Dreaming Death (Krewe of Hunters #32) - Heather Graham Page 0,53
But maybe Billie got in the way. Or maybe she was involved and became so irritating she had to be stopped. Despite her occupation and slightly older age, she was in excellent shape. From what I understand, she was pure business, in control all the time. She didn’t abuse alcohol or drugs that might be dangerous to vital organs. That would make her a viable victim if they are taking the organs.”
“I think you might be right,” Keenan said. He filled the others in on their experience at Smith’s office—and how Peggy Bronsen had come to them and what she had said.
“I always thought he was dirty,” Jean said. She lifted her hands defensively. “That being important only because it has to do with our case.”
Keenan liked Jean. He’d learned she’d started with the police straight out of college and earned her way up. She was dedicated. Nearing fifty now, she had never married but kept a lively-enough social life, continually taking martial-arts classes and ballroom dance. Her first devotion was, however, always to her work. She had short dark blond hair and bright hazel eyes, and was wiry and athletic and deceptively small.
This was often to her advantage. Tough guys thought that they could escape her in an arrest situation. They were sadly mistaken.
Jean continued. “So, our guy kills two street girls, and then, someone—still unknown—in Billie’s basement, and then Billie. But you said that Peggy Bronsen doesn’t believe that Congressman Smith did the actual killing, and I’m inclined to agree. If this is about black-market human organs, more than one person is involved. If we get Smith, will he give up whoever else is doing this?”
“I think he’d sell out his own mother if it would help him,” Fred said dryly.
“If they are taking organs, there’s big money involved. I think Jackson already has our forensic accounting department seeing what they can dig up on Smith,” Keenan told him.
Jean looked down at her notes. “His wife is Sandra Smith, forty-seven. They have two grown children, one son living in Los Angeles, another working in London.” She sighed. “Doesn’t look like they’re depending on him for survival. The LA son is working in movie production with a big studio, and the second son is on contract with a major pharmaceutical company—he’ll be in the UK for another six months.”
“Their colleges?” Stacey asked.
“Princeton and Yale. But the youngest graduated two years ago. So, no obvious major expenses or debts. I don’t know why Smith would be so greedy. And if they are taking organs, where are they going? I can’t believe that we have any of our transplant hospitals in on this.”
“No known hospitals. If that is what’s happening, there’s an underground operation going on somewhere, or they’re being shipped out of the country,” Stacey said.
“Organs are only viable so long,” Fred reminded them. “But they’re being cleanly taken, according to our MEs.”
“Then there’s the kidney piece that was sent to Stacey,” Keenan said. “We need forensics on that.” He paused for a moment. “We’re also checking into disappearances or any like murders of men. This whole Jack the Ripper thing may be to throw off law enforcement. Hopefully, we’ll learn more on that soon as well. At this time, we do know that if we don’t catch him, this man—or his accomplice or accomplices—will strike again. They’ll need a Mary Kelly victim. We have the six women who lived with Jess Marlborough. We have Tania Holt, Billie’s assistant. And we have Peggy Bronsen, the congressman’s staff member, who is terrified of him. Any of those women might make a fitting victim, or the killer may strike somewhere we’re not even thinking about.”
“We’re watching the home and surroundings of Jess Marlborough’s friends,” Fred assured him.
“And we have Peggy Bronsen and Tania Holt in protective custody. I believe we also need eyes on Cindy Hardy. She was vocal and furious,” Stacey said.
“And you,” Keenan added.
“Hey, I have you—the best of the best,” Stacey said, smiling.
But all eyes were on her. Jean reached out and touched her arm. “Don’t take this lightly—receiving a kidney from this killer, be he a madman or a businessman.”
“We’re not taking it lightly,” Stacey assured her. “We’re staying together, 24/7.”
“That’s a relief,” Fred put in. “I’m still having your place heavily patrolled—your place, or are you two hiding out elsewhere?”
“My place. There’s no need to stretch resources further,” Stacey said. “We have way too many women to protect as it is, and I’m the only one who