Page 32 of Haunted By Sin

“And your social worker?” Sylvie asked, refusing to allow her emotions to enter her voice. “I believe his name is Fred Dawkins. Was he aware that Sheila wasn’t the model foster mother? Did anyone inform him that Sheila was ignoring her responsibilities?”

Mitch began to laugh, but he let it fade when Andrea shot him a sideways glance of annoyance. She crossed her legs and slipped her hands in between them as she answered Sylvie’s questions.

“Mr. Dawkins went above and beyond in his duties as a social worker. He was always there, always willing to meet us if we needed him.” Andrea gave a small smile as she recounted a few memories. “He would meet us at the youth center and play basketball with those who wanted a game or just sit on the bleachers and talk to us.”

“Look, Dawkins knew that Sheila wasn’t the best placement, but the choices were slim back then. I’m assuming they still are,” Tyler said as he finally lowered his hands. “I wouldn’t want that man’s job, and I get why he checks on the kids often. If anything goes sideways, he is the one who would shoulder that responsibility.”

Fred Dawkins didn’t fit the profile, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have an idea as to who might harbor such deep-seated hatred toward Sheila Wallace that all sense of right and wrong had gone out the window. Sylvie had a meeting scheduled with him later this afternoon.

“And your thoughts on Fred Dawkins?” Sylvie asked Mitch after she had caught the slight shake of his head.

“I have none. Are we done here? I have somewhere to be, and it is obvious that you’re not going to share the real reason you’re here.”

“Thank you for your time,” Sylvie said, reaching for her purse. She pulled out three business cards. “Here is my contact information. If you happen to think of anything in the coming days regarding our conversation, I would appreciate a call.”

Sylvie sensed that Mitch wasn’t going to move out of her way, so she gracefully stepped around him. The screen door would have clattered shut behind her if she hadn’t kept ahold of the handle. There were low murmurs of conversation drifting through the screen after her departure, but she couldn’t make out what was being said between the three of them.

Sylvie had made it halfway down the drive before Tyler’s voice brought her to a stop. She turned and waited patiently for him to reach her.

“Dawkins has a son around our age. I haven’t seen either of them in years, but Shane used to come to the youth center with his dad every now and then.” Tyler smoothed his tie before buttoning his jacket in such a manner that it was almost as if he were uncomfortable with providing her with such information. “Shane used to say that if he were in our position, he’d kill her. Sheila, that is. It’s not my intention to get anyone in trouble or on the radar with the feds, but I thought you should know.”

“Thank you, Mr. Doss.” Sylvie didn’t turn around quite yet. She got the distinct impression that Tyler had waited until they were alone to part with his opinion on Fred Dawkins’ son. “Why share this with me now?”

The screen door suddenly opened, and Mitch came strolling out, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Tyler and Sylvie still standing in the driveway. They were far enough away not to have their private conversation overheard, which was probably the only reason that Tyler answered her question.

“Mitch and Shane were friends…probably still are,” Tyler murmured as he began to walk down the driveway. “I left my old life behind as much as possible, Miss Deering. I’d like it to stay that way.”

Chapter Seventeen

Theo Neville

May 2024

Saturday — 3:21 pm

Theo was grateful that Lucy Burrow, who held the Chief of Staff position at the hospital where Sheila Wallace had been taken off life support, had granted him permission to use one of the conference rooms on the top floor. Not even the distance between levels could lessen the potency of the antiseptic scent that made him nauseous. The strong odor brought back memories that he would soon rather forget.

“I’m about to meet with Fred Dawkins,” Sylvie informed Theo, her face close to the screen of her phone as she shut the door to the SUV. Her black-rimmed glasses were slightly askew, but she fixed them before walking across what appeared to be a small parking lot. “Bit wasn’t able to find much on the man’s son. Shane basically fell out of sight after high school. I don’t think Tyler had the right information regarding Mitch’s friendship with the man. I think we might need to spend the night, because it would be near impossible to speak to everyone on our list by tomorrow morning.”

“Arden took the liberty of making us reservations at a Marriott for the next two nights,” Theo advised her, picking up his empty coffee mug. The white porcelain had the hospital’s logo on the side, but he didn’t like the shape of the rim. The contents tended to roll over onto the table, causing him to constantly use a napkin to wipe away the drips. “When he saw how many names were on the hospital staff who were included in the transplant operation, he booked the closest hotel to the hospital.”

Theo closed the distance to a long table in the back of the conference room that basically served as a beverage bar. Lucy had one of her staff bring in a tray of sandwiches and fruit, though Theo hadn’t touched any of the food. He held his mug underneath the spout of a coffee dispenser and pressed the pump several times. He couldn’t help but inhale deeply, but the delectable aroma failed to mask the hospital's clinical smell.

“I miss my ginger lemon tea,” Sylvie muttered as she continued to walk, jarring the phone up and down with each step. “Once I finish speaking with Dawkins, I’ll head your way. I haven’t had a thing to eat since we left Crestlake, so I suggest an early dinner.”

“I’ll be waiting by the front doors in about an hour.”

Theo retraced his steps after ending the video call to set his phone on the table. He glanced at the large black and white clock on the far wall, noting that Kevin Volson was now over a half hour late. Considering the nurse’s schedule, Theo understood that he had to be flexible, which was why he had spent the past thirty minutes combing through the notes that he had jotted down from his previous interviews.

A lot of personnel had been involved with the transplant operation. Between the donor and recipients, there were attending physicians, anesthesiologists, an organ harvesting team, surgeons, perfusionists, scrub nurses, ICU nurses, and a slew of other positions needed to carry out such delicate surgeries. Theo hadn’t gotten through half the people on his list, but Kevin Volson had been Sheila Wallace’s floor nurse when she had first been admitted to the hospital.

Theo made himself comfortable in one of the rolling chairs at the end of the large table. He jotted down a note to request from Lucy a list of administrative personnel who also might have had access to the organ recipients. Once he clicked his pen and set down the small notebook that he always carried with him when in the field, Theo picked up Volson’s personnel file.

Kevin Volson was twenty-nine years of age and an Ann Arbor native with an unblemished record. The picture taken for his identification badge displayed a short hairstyle, a round face, and a scar through his left eyebrow.

A knock garnered Theo’s attention, and he glanced up as the conference door opened to reveal his next interviewee. Theo motioned for Volson to enter before closing the manilla folder.

“Mr. Neville? I am so sorry to keep you waiting.” Kevin pushed the door open with his shoulder wide enough so he could carry in a tray with a plate of food and a beverage. “We had two new admissions, and it took longer than we thought to get things squared away. Dr. Burrow said that you wouldn’t mind if I ate my lunch during our meeting.”

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