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“Okay…” I allow my eyes to flick back and forth between the two sets of images. “Bridge it for me, Doctor. I don’t have the same degree as you.”
“This,” she takes another trio of scans from Aubree and repeats her steps. “Her name is not Mary, but for our purposes, let’s call her that.” One image taped to the glass. Then a second. A third. “Mary was sixty-five. She died from kidney failure and a rejected transplant. She took a whole cocktail of prescription meds, as required, to keep her alive for as long as they could manage. She also took blood pressure medication. She was also an insulin-dependent type 2 diabetic.”
A fourth set of images. “Frankie here,” she looks back at me, “not his real name. Frankie was thirty-seven when he lost consciousness while driving, hit a ravine, and drove straight into the bay. Technically, he died by drowning, but prior to that, it would appear his blood sugars dropped out and he went into a hypoglycemic state. Frankie also had heart and kidney issues.”
“Why are you showing us this?” I push out of my seat and move closer to the wall so I can study each set, one at a time. “I don’t understand.”
“Each of these people has died. Each ofthesepeople,” she points to the John Doe, Mary, and Frankie, “suffered long-term health issues that span a similar range. Melissa,” she points back at the first, “was supposed to be in good health, and according to you, took no medication whatsoever. Yet all four of these people share a similar shadow on their scans.”
Moving to her desk and snagging a pen, Minka comes back and circles the shadow on each image. “Melissa’s. It’s super faint, but it’s there. John Doe.” She circles again. “Mary. And Frankie.” She circles again and again. “Every single one of these people died with a similar shadow showing up on their scans, which implied—to me—that perhaps each of these people took the same or similar medication.”
“But Melissa—”
“Allegedly took nothing.” She nods and moves back to Aubree for another set. “Tells me perhaps her killer either injected her with or fed her something she wasn’t supposed to take. So then I had to figure out what that thing was.”
She tapes up a fifth set of images. “Let’s call her Josie. She was thirty-two years old. Homecoming queen. Married. Two kids and a fluffy little dog.” Minka stops and turns to face me. “Each of these people, besides Melissa, had overlapping comorbidities. John had high BP, T2 diabetes, retinopathy, and high cholesterol. Mary had kidney failure, high blood pressure, and diabetes. Frankie had kidney problems and diabetes as well,andsuffered from heart problems.”
“There’s a common theme there,” Aubree murmurs. “But how would we know which was responsible for the shadow Melissa also has?”
“We had to find someone who suffered onlyoneof the above. To narrow it down and find the shadow. Josie,” Minka points to the final scan, “was that person.” She turns and faces us with a half-smile. “Josie didnothave blood pressure troubles, nor did she take medication for it. Josie also didnothave cholesterol issues.”
“She did, however, have type 2 diabetes.” Pleased with herself, Aubree stands a little taller and clasps her hands behind her back. “Insulin. That’s what caused the shadow in each of these people.”
“And it’s what I’m ruling as cause of death for Melissa,” Minka finishes. “Insulin overdose, which will have led to severe and intractable hypoglycemia. She would have lost consciousness reasonably quickly. Soon after that, her brain would have been robbed of what it needed to function. Eventually, she would have simply died. Quietly. Pain-free. In her sleep.”
Crossing back to her desk, Minka picks up a fresh new manila folder and offers it to me. “The medical examiner’s office stands by their report and sincerely hopes you find your perpetrator soon.”
“Melissa wasn’t a diabetic.” Fletch steps closer and takes the file to read it himself. “Why would she be anywhere near insulin?”
“Well, maybe your killer is diabetic.” Minka backs up and rests on the edge of her desk. “Maybe he panicked. Baby was on the way, they had a fight, maybe she didn’t want to accept this person in her life, whether he’s the ex-husband, or the baby-daddy, or someone else seemingly unconnected. I’m not a cop, but I surmise you should start by asking your suspects if they’re insulin-dependent.”
* * *
“The kid’s been missing for about thirty hours now.” Slipping into the driver’s seat and switching on the engine, Fletch pulls away from the George Stanley before I even have the door closed. “Thirty hours is a long fucking time to be brand-new in this world, without medical supervision, and hanging with a killer.”
“Take us back to Trudy’s.” I snatch out my phone and scroll down my emails. “I feel like we’re missing something big, and it sounds to me like Melissa’s mother doesn’t know shit about her kid. Melissa wanted out of that controlling marriage, and still, even after her death, Mrs. Boyd is advocating for reunification.”
“Probably means Melissa didn’t tell the woman her secrets.”
“No. But chicks tell their secrets tootherchicks, right? Last night, Aubree broke in and destroyed Tim’s place. She trashed it, then she tried to clean it again. She gave meaning to the termcat burglary. And do you know who she called? Theoneperson she confided in?” I look across to him as he cuts a right and takes us toward the salon. “Minka. It was night, it was infusion time. Weallknow Minka isn’t the warm and cuddly, secret-telling kinda female. And still, Aubree called her gal pal and spilled her shit all over the place.”
“You think there’s a third person of interest?” He speeds across the city, using our lights and sirens when traffic gets thick and he doesn’t want to stop. “You think someone is holding out?”
“I think Mrs. Boyd has no clue about Melissa’s secrets. I think Anton tried to pry Melissa’s secrets out with force, and when that didn’t work, he tried coercion and guilt trips. I think Stan didn’t want to know Melissa’s secrets, but truth be told, I think putting a patrol car on his tail will lead us where we’ve gotta go.”
“You think he had something to do with it?”
“Nope. But I think he’s got an axe to grind, connections in the seedier parts of the city we probably shouldn’t go to, and a kid he’s looking to find. Stan isn’t going home to ignore this mess. He’s gonna find his baby and put it somewhere safe, even if he doesn’t intend to raise it on his own. While we do this the way Lieutenant Fabian wants us to, I bet we can move faster by placing a tail on Stan and waiting to see what he finds out.”
Hitting dial, I call my lieutenant directly and wait only a moment for him to answer.
“This is Fabian.”
“Hey, Lieutenant. It’s Archer Malone. I was hoping to ask for extra resources on this Boyd case Fletch and I are running.”
“Melissa Boyd?” He says her name like a question, but I know he’s in his office, resting his face in his hand and running the entire case through his mind. “Dead girl in the park. Missing infant. George Stanley has the body. Where are you up to?”
“I think I know who did it, Lieutenant, and why. But I need an extra set of eyes on one side of the city today while Fletch and I are on the other.”
