When I arrived to the main floor of the library, Jeanette was waiting at the counter with the other younger guy at the computer.
“Did you find everything you were looking for?” Jeanette asked.
“Yes, I did. I’m curious, do you know anyone by the name of Vince Nelson?”
Jeanette thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, I think the name sounds familiar.”
“He was the Valedictorian of Wilton High School in 1990. It appears he was friends with Charles Green based on the context clues.”
“Oh, I see. That’s probably why I recognize the name.”
“But you don’t know if he still lives in town or perhaps is part of the community in any way?”
Jeanette shook her head. “No, not that I’m aware of.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful. I think I will stick around here a little bit and just do some research from my tablet. I can connect to the wireless internet here, yes?”
“Yes, of course, here let me give you the password to the staff Wi-Fi.” Jeanette handed me a slip with the information.
I pulled out my tablet. “The connection was successful. I feel like a VIP using the staff Wi-Fi. Thank you so much, Jeanette.” I walked away to one of the rooms on the first floor to sit by the window. Mountainous clouds were making their way to Wilton; I checked my phone and saw that rain was in the forecast. Just when I thought I couldn’t be in a more conducive environment for sleeping, the rain was making its way. Not that I felt tired. With all the caffeine I consumed, I was wide awake. Wired.
I pulled out my tablet and did a simple online search of “Charles Green Wilton, Indiana.” There were no results that led me to any articles that would be worthwhile looking through. I then checked an FBI criminal database, and again, there was nothing on a Charles Green from Wilton, Indiana.
I decided to search for Vince Nelson. That yielded more results than I was prepared for. Vince Nelson received a doctorate in molecular biology from Stanford University. As I clicked the Stanford website, it was just a record of names. I had to go back to my query and click a different link with a short bio from a doctorate awarded in 2004. Vince Nelson held a bachelor’s degree in biology from MIT. That’s about all the information I could find. With a search of Vince Nelson’s dissertations, I was able to find one titled “The New Frontier of Genetic Testing,” but there wasn’t an option to view it. I felt I didn’t need to, but it was interesting to me. I couldn’t find any other information on Vince Nelson. It wasn’t the most uncommon name, so I ran across multiple Vince Nelsons, but none of them had anything to do with the field of biology or a related career. I was hoping to find other information on him, but there was none. Perhaps Martha might know more.
I typed up notes I had so far. There was not much, but it was good to keep every detail and name I came in contact with documented.
When I was done in the library, I strolled around downtown Wilton. Getting acclimated with the buildings in the daytime was better than going at night. I checked the alley where I thought I encountered Charles Green. I couldn’t find any clues of where he could have hid. There were doors in the alley into the lofts above the businesses. Perhaps he was able to slip away in there. Then when I looked up above, I saw that there were black metal fire escape that went out to the top of the building. I could imagine him climbing to hide away. It was impossible to see high up at night in that alley.
The next task on my to-do list was to call the hospital with the missing blood for any breakthrough information. I ate a quick lunch at a sandwich shop downtown and went back to the room at the inn. Regina was behind the counter, and she greeted me with a smile.
The elevator took me to the top floor. I walked into the hallway, and the room opposite from mine had a door open. A man walked out and closed it. He looked troubled. His eyes were screaming with panic, but he looked at me and feigned a smile. High cheekbones, cleft chin, and a five o’clock shadow; this guy was handsome and shorter than me. His stare was intense though, I felt that something was off. He didn’t want me in the hallway.
“Uh, hello,” he blurted as I walked up to him. He was wearing a black suit with a white button-up shirt underneath. It looked expensive, and it perfectly fit him. It was hard to gauge how old he was, but if I had to guess, he was in his late 30s.
“Hello,” I said. As soon as I spoke, his eyes bulged. He froze in the middle of the hall and forced a laugh.
“You know what, I forgot something in my room.” He nervously chuckled, spun around, and went to his door, fumbling with the key before shoving it in the lock.
“At least you didn’t forget your keys,” I said with a smirk.
“Excuse me?” he asked, sounding defensive.
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“At least you didn’t forget your keys.”
He stopped and snickered. “Oh yes, very good. Sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“No need to apologize. I’m not your boss,” I said. I was about to arrive at my entrance.
“Right. See you later.” He turned the lock and slipped inside. From the hallway, I could hear a woman’s voice followed by him saying, “Shhhh!”
For some reason, I had a feeling he was looking at me through his peephole. I ignored it and walked into my room.
I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the guy who followed me the night before. There was a possibility that he could be Charles Green, but highly unlikely. The two looked nothing alike.
Even though it was a brief interaction in the hallway, I pulled out my tablet and entered notes about the squirrely fellow in the hallway.
I pulled out my phone and called the hospital with the missing blood.
It took some phone call transfer juggling from when I called the hospital until I got in touch with the local law enforcement.
St Mary’s hospital was located in a city just outside of Wilton called Hickory. I was directed to the secretary’s office at the Hickory police station.
“What can I do for you today?” The secretary asked.
“Hi, my name is Edward Wright. I work with the FBI and—”
“I’ll transfer you to the sheriff’s office.”
The phone clicked and rang until a deep masculine voice answered with, “Sheriff Albert.”
“Hello, Sheriff. My name is Edward Wright. I’m with the FBI.”
“Aw hell.” He sighed. “I’ve never had you really deal with you guys, but I never really wanted to. Look, whatever it is, I can assure you we have a good handle on things.”
“I’m sure you do as well. I just wanted to see what information you may have had on the missing blood at St Mary’s hospital.”
“Why?”
“Well, I’m in the area, and this might be related to a case I’m working on.”
“Uh, I’d rather not disclose this over the phone. You could be some rogue reporter for all I know. I’d feel better about telling you all of this in person. How soon could you get to our station?”
I quickly typed in the address for directions on my tablet and saw that it was only a 20-minute drive. “Does a half-hour work for you?”
“Sure. I can do that. I’ll fill you in on the details when you get here after you show your accreditation. Sorry for the hurdle. I just want to make sure.”
“I understand.” I left the room and the inn and hopped in my car. I pulled up the directions on my phone and drove on the lonely two-lane highways. The drive was a little scenic, there were paths with the trees lining the road, but there was also a lot of flat farmland I passed. Which I didn’t mind. Part of me appreciated the quiet and calm roads between Wilton and Hickory.
Hickory didn’t have much of a downtown. There was the hospital, and then a mile away, the police station, library, and City Hall spaced out with only a few strip malls in between. I went straight to the police department and walked through the doors. I was 10 minutes early from what I said over the phone.
The secretary at the front desk was in the middle of finishing a phone call. She hung up the phone and beckoned for me behind the plexiglass covering.
“Hi, how can I help you today?”
“Yes, I just called not too long ago. My name is Edward Wright; I’m with the FBI.”
“Sheriff Albert told me you were coming. May I see your badge, please?”
“Of course.” I pulled it out and slipped it underneath the opening of the plexiglass.
The secretary took the badge, scanned it, and punched a few buttons on her keyboard. “You’re going to walk to the door to your right and follow me.”
I followed the secretary through the hallway. A few police officers were walking around, bouncing between cubicles like a slow pinball. I was taken to an office door in the back that was light blue with a black nameplate with silver letters: ALBERT OWENS. The secretary knocked on the door, and Albert answered. He was tall, slender but looked athletic and had a beard. His eyes looked tired, but they had a silent charm to them.
“You must be Edward?”
“That’s true. Nice to meet you, Albert.” The two of us shook hands.
Albert closed the door as the secretary left. His office smelled like coffee; everything was neat and organized. His desk was spotless and had a bookshelf with binders and books covering every bit of space. He took a seat behind his desk, and I took a seat in front of him, old chairs with a steel frame and copper-colored cushions, but they looked almost brand new. I noticed he had a paperweight on his desk of the Indiana University logo.
“So, are you able to disclose what you’re working on here in Hickory?”
“Yes, although I’m primarily working out of Wilton. This is in regards to the six people who went missing, and then we found their bodies.”
“You think they’re related to this incident? With the stolen blood in the hospital?”
“Well, I think it’s peculiar that the six people have gone missing in intervals. I’ve noticed six-month gaps between disappearances, at least with the last two, that is, if they were being meticulous. And each body was completely drained of blood. If I’m speculating here, perhaps the criminal wants to try something different and avoid murder since they are now in the spotlight. Whatever it is they’re doing, they’re using blood, It seems like. St. Mary’s is the closest hospital to Wilton where a surplus of blood went missing.”
“Wouldn’t that be a little too obvious if they’re taking blood nearby?”
“Well, I don’t think they were anticipating getting caught.”
“But a smart criminal would have some foresight on how to handle a situation if they were caught. Right?”
I shrugged. “You would think. Anyways, that’s why I’m here. I have a feeling that this blood stealing incident might be related.”
“So you’re not planning on getting in the way or clogging up the investigation?”
“Of course not. I guess my FBI colleagues might have a reputation for making things difficult with local law enforcement. Still, I assure you, I only want to help. If you already have information, great, I would love to look it over.”
“Well, we do have a suspect, and I was planning on paying them a visit this afternoon.”
“And I would love to tag along for that. As long as that’s okay with you? I won’t get in your way, but I might ask some questions if that’s all right?”
He stared at me, it was an awkward pause.
“Oh, and, go Hoosiers,” I said.
Albert chuckled, and the corner of his lip curled up. He looked at the paperweight on his desk and nodded. “Go Hoosiers. Ed, you’re all right. You’re more than welcome to join me with questioning this suspect.”
“May I ask how this suspect came about?”
“A few nurses noticed this man walking out of the blood storage with an unusual amount on a cart.”
Even if this had nothing to do with the case, I felt a flame of excitement in my chest. I was getting closer to something.