Drained (Edgars Family #6) - Suzanne Ferrell Page 0,41
gut had helped him solve many cases over the years, and right now it was sending up warning flares surrounding Art’s death.
“Okay,” Stedaman said after a moment of thought, “here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to let you,” he pointed at Aaron, “keep following this case down the rabbit hole and see where it takes you. Talk to your profiler, see what he says. Quietly talk to the homeless community and see if you can dig us up anything like a clue or a witness that doesn’t have four feet. Until another victim appears, you,” he turned his attention on Jaylon, “get to pick up the slack on those three open cases you two have listed up there,” he said pointing at the whiteboard with cases listed under each detective’s name—blue marker for solved, red for unsolved, total three in red.
“Got it, boss,” Jaylon said, for once no smart-ass comment coming from him.
“Jeffers, you keep him and me apprised about anything you find out, and I mean anything. Also, where you are, both with the case and physically on the ground. Last thing I need is you going missing with no backup. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” Aaron said.
“And let’s just pray you or your dog friend don’t stumble onto another body.”
“What are you doing?”
Brianna looked up from her laptop to see Paula watching her from the bed.
After Aaron left for the police station, their day had taken on a decided medical bent. Paula napped for a bit, then a phlebotomist came in to draw lab work. That was followed by the nurse insisting that Paula needed to get cleaned up, which required monkeying around with the IV and covering the site with a plastic wrap, not to mention dragging the big metal pole into the bathroom so she could shower. While that happened, the bed was stripped, and the linens replaced with crisp clean ones by two other staff members.
While all this was going on, amazingly Stanley stayed quietly in the recliner chair and didn’t make a sound. The dog seemed to sense that the nursing and medical staff weren’t a threat to Paula and his presence in the hospital was on thin ice.
Just when they’d gotten Paula back into her bed, lunch came. And again, Brianna was surprised, when not only was there an extra tray of food for her, but a little plate of chopped up hamburger and some doggy biscuits for Stanley. Finally, another breathing treatment after lunch did Paula in and she’d fallen asleep, exhausted by the hospital routine. Though her breathing seemed less labored to Brianna’s untrained eye.
All the activity and helping in her friend’s care eased any anxiety Brianna might’ve had at being in a hospital room for so long. That’s when she’d decided to pull her laptop out of her bag to make notes. She wasn’t really sure what she was looking for, but she needed to do something. So, she did what she did best, looked for patterns. If Aaron was right and Art’s murderer was a serial killer with practice, a pattern of some sort had to show up somewhere.
“I’m making a spread sheet,” she said to Paula. “How are you feeling after your nap?”
“Better,” she said, wiggling up higher in the bed, then pushing the button to move from a forty-five-degree angle to almost ninety. Stanley took that opportunity to change spots from beside Brianna to Paula’s lap with a leap from chair to bed.
“Better not let nurse Teri catch you doing that,” Brianna said to him, but he just burrowed into Paula’s lap and closed his eyes, completely unconcerned.
“What kind of spreadsheet?” Paula asked with no wheezing between words.
That had to be a good sign.
“I’m listing all the places we know Art frequented, based on your knowledge and our trip out last night.” She sighed before continuing. “Including where we found him.”
She paused, wishing she wasn’t reminding Paula of losing her friend.
Paula wiped away fresh tears as she nodded. “Most people think the homeless live a life wandering and sitting in spots with nothing to do. A lot of them actually keep a schedule. Not one like us with appointments, but places they go to regularly.”
“Like the shelters and soup kitchens and churches?”
“Right. I see the same people week after week when I’m volunteering at the church’s soup kitchen. That’s how I got to know Art and Stanley,” Paula said, her hand stroking the terrier’s back.
“Did Art ever tell you where else he went for meals or for