Chapter Seventeen

The receptionist was a rosy-cheeked kid of maybe nineteen or twenty who turned the color of fresh snow when he saw the three FBI agents walk into the hospital. That made Faith wonder what the hospital might be hiding that they were so afraid of law enforcement. Then again, they weren't the police, they were the FBI, and the kid was young enough that he might just be afraid of authority.

Faith smiled to try to relax him a little. "Good afternoon. I'm Special Agent Faith Bold, and this is my partner, Special Agent Michael Prince. And this furry little guy is my K-9 unit, Turk."

Turk barked, and the kid jumped. Ah. He was afraid of dogs.

"Don't worry," Faith assured him. "He won't bite. Unless you're a criminal." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Are you a criminal?"

A trace of green colored the young man's white face. He shook his head rapidly. "N—no!"

Michael looked sideways at Faith and stepped in to rescue her. "We need to speak to Dr. Lucas Hammond. Is he in right now?"

"Um… Um… I'll check."

The kid's fingers flew across the keyboard. He glanced nervously up at Faith. She smiled at him, and he paled further.

Was it something I said?

A moment later, the receptionist said, "Um… he should be in his office right now. That's room 373. He does have an examination scheduled for forty-five minutes from now, but he should be free to talk. Um… is he in trouble?"

"I'm afraid we're not at liberty to discuss details," Michael said. "Thank you."

They headed to the elevator. Turk looked sideways at the receptionist as they passed the desk, and the kid shrank back in his chair. Turk looked at Faith in confusion, and she shrugged.

In the elevator, Michael asked, "What the hell was that?"

Faith felt heat climb her cheeks. "What?"

"You know what. Were you trying to flirt with that kid?"

"No! I was just trying to calm him down. He looked nervous."

"How was that supposed to calm him down? You sounded like a desperate cougar asking him for his number."

"Hey! Don't call me a cougar!"

"I'm just saying. The poor kid's going to go home thinking some crazy cop with a scary dog tried to hit on him in full battle uniform."

"I was just trying to relax him," Faith said, face flaming.

"I'll bet you were."

"Oh, shut up. You're gross."

Michael chuckled, but when the elevator door opened, he adopted a professional look. Faith hoped her face was also professional, but she was pretty sure it was close in shade to a raspberry.

So she was a little awkward around younger people. Whatever. Plenty of adults had trouble talking to… younger adults.

God, maybe she was getting old.

They reached Dr. Hammond's office, and the task at hand pushed away Faith's embarrassment. She could deal with her social awkwardness later. Maybe she'd get a chance to apologize to the kid on the way downstairs.

They walked inside to find Dr. Hammond in the middle of eating a sandwich. He looked between the three of them in surprise. "Can I help you?"

"We sure hope so," Faith said. "I'm Special—"

His brow furrowed. "Why is that dog in here? This is a hospital floor. You can't have dogs in here."

"That dog is my K9 unit, Turk," Faith said. "I am Special—"

"Did you make an appointment? I have an exam in forty-five minutes."

Faith's lips thinned. "Agent Faith Bold. This is my partner, Special Agent—"

Lucas lifted his hands in irritation. "Are you listening to me? You need to make an appointment—"

Michael leaned over Lucas's desk until his eyes were inches from the rude doctor. Lucas kept his affronted expression, but Faith was pleased to see his cheeks pale as much as the hospital's receptionist.

"Can you read, Dr. Hammond?" Michael asked.

Lucas blinked. "What?"

"Can you read?" Michael pointed at his chest. "These three letters. Can you read them?"

"Y-yes, I can, but…"

"Good. So maybe stop acting high and mighty and listen to what we have to say. Unless you want to skip ahead to the part where we cuff you and walk you out of this hospital while loudly reading charges."

"Charges? What's going on?"

"Maybe try listening, and you'll find out. Sound good?"

Lucas swallowed and nodded.

"Outstanding." Michael straightened and nodded at Faith.

"Perfect. We're investigating the murders of Maria Gonzalez, Rebecca Wells and Emily Chen."

Lucas's eyes widened. "She was murdered?"

"All three of the shes, in fact."

"Yeah, but… Emily was one of them?"

"Yes."

"Well, I didn't do it."

Faith and Michael shared a look before turning back to the doctor. Turk growled softly, and Lucas paled again.

"Sorry about that," Faith said. "Turk really doesn't like rude, self-important assholes."

Lucas swallowed and said in a more subdued tone. "I really don't know who killed them, okay? But it wasn't me. I know you're here because Emily sued me, right? And you think that because of that, I might have wanted her dead."

"That, and you knew all three of the women."

"What? No, I didn't."

"Ah," Michael said, lifting his finger, "but you did. We have records that you saw all three women for complaints of sensitive hearing."

Lucas scoffed. "Do you know how many people I see a day for hearing complaints?"

"Probably quite a few. But according to your own records, only eighty people in ten years have come to see you because of too much hearing. Three of those people are dead. All three of them were lured to said deaths with high-frequency sound equipment that wouldn't bother someone with too little hearing but would be absolutely unbearable to someone with sensitive hearing. So we're thinking that the killer knew that these women had sensitive hearing. We're also thinking that he had a reason to want them dead. And we're thinking that you had a reason."

"Why? What possible reason could I have?"

"Oh, I don't know," Faith answered. "How about, you almost lost your job, your career and your license because of the Emily Chen lawsuit? How about, maybe you did cut a few corners or make a few mistakes, and maybe Maria Gonzalez and Rebecca Wells suffered due to that mistake? Maybe you think you should get rid of the people who could take away everything you have."

Lucas met her eyes and jutted his chin out. "How about, I won that lawsuit because it was baseless? How about, I don't cut corners, and I don't make mistakes, and there's a reason I'm still the premier ENT in the Seattle area? Maybe I don't want to lose my job, my career and my license, not to mention my freedom by killing some stuck-up bitch I already beat in court?"

"What did she sue you for?" Michael asked.

Lucas scoffed. "She expected the impossible. She wanted to take away her sensitivity while still maintaining her resolution. That means she still wanted super hearing, she just didn't want it to hurt."

"Yeah, I got that," Faith replied, "but maybe explain to me why that's as stupid as you're making it sound."

"Because you can't do that. In order to fix her sensitive hearing, I would have to reduce her sensitivity. She wanted something she couldn't have, and when I couldn't give it to her, she decided to sue me."

"People don't sue doctors for not doing things," Michael challenged. "They sue doctors when doctors charge them for treatments that don't do what the doctor says it will do. Like, for example, your nerve therapy."

Lucas paled slightly. "I made it clear to her that nerve therapy isn't intended to be a cure for any condition, only that it can relieve symptoms. She signed the waiver."

"And then she sued you. And then you killed her."

"No! I didn't kill her!"

"Did the other two try your nerve therapy?" Faith asked.

"No. I only came up with it last year."

"What exactly is nerve therapy?" Michael asked.

Lucas paled a little more. "It… um… why do you need to know?"

"Humor me."

Michael's expression made it clear that humor was the furthest thing from his mind. Lucas swallowed and said, "It, um… it involves applying targeted pressure to certain nerve clusters that can affect hearing sensitivity."

Michael lifted an eyebrow. "Massage?"

"It superficially resembles massage, yes."

"Do me," Faith said, sitting in the chair across from Lucas's desk.

Lucas swallowed. "W—what?"

"My hearing's sensitive. Show me what nerve clusters you'd apply targeted pressure to. I'm interested to know where on my body these nerve clusters are."

Lucas swallowed again. "You can make an appointment with the hospital for an examination, and then I will determine if nerve therapy is right for you."

"Hmm. Here's another thought: you were sued for malpractice because you invented a bullshit type of therapy and used it as an excuse to touch Emily inappropriately."

Lucas's lower lip trembled, which made his outburst of anger all that much more pathetic. "That… that's not true!"

"Maybe you thought Maria and Rebecca were pretty, too," Michael speculated. "Maybe you didn't call it nerve therapy back then. Maybe you just wanted to cop a feel, and now you're worried that if Emily got the courage to call you on your bullshit, they would too."

"That's a lie!"

"Where were you last night, Dr. Hammond?" Faith asked.

"I was here! I had a surgery that ran until after midnight, then I stayed the night."

"The hospital lets you just stay the night?"

"Yes. If you're on shift late, they'll let you sleep in one of the lounges or break rooms. You have to let security know, and there has to be a room available, but we're medical professionals. We don't work nine to five. Sometimes things run late, and they don't want us getting into accidents or coming to work the next day too fatigued to hold a scalpel. I was here. Do you want to check with the charge nurse?"

Faith and Michael exchanged a look. "Sit tight," Michael said. "We'll be right back."

When they left the office, Michael said, "We should have done that to begin with.

Faith's cheeks burned. "Yes. We should have."

Five minutes later, they knew that they really should have.

"Yes, he was here," a very pleasant middle-aged woman with a kindly smile and gentle blue eyes informed the agents. "He had a surgery run late. A poor young boy with growths on his eardrums that prevented them from vibrating. He had to be very slow and careful not to puncture the eardrums, but he got all of the growth removed. You should have seen his face when he could hear his parents for the first time! We see so much pain here. It's nice to see things end well. Oh, but yes, Dr. Hammond was exhausted. He stayed in one of the break rooms we reserve for situations like that."

Faith and Michael exchanged another look. Faith managed to hide her disappointment as she smiled at the nurse. "Thank you, Miss Flannery."

"Oh, you betcha!"

They maintained their cool until they reached their car. The receptionist they spoke to earlier was replaced by a middle-aged woman who couldn't care less that the FBI was there with a dog, but that was fine. Faith wasn't in the mood to try to make things up to that kid anymore.

On the drive back to the hotel, she said, "This was bad."

"Yeah," Michael agreed. "Another lead wasted."

"No. I mean, what we did was bad. We didn't try to examine evidence and draw a reasoned conclusion. We jumped at the first straw we found and came after Lucas like we knew he was the killer. We made an assumption and acted on it without taking the time to question if it was reasonable or not."

Then she remembered Michael's misgivings when she first brought up Dr. Hammond. His very valid misgivings as it turned out.

She sighed. "I made an assumption and acted on it. You're right. I'm letting my emotions get the better of me in this case. I need to stop thinking like a white knight trying and failing to save everyone and start thinking like a detective trained to examine evidence and determine a series of events based on that evidence." She sighed again. "I think we need to go back to the hotel again and go back to square one. And this time, let's not give ourselves an artificial deadline. We'll let the evidence lead us instead of trying to lead the evidence."

Michael nodded. "I agree with you." Seeing her expression, he squeezed her shoulder. "Don't feel down. We'll get this guy. It's a bad day, not a bad case."

She managed a smile she didn't feel. "Sure. Just a bad day."

But not as bad as Emily Chen's last day. Not as bad as Rebecca Wells' or Emily Gonzalez's. Would another woman have the worst day of her life while Michael and Faith were trying to have a better day so they could stop the person hunting these women?

She knew she shouldn't have made that promise to Hector in the first place, but it still crushed Faith to feel like she had broken it once more. These women deserved justice, and thanks to Faith's poor work, they were no closer to finding it.

Once more, West's taunting laughter echoed in her mind. She looked out the window at the darkening sky and wondered when she'd truly be free of him.

Maybe never. Maybe her poor performance now was because of the damage he had done. Maybe he had already broken her.