Page 33 of Dead Rattled
“You’re free to call your lawyer at any time, Mr. Savini,” Ronan said.
“That’sDoctorSavini!” the angry man shot back.
“You go call your lawyer,DoctorSavini, and we’ll just have a peek through your scrapbook.” He motioned for Ten to bring the book to the kitchen table.
“My scrapbook?” Savini asked, sounding confused. He spun around to see Tennyson standing behind him, cradling the box as if it were a newborn baby. “That’s just a picture album.” Savini shrugged.
“Open it, Tennyson.” Fitz stood with his hands at his sides, looking ready to lunge for Savini if he made a move.
Ten didn’t need to be asked twice. He took the book out of the box and opened the front cover. “1955-1975,” he read.
“Hmmm,” Ronan hummed. “Now where have I heard those dates before?”
Ten flipped to the first page and saw the Bowerman Family who lived on Commonwealth Ave, just like Everly said. “What a beautiful family,” Ten said, sounding deliberately syrupy. He flipped to the next page and found a similar image of the Patterson family with their new son.
“See, just a photo album.” Savini sneered at Ronan. “I’m an obstetrician and delivered babies my entire career. This book is filled with happy families created thanks to my expertise.”
“Yeah, yourexpertise,” Ten muttered, flipping to the back of the book. He searched through several pages before coming to the one he was looking for. “Ralph and Monica Sayers. Lime Street, Newburyport, Massachusetts. What’s this other name here, Natalie Fairchild? How did another woman come into play here?”
Savini smiled broadly at Tennyson. “Some of my patients were not able or equipped to become mothers at young ages. I helped these girls by putting their babies up for adoption. It was a win-win situation. The baby was raised by competent parents and the young woman was able to resume her life. Natalie Fairchild was one of the young women I helped.”
“Win-win.” Ten’s voice was barely above a whisper. He kept flipping pages, until he reached one that made his blood turn cold. “You want to explain this one to me?” Ten turned the book around to show Ronan and Savini the photograph. It was of the St. Agnes section of the Act of Mercy Cemetery, capturing all fifty-seven baby graves.
“I would think that would be obvious,” Savini said, sounding more confident than ever. “Some of my patients were stillborn. It was my policy to ensure each child had a proper burial with a stone to mark their grave.”
Ten flipped the book back around, intent on turning to the next page, when a piece of paper slipped out. “Sweet Jesus,” Ten whispered. The paper contained a list of names followed by numbers. He skimmed through it, stopping at a familiar name. “Fairchild, plot 44.” He eyed the doctor, who looked less self-assured than he had moments ago. “I’m confused, Doctor Savini. You just said the Fairchild baby was adopted by the Sayers family and here is a notation that this same child was buried in plot number forty-four. How can both things be true at the same time?”
“I’m not saying another word until my lawyer gets here.” Savini’s face turned red. The man looked like he was going to explode.
Ten knew he had the son-of-a-bitch by the balls and was about to tell him that very thing when he flipped to the next page in the book. Ten gasped at the images. He blinked several times to make sure he was seeing the pictures correctly. He’d never been more angry and sickened in his entire life. Ten looked at Savini, his hands balling into fists.
“What is it, Ten?” Ronan asked, sounding a little taken aback.
“Kitty Maxwell. Dead on the living room floor of the house on Pickman Road. There are six pictures detailing her death and entombment in the fireplace. In the last image, Kitty is in the same position we found her remains yesterday.” Ten felt his eyes fill with tears. He’d never seen anything so depraved, so cruel, so heartbreaking. He stepped back from the book as tears began to course down his cheeks. He didn’t want to contaminate the pages with his DNA.
Ronan stepped up to the book in Ten’s place. He gasped and reached for the table to steady himself. “Are you okay?” Ronan asked Ten, his voice soft. “I’m gonna need you to slap the cuffs on this motherfucker. Think you’re up to that?”
Ten swiped at his eyes, wiping his tears on his pants. “Damn straight.”
Ronan held out his handcuffs. Ten grabbed them and approached Savini, who Fitzgibbon and Jude were guarding. “DoctorAndrew Savini, you’re under arrest for the murder of Kitty Maxwell.” He snapped the cuffs over Savini’s wrists. “You have the right to remain silent,” Ten recited from memory.
How many times over the years had he heard Ronan, Jude, and Fitz recite those exact words? Now, here he was, doing the honors. As he finished giving the disgraced doctor his Miranda Warning, he watched as Fitzgibbon yanked the man to his feet and dragged him toward the front door, kicking and screaming all the way.
Savini loudly protested his innocence. “I didn’t kill that bitch! I want my lawyer! I want my phone call!”
Ten took a deep breath when he could no longer hear the man screaming.
“Stay right here,” Ronan said. Seconds later, he returned with one of the officers, giving the young woman instructions to take photographs of every page in the scrapbook, along with the handwritten plot list, before bagging it as evidence. “Let’s get the hell out of this house.”
“Right behind you,” Ten said, movement catching his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw Kitty Maxwell standing near the refrigerator. Three other women stood with her. Women Tennyson didn’t recognize. Were they Kitty’ssupport system or other victims? He approached the spirits intent on finding out.
If Andrew Savini had left more bodies in his wake, Ten was going to make sure he paid for every life he took. A first degree murder conviction was an automatic life with no parole sentence. He and Ronan wouldn’t rest until Savini became just another number wearing prison orange.
EPILOGUE
Ronan
Three months later…
