Blood of Innocence Read online

I set up her registry on the Neiman Marcus Web site. Then, because she was being so irritating, not actually wanting to look at things so I could add them to her list, I started picking stuff for her.

  A House Blessing Box by Jan Barboglio. No, Mom wasn’t religious. That was the point. I also added a 150-dollar paper towel holder, a butt-ugly vase, and some plates printed with a huge, busy floral pattern. Our food came before I could find any more useless items for her list.

  Mom’s pool boy/butler had put our carryout on plates and had set them on the nearby dining table.

  Mom crinkled her nose. “I can’t see the TV.”

  Seriously? This was a woman who had taught me that television was akin to crack. It would fry my brain.

  “I’ll bring some trays,” Sergio said.

  “I’m good right here.” I made myself comfortable in a chair and reached for the pitcher he’d just set down.

  “I’ll get it.” He beat me to it. Our fingers brushed. A tiny, minuscule touch. But that little bit of contact made me flinch.

  I was such a child when it came to men. But that was because I had so little experience with them. I didn’t date in high school. That was mostly because the boys all thought I was a brainy geek, which was true. And also because I was years younger than most of them. But it was also because I’d done everything in my power to keep them at bay, including dress and look the part of a brainy geek.

  Same thing in college.

  There’d been one. Only one. Gabe.

  Of course, that hadn’t turned out well. A broken heart put me right back onto the path of man-avoidance. I’d been traveling that road pretty much since then. And men seemed to be willing to let me.

  But lately ... I couldn’t say whether it was the stupid extensions I’d had put in last week—they were for work, I’m not that vain—or something else. But suddenly it seemed I was getting a lot more attention from men.

  At any rate, I knew my life was out of balance. I was intelligent. I could translate a passage of text into at least a dozen different languages. I could recite statistics for hours. And my brain housed enough information to fill a set of encyclopedias. But when it came to social situations, I was an infant. Awkward. Self-conscious. Inept.

  This was why I jerked my hand back like I’d touched a live wire.

  If Sergio noticed—how could he not?—he didn’t react. Moving with fluid grace, he poured some ice water into my glass and set the pitcher back in place. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “No. Thanks. I’m good.”

  He responded with another smile. “Are you?” he asked, not waiting for my answer before disappearing in the house.

  It was a good thing—for him. After that little remark, I was tempted to throw something at him.

  Men.

  All the adversity I’ve had in my life, all my troubles and obstacles, have strengthened me... . You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.

  —Walt Disney

  9

  “I give up.”

  Speaking of men ...

  Blinking into the darkness, I leered at the shadow next to my bed. It was late, sometime between sunset and sunrise. I hoped it was closer to the former than the latter. I needed it to be closer to the former than the latter. “What’s the matter now, Elmer?” My voice was scratchy, rough.

  “We may as well get married and get it over with,” he said with a sigh.

  “Doesn’t that sound romantic?” I stretched and blinked at the glaring red numbers on my clock. Was that ... two-thirty? No, twelve-thirty. Thank God.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. But I’m getting tired of living like this. And I can’t find a decent elf to marry, instead.”

  “You haven’t been looking for long.” I fluffed my pillow, hoping Elmer would get the message. It was a silly hope, I realized that.

  “Yes, I have. I’ve been looking for twenty years.”

  “No, you’ve been waiting for twenty years. For me,” I corrected. I snapped on the bedside lamp and blinked at him. “Or were you looking for something better the whole time you were supposedly engaged to me?”

  “Well ...” His gaze flew to the floor.

  My ego took a blow there. “Well?” I echoed.

  “I stopped looking at least a year before I started contacting you, if that makes you feel any better,” he said to the floor.

  “Hmm.” I went back to pillow fluffing. The pillow was flat. Very. It needed a lot of fluffing.

  “Don’t pout now. It was nothing personal.”

  “I’m not pouting.”

  “Coulda fooled me. You’re beating your pillow to a pulp.”

  “It’s flat. And as far as you go, you didn’t have me helping you before. Now you do. And I’ll find you the perfect wife.” Next I shook out the covers and smoothed them down.

  “I’ve heard that before. So far, your results have been less than impressive.”

  “You haven’t taken my advice.” Abandoning my nesting, I wagged a finger at him. “You can’t hold anything that’s happened against me, when you’re still doing everything your way.”

  “I see your point.”

  “Then you’ll agree to try it my way?”

  He shrugged. “I may.”

  “I won’t marry you unless you give it an honest try.”

  “Very well.” He sighed. His shoulders dropped at least three inches. “What do you want me to do first?” he grumbled.

  I reclined against the headboard for a moment and gathered my thoughts. Meanwhile, Elmer started pacing nervously.

  “Women are impressed by power. Money. Do you have either of these?”

  “I’m a prince. What do you think?”

  “Right. How could I have forgotten?”

  I took in tonight’s ensemble. His pants were three inches too long, and his polyester shirt was roughly thirty-five years outdated. “You need to capitalize on your roy-alness. We’re going to focus on online dating for a while. Let’s see what that does for us.”

  “Online dating is a waste of time, I’m telling you.”

  I squinted.

  He sighed. “I know, I know.”

  “Okay. Let me think. Hmm ... you’re a prince. You need a wife. We need to find the perfect woman for you. I know! I remember a while back a television network ran a show called Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire? It was a total train wreck. But there were some very attractive, interesting women who took a chance and auditioned for the show.”

  “Did the millionaire get married?” Elmer asked, his little, beady eyes glittering with hope.

  “Um, no.”

  This time, he squinted.

  “We’ll find you a wife. I promise.” The gears were turning already. I needed to find a production company that would be willing to take care of all the casting and filming. Then I needed to find a network willing to air it. This wasn’t going to be easy. But if it worked, I’d have women lined up at my door, waiting to meet Elmer.

  I had to find a way to make it happen.

  My first thought was to talk to my father. As much as I didn’t trust him, when it came to having contacts, particularly among elves and fairies, he was the go-to man. Who knew? Maybe he’d have some contacts in the press, since he did have regular interaction with them in his work for Her Majesty.

  “Elmer, I have a plan.”

  He perked up. “You do? Already?”

  “Yes. Now get lost. I have to get some sleep tonight. I have a day job, remember?”

  “I’m outta here.” Poof. He was gone.

  After checking the time, I went ahead and called my father’s cell phone. When he didn’t answer, not that I’d expected him to, I left a message, briefly summarizing what I needed to talk to him about. Then I did what most any girl in my position would do.

  I went and had a bowl of ice cream, to help me get back to sleep.

  “Good morning.” Chief Peyton looked downright chipper as she motioned all
of us into the meeting room. She paced while we sat and gathered pens and paper for notes. When we were all ready, she announced, “Finally we’ve caught a break in our case.”

  I shifted to the edge of my seat and lifted my pen.

  She announced, “Yesterday, with Skye’s help, I obtained a list of contract workers for Sano Health. After reviewing the list, I noticed a pattern with the traveling ultrasound technicians they employ. In particular, there’s one individual who not only worked at all three doctors’ offices our victims were visiting for care, but she had provided hands-on services to them.”

  This had to be the big something we’d been looking for! And, I noticed, Chief Peyton had referred to the ultrasound technician as a she. I’d been right.

  “What’s next?” I asked.

  “Unfortunately, this connection isn’t enough in itself for the Baltimore PD to obtain a search warrant. So they’re bringing her in for questioning this morning. Skye, Thomas, I’d like you two to be there for the questioning. JT, I’ve watched you in interrogation. I’d like to see if you can get anywhere with her.” Turning to Gabe, she said, “Wagner and I will be digging up anything and everything we can on this individual, along with Hough, who will remain here at the unit as a liaison.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Let’s stop this monster before she kills again. No mistakes. We can’t have her walking.”

  I hurried to my cubicle to gather my laptop and purse. JT caught up with me there.

  “I hope we can get her to talk,” I said as I hurried through the process of powering down and packing up my computer.

  “I’m going to do my best.” JT wound the power cord up and handed it to me.

  “Thanks.” I shoved the cord into the zippered compartment and then added the computer to its padded pocket. “Almost ready. I didn’t know you were a master of interrogation techniques. I’d like to learn more about it.” I zipped the case shut; then I grabbed my purse. JT carried my computer bag with his free hand and together we headed for the elevators.

  Out in the hallway, I poked the down button.

  JT said, “You should study interrogation techniques. Having a woman interrogate female suspects would be helpful. Especially since the point of the first stage in interrogation is to develop a rapport with the suspect, make him or her feel a little at ease. Common knowledge says that once a person starts telling the truth, and the more he or she tells us, the more difficult it becomes for him or her to lie. It’s breaking through that initial resistance that can be tough.”

  The bell rang. The doors slid open. We stepped into an empty car.

  “I don’t suppose you’d let me try?” I asked meekly.

  “Not this time, Skye. You have no experience. Plus, I don’t like the idea of leaving you in a room alone with the suspect.”

  “What if I went in with you?”

  “I don’t know. If you make a mistake, what she says could become inadmissible. I’ll talk to Peyton and McGrane. In any event, you’ll be able to observe.”

  “That’s good enough for me.”

  The car gave a little bouncing stop and the doors opened.

  As we stepped out into the main lobby, JT said, “Remember, we don’t have a lot to go on at this time. Part of interrogating a suspect is being able to develop a believable explanation of how and why she committed the crime. That’s going to be almost impossible.”

  We headed outside.

  A half hour later, through a one-way mirror, I was watching a young woman who looked no older than myself. The woman, our suspect, was sitting in a tiny white-walled room by herself. She had been asked to take the chair facing a table and the wall with the one-way mirror. Two empty chairs were positioned on the opposite side of the table, which would place the detective and JT with their backs to me. At this point, no detectives had gone in to question her yet. After waiting for ten minutes, she was already starting to look anxious. Her gaze was shifting from one part of the room to the other, occasionally flicking to the door. Twice she looked directly at the mirror. I knew she couldn’t see me, but I still felt funny when she looked my way.

  Finally McGrane went in, along with JT. They introduced themselves and then sat.

  “Your name, ma’am?” McGrane asked.

  “Terry Pietrzak. Why am I here?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest. That was a clear defensive sign. Everyone knows how to read that one. “Am I in some kind of trouble?”

  “No, no,” McGrane said. “We’re hoping you can help us with a case.”

  Pietrzak’s shoulders visibly dropped. “Ah, okay. How can I help you?”

  “Are you employed by Sano Health?” the detective asked.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “What do you do for them?” he asked.

  “I’m an ultrasound technician. I travel to doctors’ offices and perform ultrasounds on their patients.”

  “That sounds very interesting. Do you enjoy your job?” McGrane asked. So far, JT hadn’t said a word, outside of his name.

  “Most of the time, yes. I specialize in obstetrical sonography. So nine times out of ten, the patients are looking forward to the procedure. I take measurements to determine how the fetus is growing, print photographs for the soon-to-be parents, and tell them the gender of their baby, if they want to know.”

  “Sounds like a great job,” JT said.

  Pietrzak smiled. “It is.”

  “Do you have any children? Have you had an ultrasound yourself?” JT asked. I wasn’t sure where he was going with that question.

  “No, not yet,” she said. “I’m not ready for kids. I’m just getting my career going, and my wedding is a long way off.”

  “You’re getting married?” JT asked. It seemed as though he was stepping in and taking over.

  She nodded. “Yes, next June.”

  JT returned her smile. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. I’m very excited. We’re planning a big wedding. Though, if it were up to me, I’d be happy with something small and private. But I doubt you care too much about that.”

  Ah, he was doing a great job getting her to loosen up and talk. I had to assume that was his intention.

  JT shook his head. “No need to hold back. We’re just having a friendly chat.”

  “Sure,” Pietrzak said, crossing her arms again.

  Looked like JT had said something wrong. I wondered what it was.

  The detective continued. “You said part of your job is to travel to doctors’ offices. Do you generally visit the same ones on a regular basis?”

  McGrane was moving things back to the business at hand.

  “Generally. But I also cover for other workers sometimes, when they’re sick or schedule vacations.”

  The detective scribbled down some notes. JT didn’t.

  “Would the following doctors be on your regular schedule?” McGrane asked. “Dr. Patel, Dr. Rosenstein, and Dr. Yokely?”

  “Yes. All three.”

  The detective once again took down some notes. “And how long have you been working for Sano?”

  “Since I moved to Baltimore, in late May.”

  It was late June. Pietrzak had been in the area for about a month. The timing was a little off.

  The murders had begun only this week. And there’d been three in rapid succession. Our assumption had been that our unsub had been killing for some time. Certainly more than a week or two. If that was the case, it wasn’t likely she could have gone for three weeks without killing. Unless she had just recently escalated her killing for some reason.

  Had some kind of trigger tripped something?

  This was a killer who knew exactly how to cover her tracks. She knew how to get into a home undetected. She knew how to kill without waking someone sleeping next to the victim. There was no way that kind of precision, and confidence, could be developed overnight.

  “Where did you move from?” JT asked.

  “Michigan. I finished up classes in May and was immediately hired by Sano.”


  “Do you have friends or family in the area?” JT asked.

  “Nope.”

  “And your fiancé ... ?” JT asked.

  I think I had some idea where JT was going with this. He was looking for that trigger.

  “He’s still in Michigan.”

  Looking fairly sympathetic, JT shook his head. “It must have been hard moving out of state. Alone. With no friends or family to help.”

  “I was ready for a change. I’ve never been afraid to move. In fact, I moved to Michigan from Ohio on my own, to go to school. And as far as my fiancé goes, he’s joining me as soon as he can find a job. He’s made a few trips out here, and has gone on some interviews. I’m hopeful he’ll get something soon.”

  Interesting.

  I was still on the fence about Terry Pietrzak. She clearly wasn’t lying about her job. She wasn’t trying to hide the fact that she’d been at those doctors’ offices; and thus, she wasn’t making any effort to deny she’d had some kind of contact with the victims. For that reason, I wanted to believe she was innocent.

  But...

  She’d also just moved. Out of state. Alone.

  She’d left behind a fiancé.

  Why? For a job that paid a moderate wage? To me, that seemed highly suspicious.

  She glanced at the detective, then at JT. “Can you tell me what kind of case you’re working on?”

  “We can. If you’d just answer a few more questions ... ,” McGrane said.

  “Sure.” Pietrzak glanced at her wristwatch. I leaned closer to the mirror.

  That was one heck of a watch. Sparkly stones surrounded the black rectangular face. And the band was actually made of oblong links of jewel-encrusted white metal. It was flashy and yet sophisticated. Awfully expensive for a recent college graduate working an entry-level job.

  Of course, it could also be fake.

  “Do you keep some kind of log or written record of the patients you see every day?” McGrane asked.

  “Yes, I do. I have to, for insurance-billing purposes.”

  The detective nodded. “Of course. So it wouldn’t be difficult for you to give us a list of the patients you’ve personally seen over the past few weeks?”

  She shifted in her seat a little. “I’d have to check with my supervisor, to make sure it’s okay. You know, the Medical Privacy Act.”