“If there’s no causal relationship between the buttons and the patients’ deaths, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

I reached for the envelope, my pulse pounding as I opened the flap and peered inside.

Shiny brass circlets glinted up at me.

There were dozens of them, each button smaller than a dime, with a tiny shank on the back, a raised emblem of a caduceus on the front.

The buttons rattled inside the envelope as I shook it. Maybe Whiteley was right. They were common blazer-cuff buttons. Nothing special about them.

But we both knew that each pair represented a person who had died here at the hospital.

“I’ll need a list of all of the patients found with these things on their eyes,” I told him.

“I can fax it to your office,” said Whiteley.

“Thanks,” I said, crossing my arms. “Nice of you to offer, but I’d prefer to wait.”

Chapter 68

Chapter 68

I DROVE BACK to the Hall through medium-heavy afternoon traffic, still feeling the heat of my confrontation with Whiteley and the chilling sight of those damn buttons.

What in God’s name did it all mean?

Placing markers on the eyes of the dead was grim, and it was freaky. Was someone playing a cruel prank as Whiteley had said? Or was Municipal Hospital covering up a long history of serial murders?

The list of the dead that Whiteley had given me rested on the seat beside me.

I braked at the light at California and Montgomery, snapped on my dome light, and opened the folder. A two-page spreadsheet was inside—the names of thirty-two patients who’d been found dead over the last three years with buttons on their eyelids. For God’s sake!

Across the top of the grid were the headings “patient name,” “patient’s physicians,” “date of death,” “cause of death.”

I skimmed the data, then flipped to the second page.

Leo Harris was last on the list, and just above his name—Keiko Castellano.

My heart lurched as I stared at the name of Yuki’s mom.

I saw her sweet face in my mind, then her eyes covered with those vile brass markers.

Blaring car horns brought me out of my trance.

“Okay, okay!” I shouted, putting the Explorer in gear. The car jumped forward as I stepped on the gas.

I was thinking ahead as well.

Whiteley had said he didn’t want details of the buttons to get out—but a sleazy cover-up wasn’t evidence of murder.

We already had stacks of bona fide homicides to solve and too few inspectors to handle them. I needed more than a handful of buttons and a list of names before I went to Tracchio or the DA.

If I wanted some answers, I’d have to work around the edges of the system.

And I’d have to ask a big favor of a friend.

Chapter 69

Chapter 69