The Killer Wore White: “Who Wanted the Women Dead?”

Contents

Acknowledgement

Introduction

P A R T I

C H A P T E R 1

C H A P T E R 2

C H A P T E R 3

C H A P T E R 4

C H A P T E R 5

C H A P T E R 6

C H A P T E R 7

C H A P T E R 8

C H A P T E R 9

C H A P T E R ΙΟ

C H A P T E R 11

C H A P T E R 12

C H A P T E R 13

C H A P T E R 14

C H A P T E R 15

C H A P T E R l6

C H A P T E R 17

P A R T II

C H A P T E R 18

C H A P T E R 19

C H A P T E R 2 0

C H A P T E R 21

C H A P T E R 22

C H A P T E R 23

C H A P T E R 24

C H A P T E R 25

C H A P T E R 26

C H A P T E R 27

C H A P T E R 28

C H A P T E R 29

C H A P T E R 3o

C H A P T E R 31

C H A P T E R 32

C H A P T E R 33

C H A P T E R 34

C H A P T E R 35

C H A P T E R 36

C H A P T E R 37

P A R T III

C H A P T E R 38

C H A P T E R 39

C H A P T E R 40

C H A P T E R 41

C H A P T E R 42

E P I L O G E

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The author is well known for her different styles ofwriting. In herfirst novel, Troubled Waters she delved into the lives of rich couples all living on the same lake, whose lives were intertwined with murder and adultery. Her second novel, Callie Mae’s Promise, takes place in the Appalachian Mountains, and takesyou on ajourney with two sisters, Callie Mae, who is mentally challenged, and Angel Baby, who is physically challenged. It is their journey to fulfill a promise that drives them on in their search offorever. This novel, her third, The Killer Wore White is a medical mystery. What will be herfourth novel? Only she knows, and it is already in the works. All of her books are published by iUniverse.

Friends

So long as we are loved by others I should say that we are almost indispensable; and no man is useless while he has a friend.

—Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-94)

This book is dedicated to all of my friends everywhere and especially to the friends that I have had the pleasure to work with for the past seven years. They have given freely of their encouragement and support. They bought my books and gave advice. We have worked together, laughed together, and even shed tears together; I owe them more than I could ever repay them. Next to family, they have been my biggest fans. So I applaud them, and I thank them; it is an honor for me to dedicate this book to the following:

Ruth Rockcastle, Director of Lady Lake and Riverside Urgent Care’s & Women’s Health

Ginger Nelson, RN., Clinical Coordinator/ UCC & RUC

Catherine Andrews, M.D.—Nelson Vazquez, M.D.

Miriam Buckingham, M.D.—Miriam Moosnick, D.O.

Michelle Madonna, A.RP.N.—Steve Signore, P.A.

Barbara Bourgeois, RN.—David Collier, RN.

Pat Gurrier, R.N.—Terena Licht, R.N.

Juanita Martinez-Ramos, RN., B.S.N.

Trish Schenk, R.N.—Judy Tice, R.N.

Dolores M. Sallade, R.T.—Denise Stimson, R.T.R.

Thelma P. Bass, E.M.T.-B—Nicole Wellman, H.S.T. II

Judith M. Connelly, Unit Secretary/Registrar II

Virginia Lawson, CHAA, Registrar III

Consuelo Robinson, Unit Secretary—Terri West, Registrar

Acknowledgement

I want to acknowledge

Leesburg Regional Medical Center

They allowed me to live my dream of working around the medical field by taking a chance on an ordinary person. I came aboard in the fall of my life. I had always wanted to be a nurse but with four children to nurture, and no medical training, I knew that I would settle on anything that would let me be close to my dream. I came to The Urgent Care Center, which was a part of the Leesburg Regional Medical Center, and worked there until my retirement. I registered patients and I was indeed in the middle of all the exciting activities one might find midst all of the professionals.

The Leesburg Regional Medical Center is a shining star in the Leesburg community. They have been rated in the top 100 in the country for the fifth consecutive year. It has been an honor and a privilege for me to be a part of such a growing, and caring hospital.

Introduction

Dr. Greta Leigh Drake would come to Orlando Florida, to start a new life. She would be one of three doctors working at The Physician’s Clinic, which was a part of The Ocean View RegionalMedical Center. Little did she know that she would be confronted with death, and murder on every turn. She found herself involved in love and intrigue, surrounded by suspicions of those that she worked with.

Why were the women missing that worked at the clinic? Who was taking the women? Was this murder, or did they leave willingly with out a trace? Greta had no idea, however, she vowed to find the answers.

How could she fall in love with Dr. Nathan Blevins, whom some thought was the murderer? What part would his brother, Jeff, who was a veterinarian in their hometown of Charlottesville, Virginia, play in the mystery of the missing women? Did Dr. Raymond Moran, better known as Doc, know more than he was saying? Perhaps Lilly Thompson, the registered nurse, was angry and bitter enough to hold the answers.

Detective Cody Lunt was on his own mission of revenging the death ofhis wife, Marsha, by a drunk driver and the rape ofhis daughter, Connie. Even though these atrocities had been solved, he had a vendetta against men who took advantage of defenseless women. What part would he play in the life of the beautiful Dr. Greta Drake?

He was drawn into the case at The Physician’s Clinic by being handed the cold file of one of the missing women. He pulled three other cases from the closed file and felt in his heart they were related. He, along with Dr. Greta Drake would give their all to bring the killer

to justice—or were theyjust missing, like the hospital and the Orlando police department would have the public to believe?

P A R T I

WHERE ARE THE BODIES?

Evil is unspectacular and always human, and shares our bed and eats at our own table.

—W. H. Auden (1907—73)

C H A P T E R 1 

A NEW BEGINNING

Damn! It is hot as a blazing inferno! she mumbled with drops of sweat making their way to her eyes. It was five o’clock p.m., ThursdayJuly 6, 2000, a hot steamy day. Waves of heat were generating up from the pavement like burgers on a grill. Clear blue skies—except for one small dark cloud that looked out of place hovering just back of her. Dr. Greta Leigh Drake paid no special attention to the cloud—perhaps it was an omen, and then again, Greta was not looking for any signs. This was the new millennium, her new beginning; she had no time to dwell on anything other than happiness and high expectations. If fate had something else in store, Greta certainly was not aware of it.

She pulled under the canopy of The Physician ‘s Clinic. It sat beneath four huge palm trees that were pressed against each corner, surrounded by an assortment of lush green plants known only to Florida. The white stucco building, which took up the better part of a block, had teal canvas awnings over the windows; a canopy in the same color covered a wide circular drive-through leading to double glass doors. The sign by the door said that it opened at 8:00 a.m. and closed at 4:00 p.m.; it was closed and she was glad of that.

Greta removed the scrap of paper from her purse and compared the number over the door to the one she had written down. She looked at the street sign and everything matched. This was indeed 723 Lake view loop, in Orlando Florida.

Greta was a long way from her former home in Norfolk, Virginia. She had a degree from the prestigious Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland, and was now certified in internal Medicine. After reviewing several replies to her applications sent to several hospitals, she decided on the one from Florida. She thought perhaps a career near the sand and sun would be right down her alley. Besides, they offered her a ten-thousand-dollar bonus to sign on, and lots of help in other ways.

She had driven the fourteen-hour drive down interstate 95, in twelve. The air conditioner in her white ‘96 Firebird had given out just before she reached Florence, South Carolina. Her clothes were wet and she was sticking to the red leather seat. Taking in her surroundings, she noticed the temperature at the First Federal Bank across the street. It was a sultry 97 degrees. The sun hung overhead like a gigantic orange ball of fire. She was glad the clinic was closed so she could check it out, at least from the outside and she liked what she was seeing so far. She observed a car in the back parking lot and knowing the medical field like she did, she was correct in assuming that some poor soul was working over trying to catch up. As for the heat, "Welcome to Florida," she said aloud.

She had been assured of the position by Dr. Neil Taylor, the head doctor at the Ocean View Regional Medical Center. She was told that the interview was just a formality to introduce her to the staff and the other two doctors that she would be working with. She wasn’t expected until the ungodly hour of seven in the morning. As a rule the early hour would not matter, however, after the drive it would have been nice to be able to sleep in on her first day in town.

She knew nothing about the doctors that she would be working with, other than they were men. She was also told that she and the other two doctors would be equals in their status, however she might wish to lie back somewhat and draw from the experience of her peers.

Greta took the last part of that statement to say, Don ‘t forget, you are a woman andyou might learn a thing or two from our male doctors.

Greta had an open mind and she would be willing to watch and listen until she had her bearings, nevertheless, she would not now, or ever, take a backseat to anyone just because she was female.

She ran her fingers through her thick black hair pulling it back from her sweaty forehead. She searched for a rubber band in the glove compartment, breaking a fingernail in the process; she gathered her hair and fastened it up off of her long slim white neck.

Greta Drake was a thirty-year-old single woman that had given up a good paying job in 1991, when she was twenty-one, as an accountant for a publishing company to pursue her dream of being a doctor. She was frustrated with being abandoned in a one-girl office working long hours. It was expected of her to carry work home and come in on weekends if necessary. There had been no chance for any lasting relationships, male or female. She wanted something more out oflife. She wasn’t sure she could swing what she wanted but it was painfully aware to her that she had to make some drastic changes in her life before it was too late. After all, she wasn’t getting any younger and she wanted to be married and young enough to enjoy her children.

The grind of going to college in Maryland, working nights as a waitress, hitting the books, driving back to Norfolk on the weekends to spend time with her great-aunt Rose, never left anytime for someone special in her life. She knew that being a doctor would be most demanding, however, she would at least be doing something that she loved and she would be working with and for lots of people. Most of all, she hungered for the interaction with the people. She wanted to be a vital part of those that she could laugh and cry with, like family.

Greta pulled the sun-visor down and flipped up the mirror. Her lipstick was gone, just a hint of a lip liner remained. Her full lips with beads of perspiration over them, curled around even white teeth. Her pink tongue flicked around her teeth and she wished that she had a piece of gum. Running her fingers beneath her violet eyes, she tried to smooth out the smudges from her eyeliner. Greta was a stunning woman with a perfect oval face that ended in a delicately pointed chin. Adorning her face was perfectly arched brows.

Retrieving a bottle of spring water from her cooler on the seat beside her, she opened the cap and took a long thirsty drink. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she placed the cold bottle against her flushed cheeks and forehead. Taking a tissue she wet it with the water, blotted her face, and unfastened the first two buttons of her sleeveless red shirt. She ran the tissue around to the back of her neck and between the cleavages of her firm breast. Finally, she secured the cold bottle between her shapely milk-white legs clad in denim shorts, and pulled out from under the canopy. The next stop would be her condominium. She was told that it was located on a lakefront in an older part of town.

She stopped one more time before leaving the massive parking area. Turning the scrap of paper over she rechecked the address and the directions. She had to get onto I-4 take the Landing Point exit and make a right on to Orchid Street, in Winter park. It would be a gated community called The Garden Lakes and her address would be 1213 Santiago Court. She had rented it furnished sight unseen through a Realtor suggested by Dr. Taylor. She felt good about what they told her but her top priority was to find a cold shower.

Greta Drake was indeed on the threshold of an exciting new career but she had no way of knowing just how exciting and frightening it would prove to be. There was no way that this Tennessee born woman who had lived a basically sheltered life, raised by an elderly great-aunt, who passed away the year before, could even began to imagine what lay ahead. She did know that she was deeply in debt with college loans—to the tune of seventy-five thousand grand, had fifty-four dollars and thirty-two cents in her purse, and fifteen hundred in the bank in Virginia. She was hoping to use the bonus from the hospital to buy a better car.

She merged with the traffic and headed to I-4—she was on her way.

Perhaps the butterflies that churned in her stomach ever so often, plus the little black cloud that seemed to be following her, and she has yet to notice, was an ominous warning to turn back. However, it was too late for that—Dr. Greta L. Drake had arrived...

C H A P T E R 2 

WHERE IT ALL BEGAN

Greta Leigh Drake was born in Memphis Tennessee, on January 15, 1970, to Patricia and Donald Drake. She was an only child and the only one to survive an automobile crash on an ice covered mountain road. It would be a date that she would always remember, because the terrible event happened the day she turned twelve, January 15, 1982.

The story had been repeated so many times, that sometimes, she felt that she remembered every horrible detail; that was not the case. She did remember bits and pieces about certain things before the accident; the rest was saved in a dog-eared scrapbook of yellowed photo’s and newspaper clippings.

She looked like her father she thought. They shared the same oval face and dark hair. She did possess her mother’s gentle but curious disposition (until she was pushed into a corner. If that happened she became fearlessly independent) and when she smiled it was her mother’s smile, each had a deep dimple on the right cheek.

One article read: Couple killed—childspared. It went on to say that the Drake’s were returning from an outing in downtown Memphis where they had been celebrating their daughters twelfth birthday. She remembered a blur of pizza, and a movie, or was that another time? She thought she could remember her mother and father sharing an embrace and a lingering kiss when they got in the car to go home. That was the one memory that gave her a warm feeling; but did it happen at that particular time? She wanted that memory to be true. She did know that they loved each other. That was important to Greta—having someone to love. The only ones that ever loved her were gone. It was a horrible feeling to be alone.

Drinking had been ruled out as the cause of the accident. It was just a case ofbad road conditions and losing control of the car. Other articles described the carnage at the scene as one of disbelief. Her mother and father were in the front seat; her father was driving. The 1980 Ford was wrapped around a tree, which cut the car in half. The article went on to say that her parents were killed instantly, but Greta, asleep in the back half of the car, was propelled down the highway some two hundred yards; young Greta was still strapped in her seat. She received a hard bump on her head when the seat fell over when it came to a stop. It was a blow that blocked out many memories of her childhood and mercifully she remembered nothing about the accident. She did not remember lying beneath the seat in the middle of the highway wondering where she was and wondering what happened, and screaming for her parents.

The Drakes were not a wealthy family nor were they poor. They were simply a hard working middle class family. Patricia Stanley was an elementary school teacher who married Donald Drake who was a driver for the BetterBread bakery. They married in 1972, and it would be ten years before Patricia was able to conceive and deliver, her daughter, Greta.

The only relative close by was Patricia’s mother, seventy-three year old, Abigail Stanley, who was very ill. Mrs. Stanley knew that she was not well enough to care for her granddaughter so she contacted her youngest sister, Rose Madison, in Norfolk Virginia, and begged her to care for Greta or else she would have to be put into a foster home.

Rose, who was sixty-nine, was reluctant at first but later relented and welcomed the shy little girl with knobby knees and black pigtails into her home. She knew if Abigail was not able to keep Greta there

would be no one else, because, the only other family member was their oldest sister, Clara Joann Morris. She was seventy-five and had been in a nursing home, called the Loving arms in Louisville, Kentucky, for the past ten years. She was an Alzheimer patient. Her husband Rufus, a railroad engineer, preceded her in death. They had no children.

Her grandmother Stanley died soon after Greta left Memphis. Rose felt it was too soon for such a little girl, who was already traumatized by the loss of her parents, to be faced with another death and burial. Therefore, there was no trip back to Memphis for the funeral. Since Greta had been very close to her grandmother, she felt a deep sense of loss and pain, in her passing. However, if Greta could remember how close she and her grandmother had been and all the things they did together, she would have been more distraught. Her grandmother Stanley taught her all the choruses that her mother had taught her. They use to reminisce about when her grandmother was a young girl. They took photographs, and sang and danced around the room. Greta and her grandmother had loved these times together, but now those forgotten memories would come back ever so often, like the morning mist kissing the roses and then it would fade away. Sometimes she would catch herself humming a silly tune about a hole in the bottom of the sea and wonder where she had heard that before.

The taking of Greta into her home was a decision that proved to be perfect for both of them. Greta needed a lot oflove and Rose, who had never married, had a lot oflove to give. Nevertheless, Rose was kept on her toes by Greta’s constant penchant for always wanting to know the why of everything. She had an insatiable thirst to have everything explained. She always sought out other avenues when something came to a supposedly dead-end. This curiosity would prove to be an asset on some levels and all most deadly on others.

The elderly aunt, who was a tiny wisp of a woman with silver hair and fading eyesight, and the young girl, came to depend on each other. The relationship remained the same until Rose died in her sleep at the age of eighty-seven. Greta found herself alone again, but she buried

herself in her studies and concentrated on her graduation and where her next move would take her. She was determined to start all over. That determination and grit came from her father, but she never remembered that about him, because it wasn’t revealed in his photographs.

She was her Aunt Roses’ only heir. Therefore, the house was left to her. Since the only tie to Norfolk had been her aunt, Greta sold the house and all the contents. She was surprised it sold so quickly. She invested the bulk of the hundred and fifty thousand dollars into varied stocks and bonds and the remainder into mutual funds. Her plans were to try and live off of her income as a doctor, pay off her school loans and save her investments for her eventual retirement. She never considered the inheritance for her day-to-day expenses. As far as she was concerned she had fifteen hundred dollars in the bank. Nevertheless, nothing was cast in stone.

Greta found The Garden Lakes without any problem. It was simply resplendent and was pure Florida. A cantaloupe painted stucco building with a deep terracotta tiled roof. White shutters framed the tinted windows. She parked in front of 1213 Santiago Court, retrieved her over-night bag from the back seat, leaving the two larger suitcases, along with some boxes of personal items belonging to her aunt, in the trunk of the car for the time being.

The key was where the Realtor told her it would be found. It was beneath the largest rock beside the walk on the right side. She loved the flowers and shrubs by the door and the window boxes filled with red Geraniums and white Verbena. She climbed the five steps; excitedly she turned the key and opened the door. It was exquisite! Instantly she was embraced by the coolness that beckoned her inside.

From the open door she could see a panoramic view of the living room, dining area, and opened French doors that led to the bedroom that had a king sized bed draped in ivory satin covers already turned down. Ceiling fans hummed softly from the high ceilings. She left the bag at the door, which she was careful to lock behind her. Kicking off her sandals, she walked across the living room to another set ofFrench doors that led to the balcony. The cream colored carpet (the color of sand) was plush and thick. She stood at the rail and clapped her hands at the sight of the ducks on the lake a few yards away. Egrets were walking across the grass and perching in the trees and Flamingos standing on one leg, that she thought was plastic until one moved. No doubt about it, this was Florida.

Retrieving the bag she left at the front door, she entered the bedroom. It was evident that a woman had lived here; it was so soft and feminine in every way. Everything was decorated in pastels and had the look and feel of what she dreamed Florida would look like. It was exactly what Greta wanted—and needed.

She quickly pulled her shirt, shorts, and panties off—the bra had come off somewhere around Florence, South Carolina. Greta was shapely, however she was almost too thin for her 5’5" frame. Nevertheless, she was a feast for any eyes that were fortunate to see her step into the shower. She loosened her black hair; it hung in long graceful curves over her shoulders. She turned the shower on cold and full blast. The cold water beat against her tired body. She soaped beneath and around her breast causing the pink nipples to stand erect. It felt marvelous, and she showered and shampooed for a full twenty minutes.

Drying off her long, lithe thighs, she was happy to recall that the water and utilities were included in her thousand dollars per month rent. Greta was not a tight-wad however, she watched her spending and was most grateful to her Aunt Rose and her inheritance.

Greta placed her toiletries on the counter, opened her lotion, and lathered every part of her body that she could reach. She brushed her hair as she wandered through her new home nude, taking in all the things she had missed.

The kitchen was all glass and stainless steel. A note on the counter welcomed her and reminded her there was a bottle of wine in the fridge. She smiled as she filled the chilled glass that was there, along with cold cuts. Fresh fruit, and a lovely basket of flowers adorned the table.

Greta walked through the house—still nude, munching on cheese and crackers and sipping her strawberry wine. She felt confident and most of all she felt needed. A shortage of doctors and nurses were everywhere and especially in Florida. Every hospital offered perks and bonuses to sign on.

She went to bed much earlier than usual. She threw the comforter back and slid between the cool satin sheets. Her raven hair fanned out on the pillow. Just as sleep was about to overcome her, she kicked the top sheet off, rolled to her side with her right leg drawn up and her left leg stretched out. Her head rested on her arm as she spiraled down into the blackness of sweet-welcomed sleep.

Everything was wonderful and peaceful—for now...

C H A P T E R 3 

THE FIRST MEETING

Greta assumed, after the introductions, that this would be a full workday. She dressed for work taking special care to look professional. She French braided her hair pulling it straight back from her face. A light touch of natural make-up transformed her white complexion to a peachy glow. She curled her dark lashes and slid a deep peach lipstick across her lips. Greta was very aware of her looks and style and she never missed a chance for those she encountered to notice her too.

She dressed in teal cotton slacks and top. She was thinking that it would match the décor and they, of course, not knowing that she had been there, would think it pretty neat. She smiled at the thought. She slipped her white nurses shoes on and her white lab coat. Lastly, she put her stethoscope in her pocket. She wasn’t completely green, she had completed her internship and residency at Johns Hopkins, and all ofher evaluations had been excellent. This however, was her first try on her own. Perhaps, she was not really on her own. She would have the help and support of two other doctors. All of this was part ofher plan. She rechecked her briefcase making sure she had her letters of recommendations; they were there.

The morning sun had not made its way up so the air was muggy but bearable. When she exited I-4, it was ten ‘til seven so she was on time.

There were three cars in the parking lot and she was sure they belonged to the three doctors. She pulled in beside a new gray Lincoln and vowed one day to have one of those too. The other two vehicles were a big black high-top van. It appeared to be a handicap van. She couldn’t help but notice that it needed a wash job; the other was a dark blue 250 Ram truck with a sleek topper over the bed.

The front door would be locked. She tried the door for employees only. It opened to her push and the security bell sounded. She stepped inside. She could hear voices coming from down the hall, but no one came to meet her. Following the sounds, they led her to the lounge. She stepped to the doorway and flashed her best smile. The three men stopped talking and stood to their feet. It was evident that they never heard the bell.

A man in his fifties with thinning blonde hair, and a thin mustache, came forward with his hand out stretched. The very way he stood told her that he had made it.

Dr Drake, I assume, he smiled taking her hand.

Yes, and you must be Dr. Neil Taylor. She said giving his hand a firm handshake.

Yes, please come in. Let me take your things. He placed her briefcase in a near by chair and turned quickly to introduce her to the man closest to her. He was tall, and beardless, with an ingenuously appealing face. He was at least six two. His dark hair, just graying at the temple, was full; one lock fell to his forehead. His piercing gray eyes bore into hers. She ventured a quick guess that he was probably in his late forties. She would be right.

Dr. Drake I want you to meet Dr. Nathan Blevins. He is an orthopedic surgeon, however, he is also board certified as an internist.

Dr. Blevins smiled and gave