The Killing League

52.

Mack

Mack snatched the papers from his printer, put his feet up on his desk, and read the latest news that had sent a little zip of current down his spine.

It was a toxicology report on a death in Chicago.

According to the police report, a retired cop named William Dragger had left a liquor store and dropped dead moments later. He was fifty-six years old, in relatively good shape with no major health issues.

The autopsy had been inconclusive. There were no witnesses to what happened between the time he bought a six pack of beer and the time he wound up face down in the middle of the street.

What the autopsy did reveal were minute traces of a strange chemical compound.

No one had ever seen the compound before.

But Mack had.

In fact, Mack had noted its presence in several other cases.

But all of those cases were in South Carolina.

At a hospital where three patients had died, and one hospital administrator had perished, as well.

It was the Charleston Municipal Hospital. The very same facility that claimed it had never received Mack’s request for copies of personnel records.

Reznor had applied pressure and been told by a hospital administrator that they felt a chemical was somehow leaking into certain parts of the hospital and affecting a few select individuals.

However, they had agreed to send the files requested by Mack.

And now this.

How the hell did the same chemical compound show up in Chicago? Mack had been convinced it was a homemade remedy. Something concocted by the South Carolina killer. If it showed up in Chicago, it meant one of two things. One, it could be a manufactured poison, available for purchase. Someone in Chicago had ordered it and used it.

Or two, the killer in South Carolina had suddenly changed locations and murdered someone in Illinois.

Mack shook his head.

But why William Dragger? The South Carolina victims had all somehow been associated with the hospital. Patients, mostly children, and one administrator.

Mack had profiled the killer and was certain it was someone in the hospital who knew their way around the facility. It didn’t fit the profile for this killer to hit a retired cop in broad daylight. Too dangerous. It wasn’t the way the South Carolina killer thought.

So what was going on then?

A coincidence?

Mack hated coincidences and didn’t really believe in them.

He picked up the phone.

He needed to talk to Reznor.

Now.