As Jennifer pondered the situation, her resolve hardened. "I must inform Captain Bowen of this development and request his assistance in launching a full-scale investigation," she declared with determination.
Ethan, taking a measured breath, interjected, "Ensure Captain Bowen understands the gravity of what I've uncovered; it's a pivotal piece of the puzzle. Without it, his interest in the case might wane." He paused, then added, "And, Jennifer, involve your colleague. Probe into the Gainesville Volunteer Service Center. We need to cross-reference the names of those aided during Trevor's tenure with those who underwent illicit surgeries at Charles's hands. A matching name could very well lead us to our perpetrator."
Following Ethan's insight, Jennifer sought an area where her phone's signal was stronger and contacted Captain Bowen. Meanwhile, Ethan ventured back into the factory. He moved cautiously, eyes darting from side to side, meticulously surveying every inch of the dilapidated structure.
In a corner, heaps of refuse lay scattered, previously combed through by the Serious Crime Unit. Amongst this detritus, they had unearthed a saw – a grim tool used in a grisly dismemberment. Beyond this macabre find, stacks of wooden boards loomed, and nestled in their shadows was the desiccated corpse of a rat, long deceased. On a nearby wall, large, haphazardly painted red letters screamed a warning: "Fire Hazard - Caution."
Underneath this ominous inscription, two neglected fire extinguishers huddled, their surfaces consumed by rust. Ethan crouched down, shifting the extinguishers aside, and there, a startlingly incongruous object caught his eye – a tiny, pink hairpin adorned with a cat motif, unmistakably a child's accessory.
Clutching the hairpin, Ethan examined it closely.
"This is a Hello Kitty hairpin, charming in its way," Jennifer remarked as she saw him looking at the hairpin.
"Hello Kitty?" Ethan questioned, turning to Jennifer.
Jennifer nodded. "A character beloved by young girls," she explained. "This hairpin would appeal to someone around seven or eight years old. Older girls might deem it too juvenile."
A revelation struck Ethan. "The murderer seeks vengeance on behalf of his daughter," he deduced. "This hairpin, likely dropped by the killer, is a crucial clue. Somewhere in the intersection of Trevor's beneficiaries and Charles's secret patients, there must be a young girl from Gainesville, around seven or eight, from a family struggling financially, unable to afford medical care. If she was among those Trevor assisted, then the killer is undoubtedly from Gainesville."
Jennifer's expression lightened with hope. "We're nearing the case's resolution. Once we align the names from both lists, we can begin rounding up suspects throughout the city," she said, a note of relief in her voice. "Captain Bowen will undoubtedly be incensed by these latest revelations."
Ethan furrowed his brow, studying the delicate hairpin. "I can't piece together Donna's role in all this," he mused aloud. "Unless..."
Jennifer, sensing a breakthrough, pressed him. "Unless what?"
Ethan's mind raced back to their earlier conversation with Donna. "Remember how Donna was distraught this morning, talking about her breakup? What if the killer, in his quest for vengeance for his daughter, targeted Donna? He might have blamed her for neglecting her duties during her personal turmoil, holding her responsible for his daughter's demise," he theorized, his eyes briefly closing as he sifted through the details of the forensic report. "The killer's motive was to inflict on Charles and Trevor the same agony and despair his daughter suffered before her death."
Jennifer pondered this. "A father driven to avenge his daughter's death... it's a conceivable motive."
Ethan pocketed the hairpin and made his way out of the factory. "We can't wait for Captain Bowen. We need to scrutinize Charles's medical records at Kindred General Hospital," he declared, his steps quickening.
Inside the car, Ethan texted Nancy, asking her to investigate if Donna had been accused of contributing to a patient's death before resigning. After sending the message, he waited for a reply, but none came. They drove back to the city, arriving at Kindred General Hospital. Ethan sought out the head of the surgery department, requesting all patient records associated with Charles from the past three years.
"The esteemed Dr. Charles, our hospital's pride, sees patients in a tight schedule – almost a hundred daily," the head of surgery remarked, handing over a hefty stack of records. "The police had called earlier. We've prepared everything."
Dividing the records, Ethan and Jennifer began their meticulous search, focusing on younger patients. After about forty minutes, they had narrowed down their list to over thirty girls aged between five and twelve. Jennifer found a dozen more who matched their criteria.
"I've noticed some patients in the records who underwent covert surgeries by Charles," Jennifer said, passing her findings to Ethan. "Your theory holds water. Charles leveraged his consultations to find financially struggling families, sending them to that forsaken building for surgery. It's likely one of these girls is the killer's daughter."
Ethan's brow furrowed as he sifted through the medical records. "Unfortunately, these only list names, ages, and medical conditions. There's no personal information," he noted with a hint of frustration. Turning to Jennifer, he inquired, "Any word from your colleague?"
Jennifer glanced at her phone, then shook her head in negation. Ethan, standing more erect, distributed part of the paperwork to her. "Looks like we'll have to manually verify each of these," he stated. "Keep an eye out for any contacts from Gainesville." They delved into the task at hand, systematically calling each number. Of the forty-some names, most were unreachable or had changed their numbers.
After an arduous hour, they had whittled the list down to five individuals from Gainesville with disconnected or unreachable numbers. Ethan was handing this condensed list to Jennifer when two LAPD officers entered, approaching the head of surgery.
"We're here on official LAPD business," announced one officer, but his words trailed off as he noticed Ethan and Jennifer. "Mississippi Jenny and Detective Steele, always one step ahead," he remarked with a mix of respect and irritation.
Ethan stood, extending the list to the officers. "We've done the preliminary work for you," he said. "These are the leads you should pursue immediately."
The officer glanced at the list, then back at Ethan. "Our next steps are for Captain Bowen to decide," he replied somewhat dismissively.
Ethan retorted, "Then you'd better report back to him quickly, or you'll be left playing catch-up." He motioned to Jennifer, "Come on, let's grab lunch."
Exiting the surgery department, Jennifer's hand went to her stomach. "I could really go for some tacos. How about you?"
Ethan was about to agree when his phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Nancy: "Donna is missing." The message included Donna's address. He showed Jennifer the message, his face grave. "Donna's gone missing," he relayed.
Jennifer's demeanor shifted to one of urgency. "The killer might be making a move," she said, her voice tense. She dashed to a nearby supermarket, grabbing snacks and water before rushing back to the car. They ate quickly on their way to Donna's address, the weight of the situation pressing upon them.
As Ethan and Jennifer reached Nancy's residence, Jennifer immediately sought out the security personnel to review the surveillance footage. Ethan, meanwhile, ascended to Nancy's apartment, where he found her pacing in distress. On seeing him, she relayed the day's events. "I've been home with Donna these last two days. I had to leave for an urgent task at work today, and I instructed Donna to stay put. Now she's gone, and her phone's unreachable," Nancy explained, her voice laced with worry.
Ethan sought to reassure her. "Let's not jump to conclusions," he advised, then inquired, "Did she take any personal items with her?"
"No, everything's still here - her laptop, her clothes..." Nancy's voice trailed off, tears brimming in her eyes, burdened with guilt for leaving Donna alone.
After a brief inspection of the door lock, Ethan donned shoe covers before entering Donna's room. The room appeared undisturbed. His attention was drawn to the laptop, which, surprisingly, was not password-protected. On the screen was an unfinished love letter, presumably penned by Donna.
Ethan scanned the laptop's browsing history but found nothing out of the ordinary. As he was about to close the laptop, he noticed an open messaging app. Among the top contacts was one labeled "Scumbag." Ethan clicked on the chat and discovered a conversation from that morning. The person had messaged Donna about being in LA and suggested a meeting. Donna's response was hesitant, but "Scumbag" insisted, claiming to have something from her past.
Ethan's eyes widened as he played a short, fifteen-second video clip attached in the chat, depicting Donna in a compromising situation. He quickly shut the video, discomfort evident on his face.
Nancy, still trying to reach Donna by phone, hadn't entered the room. Ethan turned to her, holding up the laptop screen displaying "Scumbag's" profile picture. "Do you recognize this man?" he called out to Nancy in the living room.
Nancy stepped closer to examine the image on the laptop screen. Her recognition was immediate. "That's the bastard who broke Donna's heart years ago," she said with a mix of disgust and sorrow.
Ethan, using Donna's messaging account, tried to call "Scumbag." The phone rang on and on without an answer, only the monotonous beep echoing in the room. Nancy, peering over Ethan's shoulder, voiced her concern, "Could Donna have gone to meet him?"
Ethan shook his head, his expression grave. "It's unlikely to be that straightforward," he said, terminating the call. "I suspect the killer acquired this man's phone, discovered the incriminating video, and used it as bait to draw Donna out. If my suspicions are correct, Donna is now in the killer's clutches."
At that moment, Jennifer burst into the room, breathless. "I've just come from the security office. Donna left the complex around 11:40 AM," she reported to Nancy and Ethan.
Ethan, concerned, queried, "Didn't Captain Bowen assign protection for Donna here?"
Jennifer nodded, her face grim. "Yes, but there was a shift in priorities. After confirming the factory as the primary crime scene, resources were reallocated there this morning. Captain Bowen didn't anticipate any daytime risks," she explained. "I spoke with the shopkeepers near the complex entrance. Someone saw Donna getting into a taxi. Captain Bowen's team has been alerted. They're reviewing traffic cameras to track the taxi's route."
Nancy's anxiety was palpable. "What can we do? Donna must be kept safe," she pleaded.
Ethan, deep in thought, responded, "Considering the killer's previous actions, it's unlikely they'll harm Donna immediately. They seem to prefer their victims experience a prolonged sense of despair and helplessness. For now, Donna might still be safe." He paused, his eyes closed, as he contemplated their next move. "Charles met his end in his own operating room; Trevor in the abandoned factory. Where would the killer choose for Donna's confrontation?"
As the case's details whirled in his mind, Ethan suddenly recalled the numeric cards. "Charles was given a card labeled '0,' Trevor '1.' Logically, Donna's card should be '2,' but hers was marked '3.' Could there be another victim we're unaware of, or do these numbers signify something else entirely?"
Jennifer mused on a new angle. "Could it be related to the killer's daughter's birthday?"
Ethan considered this, his gaze intensifying. "Perhaps January or March, or the first or third day of a month," he conjectured. "Jennifer, reach out to the Major Crimes Unit. Check if any child on our list has a birthday correlating with these digits."
"Got it," Jennifer affirmed, reaching for her phone to make the call.
Ethan, shifting focus, inquired, "Do you have Donna's house keys?"
Nancy, overhearing, spun around and rummaged through the TV cabinet drawer, producing the keys. Together, they descended to Jennifer's car and headed straight for Donna's residence.
Upon arrival, they found no evidence of forced entry at Donna's house. Ethan made his way to Donna's desk, scrutinizing the array of books and cards scattered across it. Jennifer joined him, updating, "The road surveillance team tracked the taxi Donna boarded. They located the driver, but he claims he was home sick today and didn't use his car. It seems someone else took his vehicle. Captain Bowen's team is on it, and they'll keep us informed."
"And the numeric card?" Ethan queried, his hand pausing on a 'Sundown Real Estate' brochure.
Jennifer looked up from her phone. "There's a girl, Christie Scholes, six years old, with a March 1st birthday – 301. I remember seeing her name in the medical records. She might have a pediatric brain tumor."
Ethan, still holding the brochure, turned to Nancy. "Was Donna considering buying a house?"
Nancy's expression clouded with thought. "Yes, she mentioned house hunting but hadn't bought anything. She's short on funds."
Setting down the brochure, Ethan pondered briefly, then asked, "Nancy, didn't Donna work at the California Morning News and live nearby?"
Nancy nodded. "For convenience, I rented a place close to the California Morning News office while she worked there. But she ended the lease after resigning."
"Do you remember the exact location of that place?" Ethan asked thoughtfully.
"I do," Nancy nodded firmly.
"Let's go there," Ethan said, exiting the room and heading towards the door. Nancy and Jennifer followed closely. The three of them ran downstairs, got into the car, and Jennifer drove while Nancy directed them.