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“I’ll look into the name,” Brook promised as she knelt beside him.
She rested her hand on his, wishing she could have done the same with her father. They hadn’t been close, by any stretch of the imagination. Jacob had stolen everything from her, because not one of them had been the same after that fateful day…the evening that she’d discovered Sally lying in a puddle of blood in the middle of a cornfield.
“Abe, I appreciate your insight of the individuals who I’ve mentioned, but I’d like you to keep a low profile. We aren’t sure what prompts the unsub to choose specific women. All I’m asking is that you keep your eyes open, ears to the ground, and be cautious in what you say to others from this point forward.”
“Is that your way of saying not to run my mouth or add grist to the gossip mill around here?”
“Yes,” Brook said with a small smile. “Yes, it is my way of saying be very discreet with who you share information with, and that includes you asking anyone questions on your own. This case is a bit unorthodox, which was why I felt the need to ask someone who—“
“Monitors the comings and goings of this nursing home?” Abe chuckled and then lifted his hand to place over hers. “I understand. I do, which is why I’ve been racking my brain to figure out who could possibly be that inhuman. Check on Louise Kolshack’s nephew. I don’t right recall his name, but I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“Why?” Brook asked as she stood after getting the sense that someone was behind them. Sure enough, Dylan was walking their way sans the white carryout bag. He was still far enough away that Abe would be able to respond to her query without being overheard. “What makes you suspect him?”
“Louise Kolshack’s sister died recently,” Abe murmured as he began to push on the top of the two wheels. “Apparently, she fell down the stairs inside of her own home. Louise believes that her nephew might have done it for the insurance money.”
Brook didn’t have time to reply since Dylan had practically caught up to them. He mumbled an apology for needing to brush past them since they’d been taking their time. She thought he’d mentioned something about forgetting the drinks in the car, but she couldn’t be sure about what she’d heard since Amelia had called Brook’s name.
“Mr. Risner would like to see you before you leave the facility,” Amelia said as she studied Abe with disappointment. In no way did she seem repentant for being caught listening in on a private conversation. “Abe, are you going to eat lunch in your room or the common area?”
“My room,” Abe replied in a rather terse manner. It appeared that he didn’t appreciate the way Amelia had gone about her job, either. “Where’s that son of yours? I’d like to ask him about that interview he had last week.”
Brook couldn’t tell if Abe was truly wanting to speak with Cody about an interview or if it was Abe’s way of taking the woman’s attention off her.
“Cody is helping out in the kitchen.” Amelia clicked the end of her pen as she switched her focus from Abe to Brook. “Cody is my son, and he’s been volunteering here while he waits to hear about a job position.”
Brook nodded her understanding, but she chose not to be drawn into a conversation with the woman. Cody Jennings fit the age of the unsub, which meant that his background would be gone through with a fine-tooth comb.
“Abe, thank you for spending time with me today. I needed a break away from the daily grind,” Brook said as she readjusted the strap of her purse. “You tell Norman that I’ll be back for another chess match. You two have a good day.”
Brook finally turned to Amelia.
“Where is Mr. Risner’s office?”
“Down the hall, third door on the right.”
“Thank you,” Brook replied as she advanced in that direction, not giving Amelia time to say anything else. The administrative assistant might very well have been protecting those in her place of business, but she’d gone about it all wrong. Brook wouldn’t trust a single word the woman said after pulling a stunt like she had this morning. “Mr. Risner?”
The door to Jim Risner’s office had been open, and he’d been sitting at his desk. He hadn’t been on the phone or typing on his computer. He hadn’t even been reading any material on his desk. Instead, he’d been staring into space with a contemplative expression. Upon hearing his name, he startled a bit before quickly standing from his chair.
The tension in the air was palpable.
“Ms. Sloane, I didn’t appreciate coming into the facility today to find you questioning our residents here,” Jim chastised as he remained behind his desk. Brook closed the distance until she’d reached the guest chair. She set her purse in the seat, but she remained standing for what was sure to be an interesting discussion. “I’ve already agreed to send you the information on guests who sign into our visitor log. We are cooperating, but I need to draw the line with you randomly fraternizing with our patients.”
“Residents,” Brook corrected him as she gently rested her dress coat on the back of the chair. “I believe the older individuals here are referred to as residents, and I was enjoying a game of chess with one of them. We talked about the weather, our favorite foods, and our taste in music. If Jack Ridgeway was brought into the conversation, I’m not going to be rude and change the subject. Are you really objecting to me spending some free time engaging in conversation with the people who have chosen to spend their remaining years at your facility?”
The muscle in Jim Risner’s jawline flexed as he controlled his temper.
Brook had intentionally pushed the boundaries of the man’s position. Some people loved their jobs, and some people only worked to collect a paycheck.
With Risner, it was clear that he hadn’t set out from his childhood to run a nursing facility.
The background check that she’d received in full before she’d pulled into the parking lot this morning had revealed that Risner was thirty-two years old, graduated college with a business degree, and grew up outside of Baltimore. He currently had two unpaid parking tickets, rented an apartment, and was up-to-date on his monthly bills. Nothing stood out to indicate that he had anything to do with the missing women, but it was certainly an odd coincidence that he’d been hired during the timespan of the original abductions.
The only personal memento on his desk was a photograph of a couple in their late sixties or early seventies. Other than that, his desk was pristine. Around three manilla folders had been set to the side, a clipboard was to the right of his keyboard, and his computer monitor was in sleep mode.
Risner had been waiting for her.
It was obvious that her presence at the facility this morning had bothered him.
