CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When they arrived at the Hetfield residence, they found a typical pair of parents who had just been given the devastating news of a child being murdered. Sadly, it was something Rachel was far too familiar with. The mother was in an almost catatonic state. She sat at the kitchen table, partially collapsed onto it. Every now and then she would let out a guttural wail and then resume her silence.
As for the father, he had elected to do what he could to be the strong one. Rachel could clearly see that he was struggling to contain his own emotions. She could see it in his eyes and the way he moved rigidly around the kitchen. He was drinking a cup of tea and every time he set the mug down on the counter, Rachel thought it was going to shatter from the force of it.
“Mr. Hetfield, I know it’s hard to think past anything other than the news you received in the last few hours,” Rachel said. “But anything you can tell us now will give us a much better shot at who might be doing this.”
“Troy isn’t the only one,” Jack added. “Over the course of the last four days, two other people with terminal illnesses have been killed. And they’ve all been on the waiting list for Life Fulfilled.”
“My God,” Mr. Hetfield said. And with just those two words, Rachel saw even more of that emotion trying to stay locked up inside. His lips were trembling and the hand not holding the tea mug clenched and unclenched habitually. “But Troy…he was just placed on the list.”
“Yes, we know,” Jack said. “And I think that might be what we need from you. It’s been so recent for you, we were wondering if you might be able to walk us through what the process for signing up looks like. We have to assume that the killer somehow has access to the waiting list. So everything we can know about it from the patient side of things may help us immensely.”
“Oh, sure…um…” He trailed off, looking to his wife. “She did most of it, but I was there, you know. She—”
His wife let out another of her heartbroken wails and this time sat up in her chair. She left streaks of tears on the table and her face was red and swollen from crying.
“Sorry about that,” Mr. Hetfield said, but he did not move. It was clear that he did not want to let his wife out of his sight, wanting to keep a check on her. “The first step, of course, was just getting in touch with them. We called the office and they sent us a questionnaire. It wasn’t very long…maybe three pages…”
“Six,” Mrs. Hetfield said, her voice raw and raspy. “Six pages. And then we also needed copies of Troy’s most recent medical records. That was the hardest…hardest part.”
She started to weep again and Rachel wasn’t sure exactly how much help she was going to be—which was completely understandable.
“Was the questionnaire fairly standard?” Rachel asked. “No questions or items that seemed out of place?”
“None that I can recall,” Mr. Hetfield said. His wife only shook her head. “But I can let you see the questionnaire if you want.”
“If you could forward it to us when we’re done here, that may be helpful,” Rachel said.
“Anyway, after that, we sent it all in and they called us back within a few days. Certainly no more than a week. They told us from the start that there was a waiting list, so that wasn’t a surprise.”
“Do you have any idea how many people were ahead of you?” Jack asked.
“I think it was twenty-one or twenty-two people. Something like that. They said it could be up to six months, maybe longer. But we knew—or well, we thought—Troy had more time.” He stopped and let out his first true sign of grief since they’d arrived. He wept openly for a few seconds, wiping the tears away with his hands as if it made him angry to do so. “And if he had more time, we figured that made sense. People with more dire needs should come first.”
“The doctor,” Mrs. Hetfield said from her post at the table. “He was…he was strange, right?”
“Oh,” Mr. Hetfield said. He nodded but also rolled his eyes a bit, like he didn’t think it was really worth mentioning. “Yeah, there was a doctor we had to speak to just before Troy was given a spot on the waiting list.”
“Your standard family physician?” Rachel asked.
“No, this was a guy that works for Life Fulfilled.”
This seemed peculiar to Rachel. She’d seen no form of doctor’s office or examination rooms while they’d been in the Life Fulfilled building. It had also not come up in any of their conversations about the organization. Rachel thought it might be one of the more prominent features or talking points about a place like Life Fulfilled.
“Did you have any opinion about this doctor?” Rachel asked.
“Not really. I mean…he’s just a doctor, you know? From what I gathered, this guy is a retired doctor that Life Fulfilled has on a retainer. There were no real examinations to speak of at all. He basically just went over Troy’s records with us and asked about the history of his current condition. That sort of thing.” He fought with emotion for another moment or two but after a few seconds, managed to continue. “No one ever came out and said as much, but I’m pretty sure he’s like the last line of defense to make sure no one is trying to con the foundation…that no one is faking their illness.”
“And after speaking with him…?” Jack said.
“We were put on the list.”
“And do you happen to know his name?”
“Sorry, but I don’t remember.”
“Lucas,” Mrs. Hetfield said, her head once again lowered to the table surface as she drew in large, deep breaths. “Dr. Ben Lucas.”
Rachel committed the name to memory, looking over at Jack. She noted the look of slight confusion on Jack’s face, his brow slightly bunched up and his eyes thoughtful. She assumed he was thinking the same thing she was: the fact that no one at Life Fulfilled had yet mentioned such a doctor seemed odd. It was almost as if they were trying to hide the position from the prying eyes of people outside of the foundation.
More than that, it gave them a potential lead and a reason to quickly get out of the Hetfields’ house, allowing them the proper time and environment in which to grieve.