Bishop walked up the first flight of stairs to his studio apartment in the area known as Lakewood inside Charlotte. The rent was cheap and so was the apartment. He closed the door and secured the deadbolt and chain above. The sofa converted to a bed and as he sat down, the springs pushed against his backside. With the remote in his hands, he clicked on the old television. A 27-inch Panasonic that must’ve weighed 30 pounds. It sat atop a rickety credenza that looked to be on the verge of collapse.
The 10 o’clock news had just started. He’d spent the day preparing for his new job that started tomorrow night. Food was in his fridge, two towels hung over the rod in his bathroom and a pillow and blanket rested next to him on the sofa bed. More importantly, he had unpacked his boxes, what few he brought with him, and placed his scrapbook on the oak-laminated coffee table.
Next to his feet lay a black medical bag. The one he’d bought during his residency in Providence. He unzipped it and took stock of the contents. Syringes, gauze, chloroform to be used only in cases of emergency, and bottles of pills used to treat a variety of ailments from diabetes to liver disease. The collection had been amassed over several months, since his time working in Baltimore. It was difficult to steal from the trucks as everything had to be accounted for at the end of each shift. The chief had been meticulous about record-keeping. But Bishop had found a way to slip one or two things every other week or so, writing it off as being used on patients or sometimes, being stolen by patients. They handled their fair share of drug addicts who sometimes got aggressive, or so Bishop told Pete when Pete wasn’t looking. He’d been far too trusting of Bishop to the point that Bishop felt bad for the guy. Turned out, though, Pete wasn’t as dumb as Bishop thought. It was his fault he had to pull up roots once again. Maybe it was for the best. Can’t stay in one place for too long without risking exposure.
Bishop picked up the large soda and sipped it through the straw before retrieving the scrapbook. He opened it and then the file next to it which contained news clippings. Mostly from the internet that he printed himself. Who bought newspapers anymore?
With a glue stick in hand, Bishop pasted the clippings under the heading he’d created that read, “Hurricane Edward.” He’d also printed images from his phone and plastered them inside the scrapbook too.
Upon admiring his handiwork, Bishop turned the page and began a new section. “Wildfires – California/Riverside.”
8
Waiting around for answers from other people left Kate feeling helpless. As a new day arrived, word still hadn’t come from Agent Mitch Palmero in Houston about any leads on identifying the angel of mercy or death, as the case seemed to be. Inside the breakroom, Kate poured coffee into her mug and added cream and sugar.
“There you are.” Walsh entered wearing a grin. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“You found me.” She sipped on the steaming hot beverage.
Walsh gave her a sideways glance. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night. Couldn’t shut off my brain.” Kate set down her mug. “What’s up?”
“I thought you might like to know that Palmero is heading our way this morning. Apparently, he gathered a few leads and wants us to take a look. He also wanted to start putting names to faces and with this new information, get the ball rolling on an actual investigation.”
“I thought Duncan was working with him?”
“She was—is. But Palmero made the call to Fisher and he authorized the flight. I just happened to be in the room when he took the call. I was on my way to see Duncan and give her the news,” Walsh replied.
“That is good news. Probably the best I’ve heard in days.”
“I’m glad I could bring a ray of sunshine to you, Kate.” Walsh glanced at his phone. “Listen, I have a few things to take care of this morning before he gets here, so I’m going to run out.” He started toward the doorway.
“When’s he due to arrive?” Kate asked.
“Midday. You have time to polish up your profile.” He nodded before disappearing.
Kate walked into the hall and started toward her office. “Hi.” She spotted Nick approach. “I’m sorry I left without you this morning. I wanted to jump on a couple of theories that kept me up most of the night.”
“It’s fine.”
She noticed the look on his face was anything but fine.
“I was actually coming to tell you that my buddy in Houston, Palmero, is heading our way as we speak,” he added.
“I just heard the news from Levi. His visit is overdue. I was heading back to my office to finalize my draft.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you in the conference room at 1 o’clock.” Nick started ahead.
Kate didn’t know there was a scheduled meeting but didn’t bother pursuing the conversation. He was clearly pissed that she took off without him this morning. It was no lie that she hadn’t slept a wink and it had been a good call for her to steer clear of any human contact in that state.
When she returned to her office, a sticky note was placed on her computer. She pulled it off and read the message before leaving her office once again in search of the writer of said message. Duncan was on the lookout for her and asked her to come to her office when available. No better time than the present.
“Morning. You were looking for me?” Kate
