But if the killer’s inspiration was the five Sorrowful Mysteries of the rosary, why were there ten girls on Parkhurst’s list? Besides attempting suicide, what did five of them have in common? Was he really going to stop at five?

They compared their notes.

Four of the girls overdosed on pills. Three of them tried to cut their wrists. Two of the girls tried to commit suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning. One girl drove her car through a guardrail and over a ravine. She was saved by the airbag.

It wasn’t method that tied any five together.

What about school? Four of the girls went to Regina, four went to Nazarene, one went to Marie Goretti and one to Neumann.

As to age: four were sixteen, two were seventeen, three were fifteen, one eighteen.

Was it neighborhood?

No.

Clubs or extracurricular activities?

No.

Gang affiliations?

Hardly.

What was it?

Ask and ye shall receive, Jessica thought. The answer was right in front of them.

It was the hospital.

St. Joseph’s was what they had in common.

“Look at this,” Jessica said.

On the day they had tried to kill themselves, the five girls treated at St. Joseph’s were Nicole Taylor, Tessa Wells, Bethany Price, Kristi Hamilton, and Lauren Semanski.

The rest were treated elsewhere, at five different hospitals.

“My God,” Byrne said. “That’s it.”

It was the break they were looking for.

But the fact that all of these girls were treated at one hospital was not what made Jessica shaky. The fact that they all tried to commit suicide wasn’t it, either.

The fact that made the room lose all of its air was this:

The same doctor had treated them all: Dr. Patrick Farrell.

64

FRIDAY, 6:15 PM

Patrick sat in Interview Room A. Eric Chavez and John Shepherd handled the interview while Byrne and Jessica observed. The interview was being videotaped.

As far as Patrick knew, he was merely a material witness in the case. He had a recent scratch on his right hand.

When they could, they would scrape beneath Lauren Semanski’s fingernails, looking for DNA evidence. Unfortunately, according to the CSU, it probably wouldn’t yield much. Lauren was lucky to even have fingernails.

They had gone over Patrick’s schedule for the previous week, and, to Jessica’s chagrin, they had learned that there wasn’t a single day that would have prevented Patrick from abducting the victims, nor dumping their bodies.

The thought made Jessica physically ill. Was she really considering the notion that Patrick had something to do with these murders? With each passing minute, the answer was getting closer to yes. The next minute dissuaded her. She really didn’t know what to think.

Nick Palladino and Tony Park were on their way to the Wilhelm Kreuz crime scene with a photograph of Patrick. It was unlikely that old Agnes Pinsky would remember him—even if she did pick him out of a photo lineup, her credibility would be torn to shreds by even a public defender. Nick and Tony would canvass up and down the street nonetheless.

“I hadn’t been keeping up with the news, I’m afraid,” Patrick said. “I can understand that,” Shepherd replied. He was sitting on the edge

of the battered metal table. Eric Chavez leaned against the door. “I’m sure

you see enough of the ugly side of life where you work.”

“We have our triumphs,” Patrick said.

“So, you’re saying that you were not aware that any of these girls had

at one time been a patient of yours?”

“An ER physician, especially in an inner-city trauma center, works

triage, Detective. The patient needing the most immediate care is treated

first. After patients are patched up and sent home, or admitted, they are

always referred to their primary care physician. The concept of patient

doesn’t really apply. People who come to an emergency room may only

be a patient of any given doctor for an hour. Sometimes less. Quite often

less. Thousands of people pass through St. Joseph’s ER every year.” Shepherd listened, nodding at all the appropriate cues, absently

straightening the already perfect creases in his pants. Explaining the concept of triage to a veteran homicide detective was wholly unnecessary.

Everyone in Interview Room A knew that.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, though, Dr. Farrell.” “It seemed that I knew the name Tessa Wells when I heard it on the

news. I didn’t, however, make any immediate connection to whether or

not St. Joseph’s had provided her with emergency care.”

Bullshit, Jessica thought, her anger growing. They had discussed Tessa

Wells the night they had a drink at Finnigan’s Wake.

“You say St. Joseph’s as if it was the institution that treated her that

day,” Shepherd said. “It’s your name on the file.”

Shepherd held up the file for Patrick to see.

“The record doesn’t lie, Detective,” Patrick said. “I must have treated

her.”

Shepherd held up a second file. “And you treated Nicole Taylor.” “Again, I really don’t recall.”

A third file. “And Bethany Price.”

Patrick stared.

Two more files in his face now. “Kristi Hamilton spent four hours in

your care. Lauren Semanski five.”

“I defer to the record, Detective,” Patrick said.

“All five of these girls were abducted and four of them were brutally

murdered this week, Doctor. This week. Five female, teenaged victims

who just happened to pass through your office within the past ten

months.”

Patrick shrugged.

John Shepherd asked, “You can certainly understand our interest in