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CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Jessie felt a shiver run down her spine.
She knew she wasn’t supposed to depend on her gut to the exclusion of all else. But something told her the man in front of them was very dangerous. It was nothing overt. But in a way she couldn’t quite verbalize, his manner was just…off. That didn’t mean he was a killer. But he definitely wasn’t, as he described himself, just a “law-abiding, well-informed citizen.”
“Are you married, Richard?” she asked, trying to shake him out of the cockiness he clearly felt here at the home field of his office.
His brow furrowed slightly, probably as much as was possible considering all the Botox in his forehead.
“Sadly no,” he admitted. “Three engagements but never made it to the altar. Why do you ask? Are you in the market?”
“I’m afraid not,” she said. “I’m spoken for.”
“Of course you are,” Kallas replied. “How could you not be? I mean, despite the incarcerated ex-husband and the serial killer daddy, you’re still quite a catch, though I imagine the emotional support required of your partner would be significant.”
Jessie managed not to glance at Ryan. Kallas continued.
“So, if you’re not here looking for a date, I have to wonder the reason for this visit. Forgive my curiosity but I’ve had two law enforcement types in my office after work hours for several minutes now and I’m still not clear why. Care to share?”
“Of course,” Ryan said, taking a slight step forward so that he was physically between Kallas and Jessie. “We have a few questions for you about a woman named Missy Mack. Are you familiar with her?”
Without any hesitation, Kallas smiled and gave a soft chuckle. It was not the reaction Jessie expected.
“Do you mean Michaela Penn?” he asked. “Of course I know her.”
“In what capacity?” Ryan asked.
“Well, I can’t get into too many specifics because of HIPAA requirements, but she’s a patient.”
“She’s a patient of yours?” Jessie asked incredulously.
“Technically, she’s a potential surgical patient. She’d come in for several consultations but we hadn’t come to any final determination about actions going forward.”
“What kind of actions?” Jessie pressed.
“As I said, privacy regulations prevent me from getting specific,” Kallas replied, adopting an apologetic tone. “You’d need a waiver from Ms. Penn before I could speak about her care.”
Ryan glanced over at Jessie. She knew what was coming and trained all her attention on Kallas.
“Michaela Penn is dead,” Ryan said bluntly.
Kallas’s permanent smile disappeared.
“What?” he said.
“Michaela Penn was murdered two days ago. So according to HIPAA disclosure provisions, you are able to share her information with law enforcement.”
Kallas shook his head, not so much in refusal but because he seemed not to have fully processed the information.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You said Michaela’s dead?”
“That’s correct,” Ryan said. “When did you see her last?”
“I don’t know,” he said, putting his hand to his forehead and rubbing it vigorously. “I think it was recently. I’d have to check my records to be sure.”
“Go ahead,” Ryan said. “We’ll wait.”
Jessie watched Kallas closely as he returned to his desk. While there was no “correct” way to respond to the news of someone’s death, he was behaving within the normal range of expected reactions.
