Page 56

CHAPTER

FIFTY-FIVE

Logan pulled into the parking lot of Northland Pharmacy, his mind still processing what he’d found in Dr. Winters’ files.

Right now, he needed to follow up with Tom Zimmerman about the sedatives and see if he’d had any additional contact with the blackmailer. Maybe Zimmerman had noticed something, some detail that could help identify their suspect.

The pharmacy’s neon “OPEN” sign was bright, and customers moved in and out of the building. Logan pushed through the front door. But instead of seeing Tom behind the prescription counter, he found a middle-aged woman with graying hair frantically working at the computer.

“Excuse me.” Logan approached the counter, showing his badge. “I’m looking for Tom Zimmerman.”

The woman looked up, stress evident in her eyes. “Are you family? We’ve been trying to reach him all day.”

“I’m Trooper Logan Gibson. What do you mean you’ve been trying to reach him?”

“Tom didn’t show up for work this morning. He was scheduled to open at eight, but when I got here at nine, the pharmacy was still locked up.” She gestured helplessly at the prescription queue. “I’m the assistant pharmacist, Sandra. I’ve been covering, but we’re swamped.”

Logan felt his stomach tighten. “Have you spoken to him at all today?”

“That’s just it—he’s not answering his phone. Cell or home. And that’s not like Tom. He’s incredibly reliable and never misses work without calling.” Sandra lowered her voice. “He’s been under a lot of stress lately and seems really anxious about something. He wouldn’t talk about it.”

Logan knew exactly what that stress was about. “When did you last see him?”

“Yesterday evening when he closed up. He seemed . . . I don’t know, jumpy? Like he was expecting bad news. Asked me twice if I was sure I’d locked the back door before I left.”

“Did he mention any plans for last night? Anyone he was meeting?”

“No, nothing. He just said to be careful walking to my car.” Sandra’s worry deepened. “Officer, do you think something’s happened to him?”

“I’m not sure. But I need you to call me if you hear from him. Any contact at all.” Logan handed her his card. “And if anyone comes in asking about Tom specifically, or asking unusual questions about prescriptions, you call me right away.”

He thanked the woman and then stepped back outside.

He stood in the parking lot a moment, pieces clicking together in his mind.

The killer had been blackmailing Zimmerman for sedatives. Now Zimmerman had vanished without a trace, abandoning the job he’d been terrified of losing.

He called Reeves. “I think we have our next victim.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tom Zimmerman, the pharmacist. He didn’t show up for work today and isn’t answering his phone. His coworker says he’s been under stress but won’t talk about it.” Logan started back toward his SUV. “The killer must have taken him.”

“Are you sure he didn’t just run? Maybe the pressure got to him?”

“His coworker says he’s incredibly reliable and never misses work. And Zimmerman was terrified when I spoke with him earlier.”

“Maybe he got scared, thought he’d be arrested for his role in this.”

“Maybe.” Logan paused near his SUV. “I’m going to assume he’s in trouble. The killer’s accelerating, and he needs Zimmerman for the lightning tree composition.”

“We need to find that location.” Urgency tinged Reeves’ words. “How are Andi and Yazzie doing with the search?”

“I’ll find out. But first I’m going to check Zimmerman’s house and see if there are any signs of a struggle.”

As Logan unlocked his SUV’s door, he noticed a white news van parked across the street. A reporter with perfectly styled hair and thick makeup was speaking into a camera, the pharmacy visible in the background.

The reporter spotted him immediately.

“Trooper Gibson!” She hurried across the street, her cameraman scrambling to keep up. “I’m Jessica Chen from Channel 7 News. Can you comment on the connection between this pharmacy and the Gallery Killer case?”

Logan opened his door. But the reporter was surprisingly fast. She reached him quickly and thrust a microphone toward his face.

“Is it true that the killer has medical knowledge? Are you investigating prescription drug theft?” Her questions came rapid-fire. “What can you tell us about the missing photographer, Morgan Riley?”

“No comment.” Logan started to climb inside his vehicle.

“Sources tell us you have a personal relationship with Ms. Riley. Are you too close to this case to investigate objectively?”

Logan froze before closing the door. He turned to face the reporter, his expression stone-cold. “I said no comment.”

“Just one more question?—”

Logan slammed the door, but the reporter kept talking through the window, her voice muffled but persistent. The cameraman circled to get a better angle while Logan started the engine.

As he drove away, Logan saw two more news vans turning onto the street in his rearview mirror. His phone was already buzzing with calls from unknown numbers.

The media circus was just beginning, and he knew it would only get worse from here.