Page 19

CHAPTER 19

MOVING THROUGH THE halls with Dr. Revell Schulte was like following a rock star backstage. She walked tall and straight, her grey-flecked ponytail bobbing against her collar. Poe noticed that junior staff avoided eye contact as she passed, while senior staff gave her deferential nods. But when she pushed through the door into the main security station a minute later, it was a different story.

In the dimly lit room, several techs sat in front of monitors and control panels. Unlike the medical staff in the halls, the techs didn’t seem to have any particular regard for Dr. Schulte. They didn’t even look up from their stations. A squat man in a business suit wheeled his chair back from a large console but didn’t even bother to stand up as the doctor led the way in. Poe picked up a distinctly condescending vibe.

“Delivery rooms are in the other wing, Doc,” the guy said, jerking his thumb.

Poe could tell that he was joking. But also not joking. This man did not welcome their unexpected company. Schulte made the introductions brief. “This is Clint Baxter, head of security for the hospital. Clint, meet Holmes, Marple, and Poe.” She pointed at the three PIs in succession, like ticking items off a supply list.

“Holmes… Marple… Poe,” Baxter repeated slowly. “Like the old mystery books.”

“Right,” said Holmes. “Except we’re flesh and blood. Here in person. Doing your job.”

Baxter flashed a fake smile, the kind that told Poe he was nervous, insecure, or both. “Yeah. I’ve heard of you,” said Baxter. “Why are you here?”

“They’re working the kidnapping case,” said Schulte. “The parents have hired them privately, and they’re working with the NYPD. I want them to have total access.”

Baxter’s fake smile faded. “Sorry, Doc. That’s not your call.”

Marple stepped forward, clearly impatient with the preliminaries. “Tell me, Mr. Baxter, have you figured out how the intruders cut the feed for the two-minute gap? How they knew exactly which tapes fed which cameras? Or why they missed the old Panasonic unit near the loading dock? Have you established the chain of custody for the maternity unit security bands?”

Baxter narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat. “That’s all part of our internal investigation, Miss Marple.” He gave her an unsubtle once-over. “Or is it Missus?”

“Miss. Ms. Ma’am. Margaret. Your Excellency. Your choice.” She reached into her pocket and held out a thumb drive. “Plug this in for me, will you?”

“Hold on,” said Baxter. “You’re not turning my department into your private office. If you want to—”

“Clint,” Schulte interrupted, “would you like to know what the board is saying about your department right now?”

Baxter’s face turned even more sour. He snatched the flash drive from Marple and stuck it into a port. “What’s this?” he asked gruffly.

Marple stepped right up beside his chair. “These are files I pulled from the phones of parents on the maternity floor on the night in question. While your cameras were down, people were busy snapping away. And they entrusted me with the images. Maybe you or Dr. Schulte can ID some of the people in the shots.”

Schulte moved forward and rested her hands on the headrest of Baxter’s chair. Poe admired the power move. Baxter sat in his chair with his arms folded, feet planted on the floor, trying to maintain an illusion of authority.

The first image showed a smiling but exhausted mother posing with two nurses in a delivery room. “That’s Alvarez and Huggard,” said Schulte. “RNs. Been here forever.”

Marple tapped the keyboard. In the next picture, a new mom, shiny with sweat, gave a weary thumbs-up to the camera while a medical team huddled in the background, slightly out of focus. Poe recognized the mother as the wife of alpha-male dad Sterling Cade.

Schulte pointed to a woman in light-blue scrubs. “That’s Phoebe Platt. Just started her pediatrics rotation.” Behind the young doctor stood a woman in burgundy scrubs, her face obscured by a monitor. “Can’t tell who that is,” said Schulte. “A nurse, for sure.”

“It’s Ellie Tellman,” said Marple. She recognized the body shape and the cornrows.

“You know her?” asked Schulte.

“We met yesterday,” said Marple. She flicked through the rest of the pictures one at a time as Schulte picked out an assortment of residents, attendings, and aides, some of them repeating from one shot to another. Every once in a while, Baxter chimed in with a name. At the end, the sequence rotated back to the first image.

“Wait,” said Poe. “Go back one.”

Marple pressed the reverse key, returning to a photo of a mom cradling her tiny baby in the recovery room. At the edge of the frame, a slender woman in pale pink scrubs was frozen in mid-step, halfway out the door, her face in profile.

“Who’s that?” asked Poe.

“That’s Keelin Dale,” said Schulte. “She’s an LPN. Also our lactation consultant. She helps the new moms get started with breastfeeding, offers assistance if they need it.”

“Does she handle all the babies?” asked Marple.

“Typically, sure,” said Schulte. “She often brings them back and forth from the nursery to the moms for feedings.”

“Can we talk to her?” asked Marple.

“I’ll call her station,” said Schulte. As the doctor pulled out her iPhone and tapped the screen, Poe glanced at Holmes, who was leaning back against a console. His eyes were down. He looked sullen, disengaged, off his game.

“Who’s this? Katy? Hey. It’s Dr. Schulte. Keelin’s on today, right?”

Poe couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he saw Schulte’s expression shift from impatience to irritation.

“Okay, thanks,” she said, ending the call. She looked at Marple. “Keelin didn’t show up for her shift.”

“Is that unusual?” Marple asked.

“It’s a first,” said Schulte. She turned to Baxter. “Clint, can you pull up Keelin’s profile?”

Baxter turned his chair to a side table that held a Dell computer. He flicked his fingers over the keypad and brought up a profile image of an attractive young woman with auburn hair and a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks, then clicked to the personal info page.

Poe squinted at the screen. He pulled out his cell and took a photo of Keelin’s phone number and Jersey address.

“She’s new,” said Schulte. “Here two months. Terrific references. I’ll try her home phone…”

“No, don’t,” said Marple. “You might make her nervous. Better to let us go find her.”

Poe followed as Marple speed-walked out of the security station and down the hall to the elevators. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw Holmes hanging back.

“Brendan! Let’s go!” he called out.

Holmes stopped short and shook his head. “I told you I was good for one meeting today. Not three. I need you to believe me when I say I’m done.” He folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. “I want my name off the front door.”

The elevator door opened. “This is not the time for debate, Brendan,” said Marple. “We’ll talk later.” As the elevator door closed, Marple lowered her voice and said to Poe, “I can’t worry about him right now.”

Poe nodded but said nothing. Marple seemed itchy and out of sorts. Maybe she was off her game too.