Dreaming Death (Krewe of Hunters #32) - Heather Graham Page 0,97

not staring at the woods.”

Keenan felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It was Stacey, texting him.

He got up and went to the door of the interrogation room.

“Hey! Don’t leave me just sitting here for hours! I’m a surgeon!”

Keenan turned back. “I know lots of surgeons. Good men and women, good surgeons. And you know what? They don’t behave as if they’re superior to others. They like helping people, curing them, making them better. I even know a few who are lamenting on a Saturday night that they don’t have dates. News flash, guy. You’re not that special.”

“Why you—”

Keenan didn’t hear the rest; he let the door clang shut and strode into the observation room to see why Stacey had been beckoning him.

“What’s up?”

“Jean thinks a woman who called in about being approached by strange people is the real deal. She was offended that anyone would think that she would accept a heart without it being in her hospital with her doctors, or that she consider taking a heart if it was from a questionable source. I think we should join Jean. Fred is going to stay here; he may go in eventually, when Dr. Lawrence is really getting impatient,” Stacey said.

“If that works for you,” Fred told him.

“I don’t think we were getting anything out of him anyway,” Keenan said, “but he did give me an idea.”

“Oh?”

“Tell you on the way. It was a long night, but it’s going to be a longer day.”

They headed out. “Curious?” Keenan said as he drove.

“What’s that? And what’s your plan?”

He glanced her way. “Oh, I guess most areas are like this. We’re on our way to a mansion, which is near the alley where Jess Marlborough, her friends and her pimp spent their days working. Mansions, hovels. All within a stone’s throw.”

“Any big area is going to have those with money and those without.”

“Right. But it makes me think. This area just isn’t that big. Anyway, let’s see what this woman has told Jean and find out how viable the information might be!”

They were a large highway away from the down-and-out region where Jess Marlborough had plied her trade—six lanes and then several blocks before they reached an area of impressive single-family homes—with single families still living in them, in contrast to the many old mansions that now housed four or more apartments.

They parked behind Jean’s unmarked sedan and headed up the walk.

Detective Jean Channing met them at the door.

“I don’t know how much this can help us, but Mrs. Kendrick—Anita Kendrick—called after seeing the news from last night. A few weeks back, she was approached by a woman in a coffee shop. The woman wanted to let her know that she didn’t have to wait and die. For the right price, she could receive a good, young heart almost immediately. Come in, come in, she’s a lovely woman,” Jean told them. “Through here. She’s in what she calls her small parlor.”

They went in, walking through the foyer, a large parlor with a huge hearth and through a door to a smaller sitting area. Anita Kendrick was sitting on her sofa, drinking tea. Chairs were grouped close, and a table sat near her perch and bore medications and water bottles, and anything the woman might need seemed within easy reach. She didn’t rise to greet them.

“Forgive me. Some days I am stronger than others. I’m feeling a bit tired,” she told them from her chair. “Please, sit, join us.”

“You were approached by someone suggesting they could get you a healthy heart transplant?” Stacey asked, after she and Keenan had introduced themselves.

“I just didn’t—well, I couldn’t believe that it was serious! I was in the coffee shop. My niece was with me that day. She’d helped me out—they do have transportation from the medical center, but Elinor is so sweet, and I love seeing her, and she’s happy to take me. But after my appointment—it was a good day—we stopped for a snack at the café. And while Elinor was at the counter, this woman came up, and of course, I was polite, thinking she needed help, and she told me she could get me a heart. I shouldn’t die—‘a woman of my class’—and hearts were available! I mean, she might have followed me from the cardiologist, but how she would know...?”

“What did you do?”

“Well, I stared at her. I thought it was a joke. I said that I was on a list—a just list, a good list. And she actually said that