Free Redzone by William C. Dietz Page A

month.”
    Lee frowned. “Really? Her doctor comes
here
?”
    â€œWonderful, isn’t it?” Wilma gushed. “I wish more doctors would do that. It’s difficult for residents like Margaret to get out and about.”
    â€œYes,” Lee said, as she flipped through the pages in front of her. “It is.”
    Wilma knew something was up by then and frowned. “I’m sorry, Miss Lee, but I can’t allow you to . . .”
    Lee produced her ID case and flipped it open so Wilma could see the card and badge. “I’m here on official business,” Lee said as she put the leather folder away. “Please keep my visit to yourself. And that includes Margaret. Okay?”
    Wilma swallowed. “Of course.”
    â€œGood. If it isn’t too much trouble, please make a copy of
this
page . . . the one with the doctor’s signature on it.”
    The receptionist stood and stepped away to make the copy. Lee took the opportunity to look around the room. Three women and a man were playing cards at a table. A fire was burning in the gas fireplace despite the fact that it was seventy-five degrees outside. And there, up in a corner, was a surveillance camera. “Here you go,” Wilma said, and Lee turned to receive the copy. “So you won’t be going up to see Margaret?”
    â€œNo,” Lee said. “Not today. I notice you have a surveillance system. I would like to look at the tape that corresponds to the last time that Dr. Duncan came by.”
    â€œYou’ll need to talk to Eva about that,” Wilma said. “I’ll get her.”
    The manager turned out to be a young woman named Eva Mendez. She had a pageboy haircut, bright red lipstick, and matching nails. Once Lee identified herself, Mendez took her into an office and closed the door. They watched the video together, found the snippet that featured the man who called himself Dr. Duncan, and froze it.
    That was when Lee had a moment of self-doubt. Duncan looked very different from Arnold Kaplan’s mug shot.
Butthat makes sense,
Lee told herself.
He worked hard to change his appearance—and he’s eleven years older.
“Can I take this with me?” she inquired.
    â€œI don’t see why not,” Mendez replied. “Especially if you could make a copy for me. We’re supposed to keep the tapes for ninety days.”
    â€œDone,” Lee said. “Thank you very much . . . Please don’t mention my visit to Mrs. Kelly or anyone on your staff.”
    Mendez frowned. “Is Margaret in danger?”
    â€œNo,” Lee answered. “She isn’t. But if Dr. Duncan is who we think he is—we may need your help in order to catch him. I’ll let you know.”
    Lee’s heart was beating just a little bit faster as she left. Was the doctor Margaret Kelly’s grandson Arnold? Who, in spite of his history as a murderer, had a soft spot for his maternal grandmother . . . Or was Lee grasping at straws? She could contact every Dr. Duncan in LA and ask whether Mrs. Kelly was a patient. But most of them would insist on a CYA court order before they would divulge such information. Fortunately, there was another way to get the confirmation she needed.
    From the assisted-living facility, Lee went straight to LAPD headquarters and Conference Room 7-J. The evidence boxes were still there, and Lee could hardly wait to dive into them. After fifteen minutes of searching, Lee had six samples of Arnold Kaplan’s crabbed handwriting.
    With those sheets of paper in hand, she went over to the table where she compared those to Dr. Duncan’s signature. It looked as though there were a lot of similarities so she put in a call to the Criminalistics Laboratory. The person who answered referred her to a forensic document examiner named Alvin Soltis. He listened to her description of the situation, and said, “Come on up . . .