall, she snapped a picture of the doctor’s shoes.
Cole arched a brow at her.
“Tell you later,” she mouthed.
“Obviously Dr. Hendrix got the copies of the files we sent to the coroner’s office,” Dr. Tanner said. “We were all in shock to hear, of course. I can’t believe one let alone two of our patients were killed by this Iceman person.”
Neither could Cole and Eden, which was why they’d included the clinic located in the suburb of Rancho Cordova on their inquiry list. “What disorders do you treat here, exactly?” Their footfalls were muted by the multicolored carpeting, which also lessened the dulcet tones of medical monitors beeping in the distance.
“We deal with a variety of illnesses and conditions, actually. Please.” She pushed open a thick glass door and ushered them into a spacious, sterile office overlooking a landscaped water-and-rock garden toward the far end of the property. She sat behind her desk and tapped on her computer. “I assume since you’re here you’ve already been through Callie’s file and Nathaniel’s. Ah, here we go.” She skimmed the screen. “Okay, yes, all caught up now. We last saw Callie— Oh, my. Less than a week before she was reported missing. And Nathaniel.” She clicked open another window. “A bit longer than that. We’d actually managed to stabilize his iron levels, so we pushed his appointments to every other month.”
“And what did those appointments consist of, exactly?” Cole asked.
Dr. Tanner frowned. “I’m not sure I’m at liberty—”
“We aren’t asking for test results, Doctor.” Cole kept his voice friendly as Eden struggled to let him take the lead. “We’re hoping to figure out how your two patients were targeted by their killer.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. We would have run a battery of tests, of course, beginning with a ferritin test, which evaluates the amount of iron stored in the patient’s systems. We’d also run a transferrin test—a protein which is formed in the liver and carries the iron through the bloodstream. We’d then follow with a TIBC to test for the protein that transports iron in the system, and then we examine the saturation levels, which helps us determine whether there’s been organ damage.”
“These are the tests you perform on all your patients with elevated iron levels?” Eden asked. “And they helped determine the treatment needed?”
“Yes. We found frequent blood donation for Callie helped lower her numbers significantly, so we monitored that and helped her find a place close to her home to make it easier to fit into her work schedule.”
Eden’s ears prickled. Dr. Tanner was the third person they’d spoken to today to mention blood donation.
“Does blood type figure in to the frequency of an occurrence of DIOS?” Eden asked.
“Not that we know of, no.” Dr. Tanner shook her head and folded her hands together on her überorganized desk. Eden would bet she used a ruler to keep that collection of pens in line. “Did Dr. Hendrix find any commonality in that regard?”
“According to her notes, all of the victims were all negative blood types with excessive iron levels,” Cole said. “We’re trying to ascertain who would have access to that type of patient information. Ms. Woodrow or Mr. Hoffstead, for example. Did they see the same medical professionals every time?”
“They each had their own doctor.” She glanced at her computer. “But I see a number of the same nurse practitioners and lab techs listed on their records.”
“And all of them would have had access to their lab results?” Cole asked.
“As would anyone with access to our computer systems. I can get you a list of employees if that would help, but I can’t imagine anyone on our staff being connected to these killings. We save lives here, try to make their lives and health better. No one has any interest in harming people.”
“You’d be surprised what people can hide,” Eden said.
Dr. Tanner’s frown increased. Cole knocked his foot against Eden’s in his silent way of telling her to ease up.
“I certainly hope you leveled these accusations at the other facilities on your list.” The open friendliness dimmed in Dr. Tanner’s dark eyes.
“Absolutely,” Cole assured her. “They’ve been quite cooperative in getting us what we’ve asked for. Finding out who killed these people is important, but not as important as finding him before he kills again. We also plan on visiting a number of support groups that meet in the area. I understand you sponsor a number of those, as well.”
“Yes, we do.” Dr. Tanner’s fingers clenched as her lips thinned. “Blood diseases can affect every aspect of a patient’s life, and coming to terms with a chronic illness isn’t easy. Learning how to cope with those symptoms can go a long way to making day-to-day living less stressful.”
“But there are cases where that’s not possible, isn’t that correct?” Eden said. “Where managing these illnesses becomes more difficult.”
“That’s correct. Not all the illnesses we deal with are treatable. But most can be managed if not made more tolerable with recent advances. Medications, treatments, procedures—nothing’s off the table. There have been rumors about experimental treatments attempting to prove the theory that removing a patient’s spleen might help reset a patient’s blood enzyme levels.”
“Organ removal?” Cole shifted forward in his chair as Eden’s breath caught. “That seems a bit extreme. Is that something that’s common practice?”
“We never made it to the trial stages, I’m afraid. There are some experiments that are too radical to implement without putting a clinic at risk of violating medical ethics, which could result in closure.”
“Would you be able to put us in touch with any of the doctors who worked on that theory?” Cole asked.
“Ah, yes, I suppose I could. May I get that information to you later? I just want to run this by our legal department.”
“Absolutely,” Cole said. “And the employee records, as well?”
“Certainly.” Dr. Tanner stood. “Was there anything else I can help you with?”
“I’m sorry—I do have another question,” Eden said. “What kind of training would someone have to have in order to determine someone’s blood type?”
“Most first-year medical or laboratory tech students would have the training as well as access to the equipment needed. The antibodies would probably be the most difficult to come by if the person isn’t in the medical profession. Other than that, a microscope and blood technician supplies would be plenty.”
Yet another needle in the haystack, Eden thought. “Thank you, Doctor. We’ll leave you to your patients.”
“I do hope you catch him, this Iceman. The Tribune this morning implied whoever is responsible might be stealing his victims’ blood. If that’s true, even if he thinks he’s doing it for some noble purpose, he’s causing more damage than he realizes.” Dr. Tanner walked them to the door. “It’s difficult enough getting people to donate and help fund research. We certainly don’t need someone driving potential contributors away.”
“I can’t comment on what the papers are saying,” Cole said, angling an irritated look in Eden’s direction. As if she could control what her fellow reporters did. “That information we requested will go a long way, Dr. Tanner. Thank you again.” Cole placed his hand on the base of Eden’s spine and guided her downstairs.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready to take my MCAT,” Eden told him.
“Give me a second.” He headed over to the reception desk and turned on that million-watt smile of his, which had the expected effect on the very young, very blonde, very busty woman behind the counter. A few murmured phrases later, Cole winked—actually winked—and tapped his knuckles on the countertop before he rejoined Eden. “Misty over there—”
“Misty?” Eden rolled her eyes. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Cole grinned. “I never noticed how lovely that particular shade of green looks on you.” He surprised her by slipping an arm around her waist and steering her out the front door to the parking lot. “Misty is going to provide me with a list of their volunteers and lab students who are getting their hours in for medical school.”
“More names to add to our growing list.” Eden foresaw a long night ahead. “This was the last clinic on our list for today. Back to the boat?”
“To the station,” Cole corrected her as they reached his car. “Time to report in to the FBI. Hopefully we’ve made enough progress to keep them off our butts for another few days.”
“From your lips,” Eden said. “Agent Simmons is all yours. I’ve got some shopping to do.”