Bones Never Lie (Temperance Brennan, #17)(71)

Impressive. Slidell had worked two buttocks references into one comment.

“If he’s no longer required to register, that won’t fly.”

“Confusing, ain’t it? But we’re awaiting confirmation from Oklahoma.”

“And if Ajax does nothing?” I asked.

“These dickheads always do something. Meanwhile, I find out when Leal and Donovan went to Mercy. I check the ER records for MD signatures or printed names or ID numbers or whatever it is they use. And I get a list of any ER employee present both times. Talk to them. That goes nowhere, I branch out to the rest of the hospital.”

“Where’s Tinker?” I asked.

“Following up with Ajax,” Barrow said. “Getting alibis for the dates Leal, Estrada, Nance, and Gower were abducted. Then he’ll run checks.”

“You two kiss and make up?” My lame attempt to lighten the mood. Also, I was curious. Slidell glowered at me, clearly not open to a discussion of his rapport with Tinker. I changed the subject. “New Hampshire shares a border with Vermont.”

“I’ll shoot Ajax’s face to Rodas,” Barrow said. “See if that shakes anything loose up there. In the meantime, I got hours of video from places Leal might have gone the week before she died. I’ll keep plowing through that, see if the kid appears. See if anyone suspicious is near her. And I got people going through footage taken in the time window our guy must have off-loaded Leal. Roads he might have driven to get to the overpass.”

“How many hours you talking about?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Ajax thinks he’s smart.” Slidell pushed to his feet. “The arrogant prick is going down.”

“What can I do?” I asked.

“Take me off speed dial.”

I glared at Slidell’s retreating back.

I was at the MCME when Slidell finally phoned. I could have written the reports at home, but somehow, being at the morgue made me feel less marginalized.

“Donovan arrived at Mercy at 11:40 P.M. on August 22, 2012. Got three stitches in her forehead. She was discharged at 1:10 A.M. The uniforms who brought her drove her to a shelter. Ajax is on record as the treating physician.”

I felt my pulse rush. Made a very special point of not interrupting.

“Leal arrived at 2:20 P.M. on August 27, 2014. A Dr. Berger treated her for abdominal cramping, advised over-the-counter meds. The parents took her home at 4:40 P.M.”

“Was Ajax working that day?”

“Yes.”

“Any other ER staff coincide on those two occasions?”

“Five.”

“I thought the list would be longer.”

“Two years go by, people move around. Plus, we got lucky. One kid landed at night, the other during the day.”

“Different shifts.”

“Eeyuh.”

“Do any of the five still work at Mercy?”

“Three.” I heard the flutter of the ubiquitous spiral. “A CNA name of Ellis Yoder. That’s a certified nurse’s assistant.”

I knew that. Said nothing.

“Alice Hamilton, also a CNA. Jewell Neighbors, a guest relations specialist. Makes the place sound like the friggin’ Ritz.”

GRS. That one I didn’t know.

“One nurse, Blanche Oxendine, retired. Another, Ella Mae Nesbitt, moved out of state.”

“Have you talked to any of them?”

“Been too busy touching up my spray tan.”

I waited out a brief pause.

“Oxendine’s sixty-six, widowed. Worked ten years at Mercy, thirty-two at Presbyterian before that. Lives with her daughter and two grandkids. Has arthritis, weak bones, and a bad bladder.”

I could only imagine that conversation. “Did Oxendine remember either of the girls?”

“Leal, vaguely. Donovan not at all.”

“What did she think of Ajax?”

“Liked that his breath always smelled nice.”

“That’s it?”

“Feels too many jobs these days are going to foreigners.”

“Is she Internet-savvy?” Not sure why I asked that.

“Thinks computers are the ruin of today’s youth.”

“What about Nesbitt?”

“Thirty-two, single, worked at Mercy four years after getting her degree. Moved to Florence in September to take care of her eightynine-year-old mother. The old lady fell and broke a hip.”

“So Nesbitt wasn’t living in Charlotte on the dates Nance and Leal were killed.”

“Nope.”

“Does she use a computer?”

“For email and online shopping.”

“Her thoughts on Ajax?”

“Said he was a little too stiff for her taste. Chalked it up to cultural differences. Whatever that means. Felt he was a decent enough doctor.”

“Did she—”

“Remembered Donovan because she assisted Ajax with the suturing. Said the kid was belligerent, probably on something. Drew a blank on Leal.”

“So neither one raised an alarm?”

“Hell-o. Our doer plays for my team.”

Slidell was right. The DNA on Leal’s jacket said her killer was male.

“What about the others?” I asked.