Read The Angel Maker - 2 for Free Online Page B

each autopsy. Tissue samples, that kind of thing. They do that for the unsolveds and John Does. He's having the evidence brought up. He seemed pretty optimistic.-
    "Dixie's always optimistic."
    "He says that surgeons sometimes leave 'signatures' in their work. Style. Technique. He's going to review and compare autopsy photos when he has the time."
    "That would help," Boldt said, "but knowing his workload I wouldn't count on it being very soon." He reviewed the files again. "So we're looking for a surgeon. That's another avenue worth pursuing. When in doubt, take the direct route."
    "Not necessarily just surgeons," she corrected him.
    He nodded. "A surgeon, another kind of specialist who wishes he were a surgeon, a medical student, an impersonator-a fake, a retiree. But of all of these, a surgeon is still the most likely. Can you draw up a profile for us?"
    She nodded. She could feel him committing to the investigation.

    She wanted to hear it spoken. She wanted to snare him beyond any chance of retreat. She asked, "How many surgeons are there in Seattle? And of these, how many are transplant surgeons? A handful. And if we were both to question them-I mean you and I together-you could ask your questions and I could ask mine and we just might find this person. There are certain traps I could lay-psychological traps-that he might fall into."
    "You don't want to tangle with somebody like this, Daffy. I don't have to remind you of that, His cruelty hit her hard.
    Involuntarily, she tugged her collar up higher on her neck as she glared at him, hiding that scar. For an instant she hated him. "There was no need for that," she snapped. "Sometimes you're just another insensitive ape. You know that?"
    He apologized several times, but she didn't buy it. He had wanted to remind her of her mistake. She had failed to react she knew that; she didn't need him to remind her. She let it go; back to business. "When we talk to the girls at The Shelter about how they raise money out on the streets, one thing that comes up, besides selling sex, or running drugs, is selling their blood. They've all done it; all it takes is a fake I.D.
    Even Sharon's done it." She passed him several photocopies.
    They were from back issues of medical journals. "Both blood and tissue type are extremely important in transplants. That's where a doctor begins in what can sometimes be a long process of matching a donor with a recipient. These articles will fill you in."
    He scanned the articles quickly. "Blood banks," he mumbled.
    Then he said outright, "They select their potential donors from blood banks?" She said, "It's certainly a strong possibility.
    One worth following up."
    "We'll divide and conquer," Boldt said. "Talk to Cindy Chapman.
    Press her for information. Did she sell her kidney? Did she sell her blood? I'll pay a visit to our local blood banks." He supported Miles as he stood.
    She caught his eyes. She held him there, waiting. "Say it," she said. He stared at her. "You can't just walk out of here after all of this and not say it."
    "Is it so important?" Boldt asked. "It's a young woman's life,"
    she reminded. "You tell me."
    He nodded in resignation. "I'm in."
    Dr. Elden Tegg retained the only key to the Lakeview Animal Clinic's refrigerated walk-in because of the drugs it contained. He never would have chosen to install the walk-in himself; but this office had previously been a small Italian restaurant, and the walk-in served a useful purpose, both as the repository for the medications and as a holding closet for the surgical waste and dead animals that were byproducts of any busy surgical clinic.
    The man he met at the clinic's back door was short and stocky, dressed in a black-leather jacket, with black hair that peaked sharply in the center of his forehead. Donnie Maybeck was hired freelance to drive the clinic's "chuck wagon"-transporting the various bags of organic waste to a private incinerator. Because they would temporarily store this waste in the