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“Can you print us that list?”
Lorraine hit a couple buttons, and the huge, boxy printer behind her started chugging away. It must’ve been ancient. Cassie half-expected there to be a crank on the side that you’d have to turn to make it work. Lorraine pulled out the pieces of paper and handed them to David.
“Thank you for your help. If this doesn’t work out, we may be back.” He produced his card. “You seem like a capable young woman, Lorraine. I hate to see you working for a man like Wickham. If you ever find yourself in need of a job putting your computer skills to better use than secretarial work, call me. I might be able to find an opening for you at the station.”
Lorraine’s eyes were huge as she took his card and held it in her open palms as if it were a baby bunny. “Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to direct us to Dr. Yang’s office?”
Dr. Yang’s office was at the end of a drab hallway. Her door was cracked a few inches, and Cassie glimpsed her filling out paperwork before David knocked and startled her. She had long black hair tied back into a ponytail and wore a navy-blue pants suit.
“Sorry to disturb you,” he said, “but could we have a moment of your time, Dr. Yang?”
“Of course.” She stood and shook David’s hand, then Cassie’s. “And you are?”
“Detective David Klein and Ms. Cassie Quinn.”
“Detectives?” Dr. Yang’s eyes flickered to the door and back. “What seems to be the issue?”
David smirked. “You’ve given yourself away already, Dr. Yang. Are you worried about yourself or someone else?”
Dr. Yang smiled, and her eyes danced with laughter. “Neither. Curious who you’re here for and whether I’ll have a job in the morning.”
“I’m not here for the Warden. Not yet at least. And I’m sure you’ll still have your position come tomorrow.” David handed her the stack of papers Lorraine had printed for them. “I’m wondering if you recognize any of these names?”
Dr. Yang shifted through the papers. “A few of them. About half were before my time. I’ve at least said hello to the rest of them once or twice.”
“Any names stand out for any reason?”
“What is this about?”
David pointed to the chair in front of her desk, and when Dr. Yang nodded, all three of them sat down. “We’re conducting a murder investigation. We believe the suspect has worked here at one point or another. We’ve narrowed down the list to those names, and we’re hoping you could help point us in the right direction.”
Yang’s smile was tight. “You know I can’t do that. It would be an enormous breach of confidentiality.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.” David shifted in his seat, and Cassie could tell he was getting desperate. “Look, the last thing I want to do is get you in trouble. I strong-armed Wickham into helping us, but he’s a dick. I don’t like him.”
Dr. Yang laughed. “You’d be in the minority if you did.”
“But you seem like a reasonable, accomplished woman. I won’t jeopardize that. If you tell us to leave, then we’ll leave. But I’m hoping you’ll hear me out before you do that.”
“I’m listening.”
“Over twenty years ago, a single man killed twelve people. They were all addicts, and all former inmates of this prison.” He stubbed his finger on the desktop. “A few days ago, that man wound up dead. Killed in the same manner as his victims. We’ve been chasing our tails since then, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tired. I’m at the end of my rope here.”
“Metaphorically speaking, I hope?”
David smiled. “Metaphorically speaking. We’ve chased a lot of leads, and they’ve all wound up as dead ends. I think this one is different. We know a correctional officer visited the nephew of one of the victims asking a lot of questions. Our suspect is a white male in his late forties or early fifties. We have reason to believe he’d feel a close personal connection to the original victims, whether it was because he was an addict himself or knew someone who was. And by the look on your face, I have reason to believe a particular person came to mind as soon as I mentioned those details.”
Dr. Yang looked from David to Cassie and then back down at the list in her hands. When she looked up again, her eyes were determined. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t possibly share that information with you. If you can get a warrant, I’d be happy to help. But until then, my hands are tied.”
“Dr. Yang, please—”
“I’m sorry.” Dr. Yang stood and held out the papers. “I can’t help.”
“I understand.”
Cassie wanted to say something—anything—to get the psychologist to change her mind. She didn’t want her to break any rules, but she also knew that following the rules meant delaying justice—even if it was justice for a serial killer.
