Hypotension typically meant a blood pressure lower than ninety over sixty, while bradycardia referred to a resting heart rate under sixty. The two in combination was something I was not certain about.
“He was healthy before today?” the doctor asked.
“Very much so,” Cassie said. “We believe he was injected with something.”
“That’s what I heard,” she said. “And you don’t know what exactly?”
“No,” I said.
“We’ll stay close to him, then. Begin ruling things out.”
The doctor left us, and I recalled what Shooter had said when we arrived at the Homewood Suites. She’d texted Richie to say that we were driving in from the airport.
“You think El Médico was there?” I asked Cassie. “Right beforewegot there?”
“Shooter’s text probably spooked the guy,” she said. “Mighta saved Richie’s life.”
Soon after, Frank and Shooter arrived at the hospital. While Cassie filled them in, I tried to picture our suspect, present at the Homewood Suites as we drove up. Realizing a handful of federal agents were about to gather downstairs, he must’ve injected Richie with an unknown drug and left, taking the rookie’s phone, computer, and case files. Which included sketches of El Médico himself.
And all of Richie’s leads from yesterday.
“Amber Isiah,” I said, snapping out of my thoughts and looking at the team.
The plumbing supply house where Shooter and I had interviewed Amber was just twenty minutes from here.
“If El Médico has Richie’s notes,” I said, “he knows Amber is alive and where she works. Amber is the only witness who’s ever seen his face.”
“Let’s get a squad car there,” Frank said, and Shooter nodded.
“On it.”
“Can you locate Richie’s weapon?” I asked her. “I’m betting it’s in his hotel room safe.”
“Of course,” she said, stepping aside to handle both tasks.
Frank turned to Cassie and me then. “Whatever Richie found,”he said, “it attracted this guy’s attention. You got any idea what it is, Gardner?”
“No,” I said. “But he’s close. We need to move fast.”
“Detective Quinones is sending two patrolmen to keep an eye on Richie,” Frank said. “And we got the sketch of El Médico with every cop in this county. The best thing we can do now is go through every open lead and be quick about it. Find what Richie found.”
Shooter returned, telling us a squad car was rolling to retrieve Amber. “I tried calling,” she said. “No answer.”
“Drive over there yourself,” Frank said. “You and Gardner interviewed her. A friendly face will help.”
“Done.” Shooter spun on her heels and strode off.
Cassie, Frank, and I waited until the two patrolmen showed up to watch Richie. Then we headed back in Frank’s car and reassembled in the conference room at Shilo PD.
Less than an hour had passed since we’d found Richie. I taped up papers on the wall that represented every lead we’d had four days ago, before the gun case took the focus away from this one.
I looked to Frank. “Before we start in on these”—I pointed at the wall—“can we talk about our suspect?”
Frank Roberts is considered one of the top profilers in the country. It was the primary reason that his request to form PAR had been approved five years ago. But we’d been using him as a project manager instead of leveraging his talent at building a psychological profile of our suspect.
“We finally have some physical descriptions of this guy,” I continued. “But in terms of what we typically study at PAR”—I pointed at Cassie and me—“I’ve looked through everything, Frank. There’s no pattern here.”
“There’s always a pattern, Gardner,” he said. “You know that better than anyone.”
