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Chapter 37

As they were pulling into the parking lot of Good Samaritan, Pendergast’s cell phone rang. He extracted it from his pocket and checked the number before answering.

“Good morning, Mr. Glinn.” After gauging Tigg’s reaction, he pressed the speaker button on the phone.

“Dr. Pendergast. Am I calling at an inopportune time?”

“No. We may speak freely.”

“Any progress?”

“I have spoken to a potential witness to the killer’s, ah, pre-crime activities. Unfortunately a follow-up investigation by the sheriff’s department is unlikely.”

“I see. Anything else?”

“Your prediction that the killer would engage in diversionary tactics was correct. There has been another set of murders, constructed to appear as though they were committed by a copycat. The Sheriff’s daughter has been kidnapped and the killer has contacted the Sheriff, instructing him to abandon the Zoller case and concentrate on finding her. I advised the Sheriff to give the impression that he was complying.”

Pendergast heard the faint clicking of a keyboard. Suddenly the sounds stopped and Glinn’s voice returned.

“Your impression?”

“The killer is getting bolder and feels the need to have absolute control of the situation. I fear that the Sheriff and his employees will be in greater danger as the killer gets closer to his goal.”

“You believe he has a final target and is not just killing randomly?”

“Yes. He will not allow anyone to prevent him from attaining that goal.”

“I see. Now I have some more information for you pertaining to the case. In your investigation, have you encountered someone named Charles Quinn or Amelia Harding?”

“No.” He looked at Tigg, who shook her head.

“Mr. Quinn is the Deputy Sheriff in Winstead. Apparently he, accompanied by Miss Harding, has been conducting his own investigation. He paid a visit to Reliance University Hospital earlier this morning.” Out of the corner of his eye, Pendergast saw Tigg stiffen, the knuckles of her clenched fists turning white.

“What was the purpose of his visit?”

“Apparently Mr. Quinn believes that the survivor from a 12-year-old mass murder in Pine Mountain, West Virginia did not just disappear from the hospital. He thinks that she planned an escape with the help of her legal guardian. He also believes that she was not traumatized by the attack, and is in fact responsible for the murders of her family.”

Pendergast glanced at Tigg, who was staring at him, opened mouthed, a growing expression of anger on her face. She started to speak, caught herself, and then made a sign that was, while not known to Pendergast, perfectly clear in its’ intent.

“Interesting,” he said after a pause. “Do you have any indication as to what led Mr. Quinn to develop this theory?”

“In reviewing his background, I learned that Mr. Quinn, once a detective with the NYPD, was involved in an investigation of a homicide where the perpetrator was later identified as one of the surviving family members. It was after this investigation that he left active duty and joined the SOC team in his precinct.”

“I see. What about Miss Harding? Does she subscribe to his theory?”

“She is the only remaining member of the Pine Mountain police department. Last night there was a second case of arson in that vicinity, and her property was destroyed. Whether or not this has anything to do with our current case is under investigation. However, it is unclear if she shares Mr. Quinn’s opinions concerning the old case.”

Pendergast was silent for a moment before taking out his notebook and making a few entries.

“I will speak to Sheriff Mathies about this,” he said. “I hope this independent investigation does not aggravate the present situation any further. I am on my way to meet with him at the hospital to speak to the survivors. Is there anything else?”

“Not at this time. I trust that you will call me if there are any developments. Good day.” There was a click and the line went silent. Pendergast put the phone back in his jacket and turned to Tigg who was staring silently out the truck window.

“Your opinion?”

“Of what? Mr. Quinn’s theory?” She gave a derisive snort. “Quite creative. Maybe he should be writing books instead of conducting a police investigation.”

“Perhaps. There is a chance we will have to deal with him during the course of the investigation. Will you—?”

“I won’t deck him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Pendergast smiled thinly.

“Not really. I was merely concerned that you may not be able to overlook the slight he has made against your character.”

“Frankly, that is the least of my worries. Now...” She turned and stared at the hospital for a moment, barely suppressing a shudder. “Let’s get this over with.”



Rick Mathies stood silently by the 5th floor nurses’ station, waiting to speak with Marilyn Carter and Dr. Aubrey. He watched the nurse supervisor, Nicki Peterson, repeatedly dial a number, listen and hang up in disgust. After observing several cycles of this behavior, he was about to ask her to explain when he caught sight of Marilyn, pushing a medicine cart. “Marilyn!” he called out, earning a disgruntled look from Nicki. Marilyn jumped slightly and looked up. She smiled wearily and walked towards Mathies.

“Good Morning, Sheriff.”

“How is Rebecca doing? I was hoping to speak with her this morning, if...” Marilyn shook her head.

“Not well. I don’t think it would be a good idea just yet. She’s still in really bad shape. They were all she had, and...well, I hope you understand.” Mathies simply nodded.

“She wants me to get something for her, and I guess I better ask you first. It’s at the house and I didn’t know if it was OK to go there yet.”

“No. I can get it if you tell me what it is.”

“Family photo album. She says it’s in the living room, on the shelf in the coffee table.”

“No problem. If it will help her...deal with this.”

“I’m not sure anything really can.” She took a key chain out of her pocket and handed it to him. Nicki, who had been listening to their exchange in silence, let out an annoyed sigh. Marilyn grimaced and turned to her.

“Yes, Nicki? Is there a problem?”

“As much as I hate to disrupt, I must remind you that we are very-short-handed this morning, and your patients are waiting.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She turned abruptly and walked back to her cart. Mathies reigned in a surge of anger and turned to Nicki.

“Perhaps you can help me. Has Dr. Aubrey come in yet this morning? I need to speak to him about Mr. Cambry.

“He was here earlier.” She checked to make sure no one else was around and lowered her voice. “We had a problem with Mr. Cambry this morning. He was awake and seemed to be much improved, and asked if he could watch TV. He was watching the news when he suddenly became very agitated and his heart rate and blood pressure jumped alarmingly. We tried to get him to calm down but he seemed extremely upset about something and kept saying ‘it’s all my fault’ over and over. Finally Dr. Aubrey had to give him a sedative. He’s sleeping now.”

“Did you find out what had upset him?”

“He wouldn’t say.”

Damn it.

“What about Mark Zoller? There is some researcher here in town who would like to try to interview him.”

“Ha. Good luck. He’s still in PTS land.” Mathies choked back the retort he wanted to make, knowing that it wouldn’t help in the slightest. Nicki Peterson has always been callous, and he often wondered how such a person could have entered the health care profession. His wife said it was a coping mechanism, but he was unconvinced.

He watched her dial the phone again and sighed. He’d have to wait for Prescott to arrive and tell him he’d have to do the interviews later. Just then he heard the elevator bell and turned to see Prescott and Crow step off and start down the hall towards him. Prescott moved forward with his usually confident step, while Crow hung back a little, looking like he’d rather be just about anyplace else.

“Ah, good morning, Sheriff Mathies. The receptionist said we’d find you here. Have the arrangements been made?”

Nicki looked up at Prescott and gave him a withering stare.

“And who might you be?”

“Dr Daniel Prescott. I’m here as part of a research project. The good Sheriff has been so kind as to try to arrange a meeting with one of your patients.”

“Who’s he?” she asked, pointing at Crow.

“One of my graduate students, who is assisting with the interviews and data analysis.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Prescott,” interrupted Mathies, “but we won’t be able to interview anyone this morning. Mark Zoller is still...unresponsive.” He jumped slightly as Nicki slammed the phone down again and turned to her.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that I’m understaffed and I really don’t have time for babysitting this morning. One of my nurses hasn’t shown up for her shift. Again.”

“Is that who you’ve been trying to call all morning? Who is it?”

“Yes. Sonja Rossman. She called in sick yesterday, after her normal 3 days off, and I can’t get a hold of her. Her cell is turned off and no one is answering at home. Maybe you should go investigate.”

“Interesting,” said Prescott. “I believe I’ve seen this sort of thing before.”

“What sort of thing? Asked Nicki and Mathies together.

“Well, in cases such as these, where a town has been disrupted by crime, some people grow so afraid that they can no longer function. She may just be at home, overcome by fear. Sometimes it is a delayed reaction, as I believe this to be. Sheriff Mathies, if you are in fact going to go check on this woman, I’d like to tag along. It could be a good opportunity to collect more data.”

“Fine. We might as well go now, as there’s nothing we can do here.”

“I’ll say,” muttered Nicki. “If you do find her, tell her to get her ass into work, overcome by fear or not. If she doesn’t she’ll find herself overcome by unemployment.”

“I do that. Let’s go.” He walked to the elevator, followed by Crow and Prescott. The entered the elevator and started the descent to the first floor. After a brief silence, Mathies heard a hoarse voice behind him.

“What a bitch.”

He turned in surprise to look at Crow, who flushed slightly and stared at the floor. Suddenly, in spite of himself, Mathies laughed.

“I couldn’t have put it better myself.” Sobering quickly, he turned to Prescott.

“Do you really want to go speak to Sonja, or is there something else on your mind?”

“Yes. A nurse, who possibly has access to the drugs found in the Zollers, is suddenly and rather conveniently unavailable. I think it’s best that we go talk to her.”



On the way to Sonja Rossman’s house, Prescott told Mathies of the call he had received from Glinn. When he heard about Quinn, Mathies was furious.

“Damn him! I told him that was a stupid idea!”

“He has, ah already informed you of his theory?”

“Yes. I thought it was evidence that he was overworked and not thinking clearly. When you arrived, I told him to take a couple of days off to rest. I didn’t think he’d go down there. I’m going to kill him.”

“I would like to speak with him when he returns. I just hope that his interference does not jeopardize his or anyone else’s safety.”

“That makes two of us,” muttered Mathies.

They rode in silence for a couple of miles. Finally they reached a small housing development on the west edge of town. The houses were all pre-fab, low-cost dwellings, similar in size and design. Mathies pulled into the driveway of one of the houses and killed the engine. The windows were shuttered and dark, and the driveway was empty except for a trashcan and two recycling bins.

“Doesn’t look like she’s home, but I guess I better check to make sure.” Mathies climbed out of his cruiser and was followed by Prescott and Crow. He reached the front door and rang the doorbell, which could be heard from within. After the tones faded, there was nothing but silence. He raised his fist and knocked loudly on the front door, which slowly swung open on the first knock. He paused and removed his gun from the holster, motioning Prescott and Crow to step back.

“Sonja!” he called. “Sheriff Mathies. All you all right?” Silence. Suddenly something hurdled towards him out of the darkness. He jumped back just as a blurred shape flew past him and out into the yard where it came to a stop and howled indignantly. Mathies leaned against the door and gave a shaky laugh.

“Damn cat.” He saw Crow kneel down and coax the animal towards him, eventually gathering the purring beast into his arms.

Christ, my nerves are shot. As soon as his heart rate returned to normal Mathies moved further into the house. After a quick search he returned to the entrance hallway where Prescott and Crow were waiting.

“Nobody home except the cat. It doesn’t look like anything is missing. Maybe she went to work and we just missed her.”

“I don’t think so,” said Prescott, pointing to the dining room. Mathies looked and saw a large and rather shabby purse hanging on the back of one of the chairs. Mathies walked over and peeked inside.

“Looks like the one she uses and her wallet and checkbook are still there.” Damn it. One more thing to worry about. He took out his cell phone and called the hospital. After several transfers he finally reached Nicki, who seemed to be in an even fouler mood.

She informed him that Sonja had not yet arrived at work. He ended the call as quickly as possible and called the office.

“Sherri, I need a favor. Tell everyone to let me know if the see Sonja Rossman or her silver Taurus. She hasn’t been to work in a few days and isn’t at home. I need to speak with her. Thanks.” He turned to Prescott.

“Do you really think she might be involved in this?”

“As I said, her absence is rather convenient.”

Mathies sighed.

“What now?”

“I would like to see the crime scenes, if it is possible.”

“I have to go pick something up at the Jenkins place and take it back to the hospital. That’s as good excuse as any for you to visit that one. The Zoller scene might be a little more problematic, but...”

“Leave the explanations to me, Sheriff.”



Mathies parked his cruiser in the Jenkins’ driveway. This was probably the last place he wanted to be right now, but the memory of Rebecca Jenkins request gave him the resolve he needed. He climbed out of the car and waited for Prescott and Crow. Together they followed the path around to the backyard. Prescott looked around with a curious expression on his face, while Crow stayed as far back from the scene as possible.

He jotted a few notes, pausing to examine the group of trees where the bodies had been found. Finally he nodded to Mathies and they walked back around to the front and up the steps, ducking under the crime scene tape to reach the door. Mathies retrieved the keys Marilyn had given him and opened it, stepping into the front hallway and turning on the light switch before heading into the living room. The room contained simple yet sturdy and well made furniture, and was decorated with dozens of framed family photos. Crow slowly walked along the nearest wall, apparently studying the pictures while Prescott stood still and gazed around the room, taking in every detail. Mathies located the photo album that Rebecca had asked for and silently tucked it under one arm. After several minutes of silence, he spoke.

“They were a very close knit family. From what I understand, the parents were both orphans. They had no other family so their own meant everything to them. Mrs. Jenkins...Rebecca is understandably devastated.” As I would be, if anything happened to...damn it, I should be out looking for her, not running errands! “I think it’s time to go,” he said with a little more force than he intended. Prescott nodded, took one more look around and walked out of the room. Crow followed him reluctantly, and Mathies had one last look before leaving as well. At the front door, he struggled with the lock for a few second before finally getting the key to turn and started down the steps just as his cell phone rang. He checked the number and answered with a great feeling of trepidation.

“Pat. Did you—?”

“Rick. I put out a notice to the other regional offices asking about checking historical sites. I just got a call from over in Jefferson County. One of their officers was searching for a reported drug cache at the old Fulcrum Furnace site when he found...I’m here now and I think...you need to see something.”

Mathies closed his eyes, feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut. His knees started to shake and he was about to collapse when he felt a strong hand on his arm, steadying him.

“Rick, are you there?” Pat’s voice sounded far away, unreal. Mathies opened his eyes and saw that Prescott was standing in front of him, looking at him with concern. He turned his head to see Crow gripping his arm, the expression in Crow’s eyes unreadable behind his dark grey lenses. Mathies took a deep breath and replied in a shaky voice.

“Yes, Pat. I’m on my way.”

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