I glance down at my phone and check out the photo of the RN I’m looking for. Gina Maine. Lisa Phillips remembered the name. She told me that Aiden had liked her, that Gina treated him kindly. After a quick LinkedIn search, I came up with her profile picture. Round, friendly face. Pleasant smile.
I have 20/12 vision and a knack for remembering faces. Comesin handy as a detective for perps. Suspects. Witnesses. When I’m this close, it’s not hard at all.
I spot Gina walking briskly toward the hospital entrance, looking both ways as she crosses the driveway. She’s in white sneakers and light blue scrubs, has a bag over her left shoulder, and is carrying a Starbucks cup in her right hand. Her brown hair is in a short bob and she’s wearing old-fashioned black-rimmed eyeglasses.
I get out of my rental car and walk at an angle to intercept her about ten feet from the door. “Excuse me. Gina Maine?”
Gina stops and turns around. I can tell she’s scoping me out to see if she recognizes me.
She doesn’t. “Yes?” she says warily. “Who are you?”
I pull out my ID and badge. “I’m John Sampson, a detective with Washington, DC, Metro Police. I just need a few minutes of your time.”
She starts backing toward the door. “Sorry. I don’t have any time to spare. I’m almost late for my shift.” She turns and walks off. I follow her.
“Ma’am, please. Just one minute. I’m conducting an investigation that involves one of your former patients.”
Gina stops and turns. She shakes her head. “Sorry, can’t talk to you about that. HIPAA regs. You should know that. You need to file the paperwork, get my supervisor’s approval, maybe talk to the hospital lawyers.”
I put my badge away and try a softer touch.
“I understand. It’s just that the patient’s wife said you were his favorite nurse, that you paid attention to him, listened to him when others didn’t.”
Flattery. But also the truth.
Gina looks around. Her eyes narrow a bit. She takes a stepcloser. I can tell she’s curious. She lowers her voice: “What’s the patient’s name?”
“Aiden Phillips.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Shit! Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
CHAPTER 56
GINA MAINE PULLS OUT her cell phone. She calls up to her floor and asks somebody to cover her patients for ten minutes.
“Follow me,” she says, leading the way to a bench near a green stretch of grass. “Is Aiden in trouble?”
I take a seat alongside her on the bench and wait for a group in scrubs to pass by.
“I’m sorry to say we’re looking for him in connection with the DC bombings.”
I see Gina’s face fall. She stares down at the ground. “You mean another vet going psycho? I hate those stories.”
“I do too. Because they’re mostly lies. But not this time, I’m afraid.”
“What makes you say that?”
“We have evidence. Photos of him at the scenes.”
Gina looks up. “No way. Aiden was troubled, but he wasn’tcrazy.” She turns to me, looks closely at me for the first time. “Did you serve, Detective?”
“I did. Iraq, Afghanistan. Other places.”
“Afghanistan? That’s where Aiden was too,” she says.
“Different units. And I don’t think our deployments overlapped.”
“Would’ve been pretty ironic if you had run into each other there, I guess.”
