Dreaming Death (Krewe of Hunters #32) - Heather Graham Page 0,65

heat of the case—and their desperation to find a killer before he killed again.

They didn’t get much sleep.

And, still, when he woke, he noticed that he hadn’t felt that damned good in...forever.

Eleven

“If the organs are being stolen for black-market transplants, I believe they’re going out of the area,” Jackson said. “We’ve pulled the name of every doctor capable of such operations. Police and our Krewe agents have been pulling info on time sheets, bank accounts and more for every transplant doctor in all states that you could get to from here in time to do a viable transplant. It’s a wide net. So far, we can’t find the least suggestion of illegal activity among them.”

Jackson leaned forward in his office chair, pinning Stacey with his gaze. “That doesn’t discount the theory. Makes no sense to me that a killer would rip up women and take all the major organs and not use them. Not when there’s a premium on organs like that, and there are wealthy people not concerned with where they came from when they know they’re not high on a donor list.”

“South America?” Keenan wondered aloud.

“I think it would have to be Central or South America or one of the islands close enough to the United States—the operation would have to be pretty fast. Chilled and preserved properly, a kidney can be viable for not quite thirty hours, and that’s the longest. It’s less than six hours for a heart or lungs.”

“A private jet could move quickly, if it knew when to go,” Keenan said.

“Then someone with money is pulling all this off,” Stacey said. “Or the clients are footing a hefty bill.”

“Someone has probably been making a lot of money off this,” Jackson pointed out grimly. “What price do you put on a human life? Those who will die without transplants and have the capability of paying just about anything are probably willing to look the other way when it comes to help.”

“Right. But an organ doesn’t just match anyone,” Keenan said. “I admit, I don’t know much about it, but there would have to be screening. Blood type, that kind of thing.”

“And yet, if you have a nice list of people willing to buy a new organ,” Stacey said thoughtfully, “well, anyone on that list would have been tested, and they would know what they’re looking for.”

“I wonder...” Keenan said.

“What?” Jackson and Stacey asked simultaneously.

“That’s what we need!” Keenan said, a frown set deep in his forehead.

“What?” Jackson and Stacey repeated together.

“Sorry, sorry. We can’t find a doctor. He—or she—is not going to be at a legitimate hospital. Whatever is going on is happening underground. There’s a secret clinic somewhere—either near here, or on an island or in a different country somewhere close. When you’re not working in the mainstream, you can’t be found in the mainstream. We need to find patients. We need to find out who has come off the regular lists lately—who has been waiting for a transplant and suddenly removed their requests.”

“Angela can manage to get that, right?” Stacey asked Jackson.

“I’m sure she can,” Jackson said. “There have to be connectors somewhere and, in an enterprise this big, someone willing to talk. While the actual operation may be offshore, I doubt if rich clients are willing to give up their lives here. I’ll get Angela on it. For now, I have a list of names—prominent citizens, men and women—who have used the services of Billie Bingham’s escort service, if you want to get started on that. We’re working on preliminaries, checking out who may or may not have been in the area at the time. We can eliminate suspects—two are men who have passed away. There isn’t time to run in circles.”

Stacey was quiet for a minute and then said, “And there’s Cindy Hardy.”

“You think she’s involved?” Jackson asked.

“She lied to us. She did leave her home again the night that Billie Bingham and our victim in the basement were killed,” Keenan mused.

Stacey looked at Keenan. “She had so much hatred for Billie Bingham.”

“True. But what about our other victims?” Keenan asked.

“Something puts them all together,” Jackson said. “If we’re assuming right, and the victims were all sex workers,” Stacey said, “it doesn’t matter whether they were seen as high-class call girls or street prostitutes. They were all practicing the oldest trade.”

“Then we’re still watching Colin Smith,” Jackson said. “The man put on a good show, but we all know how well people can lie. Based on my gut, I believe him.