Page 136 of The Dollmaker

The stark contrast caught both women by surprise.

He pulled out two more pictures. Elena Hayes before. And the grisly after shot.

Again, Sharp waited as the weight of the images took hold. “This killer was able to do this because he could keep her drugged for long stretches of time.” He grimaced. “This face gives me nightmares.”

Ms.Wells now seemed to fully understand the implications for her client. “And if my client could possibly help you, you’d consider a reduced charge?”

“Yes.” As much as he hated to let this woman get away with her crimes, he had a bigger fish to catch, and he had no doubt if he were patient, he’d nail Ms.Coggin again. “Who is the buyer?” He made it sound nonthreatening. He didn’t dare voice his contempt for the woman.

“I’m not a petty drug dealer,” Ms.Coggin said.

Her attorney held up her hand, again silencing her. “She’ll plead guilty to a misdemeanor possession charge. Can we agree on that?”

Sharp stared at Ms.Coggin for a moment before he shifted his attention to the attorney. “She has to tell me everything.”

Ms.Wells nodded to her client. “Agreed?”

“Yes,” Ms.Coggin said.

“Tell him what you told me.”

The woman hesitated. “I used to date Jimmy Dillon when we were in high school. I hadn’t seen him in a long time, and a month ago I saw him back in his favorite bar holding court.” She shook her head, regret clear on her face.

“Go on.”

She cleared her throat. “I knew why he’d gone to jail, and I was looking for someone who needed quick cash. It didn’t take much convincing to get Jimmy to say yes.”

Sharp didn’t want to hear her backstory. If he didn’t need her right now, he’d be talking to the commonwealth’s attorney about maximum jail time. “Who was the buyer?”

“I never met the buyer in person. I got a call one night from a man, and he said he knew I might be someone who could help.”

“How did he know that?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“A little.”

“Who did you sell to?”

Ms.Coggin glanced at her attorney, who nodded. “The doctor treated a patient last year who also had cancer. The gentleman was having trouble sleeping. Dr.Bailey refused to prescribe any additional meds, believing the patient was exaggerating his situation. The patient then asked me if I could help. I knew what he needed, but I played dumb. He came back again for a follow-up visit, and this time he begged me for help. He said he’d pay top dollar. I told him it could be arranged, and then I visited his house with several vials of propofol. I showed his wife how to set up the IV. The man died of cancer six months later.”

“Who was the man?”

“Eugene Radcliff. He lived in the area.” She met his gaze.

“Did he use them to kill himself?” Sharp asked.

“No. He didn’t want to die. He was trying to live long enough for his daughter’s wedding.” She shifted in her seat again. “I went by the house to get the extras, but his wife couldn’t find the vials.”

“And you believed her?”

“Yes. Mrs.Radcliff was really worried. She thought her husband might have resold some of the drugs to a third party. Mr.Radcliff was worried about paying for his daughter’s wedding and leaving money for his wife. The woman was terrified she was going to jail if anyone found out.”

“She say who the buyer was?”

“Her husband never told her.”

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