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“No, no, not every patient. Just a few of them. I’ve seen it three times, and other people have seen them, too.”
“I have a million questions, but let’s start with the basics. What do they look like?”
“They’re metallic buttons, like coins, embossed with a caduceus. And nobody’s ever caught anyone in the act.”
“How many patients have been found with these buttons on their eyes?”
“I don’t know. But a bunch.”
“Do you see a pattern? Does anybody you’ve spoken to? Like a certain age or ethnic group or illness?”
“I’ve just seen the three, and they were all different. Listen, I have to go now —”
“One more question. Please. Have you told anyone about this?”
“My supervisor. He says they’re someone’s sick idea of a joke. But you tell me. It’s scary, right?”
Noddie’s voice became muffled, as if she was covering the receiver with her hand. She spoke to someone. Her voice was terse when she got back on the line.
“I gotta go. I’m working and we’re busy. Understaffed.”
“Call me again if anything —”
Cindy shut off the tape recorder and looked into our shocked faces. Then she focused on me.
“Lindsay, tell me, please, is the hospital covering up multiple homicides?”
I closed my mouth and pushed back from the table.
My mind was spinning.
I’d just apologized to Cindy for asking her not to write a story that she had every right to report.
How could I ask her again?
“Lindsay, you knew,” Yuki said, picking up something in my expression that I didn’t know was there. “You already knew about those buttons, didn’t you? You knew.”
“Ah, I can’t talk about it.”
“Lindsay?” Cindy pressed, incredulous. “You knew about the buttons? Tell me. Tell me what it means!”
“I’ll tell you,” Yuki said forcefully. “Someone is marking those patients. Maybe even killing them. It’s arrogant. It’s psychopathic. And who does that sound like, Lindsay?”
I threw a long sigh, looked around for Loretta, and ordered another pitcher. Suddenly, Yuki reached across the table and clasped my forearm.
“Please,” she said. “Don’t let Garza get away with murder.”
I looked into Yuki’s dark, sad eyes. She’d saved my butt when I needed her, and besides, I loved her dearly.
“We’re on it,” I told my friend. “If Garza is guilty of anything, anything at all, I promise we’ll get him.”
Chapter 110
THE PINK POST-IT NOTE Brenda had stuck to my phone read, “Chief T. wants to see you PRONTO.” She’d filled in the O’s in PRONTO with frowny faces.
What now?
I took the stairs up two flights, made my way through the maze of cubicles to Tracchio’s wood-paneled corner office, which overlooked all the sleazy bail bondsmen’s storefronts down on Bryant Street.
