Fear Nothing (Detective D.D. Warren #7) - Lisa Gardner Page 0,122
including a severed tip on her left index finger. Defensive wounds, I would guess, as she tried to block the razor.”
D.D. looked away. Cuts were hard for her to take. She didn’t know why. Gunshots wounds, rope burns, acute poisoning, not so bad. Slicing and dicing, on the other hand, gave her the heebie-jeebies.
“From the beginning?” Phil asked, whipping out his recorder.
He set it on the desk, and the superintendent began.
Adeline had set things in motion, shortly after 7:00 A.M., by requesting a visit with her sister.
“Regarding the Rose Killer?” D.D. interjected.
“Personal business, she said. Something to do with their father.”
D.D. and Phil nodded.
Upon arrival, one of the corrections officers had escorted Adeline to the private visitation room normally used for her and Shana’s meetings. About eight minutes into their conversation, however, there was a disturbance outside.
“What kind of disturbance?”
Superintendent McKinnon sighed heavily. “Firecrackers. Rolled underneath one of the vehicles in the rear of the parking lot. At first, of course, it sounded like gunfire. A guard sounded the alarm, then mobilized the tactical unit.”
“You got cameras on the parking lot?” Phil asked sharply.
“Covering the first few rows. Unfortunately, the car in question was parked too far away. According to my chief officer, the fireworks were planted sometime before; someone had attached a long, slow-burning cord. His initial impression was that it was simple criminal mischief, perhaps related to the vigil last night. Of course, given what happened next . . .”
“What happened next?”
“Officer Maria Lopez turned just in time to see Shana tackle Dr. Glen. Apparently, Shana leapt right over the table and slammed into Adeline, taking her down—”
“They were. Everyone had followed protocol. Everyone was doing their job to the best of their ability.” McKinnon uttered the words tersely. “Of course, we’re duty bound to follow the same patterns and procedures. Whereas, someone like Shana has spent years with nothing better to do than think of ways to outsmart the system.”
“What did she do?”
“She jammed one of the chairs under the door, then killed the lights. Officer Lopez immediately alerted the tactical unit, but given that they were already responding to the incident in the parking lot . . . It took several minutes. Five, I’m told, until the full team was assembled outside the visitation room.”
“During which time?”
“Officer Lopez couldn’t see that far into the room given the lack of lighting and the table blocking the lower part of the window. It appeared to her that Shana and Dr. Adeline were in some kind of struggle on the floor. She could just see bits and pieces as they rolled around. When the response team arrived, they went to work on the shatterproof window, popping it from its frame.
“Upon entering the room, they found Dr. Adeline Glen—they presumed—leaning over Shana’s body. Both women were covered in blood. Dr. Glen’s wounds, however, appeared superficial; whereas, the inmate, Shana, had deep cuts all over her face. Dr. Glen—they presumed—claimed that Shana had attacked her with a razor, before turning on herself. Given Shana’s long history of suicide, that story didn’t arouse immediate suspicions. A razor blade was recovered from the scene—”
“How did Shana smuggle a razor into the room?” D.D. again.
The superintendent shot her a look. “We don’t know, Detective. Officer Lopez swears she conducted a thorough physical exam, internal as well as external, before escorting Shana to the visiting room. Then again, how has Shana gotten any of her assorted blades, shanks and razors? For the record, I feel strongly that my staff is among the best there is. They do a tough job brilliantly. Only Shana can make us look like idiots.”
The superintendent’s voice broke off harshly. Up until this moment, D.D. hadn’t realized just how personally the woman was taking this. But this was her facility, her staff, her domain. And yeah, thanks to Shana’s latest escapade, Superintendent McKinnon didn’t look so good.
“So,” Phil interjected smoothly. “Your team does the logical thing: They cart off the injured woman in jailhouse orange to the secure medical ward. While, Shana, posing as Dr. Glen . . .”
“I personally came down to debrief her. She assured me she was physically fine; the blood covering her face belonged to her sister, not her. She was merely shaken, and wanted to return home immediately. She kept twisting her MedicAlert bracelet, however, so I could tell she was rattled. Of course, I questioned her further. What had happened, what had set Shana off? She claimed