Born to Die - Lisa Jackson [126]
“Maybe you can frame one and give it to Brewster for your Secret Santa gift,” Alvarez suggested.
“There’s an idea. So, what’s kept you here all night? I’m trying to get out of here early so I can referee at my house.”
“I’ve been thinking about the case.”
“Okay.”
“We haven’t pushed O’Halleran enough. We just accepted his assurances that he and Jocelyn weren’t really dating, but maybe he wasn’t giving us the whole truth.”
Pescoli rolled that over in her mind. “The guy works pretty much by himself, doesn’t have to clock in anywhere.”
“Not only was he involved with one victim, but his missing wife looks a lot like the other victims.”
“So, you want to call him in?” Pescoli asked.
“I think it’s definitely time for another interview.”
Pescoli glanced at the clock. “It’s barely seven thirty. What time did you get here?”
“Couple hours ago. Is that Joelle . . . ?”
From down the hall they heard a woman’s voice, Joelle’s, singing: “Here comes Suzy Snowflake, dressed in a snow-white gown. Tap, tap, tappin’ at your windowpane, to tell you she’s in town.”
“Did she make that up, or is it really a Christmas carol?” Pescoli asked.
“I think it’s a Christmas carol.” Alvarez reached for her phone, but it suddenly rang beneath her hand. She threw Pescoli a look, then hit the speaker button and said, “Alvarez.”
“Detective Alvarez.” A woman’s voice came through. “This is Dr. Kacey Lambert.”
Alvarez gave Pescoli a “what’s this” look, and Pescoli shook her head. “Yes?”
“There are microphones, listening devices, planted in my home. I’m not sure why, but it may have something to do with these ... recent accidents.”
“Microphones?” Alvarez picked out the word that jumped out at her.
“Tiny ones. Secretive.”
“You think someone’s bugging you?”
“Looks that way.”
“You have an idea who?”
“No . . .” Her voice grew uncertain, and Pescoli could tell she was already having serious second thoughts about calling them.
“Can you come by the station?” Alvarez asked. “I’d like some more information.”
“Maybe later. I’m at St. Bart’s, checking on a patient. I have to go to my clinic. I’ll call later and think about this. I just wanted to let you know.”
She clicked off and Pescoli repeated, “Microphones?”
“She sounds pretty rattled.” Alvarez went very still, then motioned to the computer screen where images of the recent victims were displayed. “She kind of looks like them.”
“Doesn’t everybody,” Pescoli said on a groan.
“No. But there’s a connection.”
Joelle’s voice rang out: “If you want to make a snowman, I’ll help you make it, one, two, three. If you want to take a sleigh ride, whee! The ride’s on me.”
Pescoli covered her eyes with her hands and groaned, and Joelle’s voice said suddenly, “Would you look at that snow!”
Both Pescoli and Alvarez glanced out the window and watched the flakes fall relentlessly from the sky. Then Alvarez picked up the receiver and put a call in to Trace O’Halleran’s cell phone.
Kacey tucked her cell phone back in her purse. Now that she’d started that ball rolling, she felt half embarrassed, second-guessing herself. She wasn’t planning on telling the police everything; she didn’t want them getting in the way of her own personal discoveries.
But the microphones . . . She wanted them out of her house as soon as possible, and she wanted the police to do it.
Shaking off another frisson down her back, she headed to Eli’s room. Sticking her head inside, she saw that he was sound asleep. She quietly walked in and pulled his chart from the folder at the foot of his bed, then watched his even breathing a moment. Tiptoeing out, she went in search of the floor nurse, who nodded when Kacey said, “Eli O’Halleran’s temperature’s down, and he’s breathing easier.”
“He’s feeling much better,” the nurse agreed.
Kacey was relieved. “Good. His father will be here soon, and we’ll get him released.”
“This flu gets bad fast. We’ve got a few other cases that haven’t turned around as quickly.”
Kacey commiserated