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“That sounds perfect. I think that’s the next logical step. I wonder, though…could you send me digital copies of the files on her murder?”
“Have you not checked your email this morning?”
“Can’t say that I have,” she replied as she instantly pulled up her email account. There were two emails waiting for her; one was regarding paperwork on a case from a year ago back home and the other, more recent email, was from Sullivan, Paul. The subject line was Adler/Willis files. He’d apparently send PDF copies of everything around midnight.
As she saw all of this, Sullivan said, “I sent them to you last night. I figured you were the sort that needed to have them in your possession.”
“Tell me, Detective Sullivan…do I also seem like the sort to step on toes when I’m in someone else’s territory?”
He chuckled a bit, a deep and joyous sound. “Honestly, yeah, you do. But you’re not doing it to me. I’m glad to have you.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’ll see you at the labs around ten.”
They ended the call, and Rachel instantly opened up the files Sullivan had sent her. Freshly showered and sitting near a window with a rather pleasant view of a slightly overcast Seattle morning, she stretched out on the bed and started reading the case files. It was, in an odd and very specific way, incredibly relaxing to her. And as she waited for the appointment at the clinic to roll around, she went digging through the files, looking for even the most remote of breadcrumbs that might lead her and Sullivan to solid lead.
***
The morning’s visit to the clinic was even more relaxed than the first one, but the relentless unanswered questions of the case kept her thrumming with tension. The only difference in this particular meeting was a very brief meeting with Dr. Pace following the injection. They met in a small office near the front of the building where she was offered coffee, which she took, and a donut, which she did not take.
“Okay, so it’s all spelled out in the paperwork we went over yesterday,” Pace said with a bright and pretty smile. “Day two of the injections…it’s not at all uncommon to get a headache or two. But unless you’re running a marathon or doing some sort of strenuous labor, they shouldn’t be too bad. Feel free to treat it with Ibuprofen, and make sure to drink plenty of water. But other than that, you’re free to go. And we’ll see you here tomorrow at the same time.”
Rachel left the clinic in something of a hurry, anxious to get to Dr. Adler’s labs. She did stop by the first convenience store she saw to grab a few bottles of water, wanting to make sure she followed doctor’s orders. She started working on one during her drive toward St. John Memorial Hospital. The drive itself took just fifteen minutes, thanks to the perfect time of morning—between morning rush hour and the brief buzz most cities got during the rush of lunch breaks.
The labs Dr. Adler had worked in were located just one block over from the primary entrance to the hospital. The block was populated with several identical-looking buildings, all brick and glass, one-story structures. The building containing the laboratories Adler had been working with was identified by a simple pillared sign by the driveway that read St. John Labs and Research.
She parked and got out, taking one last swig of water from the first bottle. She walked in through the front door and was greeted by a bored-looking receptionist—a grey-haired man of about sixty or so.
"I'm looking for a detective who should be on the premises," she said. "Do you know where he might be?"
“That would be Labs B and C,” the older gentleman said. “Or what we’ve always just called the Adler Labs. Head down the hall, take your first right and then a left at the double doors. You can’t miss them.”
She followed the instructions, making her way through the primary hallway that honestly looked like a basic hospital hallway. But when they pushed through the double doors, all of that changed. She found herself in a small alcove that fed into a much wider hallway. There were windows on both sides, looking into a variety of rooms, all of which were equipped with a variety of laboratory equipment. The first room she passed by, Lab A, resembled what she assumed just about anyone who imaged “hospital lab” would bring to mind. There were microscopes set up along a single counter and a centrifuge near the back. Two people were stationed inside, one looking through the microscope while the other typed into a desktop monitor.
Labs B and C were next in line. They rooms were apparently joined, separated by a large counterpace in the middle. And when she looked in through the window, she saw Sullivan standing inside. He was near the back wall, his head tilted slightly as he looked at something on the floor. Rachel came to the end of the window and opened the door into the lab. She noted that it was the sort that typically required a badge or ID to be scanned at the doorframe, but it had apparently been opened for their visit.
“Good morning,” she said as she stepped into the room. “How long have you been here?”
“Maybe five minutes.”
She walked over to where he stood so she could get a good view of whatever he was looking at. The joined labs had apparently been left in the same condition as when Adler had been murdered. A glass container had been knocked from one of the center counters and shattered on the very-light-blue, tiled floor. A few scattered papers rested on a desk to the back, the desk looking like some sort of weird surface out of a spaceship, as it merged directly into the wall.
Sullivan, on the other hand, was looking at the edge of the long workspace. This desk didn’t merge into the wall but looked more like a very large kitchen island. He was looking at the stain on the back edge of the surface—the blood stain from where Adler had hit her head. A few drops of it were on the floor, then a smear of it; Rachel assumed this had occurred when the body was finally removed.
“Did you read the files I sent over?” Sullivan asked.
“I did.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think this killer scoped the place out for a while…probably Adler, too. If you need a car or badge to open that digital lock on the outside, the killer had to have had it.”
“That’s right. And for a few hours right after the case came to me, I chased down the idea that maybe the killer stole someone else’s. But the logs from that night indicate that Adler’s ID was the only one used to open his door after hours.”
“And what are after-hours considered in this place?”
“She was the only one in or out of these labs between eight and just after eleven.”
"Any idea how the building security works?" Rachel asked. "How easy would it have been for the killer to get in through the front doors during that time?"
