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"Sorry." He looked truly disappointed that he couldn't be of more help. "I guess I better finish up grading those papers. And pack."
"That's right, your family reunion's this weekend."
He nodded. A tight smile and he said, "Woooo-hoooo," with forced enthusiasm.
Dance laughed.
He hovered near her. "I'll call you when I get back. I want to know how things work out. And good luck with Travis. I hope he's okay."
"Thanks, Jon. For everything." She took his hand and gripped it firmly. "And I especially appreciate your not getting stabbed to death."
A smile. He squeezed her hand and turned away.
As she watched him walk down the corridor a woman's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Hey, K."
Dance turned to see Connie Ramirez, walking down the hallway toward her.
"Con."
The other senior agent looked around and nodded toward Dance's office. Then stepped inside, closing the door. "Found a few things I thought you might be interested in. From the hospital."
"Oh, thanks, Con. How'd you do it?"
Ramirez considered this. "I was deceptively honest."
"I like that."
"I flashed my shield and gave them some details of another case I'm running. That medical fraud case."
The CBI investigated financial crimes too. And the case Ramirez was referring to was a major insurance scam--the perps used identification numbers of doctors who were deceased to file bogus claims in their names.
It was the sort of thing, Dance reflected, that Chilton himself might write about in his blog. And it was a brilliant choice for Connie; staffers at the hospital were among the victims, and would have an interest in helping investigators.
"I asked them to show me the log-in sheets. The whole month's worth, so Henry didn't get suspicious. They were more than happy to comply. And here's what I found: The day Juan Millar died there was one visiting physician--the hospital has a continuing-ed lecture series and he was probably there for that. There were also six job applicants--two for maintenance spots, one for the cafeteria and three nurses. I've got copies of their resumes. None of them look suspicious to me.
"Now, what's interesting is this: There were sixty-four visitors at the hospital that day. I correlated the names and the people they were there to see, and every one of them checks out. Except one."
"Who?"
"It's hard to read the name, either the printed version or the signature. But I think it's Jose Lopez."
"Who was he seeing?"
"He only wrote 'patient.' "
"That was a safe bet, in a hospital," Dance said wryly. "Why is it suspicious?"
"Well, I figured that if somebody was there to kill Juan Millar, he or she would have to have been there before--either as visitors or to check out security and so on. So I looked at everybody who'd signed in to see him earlier."
"Brilliant. And you checked their handwriting."
"Exactly. I'm no document examiner but I found a visitor who'd been to see him a number of times, and I'd almost guarantee the handwriting's the same as this Jose Lopez's."
Dance was sitting forward. "Who?"
"Julio Millar."
"His brother!"
