of one pocket and a Ziploc bag out of the other. Then he stepped behind the desk and opened the bottom drawer. The coffee mug was right where he had seen it on other nights. Volkov placed the mug in the Ziploc bag, left the office and relocked the door. He placed the bag under a pile of towels along with the gloves. Then he grabbed his mop and began pushing it slowly and deliberately toward the next office.
Chapter 34
On this moonless Sunday night, even with his high beams on, all Multnomah County sheriff's deputy Oren Bradbury could see through his rain-streaked windshield was the yellow line that divided the two-lane country road and an occasional glimpse of farmland.
You know this is a bullshit call, don't you? his partner, Brady Paggett, griped. The place has been deserted since ... Hell, I can't remember when.
It could be kids.
On a night like this?
Bradbury shrugged. We weren't doing anything anyway.
They rode in silence until Paggett pointed toward a rusted mailbox whose post leaned precariously toward the tall grass on the side of the road.
There it is.
A dilapidated wooden fence bordered the road. Its slats were unpainted. Several had broken loose on one end and dangled from the few nails that were still in place. Bradbury spotted the break in the fence and turned through it. The patrol car bounced along a rutted dirt track. There were tall trees on either side. After a quarter mile the headlights picked up a farmhouse with peeling brown paint and a front yard overgrown with weeds. When they drew closer, the deputies could make out a dim glow through a front window.
Maybe this isn't a bullshit call, Paggett said.
What exactly did dispatch say again? Bradbury asked.
Someone phoned in to report screams.
Who?
Dispatch couldn't get a name.
The caller had to be right here. The next neighbor is half a mile down the road. There's no way you' d hear anything if you were driving by, and no one's gonna be walking along the road tonight.
As the patrol car swung into the front yard, its light swept across a dark blue Volvo that was parked at the side of the house.
Someone's here, Bradbury said just as a person in a hooded jacket and jeans burst through the front door and streaked for the Volvo. Bradbury hit the brakes, and Paggett jumped out of the car with his gun drawn.
Stop, police!
The runner skidded to a halt and froze in the police car's headlights.
Hands in the air, Paggett commanded.
Bradbury drew his weapon and got out, keeping the car between him and the hooded apparition. Paggett squinted to keep the rain out of his eyes.
Step over to our car, put your hands on the roof and spread your legs.
As soon as the person was in position, Paggett reached out and pulled back the hood. A cascade of honey brown hair fell across a woman's shoulders. The deputy kept his gun on her as he patted her down. He noticed that her chest was heaving, as if she had run a distance.
Is anyone else inside? Paggett asked.
The woman nodded vigorously.
I ... I think he's dead, she managed. The words came out in gasps.
Who's dead? Paggett demanded.
I don't know. He's in the basement.
And who are you? Paggett asked.
Dr. Justine Castle. I' m a surgeon at St. Francis.
All right, Dr. Castle, you can put your hands down. Paggett opened the back door of the police car. Why don't you get in out of the rain and try to calm down.
Justine sat down in the backseat. Bradbury walked around the car and joined Paggett at the rear passenger door.
What are you doing here, Dr. Castle? Paggett asked.
Justine's saturated hair hung along her damp face. Her breathing was still not under control.
There was a call. He said that he was from St. Francis, that it was about Al Rossiter.
Who is Rossiter? Bradbury asked.
One of the surgeons.
And who was the caller?
I' m not sure. I think he said that his name was Delaney or Delay. I really don't remember. It wasn't someone I knew.
Okay, go ahead.
The man said Dr. Rossiter was working on someone who was badly injured and needed my help. He said that it was urgent. He told me to come here and he gave me directions.
Do you usually drive to the scene of an injury?
No, it's definitely not routine. I asked why they didn't send for an ambulance. I said I would meet them at the hospital. That's where all our equipment and staff are. This Delaney or Delay said that he couldn't explain over the phone but that it was a matter of life and death and I would understand when I got here. He said that the man's condition was desperate. Then he hung up.
Where's everyone else? Where's Dr. Rossiter? Paggett asked.
Justine shook her head. She looked upset and confused.
I don't know.
Justine squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep, shuddering breath.
Are you okay, Dr. Castle? Paggett asked.
Justine nodded slowly, but she did not look okay.
Is anyone besides the dead man inside? Bradbury asked.
I ... I don't know. I didn't see anyone. When I saw him ... Justine swallowed hard. I panicked. I ran.
You stay with Dr. Castle, Bradbury said. He walked toward the farmhouse, his gun at the ready.
Paggett closed the rear door of the patrol car. There were no handles on the inside. Justine was effectively a prisoner, but she made no protest and seemed content to sit with her eyes closed and her head against the back of the seat.
The drops were pounding harder. Paggett put on his hat to keep the rain off. He checked his watch and wondered what was keeping Bradbury. When Oren came out, he looked glassy-eyed and pale.
You got to see this, Brady. It's horrible.
Paggett and his partner had seen car wreck victims, abused children and other mangled and degraded human beings. It would take a lot to put Oren in this state. He headed for the farmhouse with Bradbury close behind. The first thing that struck him as odd was the cleanliness. Weeds ruled the front yard and the exterior walls were in disrepair, but every inch of the entryway and the front room appeared to have been vacuumed clean. There was no furniture in the entryway and only a cheap coffee table and a straight-back chair in the living room.
The stairs to the basement are in the kitchen, Bradbury said. The kitchen lights were on when I came in the house.
Those must have been the lights we saw when we drove up.
The kitchen was as clean as the other rooms. There was a card table and two straight-back chairs standing on the yellow linoleum floor. Paggett opened one of the cupboards and saw a few plastic plates and cups. A half- filled coffeepot and a coffee mug were on a drain board next to the sink. When Paggett drew closer, he saw that there was still some coffee in the mug.
The body is down there, Bradbury said, pointing through the open basement door. His voice was shaky.
What's it look like?
Bad, Brady. You'll see.
As Paggett walked down the wooden steps that led to the basement, he noticed the suffocating odor that
