Page 92 of Accidental Murder
The latter comment elicited a few titters.
“But Mary Dorman didn’t die there,” Otis continued. “She died at a gym after it closed, and it was definitely not an accident.”
“Okay, you, you’re up.” Megan pointed to a skinny redhead who was typically a jokester. Not today. His face was grimmer than grim.
“Collins’s car accident was a hit-and-run. No leads on the offending driver.”
Megan’s temples ached. “Who has Appleton?”
“Me.” A female officer who Megan thought would go far in the department raised her hand. “Appleton’s daughter told me the same pharmacy as always delivered her mother’s heart medicine.”
“Which pharmacy?”
“Jaeger’s.”
Not ABC Drugstore where Richard Troy worked. Megan said, “Continue.”
“I phoned the pharmacy and learned the place had recently yielded to a state inspection.”
“Meaning a bogus inspector could have tampered with the medicine.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“When did Kayla last see or communicate with these clients?” she asked the group.
“Monday and Tuesday,” Otis and another officer responded.
“Tuesday,” others replied.
Same as Jenkins and Simmons,Megan gauged.Each of whom could have been written in Kayla’s missing datebook.
Was Sara Simmons the link to this madness? Did some person or group—Bledsoe, perhaps—assume Sara told Kayla what she’d discovered? Did he, she, or they believe Kayla conveyed this information to her clients over the course of Monday or Tuesday? If so, why was Sara’s husband walking upright?
Megan thanked her team, ended the meeting, and went back to her desk.
“Anything new?” Vaughn asked.
She didn’t respond. She dialed Taylor Simmons at home. When the nanny said he wasn’t in, she tried his cell phone. He answered after one ring. Megan apologized for the late call but said she had to see him. He agreed to meet after nine.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
Kayla believedshe was right about Taylor Simmons, but unless she could connect him to Bledsoe, she had nothing. Would he have stored incriminating evidence in his office? Doubtful. Most likely, he had destroyed whatever he had stolen from Sara’s files, too. No matter what, Kayla intended to follow him, day in and day out until he showed her where Bledsoe Research Institute was located. Only then, after seeing what was going on, could she figure out why her sister had needed to die.
She purchased another disposable cell phone at a convenience store and sped to Worldwide Finance. On her way, she phoned Eve. Still no answer. Worry coursed through her. So did a litany ofI’m sorry, Eve. So sorry.
At ten to six, she turned into the building’s parking garage. According to Sara, her husband maintained a strict nine-to-six schedule. Rather than scouring five floors searching for the Jaguar Kayla presumed he drove, she paid for a full-day parking ticket and stationed herself behind a pole near the exit. From that vantage point, she had a clear view of each car exiting the garage as well as a view of the elevators.
While waiting, she dialed Simmons’s home.
A young girl answered. “Hello?”
“Is this Cici?” Kayla asked.
“Yes. Who’s this?”
Tears pressed at the corners of Kayla’s eyes. The girl sounded like a young Sara, direct and unafraid. Did she miss her mommy? Did she even know she was gone? “A friend. Is your daddy there?”
“He’s at work.”
