Dr. Patrick was sitting in jail and Martìnez and I were riding high, but our job was far from over. We were awaiting the results from the forensics lab concerning whether or not the toe was, in fact Caitlyn's, and whether or not Terry's DNA matched that of what was found on Caitlyn's toe and underwear. In the meantime, I headed back to the hospital to ask Vivian a few more questions. We hadn't yet tracked down the $100,000. There was the possibility that Terry used it to pay someone to kill Caitlyn and that he kept her toe as a souvenir or as proof that the murderer had actually completed the job. But it was also possible that he had given the money to Caitlyn to get rid of the baby and keep her quiet and when she didn't do any of those things, he killed her himself. If so, then where was the money? If I could track down the money and trace it back to Terry, then it would help add to the mounting pile of evidence against him and I was hoping Vivian might know where the money was located.
When I arrived at the hospital, there was a swarm of bloodthirsty reporters that enveloped me the second I stepped foot on the front steps. They were hungry for any small bit of information they could get and would stop at nothing to obtain it. They yelled out all sorts of ridiculous things in order to get a rise out of me or to make me slip and say something I shouldn't. No blow was too low for them to get what they wanted. I had experienced similar tactics in previous cases, although nothing on this level. I knew it was best to keep my head down and stay quiet. One slip up could not only jeopardize the case, but it could lead to a suspension, or worse. I hadn't made it this far in my career by being a loud mouth, which is one of the reasons I asked Martìnez to stay away. I couldn't risk him blowing his top in such a high profile case. He didn't fight me on it. As much as he hated to admit it, I think he knew that I was right. He wanted to nail Dr. Patrick just as much as I did, so he hung back at the station, anxiously awaiting the results from the forensics lab.
After I managed to push my way through the sea of reporter piranhas, I made my way towards Dr. Patrick's office. As I entered, I noticed the yellow crime scene tape draped across his workplace and shook my head. Even though I had seen my fair share of heinous crimes, it was still somewhat unbelievable to think of what he had done to poor Caitlyn. What sort of a sicko kills the woman, or young lady I should say, carrying his baby and dismembers her body, then keeps a part of her as a keepsake. Solving a crime, especially one as tragic as this, rarely filled me with a sense of serene accomplishment and instead filled me with a nauseating uneasiness over how monstrous a human being could be.
I headed towards Vivian's desk and saw a nurse leaned up against the front counter speaking to the other administrative assistant. I had seen the nurse there before. She worked closely with Dr. Patrick. They informed me that Vivian had stepped away for a few moments, so I decided to have a seat and wait for her to return. I began to scan through work emails on my phone. There were numerous ones from fellow coworkers congratulating me on a job well done. There was a message from an old pal at CPD joking around about seeing me on TV and saying that I must be even more of a diva then I was when I worked with him, given my new star status. There was one from the Captain asking me to see him when I got back to the station, no doubt to commend me on my excellent work.
While I was thumbing through emails, I couldn't help but overhear the nurse's conversation. She was commenting on how shocked she was to discover that the good Dr. Patrick had been arrested for Caitlyn's murder, a sentiment which, I'm sure, was floating around every water cooler conversation that day. As I suspected, in the eye of the public, he was already guilty. But what caught my interest, was what the nurse said about the pain medication that was discovered in Dr. Patrick's desk. The conversation piqued my interest so much so, that I wandered over and asked a few questions.
According to the nurse, another doctor, Dr. Ryan, had been accused of stealing the meds. Just like Terry, he was an incredible surgeon at the top of his game and well respected, but unlike Terry, he was well liked. The nurse described him as a guy who took work seriously but knew how to joke around and show his appreciation of other's hard work. He was brilliant, but not conceited, and he prided himself on being a family man. He was basically everything that Terry wasn't. He was "one of the good ones" as the nurse described him, which was why many people in the hospital were shocked when rumors surfaced that he was the culprit behind the missing pain medication. It had completely ruined his reputation and his practice. When I asked if I could speak with him, the nurse and the administrative assistant, became sullen and informed me that he had died about a year or so ago from cancer. Something about that didn't make sense. I asked the women why they hadn't shared this info with my partner when he had interviewed employees earlier on in the investigation and they said they were never interviewed by anyone. They said they'd never seen any other detective at the hospital during the investigation, other than the day we came to arrest Terry. Perhaps they were mistaken, or maybe Martìnez had missed them during his interview process which seemed strange since they worked so closely with Terry. Why wouldn't Martìnez have interviewed two women who worked so closely with Terry? I tucked the information into my brain and inputted a reminder in my phone to follow-up later.
Just then Vivian returned. She looked worse than ever. The bags under her eyes from, no doubt, a long night of drinking after news of Terry's arrest for her daughter's murder became public. The look in her eyes was one I hadn't seen before. She appeared sad and tired, but also, defeated. It was the look of someone who didn't have much left to live for and I found myself feeling sorry for her for the first time since we had met. She had her closure, but it wasn't the kind that she wanted; it wasn't the kind that anyone would want. Dr. Patrick's life was over, but for all means and purposes, so was Vivian's. She had lost her daughter, her lover and most likely her job, husband, home and reputation once news of her affair surfaced, and I was sure it would.
She said she was just there to gather her things and that she was taking some time off of work, given that she no longer had anyone to work for. The hospital had offered to relocate her to another doctor's office, but she said she needed some time to grieve. When I asked her about the money, she said she didn't know anything about where it was. It wasn't in the bank account that she and Phillip had set up for Caitlyn, although since Caitlyn was 19, she could have set up a bank account of her own.
She asked if I could escort her out the back exit, to avoid the barrage of reporters and I agreed, taking the box filled with her items from her hands. It was a sad collection of things. Her entire career, nearly 20 years, fit in one small box. On top, sat a framed photo of her family, smiling; a time capsule of happier times and of who her family used to be. Caitlyn stood in the center, with her eyes, those piercing hazel eyes, staring back at me, only this time they didn't taunt me over my inability to solve her murder. This time they seemed to say "thank you," yet even still, there was something behind them, something she was trying to tell me that I couldn't quite place. There was more to Caitlyn than those beautiful steely eyes; a story untold, which would never get a chance to be heard.
I put the box in Vivian's trunk and opened her door for her. It was the least I could do. As little as I thought of her, this was not the outcome I was hoping for. No one, not even Vivian Coates, deserved what she was currently enduring. After she climbed into her Mercedes G wagon, which cost more than my annual salary, she looked up at me and began to open her mouth as if she had something to say, but no words came out. Her eyes fell from mine and she seemed lost for a minute in a different time and place, no doubt, longing to go back to any moment other than this one. She thanked me and drove away trying not to hit the reporters who swarmed her car as soon as they spotted her leaving the parking garage.
After I escorted Vivian to her vehicle, I made my way to my car and hit play on a voicemail I had received. It was from the forensics lab confirming that the toe belonged to Caitlyn and that Dr. Patrick's DNA was, in deed, present on the appendage. Hook, line and sinker. I was riding high again and was about to end the voicemail until something at the end of the message caught my attention. I started the voicemail over several times to make sure I had heard it correctly and when I realized my ears weren't playing tricks on me, I dropped the phone into my lap.
"FUCK!" I yelled as I hit the steering wheel with my hand in anger.
According to the forensics lab, the toe did in fact belong to Caitlyn and the DNA on it matched that of Dr. Terry Patrick's, however, it wasn't the same as the DNA from the cum in her underwear. That meant that there were two people's DNA on Caitlyn's remains, which begged the question; if one of the DNA samples belonged to Terry, then who did the other one belong to?
YOU ARE READING
Lies Left Unsaid
Mystery / Thriller"The fact that I was murdered didn't come as a surprise; it was the fact that it hadn't happened sooner which shocked me." High school senior, Caitlyn Coates, has everything going for her; she's beautiful, brilliant and rich. With just a month until...
