“That’s what he was paid to do.”
“I get that, but whoever the kidnapper and his assistant were, they must’ve been extremely important within the circle. Jones scrubbed my case clean and made sure no one would be able to put the pieces together. And it’s obvious no one ever looked at the case once it went cold, or they would’ve been suspicious.”
“We can’t know if anyone questioned Jones. He could’ve paid them off, or worse.” Jillian grimaced. “I don’t get the impression that taking money to do dirty work bothered Jones that much.”
“You’re right. I guess a part of me wants to believe that he got into police work for the right reasons, and he was desperate.” Ellie turned her attention back to the paper in her hand. Jillian’s handwriting was neat, the information she had compiled from her search grouped by date. “I don’t remember much news coverage at all. I’m surprised you found this much online.”
“The news itself didn’t seem overly interested in the story; it was resolved before they got wind of it. A brief article gave a quick rundown of your kidnapping and escape, but even that information was sparse. You were alive and recovering, so there was nothing sensational that would get them clicks. There wasn’t much besides the basic facts. In print, the article about you was tucked into the back of the paper with the human-interest stories.”
Ellie scowled. “You would think a kidnapping would be a bigger deal, especially since I escaped, and the kidnapper was at large. At the time, I was glad the media left me alone, but now that I know my case was never solved, I wish they’d cared more. It’s amazing what a good journalist can dig up.”
“Luckily, the tabloids and society pages were all over it.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Tabloids are hardly reliable news sources.”
“That’s true, but they have to build their story on something that’s true, right?”
“In theory.” Ellie laughed. “But I don’t think journalistic integrity is high on their list.”
“Maybe not, but I found information that was consistent across every publication.” Jillian grabbed a highlighter and traced a yellow line across the name of a hospital. “This is the hospital that treated you, right?”
“That’s easy to get right, though. There are only so many hospitals in Charleston.”
“True. But in this article right here, the Charleston Star got a lot right.” She produced a printed article with a picture of a patient in a hospital bed.
Ellie barked out a laugh. “That’s not even me.”
“It’s a stock photo, I’m sure, but hear me out. In all the articles, they correctly identified the officer who found you, and not only did they list the name of the doctor who oversaw your physical therapy and recovery…” she highlighted a name in the middle of the paper, “they had the name of the trauma surgeon who saved your life and an interview with him.”
Ellie’s lips parted in surprise. Grabbing the article off the desk, she skimmed the words until she found the quote about the doctor. She read out loud.
“Dr. Victor Constantine stated that the young victim came into the operating room muttering incoherently, in and out of consciousness. Her injuries were extensive, causing the doctor to dismiss her ramblings until she grabbed his wrist, looking him straight in the eye with complete clarity, declaring that she’d killed the assistant, but the shadow man was still there.” A chill ran down Ellie’s spine, but she kept reading aloud. “Dr. Constantine assured her that she was safe and no one could harm her. Her disjointed mumbling continued until the anesthesia kicked in.”
Ellie read the rest of the article silently, scowling when she got to the end. “It says here that he didn’t call anyone in to take my statement because my life was at risk.” She shook her head, air hissing through her clenched teeth as she sucked in a breath. “I wasn’t that bad off.”
“Are you sure? You were hit by a car, Ellie. By all accounts, you were covered in blood when they found you.”
“It wasn’t my blood.”
Jillian’s eyes narrowed. “But a lot of it was, right?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Too bad they never tested your clothing.”
Ellie sighed, slapping the article back down on the desk. “I questioned it back then, but by the time anyone realized I’d been kidnapped, what was left of my clothes had been disposed of. There was nothing to test.”
“What about this doctor? Do you think he remembers anything?”
“Maybe.” She used her phone’s web browser to look up the number to the hospital and hit the call icon.
It rang six times before a friendly female voice finally answered. “Charleston Medical Center. How may I direct your call?”
“My name is Detective Kline with the Charleston PD Violent Crimes Unit. I’m looking for a doctor who worked in your emergency department.”
“Worked? Has this doctor retired?”
“I’m not sure.” Ellie paused, a bad feeling wrapping its icy fingers around her spine. “If I give you a name, can you see if he still works there?”
“What’s the name?”
“Victor Constantine.” The line went silent. “Hello?”
“Dr. Constantine died years ago.”
Ellie’s stomach dropped. “Do you know when?”
“I don’t remember, but it’s been at least ten years, maybe more. Car accident.” Before Ellie could press further, the woman continued. “It was the strangest thing. A single-car accident. No alcohol involved, and they said he was speeding.”
“We see that a lot, unfortunately.”
“Dr. Constantine drove me home once when my car wouldn’t start. He was paranoid about getting injured in an accident of any kind. I couldn’t really blame the man. He saw the worst of the worst, and it got to him. I could’ve walked home faster.”
“What are you saying?”
“If you think that man was speeding, I’ve got a bridge to sell you.”
Ellie smiled at the woman’s joke. “I understand. You’ve been very helpful. Can
