Chapter Six

After leaving the morgue, Pride had a hankering for some gumbo at one of his favorite dives. Percy would always marvel at his ability to eat after visiting the lab, but he had been doing it this long, it just didn't affect his appetite. On the way, he called the office and got Brody and Plume started on researching the names on the list.

He had just finished when he got a call that Hollister's car had been found in a fenced-off area of the Ponchartrain underpass. When Pride approached the scene, he saw several NOPD cop cars and a van marked "Coroner." Shit.

He parked and went over to the open trunk that appeared to be the center of attention. He flashed his badge to the officer in charge.

Inside lay a large man about 59 who was never going to collect Social Security. He had greying hair and wore a white lab coat stained with blood from a chest wound. He also had a neat hole in his forehead. He was blindfolded and gagged.

"Hollister?" He asked Loretta, who was crouched on the side.

Loretta looked up shielding her eyes from the sun, "Indeed, it is the good doctor. But, there's something interesting here Dwayne. He's been dead at least four days."

Pride finished her thought, "And dead men can't kill other men."

Pride called the office to let them know what happened and that he would be a while. They informed him they made progress on the list, and that Percy had returned from her interviews at the clinic. He urged them to keep going. Almost immediately after hanging up, Sebastian called saying he had lab results that were "freaky-deaky, and not in a good way." Pride told the young man to call into the plasma, so the whole team could hear the results.

In the meantime, LaSalle limped into the office with a cane. His arm still in a sling.

"King here?" He asked.

Brody frowned. "No and you shouldn't either."

"Oh, I was going crazy bein' cooped up," he said. "Anything new on DuBois?"

Brody looked at Plume. "Yeah. We were just calling Pride, so we don't have to go through all this twice."

Percy got Pride on speaker and Sebastian on the plasma. Each member shared the evidence gathered so far.

"We're going to have to bring the nurse in, Pride," LaSalle said to the phone.

Pride hesitated. It pained him to think that Rachel was involved. But, they had to go where the evidence led.

"OK, Christopher, but wait till I get back," he said.

Five minutes later, Rachel Norton walked into the office.

"Mrs. Norton, we were just going to call you," LaSalle said.

"Well, the girls at the clinic told me you wanted to talk to me," she said. "I have to get to work in a few hours, so I thought I'd get it over with."

Percy made a face; she knew the nurse's name had come up, but had never said anything about calling her.

Rachel looked around. "Is Agent Pride here? I'd rather talk to him."

"He's busy at the moment," LaSalle said as he considered the situation. She had come under her own volition; if he tried to delay her, she might skip out. "But, we do need to have a talk. Let's get started and Pride will join us later."

As they walked through the kitchen, Rachel thought they were going to sit there for a friendly conversation. But, her stomach dropped when LaSalle lead her through the courtyard and into the stark interrogation room. She nearly jumped two feet when the steel door closed firmly behind them.

LaSalle dropped the full case file on the table and motioned for her to sit opposite.

She was too nervous to skirt around the issue. "Am I under arrest or something?"

LaSalle smiled, "We just want to ask you a few questions."

"Where is Agent Pride?" She asked. "Is he watching?" She said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper.

"Agent Pride is tracking down some leads on Dr. Hollister," he said.

"Is this about the list?" She said.

"Yes," Chris said. He began to spread pictures of the men's military portraits in front of her, except her son's. "These are the men - all from New Orleans or Jefferson parish. All served overseas in the military within the past 12 years. And, all were past or present patients of the Crescent Clinic."

He stopped and placed one more picture on top - - Mark DuBois.

"Guess what else. DuBois fits our profile too. He just got out of a psychiatric hospital for severe PSTD," he said.

"So, that's good, right. There's a pattern. You can trace it to the doctor," she was hopeful.

"What I want to know is how did you get this list?" He stared straight at her.

She stared back, unafraid. "As I told Agent Pride, I picked it off the floor at DuBois' room, forgot about it, then found it again in my laundry."

"A few days after," he said.

"Yeah…"

"Pretty coincidental," he continued. "You just happened to be the one to find it with no one else around." He paused, "Is it your practice to take patients' belongings?"

"That's the way it happened," she responded tersely. "I was upset at the death, and another nurse distracted me. I guess I just wasn't thinking."

"But, it was enough to implicate Hollister," he said. "And, in another amazing coincidence, you're the only one who reported seeing him that day. We have no video evidence of him coming or going."

"There are ways to get into the ER without being seen, he would have known that, " she countered. "Pride even followed him out the back way."

"Maybe, maybe," he said. "Of course, Pride only followed someone you identified from the back as Hollister. He never saw the man's face."

"I was trying to help," she said tersely.

"Well, you identified a dead man," he said, throwing the picture that Pride took from the crime scene. "Our doctor confirmed he was dead before DuBois was shot.

Rachel turned pure white. She fingered the photo gingerly, "That can't be. I swear I saw him. Of course, it was just briefly and the second time was from the back."

"Or, were you trying to get Pride away from the scene," he paused. "You also volunteered to record the code…"

"So? I'm detail oriented," she sat defiantly.

"Isn't it part of the recorder's job to document drugs given to the patient?" he asked.

"Yes," she said cautiously.

"So, if you wanted to, oh, cover up some suspicious puncture wounds on the patient's chest, you could say that they injected adrenaline into his heart," he said. "Which you did, twice."

"And, what am I covering up exactly?" She crossed her arms.

"Our medical examiner determined that DuBois died of an embolism from air injected directly into his cardiac artery," he said.

"OK, that makes sense," she said almost to herself. "But, even if I had anything to do with this, to think I could cover it up is preposterous!" She threw her arms in the air. "First, I have to show the doctor the document and he has to sign it, and, second, we have to account for all drugs used."

"Well, residents who are tired can skim and miss things," he said. "Especially those who trust the experienced nurse."

"They are very careful when they read the record, especially in a patient's death," she said, trying to keep calm. "Everything I recorded happened. Besides, when did I supposedly do this?

"You told Pride you were in DuBois' room before the code was called," he countered.

"I said, I passed by the room and saw Hollister…" she frowned and corrected herself. "That is, who I thought was Hollister. Then, I was with you for about 20 minutes. You do recall right?"

Instead of answering her question, he pressed on.

"Still, that was plenty of time for the injection to take effect and have someone else find him," he said. "We also know you were out of the unit around the same time that the sailor was shot."

"Wait a minute," she said. "I was on my lunch break. I walked across the street to the park to eat in the sun. I would have to sprint pretty fast to get to the clinic, shoot DuBois, and make it back," she said.

There was a loud bang on the mirror.

"I think you're being paged," she said.

LaSalle made a face and went out of the room with the folder.

He went in the other room to face a very pissed off senior officer.