The Killing House

47

Karim reached across the desk and handed Fletcher a thick sheet of paper. It was a colour picture of a round-faced, middle-aged woman with light brown skin and shoulder-length black hair. Her nose was crooked. Fletcher suspected it had been broken one too many times by a husband or boyfriend. The haunted look in her eyes brought to mind Dr Sin, the way the doctor had stared into space, wondering what she had done wrong for such horror to have entered her life.

‘Louisa Santiago was a single mother and a nurse,’ Karim said. ‘She left her job at Boston’s Massachusetts General Hospital, and that’s the last anyone saw of her. The police found her Honda Civic in Lynn, parked in the lot for the subway stop for Wonderland Station. Husband’s not in the picture, as far as I can tell. I won’t know anything further until I get copies of the police reports.’

Fletcher continued to stare at the photograph as his attention turned inward, his mind’s eye focusing on the eleven garment bags hanging inside the closet. He could recall each item of clothing, the rips and tears, the dried spots of blood. He saw himself turning to the garment bags hanging on the right-hand side — here it was, the second to last bag holding a green hospital smock and matching green scrubs. Sitting below it was a pair of white clogs with scuffed and worn edges.

He told Karim.

‘You’re sure?’

‘They were the only hospital clothes inside the closet,’ Fletcher said. ‘Did Louisa Santiago disappear before or after her son?’

‘After. Nathan Santiago was abducted on the evening of 5 November 2004. The mother, Louisa, vanished four years later, the day before Thanksgiving.’

Fletcher thought back to the research he had conducted inside his Colorado motel room — the names of the eight families who had a child disappear, followed months or years later by a parent. Eight families, and the closet contained eleven garment bags.

‘The list of the families I gave you in Chicago,’ Fletcher said. ‘I didn’t include single parents in my preliminary search.’

‘I know, which is why I asked M to expand her search.’

His office phone rang. Karim glanced at the caller-ID screen and with a grin said, ‘Speak of the devil.’

He answered the call. Karim didn’t speak for the first few minutes. He ended the conversation asking M to come straightaway to the house to deliver an evidence bag to the lab.

Karim hung up and said, ‘M looked into the medical records of the missing parents on your list. You’ll be pleased to know that, in addition to Theresa Herrera, these parents don’t have their medical records stored on the Medical Information Bureau’s database.’

Karim lit a fresh cigarette with a worn, gold-plated lighter. ‘So now we have a connection between Theresa Herrera, Louisa Santiago and the eight married couples on your list. It appears your initial theory was correct — that our lady friend in the fur coat was there to abduct Theresa Herrera.’

Karim leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh. ‘Rico Herrera,’ he said. ‘Do you think he could still be alive?’

‘We’ll have to ask Nathan Santiago — the sooner, the better. Dr Sin told me she’s bringing him to Manhattan.’

‘He’ll arrive at Sloan-Kettering between seven and eight this morning. M has the documentation ready for Santiago — driver’s licence under another name, corresponding medical insurance, et cetera. That way we can keep Santiago safe and hidden. She has a cover story already worked out. I’ve managed to procure a doctor who does emergency rounds. This person will be in place when Boyd admits Santiago.’

Fletcher nodded, well aware of Karim’s Rolodex of the walking wounded — prior victims of violence he had assisted, people who were all too willing to perform some favour or service to help out a fellow innocent.

‘All the bases are covered,’ Karim said. ‘We haven’t discussed Santiago’s missing kidney. What do you think that’s about?’

‘I think our couple is subsidizing their kidnapping operation with the sale of blackmarket organs.’

Fletcher told Karim about Corrigan’s vial of pills, how the two medications were used in conjunction to treat hand tremors and alleviate surgical anxiety. How Corrigan had been scheduled to perform surgery — a fact confirmed by Jenner. How’re your hands holding up? Jenner had asked Corrigan on the phone. You ready for surgery?

Then Fletcher told Karim about the ornate dining-room table and the words Jenner had spoken to his companion, Marcus, while inside the house: Call Rick on your way, tell him to keep everyone at the hotel.

They might as well hop back on their jets and go on home, Marcus had replied.

‘Private or chartered planes aren’t subject to the same security as commercial flights, as you well know,’ Karim said. ‘If people had flown in to collect organs, they would be ushered back to their private jets or chartered planes without having to undergo any searches. They could fly away with their organs properly packed and cooled with no one the wiser.’

‘Your Baltimore contact who searched the buildings, did he find any coolers or medical equipment?’

‘The buildings were empty. What about the house in Dickeyville?’

‘Organ harvesting requires specialized surgical equipment. I didn’t see anything.’

‘So if Corrigan was telling you the truth — that there were at least three other victims who were still alive — then he was performing the surgery in another location.’

‘Which is all the more reason why we need to speak with Nathan Santiago. These people are shutting down their operation.’

‘I understand and share your frustration, Malcolm, but I’m not a magician. I can’t wave a wand and make Santiago wake up and start talking. He’s near death as it is.’

Fletcher opened his netbook.

‘What are you doing?’ Karim asked.

‘I placed a GPS transmitter inside Corrigan’s throat.’

Karim smoked, waited. Fletcher pressed keys and moved a finger across the netbook’s track pad. Fletcher stared at the screen, his eyes narrowing in thought. Then he went back to typing.

A moment later, he leaned back in his chair, propped an elbow up on the armrest and rubbed a latex-covered finger across his bottom lip.

‘What?’ Karim asked.

‘The signal is no longer transmitting,’ Fletcher said.