Stephen White - Cold Case

"You know, Ray, you and I have something else in common besides this case.

Something that's probably been even more difficult for you than it was for me."

"And what's that?" I could tell he found it almost preposterous that we might have something significant in common.

"A few years back, I had an irate patient act out some transference and try to kill the woman who's now my wife. The outcome was more fortunate for me than it was for you and Gloria. Unlike you, I got there in time to interfere. She survived."

He crossed and uncrossed his legs before he said, "I admit that I find that interesting. You know, I didn't know that about you. Don't get a chance to meet too many folks who have walked in these shoes of mine." He slapped one of his cowboy boots. I thought he seemed uncomfortable.

What was my reaction to his discomfort? I watered the weed that was growing up through the crack in Raymond Welle's demeanor.

"I didn't see it coming clearly enough. Did you see it coming with Brian Sample? I mean, I knew my patient was angry. I knew he was threatening. But I didn't actually believe he would do anything, you know? Certainly not to this woman I loved. Was it like that for you?"

He wasn't looking at me as he shook his head.

"Totally different. Totally. I didn't see it coming at all. I thought my patient and I were doing fine. I'm still at a total loss. Right to this day."

I opened my mouth to ask another question but stopped as the door opened across the room. I actually suspected that Welle had hit some concealed button to signal for an interruption. Phil Barrett, now dressed for travel in a suit and tie, burst in.

"Sorry to disturb, Ray. We have a call for Dr. Gregory. Urgent, so they say." His tone communicated his disbelief that anything in my life could be urgent enough to interrupt a meeting with Raymond Welle.

Welle smiled at me, suddenly the gracious host again.

"Take it right here, Alan." He pointed at his desk.

"What line, Phil?"

"The one lit up there. I think it's line two."

Instantly, I feared for Lauren and our baby. Trying to retain my composure, I stepped across the room, lifted the receiver and touched the button below the light on the phone.

"Hello."

"Alan? It's Flynn. I'm in town at the Sheraton. It appears that your reporter friend from the Post has been involved in something serious. She may have been injured in some way. There's blood in her room, which is a mess, and she's nowhere to be found. Do you mind finishing up out there and getting back here as soon as possible? Chief Smith has some questions for you given that you know her."

I swallowed and turned my back to Welle and Barrett. Dorothy Levin, injured?

Dorothy Levin, missing?

"I, um, appreciate the update. Are there any other details I should know?"

"You're with Welle right now, aren't you?"

"That's right."

"You're doing the right thing. Keep this quiet for now. Russ and I will fill you in as soon as you get back here. We're up on the fifth floor of the Sheraton.

Tell whatever officer you run into that Chief Smith is expecting you."

"I will take care of that as soon as I can," I said.

"We'll be here. And Alan?"

"Yes."

"If this turns out the way I'm afraid it looks, I'm sorry."

"Me, too." I hung up the phone. Out the window, I stared at the ragged horizon between the mountaintops and the high clouds. My eyes locked on the line with some desperation, as though I were using its stillness to quell motion sickness.

Ray Welle said, "Nothing serious, I hope."

Without facing him, I said, "Nothing I can't handle, Ray. Some colleagues need my consultation on something that's just come up. I apologize for the interruption." I looked at my watch and spun to face him.

"Listen, I've taken too much of your time already. I'm sure you have plenty to do to get ready for your trip back to Washington. If any other questions come up about Miko's case I'll get in touch with Phil."

"Now, you also be sure to let me know if you guys get lucky and find the monster who killed those girls. I want to be the first to know."

I nodded.

"Of course," I said.

As I drove away from the ranch house I realized I'd started my visit on the Silky Road with a lie and now I'd ended it with one.

I quickly decided that politicians didn't bring out the best in me.

Russ Claven spotted me arguing with a police officer who was acting as a sentry at the top of the fire stairs that led to the fifth floor of the Sheraton. Russ walked up behind the officer, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, "Please go ahead and sign him in to me. I'm Dr. Claven, remember? The coroner's consultant for Chief Smith? The chief's been waiting for this man to arrive."

I offered ID to the cop and was soon under the yellow tape. Except for a cluster of men and women loitering together halfway down the hall, the corridor of the hotel looked like the corridor of a hotel.

"Sorry about all this," Russ said.

"It's always harder when it's somebody you know."

"Thanks." Russ Claven seemed like a changed man. The hypo manic abruptness I'd become accustomed to in his manner was absent. He was calm, thoughtful, and centered. The task at hand focused him.

We stopped in the hallway at least four rooms away from the cluster of authorities.

"Before we go any farther, here's what I know: Flynn and I were with Chief Smith this morning at his office at the police department when a call comes in about a bloody mess in a hotel room here at the Sheraton. Not surprisingly, Smith was kind of flustered by the news. Tells us that there hasn't been anything like a homicide since he's been chief. He invites Flynn and me to come along with him while he checks things out.

"By the time we get here, three different hotel staff had already been in the room, which means at least three different hotel staff had already potentially contaminated the scene prior to us protecting it. Front desk records show that Ms. Levin checked in on Saturday. Reservations said they expected her to check out today. With me?"

"Yes, that fits with what I know."

"Worse news is that the local sherif isn't really set up to handle this kind of crime scene. Better news is that they know that they're not equipped to handle this kind of crime scene. Flynn observed as a couple of detectives secured the scene. She said their work was fine. Then they went and got a warrant, which took like no time, and we've all been waiting around ever since for help to arrive from the mobile unit from the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. Flynn asked for and received permission from the chief to look things over, though.

From a distance.

"If it turns out we need him, the local corner is an M.D." but not a forensic pathologist. He's out of town on a family thing of some kind. They reached him on his pager. He's coming back into town tonight, late. Percy Smith asked him, hypothetically, if they found a body was it all right with him if I took a look at it. Coroner said it was cool.

"Anyway, Flynn goes in and does her thing for a while. She-"

"She's separated from her husband, Russ. Dorothy is. She was fearful he was stalking her. When she described his behavior to me, I worried about his potential for being violent."

"Really? That may fit what we see in there. Know his name?"

"Douglas. She called him Douglas."

"Great. See? This is exactly why we wanted you to join us here. We figured you might know something that would help. Anything else?"

I was speechless.

Russ filled the void.

"Turns out that what we have looks like a crime of passion. There was almost certainly a struggle. There was a knife, or something equally sharp. I think Flynn sees it the same way. For now."

"But? I hear a 'but' lurking in there."