Page 55 of So Wicked

“Try all of them. Try the euthanasia line first.”

She shivered as Slade dialed the number, not from the cold but from anxiety.Come on. Don’t be dead. Not yet. Not when we’re right here to save you.

Slade sighed. “Nothing. The place is closed, Faith. I’m sorry. We need to think about saving other people. It’s still early. We might catch the killer at the pet cemetery if we move now.”

“Try the general reception line,” Faith insisted. “Please, Slade.”

Slade sighed again, but he didn’t protest further. Faith bounced up and down on her toes, pleading silently that someone would—

“Hello?” Slade said. “Yes, hello!”

Faith leaped in the air. Coming down, she nearly slid on the icy ground, much to Turk’s consternation. He ran to steady her, and when she caught her balance, he growled at her like a parent scolding an overactive child.

“Hi. Wow. I’m so glad you answered,” Slade said. “I’m Detective Chester Slade with the Carmel Police Department. Is your facility still open?”

He put the phone on speaker so Faith could hear the answer. The man on the other end sounded a little annoyed but did a passable job of keeping professionally pleasant. “No, I’m sorry. We close at nine o’clock. If this is an emergency, you can contact the Indianapolis Animal Hospital at—”

“Different kind of emergency,” Slade interrupted. “We need to speak to Dr. Amanda Carpenter. Is she there with you?”

“No, I’m… I’m not at the Hospice.”

Slade blinked. “What? How are you answering this number?”

“This is my work cell phone number.” In an exasperated voice, he explained. “Dr. Carpenter believes that someone should always be available to provide patients and prospective patients with information on our facility and the services weprovide. For some reason, she feels a receptionist is better suited to do that than the owner and administrator of the facility.”

“Do you have Dr. Carpenter’s number?”

“I do, but she won’t answer it. Trust me, I know. That’s why I was going to give you the number of the Indianapolis Animal Hospital.”

“Do you have her home address,” Slade pressed.

“Her home…” the receptionist paused, then said suspiciously, “Excuse me, who did you say you are?”

“I’m Detective Chester Slade with the Carmel Police Department. I’m here with Special Agent Faith Bold of the FBI.”

“Carmel? We’re in Cumberland, sir. This is sketchy. I’m going to hang up now.”

“No, listen!” Slade shouted. “You know all those vets who are dying? I’m investigating that case.”

There was a slight pause, then a wary, “Okay?”

“Look, we need to contact hernow. Her life is in immediate danger.”

Another slight pause, then. “Oh, shit. Um… shit. Look, she won’t answer her phone. I’ll give you the number if you want, but she won’t even check texts until the morning. That’s probably why she’s number five and not number one on that list.”

“Focus!” Slade snapped.

“Right. Shit. Sorry. Um… Okay, she’s probably still at the hospital.”

“This late? You’re sure?”

“Yes. She doesn’t like going home right away because her husband doesn’t like movies and gives her shit for eating ice cream. I guess he’s really into skinny women, so he gets grouchy that she’s not a stick figure like she was when they were married. They’ve been having problems for a while, and—”

“Okay, so she’s at the hospital until what time?” Slade interrupted.

“Umm… she usually watches a movie and eats ice cream. Sometimes she drinks a glass of wine too. If she drinks, she’ll be there until after midnight. If not, then she could be on her way home already. Probably not, though. I’m thinking she’s still at the hospital.”

“We’ll go to the hospital,” Faith told Slade. “Send units to her house. You, on the phone.”

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