control you. You are not a compulsion.” She channeled the last words, repeating them again and again until her feet moved.
Before she allowed herself to think, she showed the police officers her hospital identification. She was even able to pull down the mask so they could verify. She walked through to the next corner, passing the truck, pretending to be absorbed in her phone, but taking pictures of the truck and its occupant.
The woman inside looked familiar. Someone in the study? No. Maybe one of their relatives? She’d look it up when she returned home. She had a file on everyone participating in her study. Knowing everything about them was crucial, including anyone who might care for them and be an outside influence.
But why was a relative at the hospital? And why was she with a police officer? The dark-haired woman was the wrong race to be waiting on news of Rashid.
Her research would give her answers. Reminding herself that today had been excellent, with excellent results. The murder-suicide was the fastest response she’d ever accomplished.
If Abby experienced joy, there would be elation when writing the details of this event. Such a success.
She was one step closer to discovering the perfect death and implementing it on herself.
Slate opened the truck door and Vivian jumped from her skin. He climbed inside and chose not to mention that the doors should have been locked even if he was on the outskirts of the taped-off area.
“I couldn’t find out much more than what Wade told us. Does the name Rashid Parker mean anything to you?”
“No. Should it?”
“So your brother never mentioned him or anything?”
“My brother barely speaks to me and never about his doctor’s murder. It’s always events from our childhood, before he joined the army. Does it mean more if he knew Mr. Parker?”
The obvious reason might just be that her brother was guilty. But something told Slate he wasn’t. More than Wade’s hunch. Something bugged him about Subject Nineteen and the fact that Victor wasn’t part of the blind study described in Dr. Roberts’s journal.
That had to mean something.
“I look at it this way. I don’t like coincidences in any case I work.” He was thinking aloud, but being honest with Vivian was essential. “This case has way too many for my comfort level. I’d never hand it over to a prosecutor. I’m surprised the Dallas DA accepted it.”
“This feeling of yours—it has something to do with the sleep study?”
“It’s sort of a rule of mine. The first itch makes me scratch my head. An investigator might accept one. But then when the second coincidence hits, you’re getting into territory that needs another verification. When the third pops up? Well, three coincidences mean something’s hinky and your case is about to go to hell.”
“Did you discover three?” she asked. “Are you worried about sharing something that might clear my brother? I’ll be contacting his attorney whether you do or not.”
“That’s not a problem. I’ll contact him tomorrow.” The officer waved them through the intersection and a waft of his sirloin made his stomach growl. “You have steak knives at your place?”
“If not, I give you permission to eat with your fingers.”
“Like a wild man. Cool.”
“But you still have to explain. What does Rashid Parker have to do with my brother?”
“One. Wade didn’t obtain the complete list but he confirmed Parker was at the hospital for the study. Don’t ask me how, I’m not asking him. But Parker is definitely a part of the same sleep study that your brother was involved in. Two. None of those men and women are listed as subject anything. And three...”
“Yes?”
“Three is that it feels off, too convenient. Why did your brother confess and why has he never been able to recall the details about that day? Everything else, yes, but not that day?” His stomach growled again. “Can you dig me a roll out of the sack?”
“There’s a fourth thing.” She handed him two fluffy yeast rolls.
“Yeah?”
“The incidents both happened at the VA Hospital.”
“Damn, you’re right.” He inhaled a buttery roll and swallowed. “That’s one too many.” “Rolls?”
He laughed. “No. The number of coincidences.”
“So do you think they’ll let you reopen the case?”
“Hold on a sec.” Slate called Wade through his hands-free set, leaving it on speaker so Vivian could hear. “You still at the office, man?”
“Where else am I going to be until these files are done?”
“Forget I asked. Give Heath the necessary info and he’ll run his magic on that sleep-study list.”
“So my hunch was right?”
“You can lord it over me later.” He quickly looked at Vivian. “Call Heath. I need that info before I hit Watts’s lawyer’s office in the morning.”
“I’ll get him started. We looking for anything in particular?”
“If I’m right, you’ll know.” He disconnected as he pulled in front of Vivian’s apartment. He could see the hesitation in her body language before she pulled the door handle. “Look, Vivian, I should probably get home.”
She visibly relaxed. “Thank you for everything, Slate. I should head inside. I’m working a double tomorrow, so would you leave me a message if you find anything?”
He nodded and pushed the dinner sack at her when she set it in her vacated seat. “You take it. I’ll pick up a burger on the way home.”
“I can’t possibly.”
“It’s the least I can do for dragging you around in the rain.”
Her head shook from side to side. “You aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?”
“I’ll stop by the wing place if I find anything.”
“Thank you for your help.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
Vivian’s expression filled with sadness and regret. With that, she shut the truck door. He could read people pretty well and she was silently screaming that she didn’t expect anyone—especially a lawman—to help. He waited for her to go inside her apartment, then called Wade again.
“Miss me already?” Wade answered.
“Check
