The Maker Page 17

  The expression in his eyes grew intense and the air around them hummed. The tension in Chanel’s stomach increased tenfold. She had a sudden feeling life as she’d known it was about to end.

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “Guess.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Guess.” His tone brooked no argument.

  Chanel’s mind spun. The tightness in her chest increased, making it difficult to breathe. She gripped the desk with both hands and did her best to slow her pulse. She looked up at the detective and found his gaze still on her. A single dark eyebrow rose in silent query.

  She shook her head. “What do you want me to say? I don’t know! At least four or five. Doctors, nurses, cleaners…”

  “I’ll tell you how many people had access to all three patients: one. Out of all the names we analyzed, only one staff member had contact with all three patients on the mornings before they were taken ill. The timing’s important because the poison that was used is slow acting. It can be eight to ten hours, sometimes even more, before a person will display symptoms.”

  Chanel’s heart pumped so fast she was sure she was suffering from a heart attack. With her hand held tightly against her chest she snatched breaths and tried to calm down. She knew where this was heading. All three women were her patients. She’d made a point of seeing both Robyn Evan and Eileen Green every morning she’d been rostered on during their stay. She wanted both women to feel like she cared—and she had. She’d also met with Amelia Arncliffe in the hours before she’d fallen ill, even though Chanel hadn’t known it at the time.

  “It’s me, isn’t it?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

  He leaned forward, his face mere inches from hers. His gaze softened, almost as if he dreaded being the one to confirm her fears.

  “Yes.”

  She gasped with shock, even though she’d known what was coming. She shook her head, wanting to shout her denial, but it was no good. She didn’t need to pore over the rosters to know he spoke the truth.

  The victims were all under Doctor Baker’s care. She was a resident under Doctor Baker’s supervision. Every day, he supplied each of his students with a list of patients. No one’s list was the same. It was only during ward rounds with their boss that several of them were present at the same time and it would be a confident killer indeed who carried out his work in the presence of his peers. She’d had personal contact with all three of the victims. The only other thing she knew was that she hadn’t been the one to kill them.

  “It wasn’t me.”

  He stared at her, his face impassive. Panic tightened its grip. She grabbed hold of his arm and shook him.

  “You have to believe me. It wasn’t me.”

  “I want to believe you. I do. It doesn’t make sense that you’d kill two patients and then alert the police to their deaths. If the senator hadn’t come forward with his accusations, no one would have been the wiser.”

  He shifted away from her and held his hands palm upwards, looking almost as bewildered as she felt.

  “But the facts don’t lie. You were the only one assigned to treat all three women in the days before their deaths.”

  “What about Doctor Baker? He doesn’t have a roster, but he attends all of his patients every day.”

  “You’re right and he’ll be interviewed, but from what I understand, he’s usually in the company of other staff when he’s conducting his ward rounds. It would be unusual for him to attend upon a patient without one of his students or a nurse around. Is that correct?”

  Chanel nodded, downcast. “Yes, you’re right. I guess it’s possible he might pop in and see a patient spontaneously, but it’s usually during a scheduled ward round with two or three nurses and a couple of students in tow. I’ve been part of that myself.”

  “I don’t believe you’re a killer, Doctor Munro, but at the moment, I have very little to go on. My partner’s in the process of interviewing Doctor Baker. It’ll be interesting to hear Jett’s take on your boss. I wonder if he forms the same opinion I did when I met with him nearly three weeks ago.”

  Chanel frowned. “You interviewed Doctor Baker three weeks ago?”

  “Yes, you might have forgotten my assurances that I’d investigate the matters you raised if I thought they warranted it. The fact is, I attended upon Doctor Baker the same day you came to me with your concerns. He provided me with what I thought at the time was a satisfactory explanation. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I told Doctor Baker a student wanted to file charges against him for sexual harassment.”

  His words sunk in. She shook her head back and forth. “You had no right—”

  “I didn’t provide him with any names. I found it interesting that he gave me your name without prompting. I was intrigued that you came to mind when I mentioned sexual harassment. Anyway, he told me you’d propositioned him; he’d turned you down; and any claims of sexual harassment were nothing more than sour grapes. At the time, I didn’t have reason to disbelieve him.”

  Anger surged through Chanel. Her cheeks burned. “I told you the truth about what happened! Why would you believe him over me?”

  “You’re a very attractive woman and he told a very convincing story of how you’d used your looks to pave your way—first through medical school and then later, into Brisbane’s most prestigious hospital. Apparently it wasn’t the first time you’d used sex as a way to get better grades.”

  Chanel gasped with shock and this time, her anger found its head. “That’s a lie! A filthy lie! As if I’d ever stoop so low! As if I had to! I’ve never been so insulted in all my life and I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry. How dare he!”

  Her chest heaved and her breath came fast. She glared at the officer who sat across from her, calmly surveying her through his dark, dark eyelashes.

  “I was surprised when he told me those things. His portrayal of you just didn’t sit right. At the time, I had nothing more to base it on but a feeling and I’m sure you can appreciate, in my line of work, feelings only go so far. I needed facts, evidence to support or dismiss his claim.”

  “What did you do?” she asked, her temper marginally less volatile.

  “I made contact with your former employers and work colleagues. I even spoke to a couple of your college professors. They all say hello, by the way.”

  She frowned and wished he’d just get the hell on with it.

  “After more than a dozen conversations, I was convinced Doctor Baker had got it wrong. His story didn’t add up. You were every bit as deserving of the accolades as he said, but not for the reasons he gave. Once I’d cast doubt on the way he’d explained your alleged complaint of sexual harassment, I couldn’t help but wonder what else he’d lied about.”

  “You spoke to him about Amelia Arncliffe and Robyn Evan?”

  “Yes, I addressed their deaths in the same conversation, but only in a cursory way. You have to remember, this was three weeks ago. We’ve only recently received proof of criminal behavior. Doctor Baker explained your concerns away in the same manner as your sexual harassment complaint: That it was nothing more than the work of a woman scorned who was hell-bent on revenge. As I said, at the time, I bought it. Now, not for a second.”

  Chanel mulled over his words, but they offered her very little reassurance. “Where do we go from here?”

  “It’s no accident you’re the only doctor rostered on for those three patients during the relevant times. Someone’s setting you up. It’s my job to find out who.”

  “Doctor Baker organizes the rosters,” Chanel whispered.

  The detective’s expression grew grim, but a gleam of anticipation glinted in his eyes. “Yes.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Leo poured the powder into the second medicine bottle that stood on the counter near his elbow. Despite his best efforts, his hand trembled. Apart from the bare bulb that hung above his work space, the basement was dark. It was just the way
he liked it. A man could get away with a lot of things in the dark.

  He worked quickly and efficiently. He had the routine down pat. He ought to. He’d done it often enough. The deaths that had come to light in the media weren’t even the half of it.

  Knowing that the police were investigating the most recent deaths added a heightened degree of risk…and anticipation. It should have been enough to stop him, but it wasn’t. He didn’t think anything could stop him. The knowledge both scared him and set him free.

  At first, his purpose had been good and noble. God had watched him suffer as a boy, helpless and afraid, while his mother died in agony. God had whispered a promise that had helped him on his way. He finished medical school knowing he had a higher purpose: He was to heal the sick and ease the suffering of God’s people.

  And he’d been good at it. His patients returned to health faster and better than expected. Word soon got around. In no time at all, he scaled the heights of the medical world and people came from all over to have him treat them.

  Of course, there were always the ones who were better off dead and God was quick to let him know when it was time for a member of His flock to meet their Maker. It was up to Leo to ensure their passage to the afterlife was as smooth as possible.

  It hadn’t been painless and it saddened him to think of their final hours spent writhing in agony, but God had assured him their sacrifice would be worth it. Soon, they’d have eternal life and all the glories of heaven would be theirs. It was up to him to make it happen.

  But lately, God’s messages had left him mixed up and confused. He no longer knew the Maker’s will. Was it Him who told Leo who was ready to go or was it someone else? The voice in his head was different. Rougher and more demanding and his victims were less and less unwell. He was supposed to be God’s earthly instrument to alleviate the suffering. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

  Still, he continued to obey its urgings. What else was he to do? A part of him wanted to resist, especially when he could see the patient wasn’t terminal. Take Amelia Arncliffe, Robyn Evan and Eileen Green. They were all on their way back to better health when the voice ordered him from up above.

  Still, he believed in the Almighty and would bow to His greater wisdom. Besides, the women had gone to a better place. There was no denying it.

  He only hoped he’d said the right things when the police interviewed him. He’d prayed for hours beforehand, seeking God’s words of wisdom. God would tell him what to say. God would protect him and keep him safe. Who would be left to carry on His work if he were sent to jail? No, God wouldn’t abandon him. Leo was certain of it.

  He emptied the final collection of ricin powder into the medicine bottle and carefully sealed the lid. In the dim light, he glanced at his watch and frowned. Time had slipped away. His wife would be wondering where he was, badgering him with endless questions and pinning him with angry frowns.

  She thought he had a mistress. She’d discovered the deed to the house in Mount Druitt by accident and had accused him of all sorts of nasty things. She was wrong about the mistress. That wasn’t his purpose for acquiring the house so far out in the suburbs. No, it was used for a much higher purpose than mere pleasures of the flesh.

  Not that he hadn’t enjoyed a dalliance here and there with pretty, young things along the way, but they were casual flings that never lasted and didn’t mean a thing—and they never took precedence over his work ordained by God.

  Clearing his work space, he returned his equipment to the shelf above the counter. Carefully scraping the residue powder into a dustpan, he emptied it into the trash nearby. He picked up both medicine bottles and wiped them clean before dropping them into the pocket of his jacket.

  Satisfied, he tugged off his surgical mask and scrubs and tossed them into the trash can, too. They were followed by his tight-fitting surgical gloves. He always took plenty of precautions. With one last look around to ensure nothing was out of place, he climbed the old wooden stairs that led from the basement into the house.

  At the top of the stairs, he switched off the basement light and pulled the door closed behind him. A snap of the padlock and the room was once more secure. He wasn’t sure why he went to so much trouble to keep the room locked. It wasn’t like the house was occupied.

  He’d bought it on the pretext it was an investment property. He’d even gone through the motions of contacting realtors and advising them the property was available to rent. He’d had a few enquires, but had turned them all down, telling them that unfortunately, the property had just been tenanted.

  It worked like a charm and had been his little secret for more than a decade—his and God’s. It was only recently, when his wife found out, that his secret had been discovered.

  He’d tried the rental thing on her, too, and had even produced a fake lease document. She’d scrutinized it in such detail, he was sure she’d see through it. But after what seemed like a lifetime, she’d tossed the papers back to him and had stormed off toward her room. He was grateful he hadn’t heard anything about the house since.

  The place in Mount Druitt was more important to him than he cared to admit. It had been his private getaway for so long. It was where he went to escape the daily pressures of his life and more importantly, it gave him the freedom to come and go as he pleased, to plan and to carry out his work. No, not just his work—God’s work.

  It was God who had chosen Chanel Munro.

  At the thought of her, he broke into a smile. So beautiful, so perfect, so distant. She was one of God’s angels. Beauty such as hers had to come directly from the Almighty. It was why He’d chosen her to take the fall. She was His gift to Leo.

  Leo had made sure the police knew all about her and had given them plenty of reasons to look at her for the crimes. He’d even managed to secure a little extra insurance by befriending her roommate.

  Okay, so they’d become a little more than friends, but the girl had been willing and had gone out of her way to please. She was more than happy to accept his gift a couple of nights ago and do with it as he directed. The confusion was plain on her face when he gave it to her, but he soon alleviated her concerns. Besides, she was so enamored of him, he knew she’d never ask questions.

  Yes, little Tanya Singh had proved quite useful and she wasn’t a bad fuck at all. Her eagerness to try new things in the bedroom made life just that little bit more pleasant. Of course, it wouldn’t last forever. The year would soon be up. She’d graduate from the program with honors and go on to achieve greatness in her career. Or something like that.

  Reaching his car, parked in the driveway beside the house, he unlocked the door and slid into the seat. Taking the medicine bottles from his pocket, he slipped them inside a Ziplock bag and sealed it before depositing it carefully in the glove compartment. He never knew what might happen on his hour or more commute back into the city and he didn’t want to risk the bottles breaking in his pocket and spilling their precious contents. He had enough to last at least three or four months. Even longer, depending upon the orders from up above.

  * * *

  Susan Baker pressed back against the side of the house, making use of the shadows cast by the overgrown hibiscus bush to conceal her presence. She watched her husband seated in his car and wondered what he was thinking. It seemed like forever before he started the ignition and eventually sped away.

  She’d followed him to the house in Mount Druitt in an effort to discover its secrets. He’d thought he’d fooled her with his story of a rental property and tenants and it had suited her to let him think that way. It gave her time to deliberate upon the latest development and wonder whether the existence of a secret dwelling was cause for concern.

  The mere fact that he’d kept it from her caused alarm. If it was as innocent as he proclaimed, he would have told her about it. They owned several investments around the city. It wasn’t like they hadn’t bought property before.

  At first, she’d suspected he was using the house as a place of assigna
tion with whatever slut he was seeing at the time, but she’d been wrong. Not about the slut. She’d seen him with the exotic-looking, dark-skinned girl. But the purpose of the house had come as a surprise and now that she knew the truth, she was mystified.

  She’d snuck in behind him, barely breathing and watched him make his way down the darkened hall. He’d paused outside a door and unlocked it and had simply disappeared. When she finally found the courage to follow him, she realized he’d descended into a basement where a single faint light cast eerie shadows across the walls.

  Creeping to the edge of the stairs, she’d watched him working at a counter. Something that looked like a coffee pot stood near his elbow. He muttered aloud and shuffled around in the gloom. She could barely make out what he was doing and what she did see didn’t make sense. At least it had nothing to do with another woman. For that, she was grateful.

  Now, drawing her light coat around her, she picked her way over the uneven ground that led from the house to the street. She’d parked half a block away. She didn’t want him to know she was following him. It was far better to keep him at ease. As long as he thought her stupid enough to accept his explanations, it was easier to discover his hidden truths.

  It hadn’t always been that way. She sighed inwardly at the memory of the way things used to be. He’d been a dashing third-year resident doctor when they’d met at a black-tie hospital fundraiser. Tall and charismatic, he’d blown her away with his charm. They were married within the year and babies soon followed after.

  If there were dark times when he retreated from the world and her and the children suffered, she told herself the good times far outweighed the bad and nobody was happy all the time. He worked long hours at a stressful job. It was understandable that every now and then he’d turn on his family in anger. She understood that was his way of dealing with the pressures of his job.

  Like the way he felt the need to diagnose her with all sorts of weird and wacky things. His latest conclusion was that she was suffering from bipolar disorder. What utter nonsense was that? He even insisted on prescribing her medication. Not that she’d ever filled the scripts. It was ludicrous, but she didn’t resist, knowing that somehow, it made him feel needed. There was no harm in it, after all and if it made him feel better about himself and their relationship, she was willing to let it go on.