Killer Exposure. Lara Lacombe

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СКАЧАТЬ The lungs were completely wiped out—just a puddle of goo in the chest. And the smell.” She shuddered, wrinkling her nose.

      “Dr. Whitman,” Owen said, keeping his gaze on Hannah, “do you have the chemical signatures from the samples you sent to Toxicology?” His pulse accelerated as adrenaline leaked into his system. This could be the break he’d been waiting for. If Dr. Baker recognized the chemical signatures, then the chemicals had to have come from ChemCure Industries. And if that was the case, he could use her to gain access to the company and the people who worked on that project.

      “Yes.” He heard her rummage through pages on her desk. “Here you go.” She picked up a manila folder and held it out.

      Hannah stared at the folder as if afraid it might bite her. Then she extended a hand and took it, holding it in her lap.

      “I had the police contact you when I saw the signature for nitrogen mustard compounds,” Dr. Whitman explained. “I thought you might be able to give them some background information on the chemicals.”

      “If this says what I’m afraid it does, I think we’re way beyond background information.” With a glance in his direction, Hannah sighed heavily and opened the folder.

      He held his breath as she examined the printed reports, trying to read her expression for clues. Did she recognize the chemicals? Could she tell him where they had come from?

      Her brows drew together as she scanned the papers, and her hand moved to her neck in that unconscious gesture he was beginning to associate with her. She wasn’t wearing a turtleneck today, he noted, but rather a collared shirt and gauzy scarf. While this outfit was more weather appropriate, the effect was the same—the skin of her neck was completely covered. Why did she insist on doing that? Was she overly modest, or was she trying to cover up some kind of scar?

      Focus, he told himself. Now was not the time to get distracted by irrelevant questions, no matter how intriguing.

      When she looked up and met his eyes, he knew. She recognized the compounds. He swallowed hard to keep from shouting in triumph, instead settling for what he hoped was an encouraging expression. “Do you know these chemicals?”

      Hannah nodded, her features downcast. “I do,” she said, sounding miserable. “They’re the same ones I worked with at ChemCure Industries.”

      “Can they be bought from a company?” Please say no... If the chemicals were unique, it would be easier to track down the source.

      She shook her head. “No. We modified them for our studies. We were trying to develop a new chemotherapy drug that could be taken by inhaler—it was going to revolutionize the treatment of lung cancer.”

      Owen felt his eyebrows shoot up. “Like an asthma inhaler?”

      “Something like that. The hope was that by delivering the drugs straight to the lungs, the patient would experience fewer side effects.”

      “But you never made it to human trials?” Dr. Whitman interjected.

      “No. Not after the results of the animal studies.”

      The room fell silent as everyone retreated to their own thoughts. After a moment, Owen cleared his throat. “I need to phone this in to my partner. Dr. Baker, I’ll need you to accompany me to ChemCure Industries. Are you free this afternoon?”

      “I suppose I am now.” She smiled ruefully, but he could see the worry in her eyes.

      He nodded. “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

      Owen pulled his phone from his pocket as he walked down the hall, heading for a small, closet-sized coffee station. He stepped inside, grateful for the added privacy. He didn’t think his voice would carry all the way back to Dr. Whitman’s office, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

      His partner answered on the third ring. “Gallagher. What’s up?”

      “I’ve got a lead.” He tried to keep the excitement from his voice, not wanting to sound too eager. But this was the best break they’d had after weeks of investigating. While he knew it was due to timing rather than his own skills as a detective, a small part of him was proud of being the one to bring this information to the table. Maybe it would even help silence some of his critics.

      “What have you got?” Nate’s tone was urgent, hopeful even. He’d been waiting for this, too.

      “I’m at the ME’s office. Dr. Baker is here, as well. She recognized the chemical signatures of the compounds isolated from our victims. Said they’re the same as the stuff she used to work with at ChemCure Industries.”

      “Hot damn,” Nate breathed. “That is good news. Can she tell you if the chemicals are from the same batches she worked with herself?”

      Owen frowned, wishing he’d thought to ask that. “I’m not sure. I’ll ask her. In the meantime, I’m taking her to ChemCure Industries. I’m going to ask a few questions about their nitrogen mustard program, see if I can come up with any more connections between the company and our bodies.”

      “Need any help?”

      The offer was tempting. Having a second set of eyes and ears was never a bad idea, particularly when questioning people. But Owen felt a little protective of this lead, and while he knew Nate wasn’t the kind of guy to swoop in and steal credit, he wanted to look into this one himself, at least for the time being.

      “Not right now. As far as ChemCure Industries is concerned, I’m just there to ask background questions. Nothing that’s going to raise any alarms. Besides, I need you to keep digging for a connection between our victims. Found anything yet?”

      “Maybe.” There was a rustle of papers before Nate spoke again. “Several of the victims were patients at the free clinic down off Thomas Street. They had appointment cards in their wallets.”

      Owen closed his eyes, pulling up his mental map of Houston. “That’s several miles north of Buffalo Bayou, where they were found.” He leaned against the wall and focused on the blinking red light of the coffeemaker. “That means it’s even more likely these were dump jobs.”

      “Yep. The Little Whiteoak Bayou runs right behind the clinic, but according to Doc Whitman, the bodies weren’t in the water long enough for them to have floated downstream that far.”

      “So we have a serial killer who is trying to get the evidence as far away from himself as possible,” Owen mused, thinking out loud. “Are you going to check out the clinic today?” Could there be some connection between the clinic and ChemCure Industries? He made a mental note to ask Hannah if the company gave any donations to the free clinics in Houston. Perhaps a bad batch of drugs had gotten through?

      “That’s my plan.”

      “Do me a favor, will you? Get the names of all the employees at the clinic, from the doctors all the way down to the guy who takes out the trash. I want to see if there’s any connection between ChemCure Industries and the workers there.”

      “Will do. Anything else?”

      “Just keep me posted. I’ll do the same.”

      “Roger that.”

      Owen СКАЧАТЬ