Courting Death - Carol Stephenson [67]
I stared at the paper trail of names and accounts she had constructed. The connections were all there. “That bastard. Did he think he would get away with this?”
Although what I held in my hand was privileged and confidential information developed during the course of representation, somehow I would make sure the owners of OraGen would come to justice.
The phone rang. Setting aside the documents, I got up and hurried to the stand. “Hello?”
“Nicole, this is Claire Whitman.” The woman’s voice was a like a ghostly whisper, lifting the hairs on the nape of my neck.
“Are you all right? What’s wrong?”
“They’re all evil. I found out that Brian’s done despicable things all for the sake of money. I know where they took Rebecca’s organs and, tonight, I’m going to set her spirit free.”
Her voice broke on a sob. “You were being kind to me so they tried to hurt you. You won’t have to worry anymore. I’ll make sure they can’t hurt you again.”
“Claire, wait—”
There was a buzzing sound. I replaced the phone, raced into the bedroom and grabbed my purse and jacket. When I emerged, Melissa stood in the hall. “What is it?” she whispered.
I took her arm and drew her to the front door. “Lock it after me and check all the windows to make sure they’re secure as well. That was Claire Whitman and she sounded like she’s going to do something crazy.”
“Did she tell you where she is?”
“No, but I have a good idea where she’s going.” I grabbed my car keys and raced outside. Sliding into the front seat, I started the engine and grabbed my cell. I punched in Sam’s private number.
“Hi, honey. I’m in the middle of something—”
“I just had a call from Claire Whitman. She’s snapped. Talked about making sure I wouldn’t be hurt anymore and releasing her baby’s spirit. I’m positive she’s at OraGen and going to do something crazy.”
“Why OraGen?”
“Because if I’ve connected all the dots, OraGen is the company her husband—along with his buddies Quint and Chang—founded as a front for their black market organ racket. I’m heading out there now.”
“Nicole, don’t you dare—”
“I’ve got to try to stop her, Sam. Don’t ask me not to.”
I heard the resignation in his tone. “I’m on my way.”
At this time of night, traffic was light and I made good time to the complex. I entered as I had before and pulled into the parking lot a building away from OraGen. Although the medical research facility was dark with no signs of activity, several cars were parked behind it, including a SUV, the same model as the Whitmans’. At the delivery ramp sat a small white truck similar to those of Tropical Paradise Ice Cream.
I exited my car and pulled out the black knit cap still tucked in my jacket from the other night. I gathered my hair, twisted it up and jammed on the hat. Black ops Nicole Sterling. Maybe I should consider a new career. I took one step before realizing my cell was on ring. Nix that career change. Pulling it out from my jacket pocket, I set it on vibrate.
Keeping to the shadows as much as I could, I ran bent over to the back of the OraGen building. Cautiously, I made my way to the door next to the delivery ramp. The thinnest line of light showed beneath it. I paused, wrinkling my nose. Gas. With my eyes adjusted to the night, I could make out a can lying on its side a few feet away. Damn.
I gripped the doorknob and turned it easily. Taking a deep breath, I opened it partially and slipped inside. I blinked against the light. When my eyes adjusted and I could make out the contents of the room, my stomach lurched.
The large space almost mirrored the Tropical Paradise warehouse, except at the other end I could see through a window. A surgical table glistened in a brightly lit room.
Elsewhere refrigerators lined one wall, freezers another. Rows of tables fanned out with stacks of overnight boxes and ice cream tubs. Here and there bones that could only be human lay scattered across a table.
I caught the glint of metal on another and moved closer. Teeth were scattered across its surface as carelessly as marbles, their fillings gleaming under