Back Track (22 page)

‘That’s right. Hewitt had a link to Selina and he’s gone. Rutherford had a link to the bad guys and now he’s gone. They tried to kill me. These are serious people, Vallejo. Whatever we’ve stumbled onto is big enough that they can afford to waste anyone with even the slightest connection to them or their victims.’

‘But it kind of means we’ve also come to a dead end, doesn’t it? Unless you’ve got some other lead you’ve been keeping secret?’

Bishop had been thinking about that on the drive over here. About what to do if Rutherford wasn’t around. And he’d found his thoughts returning to those admissions entries on the hospital database. At the end of most entries had been a pair of initials and a three-digit number. He hadn’t thought much about them at the time, but now he had a pretty good idea what they signified.

‘I might have one,’ he said. ‘Come on. Every second we stay in this place is a second too long. We can make an anonymous call to the cops once we’re away from here.’

Bishop relocked the front door and they made their way down to the car without meeting anybody. Once Vallejo got them back on the road, Bishop told her what he’d seen on the computer back at the hospital. ‘I think those initials represent the physician assigned to each patient. The number could be the physician’s pager number or pass number. The one on Mary Eastman’s entry was A.T. 423. And that’s somebody I’d really like to talk to.’

‘So how do you figure on finding out his, or her, name? I’d say that hospital’s pretty much out of bounds for you now, so you can forget about accessing that database again.’

Bishop shrugged. ‘There must be a registry somewhere that lists physicians that practise in the state. And since Mary Eastman’s face was covered in bandages, we could narrow it down further by focusing only on plastic surgeons. There can’t be that many with the initials A.T.’

‘Don’t be too sure, Bishop. They
are
two of the more common letters in the alphabet.’

‘You got any better suggestions?’

She turned to him. ‘You know, I just might.’

The
Saracen Post
newspaper offices were located in another large, one-storey building on West Central Avenue, overlooking the park. Two blocks down from the library. A pretty sensible location, Bishop felt. Or it would have been before the internet came along and levelled the playing field for researchers everywhere.

Vallejo parked in one of the angled spaces directly outside and turned off the engine.

Bishop looked out the window and said, ‘So what are we doing here?’

‘My first evening here,’ she said, ‘I went to a bar in town and got talking with a woman and a couple of her friends. Once her friends left, we stayed on. She said her name was Kaitlyn McGowan and that she worked at the local paper. We kept drinking and I ended up telling her more than I should have. I probably sounded deranged, talking about this phantom ambulance going round stealing women in the middle of the night, but she was real sympathetic. She also said I could call her again any time I felt like just talking to someone.’

‘People say a lot of things when they’ve had a few beers, Vallejo. They don’t necessarily mean them.’

‘I
know
that, but she still might be able to help. Besides, what have we got to lose?’

‘Nothing,’ he said and opened the door.

Once they entered the building they found themselves in an empty reception area. Newspaper and magazine racks shared wall space with a number of framed paintings. Probably from local artists. There was a large desk ahead with a computer and phone, but no receptionist. And no sign of one, either. But Bishop noticed a hallway to the right and heard voices coming from that direction.

They walked down the short passageway and entered what looked to be the newsroom. It was a large open-space area with about fifteen desks scattered around. Half of them were occupied by men and women either talking on the phone or working on computers. Or both. On either side were a number of private office areas, few of which looked occupied.

A pale young man working at one of the desks close to the hallway turned from his screen and smiled at Bishop and Vallejo. ‘Help you, folks?’

‘There was nobody in reception,’ Bishop said.

‘Yeah, I know. Sheila had to rush home for another family emergency.’ He turned to a large, bespectacled woman two desks down. ‘Third one this week, wasn’t it?’

‘Fourth,’ she said without turning from her screen.

The man turned back. ‘My mistake. Fourth. So you got a hot story for us, or what?’

Vallejo looked round and said, ‘I don’t see Kaitlyn. Is she in today?’

The man searched the room. ‘Well, she was here a few minutes . . . Hey, there she goes now.’

Bishop followed his gaze and saw a slim, attractive woman leave one of the offices on the left and walk towards a desk in the corner, next to a window. The privileges of rank, no doubt. She had a batch of folders under one arm and was carrying a cup of something while she talked on her cell phone.

‘Okay if we go over and talk to her?’ Vallejo asked. ‘I know her.’

‘Go right ahead,’ the man said and returned to his screen.

They made their way through the room until they reached Kaitlyn’s corner desk. She was still talking quietly on the cell phone and lifted a finger –
one minute
– to indicate they find themselves a seat. Bishop rolled two free chairs over from a nearby desk and they both sat down to wait.

Bishop studied Kaitlyn McGowan. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, she was about Vallejo’s age, maybe a little older, with straight light-brown hair down to her shoulders. He detected little make-up on her face. Maybe a hint of eye shadow around the hazel, almond eyes, but that was all. Her face already contained everything it needed to make it attractive.

She finished the call and placed the cell phone on the only clear spot on her desk. She smiled at Vallejo and said, ‘Hello again, Clarissa.’

Vallejo smiled back. ‘Good memory. How are you, Kate?’

‘Busy, as always.’ She lifted her mug and took a sip. Bishop could smell the faint aroma of coffee. ‘Good to see you again.’

‘And you.’ Vallejo looked around at the people working. ‘You didn’t tell me the
Post
was a daily paper.’

‘Weekdays only. Saturdays, some of us usually come in and finish up our lifestyle stories and features, ready for the following week.’ She tilted her head at Bishop. ‘So who’s your good-looking friend?’

Bishop introduced himself and said, ‘You the boss around here?’

She shook her head. ‘That honour goes to our wealthy founding father and owner, Stan Neeson. I’m just the editor, as well as senior reporter, although that’s not saying much.’ Kate sat back in her chair and looked at him. ‘So you’re James Bishop, huh?’

‘Why? Am I famous?’

‘I think
in
famous probably fits you better. I heard your name mentioned in conjunction with the Bannings fire on the police scanner this morning.’

‘Oh, that. It was a just case of mistaken identity, that’s all.’

She turned to Vallejo. ‘Is that right?’

‘Absolutely,’ Vallejo said with a straight face.

Kate turned back to Bishop, a faint upturn at the corners of her mouth. ‘Hmm. So tell me, what brings you to my humble corner?’

‘I was hoping you could help us out with something,’ Bishop said.

Kate frowned and looked at Vallejo. ‘
Us
? Is this about your missing friend? Samantha, isn’t it?’

Vallejo opened her mouth to speak and Bishop said quickly, ‘That’s right. I’m an old friend of Clarissa’s and we’re working together on locating Sam.’ He didn’t want to bring Selina’s name into this if he could help it. And the fact that Kate was already aware of Samantha’s existence would simplify things a lot.

‘Go ahead,’ Kate said, ‘I’m listening.’

‘Well, I’ve been checking around nearby hospitals, unofficially, and I may have found a lead a few days ago. See, I got a glimpse of some old paperwork with the name S. Mathison on it. It looked like a patient’s assessment sheet and most of it was illegible, although I could clearly make out the word
blepharoplasty
in there. Which is eyelid surgery, isn’t it? And at the bottom the physician had signed his initials along with a number: AT 423. So maybe that’s an ID number or something.’

‘So?’

‘So, I think this guy is probably a plastic surgeon, so maybe he belongs to one of the medical associations, if there’s one that specializes in that. This is the first sign we’ve had that Samantha’s still walking around so we really need to talk to him. I wouldn’t know where to start, but you must have plenty of contacts who can point us in the right direction.’

Kate was watching him closely. ‘Is that it?’

‘That’s all we’ve got. Can you help?’

Kate looked at each of them and then took another sip of coffee. ‘There
is
an association for that kind of thing. An offshoot of the AMA, called the AFFCRS. The American Federation of Facial Cosmetic and Reconstructive Surgery. But I don’t think that would help much.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because cosmetic surgeons aren’t legally required to register. It’s like a lot of these organizations. Most only join so they can have a few extra letters after their name. Looks good on the business card.’ She took another sip of her drink. ‘It doesn’t really matter, anyway.’

‘No? How come?’

‘Because I already got a pretty good idea who this A.T. is.’

Vallejo shifted in her seat. Bishop said. ‘Care to share?’

Kate shook her head and smiled. ‘Not on your life.’

Bishop arched his eyebrows. ‘Something I said?’

‘You tell me. Was that story you gave me really the best you could come up with?’

‘But I wasn’t lying about Sam,’ Vallejo said. ‘She’s the whole reason I’m here.’

‘Oh, I believe
you
, Clarissa, but I don’t believe she’s the reason
Bishop’s
here. Unless I’m a worse judge of character than I give myself credit for. Which I’m not.’

Bishop sat back in his seat. ‘So why
am
I here?’

‘Well, I don’t know, do I? But I’m pretty sure you’re not an old friend showing up to help out your old buddy. I mean, what took you so long? And for that matter, why didn’t Clarissa find this reference to Samantha before now? It’s been a month, after all. I may not know her that well, but I can tell she’s no dummy. If you found this elusive paperwork, then so could Clarissa. Especially as she’s got a lot more motive to go digging than you.’

Kate carefully placed her mug on the desk and sat forward. ‘Now I’m not against helping you guys out, but I really hate being lied to. I’m kind of eccentric like that. That’s why I do what I do. So I suggest you put your heads together and rethink your strategy in dealing with me, then maybe we can start over. What do you think?’

Bishop sighed and turned to Vallejo. ‘I can see it’s my lot in life to be surrounded by strong, forceful women.’

Vallejo shrugged. ‘I can think of worse fates.’

‘Actually, so can I,’ Bishop said.

He turned back to Kate. She reminded him a lot of Jenna. Not physically, but in other areas. Mainly the low tolerance for bullshit. And the fact she didn’t pull her punches when voicing her displeasure. Bishop had always liked people who spoke their minds. And he found himself liking this Kate. So the truth, then. But not the
whole
truth. Not with Selina’s future safety at stake. Kate was still a reporter, after all.

‘Okay,’ he said, ‘the name of the woman I’m searching for is Selina Clements.’ He went on to tell her about how he’d helped Selina, but only in broad strokes. He told her about his relocating her out here, followed by her sudden disappearance a month ago. Vallejo also mentioned the jarring similarities between her and Samantha. Kate listened to it all without interruption.

Once they were done, she said, ‘That’s better.’

‘You believe that over the far simpler story that I’m just helping Vallejo out with her problem? I thought it sounded pretty good, myself.’

Kate smiled. ‘It’s a matter of context. I might have believed it if it had come from Clarissa’s lips, since she’s a friend. Coming from a total stranger like yourself, however, I tend to be a little more dubious.’

‘Maybe I’m a friend, too,’ Bishop said,

‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ Kate said with a smile. ‘So this Selina. What was her name before you changed it?’

Bishop just slowly shook his head.

‘I thought you said we were friends.’

‘A friend wouldn’t ask that.’

Kate looked at him for a moment. Bishop thought she was deciding whether to get angry or not. Then she smiled and said, ‘You’re right. Sorry.’

‘Accepted. So what does A.T. stand for?’

Kate let out a long breath. ‘Well, I’m ninety-five per cent sure it stands for Adrian Tatem. And before you ask, he’s a plastic surgeon. Or a
cosmetic
surgeon, as they like to be called nowadays.’

Bishop said, ‘He’s local?’

‘Kind of. He’s got a place here in Saracen, but he doesn’t really mix with other residents. Standoffish kind of guy. Nobody really knows him that well.’

‘But you seem to.’

She shrugged. ‘I know
of
him. That’s not really the same thing, is it?’

‘Okay, so tell me what you do know.’

‘Only that he moved here from L.A. with his wife about three years ago. Got themselves a fancy walled compound on the east side of town. Like I say, I don’t know much about the guy, but I did a little digging and found out he used to be under exclusive contract to one of the big Hollywood studios. Prime Pictures.’

‘I’ve heard of them,’ Vallejo said.

‘Most people have.’ Kate found a rubber band on her desk and started stretching it between her fingers to create a cat’s cradle. Bishop thought she had nice hands. Good bone structure. But then, female hands were a particular weakness of his. Always had been. Kate noticed him looking and smiled.

‘You know why he left?’ Bishop asked.

‘Well, I found a small piece in
Variety
that said he’d gone into semi-retirement and wanted to be able to spend more time with his wife. But you know how accurate
their
stories are. Which means there could be any number of reasons why he decided to leave.’