The Guilty by Sean Slater Read Free Book Online Page B

– appendix removal, Cause Unknown.
    The list went on.
    There were many tapes and discs, all appearing to be audio files of past surgeries Dr Owens had performed. Eleven years’ worth. Striker was impressed. Most doctors kept reports, but it
appeared that Dr Owens went a step further.
    The woman was meticulous.
    He put back the tapes and finished his search. When he approached the computer, he saw that the screen was black. He moved the mouse and a password request appeared. Having little personal
knowledge of the woman, he didn’t even hazard a guess. Instead, he sat down, opened the drawers, and started rifling through the files.
    Most of it was ordinary bills with some tax information slips and the odd photocopy of a medical certificate or diploma. An old address book was relatively unused. It had the numbers of two
other doctors listed in it, but nothing else. Striker called them both, but neither of them had seen or heard from Dr Owens in weeks.
    After a long moment of searching, the alarm went off again. Striker gave up and returned to the living room. Already two of the neighbours – both middle-aged women, both cupping their
hands over their ears – had come to investigate the alarm. Normally, they would have appeared nervous, even timid, but standing with them was a patrol cop – a tall Slavic-looking guy
Striker had never seen.
    Striker took out his badge and showed the cop and the neighbours. ‘Detectives Striker and Santos.’ He asked the women if they’d seen Dr Owens lately. Both ladies began chirping
like a pair of overexcited hens, but in the end the result was the same. Neither woman had seen Sharise Owens since yesterday morning.
    It was no good.
    Felicia exited the den and joined them. She looked at the two women, then at the patrol cop, and then at Striker. She shook her head and spoke above the high-pitched alarm. ‘You find
anything?’
    ‘Yeah. Another zero. You?’
    ‘Zero plus zero equals zilch.’
    Striker frowned. The lack of progress and the alarm was getting to him. He moved into the hall, away from the drone, and pulled out his phone. He tried calling Dr Owens’ cell one more
time, and was yet again directed to voicemail. He hung up.
    Before leaving, he explained to the patrol cop what was going on with Dr Owens, then asked him to guard the suite until members of the City Maintenance Crew arrived to fix the door, or until
Owens returned. The constable agreed, and Striker and Felicia left the scene under his care.
    Back in the car, Striker scoured his notebook, hoping to see something they had missed. But the more he went over things, the more he ended up back where they had started.
    ‘We need to know how Owens’ bracelet got down by the docks,’ he said. ‘Even if she turns up okay, it’s too coincidental.’
    Felicia shrugged. ‘For all we know someone stole it.’
    Striker hadn’t thought of that. ‘Any history of thefts or robberies in PRIME?’
    Felicia did a search. ‘No . . . but this is interesting – she was arrested once.’
    Striker closed his notebook and looked at her, surprised. ‘Really? For what?’
    ‘For refusing to leave an anti-abortion rally.’ Felicia read through the report. ‘Interesting. She was fighting with the protesters.’
    ‘I guess that makes her pro-choice.’
    Felicia nodded. ‘Look here. She was also arrested a few more times. At different rallies. Who knows? Maybe this entire call could be a pro-choice thing.’
    Striker let out a groan. ‘Abortion activists? That’s the
last
thing we need. It would be a political nightmare.’
    He leaned closer to Felicia to read the screen and smelled her musky perfume and perspiration. She smelled good and, like always, her scent calmed him a little. He focused on the computer, on
the entity known as Dr Sharise Owens, then spoke.
    ‘We need to learn more about this doctor,’ he said. ‘So we got two options here – we can either wait at St Paul’s until she shows up for work, or