Jack in the Green by Diane Capri Page B

room crawled with crime scene personnel to capture evidence of the murders with her smart phone. She’d find him when she was finished.
    For the first time, Gaspar noticed the citrus scent mingling with the metallic odor of blood and disinfectants.
    When he looked again at Jenny Lane’s pale face, eyes closed, barely breathing in a heap on the polished floor, Gaspar realized why she’d seemed so familiar. She looked ghostly like the victim in a missing person’s case he’d assisted for the Tampa FBI detail with some follow up in Miami. The two could have been sisters, even. That victim had disappeared from her home and he’d never heard what happened to her. But her name wasn’t Jennifer Lane.
    He shrugged. He’d seen look-a-likes before. But he felt better that he’d finally made the memory connection.
    Kimball collected Jenny Lane’s things from the chair and helped him lift her from the floor. He couldn’t carry her. He could barely support his own weight. But with Kimball’s help, they were able to move Lane into the corridor.
    Agent Bartos stood guard outside the recovery room to secure the crime scene until appropriate crews arrived. In the corridor, the business of a quiet hospital floor between surgeries was returning to normal as hospital security calmed patients and personnel. Soon, a different sort of chaos would ensue as the crime scene was processed.
    Gaspar and Otto would escape before then.

 
    17
     
    The OR waiting room would no doubt become command central for the remainder of the night as the scene was processed. For now, the room was available. Gaspar and Kimball half carried, half walked Lane down the hallway.
    Willa Carson stood by the door and allowed them to get Jenny settled inside. Ms. Chernow was there composing herself as well.
    “Can I have a word with you?” Kimball asked Gaspar. He followed her to a quiet corner. “You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Your work is confidential, isn’t it?”
    He didn’t confirm or deny, but her powers of observation hadn’t failed her.
    “You and Otto should get out while it’s still possible. I’ll stay here with them and if we find out anything else, I can let you know.”
    She was right. They needed to go. If Otto didn’t show up quickly, they’d be stuck here too long answering too many questions in direct contravention of their orders. The Boss wouldn’t like it. But more importantly, he might not be able to erase them from the crime scene once official reporting began.
    “Why do you think he did it?” Gaspar asked.
    “Why did Kent kill both Westons using the same technique the shooter used to kill Weston’s family?” Kimball replied. “Or why did Weston offer himself as a human sacrifice to kill Reacher?”
    “Both, I guess.”
    She shrugged. “Who knows?”
    “What’s your best guess? That’s a place to start.”
    “The first attack on Weston today was pretty straightforward. Weston was a cat with nine lives. Michael Vernon, the poor dead veteran who tried to kill him, had to be a guy Weston screwed over, like Agent Crane said.”
    “Makes sense.”
    “From there, though, it gets tangled. Like I told you, Jenny Lane said Samantha had filed for divorce and offered to testify against her husband to save as much as possible of her assets. Probably a ploy to keep herself out of jail, too.”
    “Did Lane share any of that testimony with you?” Gaspar asked.
    “Not yet. Tangle number two: Weston got a death sentence when he was diagnosed with advanced small cell lung cancer a few weeks ago.” Gaspar knew of the cancer, but let her talk. It was almost always a good idea to let people talk themselves out. “Untreatable. He was living on borrowed time. If he’d been conscious when they brought him in here this afternoon, he’d probably have refused those surgeries. It’s a miracle he survived them.”
    “What’s your theory on Kent? Why the hell would he do it? Weston was loony enough to hire his own hit just