Page 25 of So Lethal

Faith sighed and leaned forward, folding her hands over the table. “You have to look at this from our perspective, Doctor. We talked to you earlier today. You were clearly nervous when you talked to us. Then we leave for a couple of hours, and you close a highly successful clinic with dozens of employees for no reason, pack a bag, flee your home, and try to flee the area.”

“Yeah, what was the plan?” Michael asked. “Mexico?”

Dr. Crane nodded. He looked miserable.

“What were you going to do in Mexico? Do you speak Spanish?”

Dr. Crane shifted in his seat and didn’t reply.

“Where were you last night, Doctor Crane?”

“Home,” he insisted.

“And Saturday night?”

“Home.”

“And you’ve had no contact with Monica Smith and James Porter since the end of the trial.”

Dr. Crane rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how many times I have to say it. I didn’t kill them. I didn’t see them. I didn’t even hear their complaints. I read about them on the patient feedback report.” His face hardened. “You know what? You guys don’t have anything on me. That’s why you keep asking me the same questions over and over. You’re hoping I’ll say something that will get me convicted.”

"So, just so we're clear on your story," Michael said. "You fired dozens of medical doctors, nurses, orderlies, PAs, receptionists, and janitors because you were afraid that we'd connect you to Lauren Poitier and assume that her death—accidental according to you—was related to the deaths of Monica Smith and James Porter."

He shrugged. “Well, you did.”

“Yes, we did,” Faith agreed, “and if you were innocent, you would have stayed and talked to us. You would have gone through the process instead of trying to throw your life away and flee to Mexico.”

Dr. Crane tapped his fingers on the table. “I panicked. I don’t really have a life here. I have a job here. I wanted to try one last time to make a difference.”

“Bullshit,” Michael scoffed. “This had nothing to do with helping people. You were just trying to establish your legacy.”

Dr. Crane rolled his eyes. “Okay, I wanted to try one last time to do something that mattered, something that people would remember. Then it all blew up. Again. I don’t want to be looked at as a murderer anymore, so I panicked. I figured I have enough money. I can get a small house in Cancun or something and just live out my days on the beach. Not a bad way to fail.”

“I’ll give you that,” Michael said. “Too bad I don’t believe you.”

“Well, go to hell,” Dr. Crane retorted. “What you believe doesn’t determine the truth.”

Faith and Michael shared a look. Faith stood, and Michael followed suit. “We’ll give you some time to think about this,” she told him. “But I’m telling you right now, Dr. Crane. It doesn’t look good for you. I would seriously consider coming clean if I were you. California still has the death penalty. Your case checks all the boxes prosecutors and judges look for. You want us to be on your side while you still have time to change that outcome.”

The three agents left the room. Turk offered Dr. Crane a final growl as he followed the human investigators to the room on the other side of the two-way mirror. When the door closed behind them, Faith asked Michael, “What do you think?”

“I think he’s clamming up,” he replied. “I think he’s going to stay that way until we finally slip the oyster knife into his shell. Then he’s going to say lawyer and clam up again. That’s a problem because we still don’t have any hard evidence.”

“They didn’t find anything in his belongings?” Faith asked.

“Nothing. They found our victims’ files at the clinic, but there’s nothing there that we can use to establish motive.”

“What about the sound pistol? We have a witness who heard a noise at the Monica Smith crime scene.”

“And no such witness at the James Porter crime scene,” he reminded her. “The only clear connection we have between our victims and Dr. Crane is that they both participated in a clinical trial four months prior. If we can’t get something out of him, we’re back to square one. Well, maybe not square one but a soft square two.”

Faith pressed her lips together and looked through the two-way mirror at Dr. Crane. The doctor was staring at his hands and tapping the table, looking miserable and terrified. “How long can we hold him?”

“We can ask for no bond because of the fleeing and eluding,” Michael asked. “But once he gets a lawyer involved, it’s game over. Two days, maybe? No chance he spends the weekend here.”

“Two days it is then,” she said. “We need to go through every single thing in his home and his office. Somewhere in all of that is proof that Dr. Crane is our killer or a complete lack of proof that he is. If it’s the latter, then…” she sighed. “Well, then maybe we were wrong. But we need to be damned sure of that before we let this guy back out on the street.”

Michael nodded. “Do you want to keep talking to him, or should I have the COs put him back in his cell?”

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