Jonathan Kellerman - Twisted

“What kind of agencies are we talking about?”

“There are several county and state programs set up for kids with cancer. They offer medication, transportation and housing vouchers, wigs when the patients lose their hair. Co-payment for treatment.”

“Ah,” said Petra.

“You bet,” said Katzman. “And once a child’s registered, the family also gets hooked into the general welfare system. Which gets you access to food stamps, et cetera.”

“So Sandra got goodies but didn’t show up for her appointment.”

“For the agencies it wasn’t a problem, technically. All they require is that a patient be diagnosed, not actively undergoing treatment. I found out later that on some of the application forms, she was listed as an active patient.”

“Forms Sandra filled out herself.”

“You’ve got the picture.”

“Did you ever see her?”

“Months after talking to the social worker. The first time she didn’t show, we phoned the number she listed on her intake form, but it was disconnected. That concerned me but I figured she’d moved. Or changed her mind and went to another doc. Then some of her forms came in for me to sign off on and I went back and checked and wondered what was going on. I sent the social worker out on a home visit. The address Sandra gave us turned out to be a mail drop.”

“Where?”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Katzman. “Maybe Loretta, the social worker, would.”

“Last name, please,” said Petra.

“Loretta Brainerd. So Sandra witnessed a murder?”

“Murders,” said Petra. “The Paradiso shootings.”

“I heard about that,” said Katzman.

“In Baltimore?”

“I left the day before it happened.”

“You finally saw her,” said Petra. “How’d you find her?”

“I had CCS- Children’s Cancer Services- send her a letter to the effect that she’d lose her benefits if she didn’t show up for her checkup. She was there the next day, right on time. In tears, all apologetic. Going on and on about some family crisis, having to travel suddenly.”

“Travel where?”

“If she said, I don’t recall. To tell the truth I wasn’t listening. I was annoyed because I felt she was jerking me around. Then, when she turned on the faucet, I wasn’t sure. She’s a pretty good actress. Most important, I wanted to check her out medically because I didn’t like what I saw. Her complexion was yellow, especially the eyes. Jaundice can be a sign of relapse- infiltration of the disease into the liver. I ordered a full panel blood workup. Depending on what that turned up, I was ready to do a bone marrow aspiration and a lumbar puncture- more intrusive tests, even the most compliant patients don’t like them. But when I mentioned that to Sandra, she stayed calm. That made me wonder if she’d ever been through them in the first place. I ordered the tests back stat, scheduled her for a five P.M. recheck that day. She said she was hungry so I gave her some money to get a hamburger in the cafeteria. She and her cousin.”

“Her cousin?”

“Another girl, around the same age,” said Katzman. “The two of them showed up with a man, some guy in his forties. He dropped them off at the clinic and left but the cousin stayed. The blood workup came back negative for leukemia but positive for Hepatitis A- viral hepatitis. Which isn’t as bad as Hep C but it should be followed. I was ready to admit her for observation but she didn’t show for the recheck. Big surprise. That’s when I phoned the doctor from Oakland. He’d never heard of her. Wasn’t even an oncologist- a family practitioner working out of some Medi-Cal clinic. She must’ve gotten hold of some stationery and forged the letter.”

“Is she in danger from the hepatitis?”

“Not unless her resistance gets bad and something else hits her. Hep A is generally self-limiting. That’s doctor-talk for goes away on its own.”

“Her eyes are still yellow,” said Petra.

“She came in… I’d guess four months ago. By six months, patients are usually better.”

“How do you catch it?”

“Poor sanitation.” Katzman paused. “Prostitutes and other promiscuous people are at risk if they engage in anal sex.”

“You figure Sandra for promiscuous?”

“She was flirtatious, but that’s all I can say.”

“During the time she was in the system,” said Petra, “how much money did she squeeze out?”

“I couldn’t begin to tell you.”

“The cousin,” said Petra. “What do you remember about her?”

“Quiet girl. Sandra was more outgoing, nice-looking kid, despite the jaundice. The cousin just sat there.”

“Was she about Sandra’s age?”

“Maybe a little younger.”

“Shorter than Sandra? Chubby? Curly reddish hair?”

Silence. “That sounds familiar.”

“Did she happen to wear pink sneakers?”

“Yes,” said Katzman. “Bright pink. I remember that.” He sounded amazed that the memory had returned.

Petra said, “What else can you tell me about their relationship?”

“I wasn’t noticing. I was concentrating on Sandra’s jaundice.”

Petra tensed; had she touched the girl that night in the parking lot?

“Would you consider her contagious, Doctor?”

“I wouldn’t exchange body fluids with a Hep A, but you’re not going to get it by shaking hands.”

“What can you tell me about the adult male who came with the girls?”

“All I remember is his dropping them off in the waiting room and leaving. I noticed because I’d stepped out to see a patient off. I was planning to have a talk with him- responsible adult and all that- but he was gone before I could turn around.”

“What’d he look like?” said Petra.

“All I really saw was his back.”

“You noticed his age,” said Petra. “In his forties.”

“Amend that to ‘middle aged.’ From the way he carried himself. Thirty to fifty.”

“What was he wearing?”

“Sorry,” said Katzman. “I’d be getting into the realm of fantasy.”

Lots of that going around. Petra said, “Would Loretta Brainerd know more about any of this?”

“I wouldn’t think so, but feel free to ask her.”

“Thanks, Doctor.”

“There is one thing,” said Katzman. “Sandra gave her age as fifteen, but my guess is she’s older. Closer to eighteen or nineteen. I can’t back that up scientifically; it’s just something that came to me after I realized I’d been conned. There was a certain… I wouldn’t say sophistication… a certain confidence.” He laughed. “About her confidence game.”

She called Brainerd. The social worker barely remembered Sandra Leon.

Hanging up, Petra thought back to the parking lot interview. The girl had just witnessed the violent death of her “cousin” but had displayed no shock, no grief, none of the emotionality you’d expect from a teenage girl confronted by tragedy. On the contrary, she’d been dry-eyed. Tapping her foot… impatient. As if Petra was taking up her precious time.

The only thing that had sparked anxiety in the girl’s eyes had been initial eye contact with Petra.

Cool about the homicide but nervous about the cops.

Claiming to be fifteen when she faked her patient status, but that night she’d given her age as sixteen.

Her dress and makeup fit with Katzman’s guess that she was older.

Dolled up fancier than the girl in the pink sneakers. Party garb, down to the appliqué mole. Celebrating what?

An adult male had accompanied both girls. Sandra had mentioned a convict brother, a car thief. Petra flipped through her notepad, found her hastily scrawled shorthand.

Bro. GTA. Lompoc.

She called the state prison, spoke to an assistant warden, learned that two “Leons” resided within the walls: Robert Leroy, age sixty-three, fraud and grand theft, and Rudolfo Sabino, age forty-five, manslaughter and mayhem. The warden was kind enough to check both inmates’ visitors’ lists. No one had been to see Rudolfo Leon for over three years. Sad case, he was HIV positive and suffering from dementia. The older man, Robert Leroy Leon, had a bevy of visitors but no Sandra, no one close to the girl in approximate age and appearance.