Ethan accepted a pair of disposable shoe covers from the officer standing at the threshold of the grisly scene. Slipping them over his shoes, he righted himself and advanced toward the bedroom, cautiously circumnavigating the crimson stains that spoke of the horrors within.
The bedroom, concealed behind a firmly shut door, yielded to Ethan's determined push. Its transformation into a makeshift sickroom was immediate and unsettling. Two stark metal beds, their blankets meticulously arranged, stood as silent sentinels. Overhead, metal rods loomed, once hosts to life-sustaining IV drips.
The sharp tang of disinfectant permeated the air, an incongruous attempt at cleanliness in a place marred by violence. Between the beds, a modest wooden cabinet stood, its top adorned with a thermos and water cups, untouched relics of normalcy. Ethan knelt and opened the cabinet with deliberate care. The lower shelf harbored disposable slippers, a mundane detail in a scene far from ordinary. The upper shelf cradled aged lab reports, their yellowed pages whispering secrets of the past.
One report caught Ethan's eye, the corner etched with the name "Philip Taylor." A patient, perhaps, treated in this very room. Ethan folded the report, tucking it into his pocket as he closed the cabinet and rose, leaving the oppressive room behind.
Back in the living room, Ethan stood before the surgical table, a macabre centerpiece. Eyes closed, he drew a deep breath, summoning the layout of the room in his mind's eye.
No signs of struggle marred the space, a telling clue. The perpetrator either knew his victim or had been operated on by Charles. The absence of anesthetic drugs was notable, either seized by the forensic team or purloined by the killer. Ethan's instincts leaned toward the latter.
The killer had a sinister use for the drugs. Trevor, the real estate manager - if Ethan's hunch was right - had likely been the first victim, rendered helpless before being subjected to a cruel and conscious dismemberment.
The bloodstains, seeping through to the floor below, indicated that Charles's demise had preceded the elderly neighbor's report by at least a day. But why the delay? Why had neither the hospital nor Charles's wife raised an alarm?
Ethan's voice broke the silence, his eyes still shut in concentration. "Is Charles the owner of this house?"
The officer, lingering at the door, responded, "Yes, the deceased Charles purchased it five years ago. However, he was scarcely seen here. Residents across the hall, contacted two years back, reported occasional late-night arrivals. Once, they even glimpsed a group carrying someone inside through their peephole."
Ethan, his mind a whirlwind of theories and suspicions, emerged from the scene, his thoughtful gaze lingering on the details of the living room. He peeled off the shoe covers, evidence of his foray into the macabre world behind that door. The officer stepped out ahead of him.
In the corridor, Nancy awaited. She held her questions until they were ensconced in the safety of their car. Once settled, her voice, tinged with urgency, broke the silence. "What did you find out?"
Ethan reclined, a shadow of exhaustion crossing his features. "The lock was untouched, no signs of forced entry. The living room, the sickroom — too orderly. The murder, executed in eerie silence. It's clear the killer knew Charles, and they have medical expertise." His eyes closed, a gesture of deep contemplation, he added, "This killer harbors no fear in the act of killing."
"No fear?" Nancy's voice betrayed her bewilderment.
"Brutality marks both cases. One victim eviscerated, another dismembered. These acts were carried out with chilling composure. No ordinary psychopath has this level of control. The victims were alive, conscious." Ethan's expression remained unreadable, eyes still shut. "We're dealing with either a seasoned murderer or someone driven by a profound compulsion."
Nancy inhaled deeply, her voice steady yet heavy with gravity. "I recall an interview with a prisoner, a family annihilator. He prepared himself for murder by raising and then killing cats, escalating to the one he was closest to. Only then did he feel nothing, ready for his heinous act. Our killer might have undergone similar desensitization."
Ethan's eyes flickered open, a sharp clarity within them. "But our killer isn't just training to kill. They're rehearsing the act, the process."
Nancy, her mind racing, questioned, "What's our next move?"
"We head to the hospital where Charles worked," Ethan declared, his tone even yet imbued with determination.
Nancy, puzzled yet trusting Ethan's instincts, asked, "But why the hospital?"
Ethan leaned back in his seat, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his mind piecing together the puzzle. "Charles couldn't have conducted those surgeries alone; he needed an assistant," he mused aloud.
Nancy nodded in understanding and steered the car towards Kindred General Hospital, following Ethan's instructions. Upon their arrival, Ethan asked Nancy to stay behind while he ventured into the hospital. His destination: the Human Resources department. There, he inquired about any recent resignations or transfers, particularly within the last two weeks. Ethan was convinced that Charles's secret surgeries, now exposed, would have forced his accomplice to sever ties with the hospital to avoid implication.
As Ethan had anticipated, the day after Charles's body was discovered, a nurse named Caroline Foster from the surgery department had abruptly resigned. Caroline wasn't just any nurse; she had been Charles's right hand, both in the hospital and during his teaching sessions. She had been under his tutelage since her internship days.
With Caroline's home address and contact number in hand, Ethan returned to the car and relayed the information to Nancy. "If my hunch is correct, Caroline is the one who assisted Charles. We need to find her."
Nancy, her fingers deftly setting the address into the navigation system, glanced at Ethan. "Shouldn't we inform the Major Crimes Unit? Why are we conducting this privately?"
Ethan sighed, checking his phone for the time before stretching. "Eventually, we will. But now's not the time. Captain Jack Bowen of the Major Crimes Unit, he's a seasoned investigator, very self-assured. With just my 'case consultant' title, he'll dismiss me outright."
Nancy nodded in understanding. She knew of Captain Bowen, having encountered him during her time at the LA Insider. "So, you're planning to visit the crime scene first, then find Caroline, to gather leverage for negotiations with Captain Bowen?"
Ethan gave a half-smile, his gaze returning to the window. "Negotiation isn't quite the word. It's more about having something irresistible to offer when I ask to join the investigation."
In the stillness of the car, Nancy's silence was contemplative as she maneuvered through the streets. They soon reached the residential area where Caroline, the nurse linked to Dr. Charles Ingham, resided. After a brief stop at the security gate, they proceeded to her apartment.
Nancy, with measured steps, approached Caroline's door and knocked. Stepping back, she stood beside Ethan Steele, her eyes scanning the vicinity. Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a woman whose wary gaze flicked between the two visitors.
Removing his mask, Ethan appraised the woman. "Are you Caroline Foster?" he asked.
Caroline, eyeing them cautiously, nodded. "Yes, I am. And who might you be?"
Nancy interjected smoothly, "Hello, I'm Nancy Teagan, a reporter with the LA Insider." She flashed her credentials, then gestured towards Ethan. "And this is Ethan Steele, a consultant with the police department."
Caroline's expression didn't betray recognition of Ethan. After scrutinizing Nancy's credentials, her tone laced with curiosity, she asked, "A police consultant... what exactly does that involve?"
Nancy, tucking away her ID, offered a reassuring smile. "It's a bit complex to explain, but rest assured, we're not here with ill intentions. We're looking to learn more about your mentor, Dr. Charles Ingham."
After a moment's hesitation, Caroline stepped aside, gesturing them into her apartment. Once seated on the sofa, Caroline broke the silence. "I expected the police to come eventually, just not you two."
Ethan, reading between the lines, deduced the police hadn't yet approached Caroline. Her decision to stay, rather than flee, suggested she wasn't involved in Charles's death. He inhaled deeply, probing, "You resigned because you anticipated Charles's outside activities would come to light, correct?"
Caroline met his gaze squarely. "Yes, it was a severe breach of hospital policy. Even if I hadn't resigned, the hospital would have dismissed me. So, I chose to leave on my terms. Despite everything, what we did was for a noble cause."
Ethan's eyes briefly surveyed the room, then settled back on Caroline, noting a scar on her wrist. "Did Charles contact you prior to his... incident?"
Caroline's response was steady. "Since my internship, I was always informed of any surgeries. But before his incident, there were no such communications."
Nancy leaned in, her eyes keenly observing Caroline. "Were you the only assistant Charles had?" she asked, her voice steady yet probing.
Caroline nodded, a hint of pride in her voice. "Yes, I was the sole one. It wasn't exactly a role brimming with prestige, so discretion was key. Having been under Dr. Ingham's mentorship since my internship days, he trusted me implicitly with this secret." She paused, her gaze distant, before continuing, "But in the time leading up to his incident, he was visibly troubled, even canceling surgeries at the hospital. A surgeon needs complete focus; any distraction could lead to dire consequences."
Ethan's gaze drifted to the scar on Caroline's wrist, suggestive of a self-harm attempt. "Do you know what was troubling him?" he inquired.
Caroline met his gaze. "In all the years I've worked with him, I've never seen him like that. I asked him once, but he kept his troubles to himself. Whatever it was, it was no small matter."
"And were you involved in all the private surgeries Charles conducted?" Ethan pressed on.
Caroline's brow furrowed in thought. "For the past two years, yes. Before me, there was someone else, but I have no idea who. He never talked about them." She hesitated, then added, "He only mentioned that this person left, fearing the impact on their career. But I suspect there was more to it. I'm certain, though, that this previous assistant wasn't from our hospital."
Ethan's interest piqued. "How can you be so sure?"
Caroline's response was confident. "I'm familiar with all the surgeons in our surgery department. More importantly, Dr. Ingham was adamant about not wanting an assistant from our hospital, other than me. He had difficulty finding someone else. So, I concluded that the previous assistant had to be from a different hospital."