Fairmont looked at him as though he’d asked the most stupid question in the world. “Getting drunk.”
“On your own?”
“Yes. At home,” he said. “I’m not stupid, you know. You’re asking me for an alibi. What’s this about?”
“What about the previous night?” Laura asked instead. “Were you doing the same thing?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “That’s what I do every single night. It’s not like I have a job to sober up for anymore. Or a family. I might as well just drown my sorrows.”
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Nate glanced at Laura from the corner of his eye. Maybe she shouldn’t be here for this. It could trigger something, end up making her drink again. And he didn’t even think it was useful anymore. Sure, the guy didn’t really have an alibi. But with how drunk he’d obviously been—was there really any way he would possibly be able to commit a murder? Especially one as smooth as those they’d seen, right under the noses of police?
Would he have the coordination, or even the body strength, to climb up and then down a wall to get in through a bathroom window?
“Have you been watching the news this week, Dr. Fairmont?” Nate asked, deciding to switch the conversation away from alcohol and onto the crimes at hand.
“No,” he answered, sharply. He obviously held a lot of bitterness. At least that was interesting. And there was always the possibility that he was trying to bluff them. Maybe he wasn’t as drunk as he claimed. Maybe he’d started drinking only once the murders were done. “I’ve been on a bender for months. What part of that don’t you understand?”
“So, then, you haven’t heard about the latest spate of murders in Milwaukee? The deaths of three people?”
“No,” Fairmont said, then seemed to stiffen a little, his eyes darting between Nate and Laura in search of answers. “What’s that got to do with me?”
Laura opened a folder she had sitting in front of her and pushed three sheets of paper from it toward Fairmont. He leaned over, having to put his head down closer to the table to focus on them. “These are the birth records of three people,” she said. “Each of them is shown as having been delivered by you.”
He squinted at each of the records in turn. “I don’t necessarily remember the names of the babies, but yes, I’d say these were mine. I was working at that hospital at the time, and these are all multiple births, so I would have been the doctor on call for them.”
“Each of those people was murdered over the last two nights,” Laura said. Her words seemed to crack through the air, making Fairmont lift his head in what certainly looked like genuine shock.
“What?” he said, then looked down at them again. “But… they were so young.” There was a sadness in his expression that Nate hadn’t banked on.
“Murderers don’t tend to consider age as a saving factor,” Nate said drily. “Now, as far as we can tell, the only link between these three people is the fact that you delivered them.”
Fairmont cocked his head at that, frowning. “Nearly twenty-five years ago. Surely you don’t think that’s still a relevant factor?”
“It is if you were the one to kill them,” Laura said coolly. She was leaning back in her chair, fixing the doctor with an even stare.
She was colder since they’d stopped talking properly. More distant. Not just with Nate, but with everyone. He’d hoped it wouldn’t impact their work, but it clearly was. It was probably working in this case, though, and he said nothing. For all he knew, she mystically knew something he didn’t, and this was all part of a plan to lure him into telling the truth. She wouldn’t confide that to Nate, even if it was. He was operating in the dark with one hand tied behind his back.
“Me?” Fairmont said, with a curve around his mouth that seemed to be about to burst into laughter. He looked between them uncertainly, and it died on his lips. “You’re not serious?”
“You were practicing medicine with a suspended license,” Nate said, which sounded like a change in topic but really wasn’t. It was all linked. If he was the killer, then it had to be.
“And?” Fairmont asked. He looked down at the three pieces of paper in front of him almost helplessly. “Doesn’t that prove I would be the last person in the world to hurt them?”
“How so?” Nate asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Because I did everything I could to carry on helping people,” Fairmont said, the trace of bitterness in his voice coming back. “I just wanted to give these babies the best chance at survival. Multiple births are tricky. They can be dangerous. They need someone with steady hands, someone who knows how to make sure they all make it. I took the risk of continuing to practice because I just couldn’t leave them in the hands of someone with less experience.”
Nate considered him, studying his face. His eyes were open wide. His hands were spread beseechingly on the table, palms up. It made sense, what he was saying. But… there was always that “but,” that doubt.
“Or perhaps losing your career made you feel bitter,” Laura said, and she was obviously right about that much. “Perhaps you decided to take it out on the people you’d helped over the years. If they won’t let you help anyone else, maybe they don’t deserve to benefit from your work. Maybe you decided to undo your record, wipe out the babies you’d helped to birth. Show them all what they’re missing, what they would have missed if you hadn’t continued to practice.”
Fairmont shook his head incredulously. “Why would I do that? I’d have given anything to work again. Anything. I dedicated my life to this. Why would I destroy my own legacy?”
“Yes,” Laura said evenly, looking at him. “Why would you?”
The subtext was clear. His decision to carry on practicing instead of getting his license fully reinstated first had shot himself in the foot. Then he’d become a drunk. He’d ruined his own reputation, reduced himself to the mess who sat in front of them. He’d done that.