THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH: A Suspenseful Action-Packed Thriller

by Nolan Thomas

  “Riley, don’t make a sound.”

  Casey covered the sides of the cart with sheets so no one could see the bottom shelf. She hung large plastic bags on each side of the cart, and wadded up a few towels and put them in each bag.

  Two police officers had already arrived. If Casey and Riley had any chance to leave, it was now or never.

  Casey opened the door of the maintenance room and pushed the cart out into the hall. The room with Officer McGuire’s body was several doors away, and everyone’s attention focused on that part of the floor. The cart was heavy and awkward to steer, but Casey kept pushing. She hoped no one would notice how much she struggled.

  So far, so good. No one seemed to notice her. Several more police officers and the crime scene investigators charged down the hallway and nearly knocked her over. Casey reached the elevator bank and waited for the next car.

  The elevator moved in fear-distorted time. It seemed to take forever.

  37

  BILLY SHOUTED, “CASEY? CASEY? CAN you hear me?”

  Dead air.

  “What’s the matter? What’s going on?” Jeremiah asked. He’d heard enough of Billy’s side of the conversation to know things were going south, fast.

  “Her phone. It died when we were talking. I’m not sure . . .” Billy swallowed hard.

  “You’re right. We can’t be sure of anything right now except that Casey is a smart woman with a child to protect. My money’s on her. We’ve got to assume she heard your plan and she’ll be there.”

  Billy hesitated a few seconds and then said, “Do you think it’s just her battery?”

  “Can’t say for sure, but it does seem the most likely. You’ve all been on the move for a while now. You’ve got yours plugged in right now. Maybe Casey just forgot to recharge. Could be as simple as that.”

  “You’re probably right. At least I hope to God you’re right.”

  Billy updated Jeremiah on everything Casey had just told him, and asked him to call Captain Diaz.

  “Done.”

  Jeremiah immediately called the Captain and gave him a quick update.

  “Look, I know you’re worried that Dixon found them, or something like that. But don’t you think you would’ve heard some kind of commotion if that was the case? Didn’t you say the line just went dead? It’s not like the old land-lines where the bad guy could cut a wire and it went dead. Wouldn’t she have to take the phone from Casey to turn it off? Or worse yet, physically hurt her and then turn it off? I’m thinking if that happened you would’ve heard something.”

  “Good point, Jeremiah. Thanks.”

  “Once we get Casey and Riley, where are you headed?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

  “How about my cabin? She’d never know to look for Riley there. I’m in the middle of nowhere out there, but I’m wired up the ass with satellite, so we can do whatever research we need and stay in touch with Vince to get updates on the investigation.”

  Billy sighed with relief. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  “Whoa! Let’s keep this platonic.”

  They both laughed.

  “Seriously, I keep the place well stocked, so there’s plenty of food and everything else we might need. It’s small, but comfortable. We can make do.”

  Billy turned the car into the emergency room parking lot. He looked at his watch. Right on time, but no sign of Casey.

  “Relax, son. We don’t know how hard it might have been for her to get out of the hospital. Let’s just sit here and wait for her. You keep scanning a full one-eighty on the right of the Jeep, and I’ll do the same on the left side. Maybe she needs to exit from a different area, or she’s already outside hiding.

  Billy opened the glove compartment, pulled out a 9mm Sig Sauer P226, and attached the holster to his belt. Both men fell silent, intent on their search.

  Time dragged by agonizingly slowly.

  “She’s five minutes late, Jeremiah. I’ve got to go in there and look for them.”

  “No,” Jeremiah said, grabbing Billy’s arm. “You don’t know what kind of situation they’re in. You might put them in more jeopardy than they’re already in. Things may have completely changed in there. Obviously the cops are here. Casey and Riley may be with Vince by now. Give him a call. He needs to know about Casey’s status anyway.”

  Billy called Vince. It rang but there was no answer. He got Vince’s voice mail and left an update on Riley and Casey’s predicament, where he and Jeremiah were located, and where they would head when he found Casey and Riley. He told Vince to call back as soon as he got the message.

  “He didn’t pick up. I don’t like this,” Billy said.

  “Don’t let your imagination take over,” Jeremiah counseled. “There could be a hundred reasons why Vince didn’t answer his phone. Hell, he could be talking to someone else. I know it’s tough as hell, Billy, but you can’t jump to conclusions. We have to work with the facts. All we know for sure is Casey’s on the run with Riley; Dixon hadn’t found them yet; she most likely got enough of your conversation to know where we are. I don’t know Casey, but from what you’ve told me about her, I think she’ll do whatever she can to get to us.”

  “You’re right Jeremiah. I’ll give it thirty minutes. If we haven’t seen Casey, or if Vince hasn’t called by then, I’m going in.”

  “Sounds reasonable, son.”

  They fell into silence as each man surveyed his area for any signs of Casey and Riley.

  38

  AGENT NIKA ROLINSKA WASN’T USED to her operations not succeeding. Not yet thirty, Rolinska had established herself as one of Russia’s most valuable operatives. She had been bred for the job. At the age of five she scored in the ninety-eighth percentile on intelligence tests, demonstrated an aptitude for learning languages, and her lineage and genetic testing indicated she would grow to meet or exceed the physical standards required. Young Nika had been placed in a special facility with other similarly selected children. There she received her education along with physical fitness training. As she grew, so did her specialized training: weapons, explosives, hand-to-hand combat, intelligence, and infiltration.

  Nika Rolinska. Kathryn Dixon. Regardless of the name used, failure was not an option.

  She decided to stay in the hospital in case information about Riley surfaced. She got on the elevator and pushed the button for the top floor. It was Friday night so the executive offices should be empty. She needed to make a call.

  The elevator arrived at its destination. Only fire safety lights lit the hallway. The place seemed quieter than a cemetery after the gates closed for the night. Rolinska found an unlocked office. In her experience, the administrative departments in hospitals had a high degree of security while executive offices had little or none.

  Rolinska took a small black case from her pocket and used a miniature powdered brush on the coffee cup she had removed from Riley’s room. She took a picture of the detailed finger print with her phone and sent it to her agency. Rolinska then placed a call.

  “Yes,” the Voice said.

  “Agent Nika Rolinska.”

  “Verification sequence?”

  “Red Tide 3359X.”

  “Verification accepted. What is your request?”

  “I just sent a print I need identified. I also want everything you have on a Washington, DC police detective, Vince Amato. This is a Code 17 emergency. The subject I was to eliminate is missing from the hospital. Do you have any update for me about police activity regarding the case?”

  The Voice on the other end of the phone told her the body of Officer McGuire had been found, and the police were at the scene.

  “Judge Jason Maxwell has been identified. An autopsy is underway. The pathologist extracted the bullet, and it is currently being examined. The FBI is investigating the case of the missing child and murdered social worker. We classify this situation as a threat to the Operation,” the Voice said.

  “
Contact me immediately when you get the infor--”

  “Wait,” the Voice interrupted. “I have preliminary results on those prints. They belong to a Maeve Callahan.”

  “I’ve never heard of that person.”

  “We are accessing our records as we speak,” the Voice said.

  “Good. Contact me as soon as you get something. This is top priority.”

  Rolinska decided to return to the third floor and see if any information had surfaced about Riley’s whereabouts. She followed the lighted exit sign to the stairway. Stairs were safer than elevators. More options if necessary. She felt her Russian MP-443 Grach resting snugly in its shoulder rig under the oversized scrubs, although she favored her razor-sharp automatic knife. She found the cold steel comforting, even erotic at times. It empowered her with an extraordinary sense of control.

  Rolinska patted her pocket and felt for the syringe. Still there. How ironic she carried a pistol, blade, and syringe. She took out men twice her size with her bare hands. Rolinska diligently maintained her excellent physical conditioning. It sometimes meant the difference between her life and death.

  She entered the stairwell and descended the first eight flights with ease, moving with the stealth of a lioness stalking its prey. Her descent was inaudible to the average person taking the stairs. Most were absorbed in their own thoughts, or engaged in conversation with someone.

  Exiting the stairwell at the fourth-floor landing, Rolinska crossed over to the elevator. Few people took the stairs these days, and she didn’t want to call any undue attention to herself when she reached the third floor. The elevator held only a few people, none of them police. She got in and hit the button for the third floor.

  When the doors opened, a cleaning woman, clumsily pushing her cart onto the elevator, nearly ran into Rolinska.

  39

  SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! DID SHE recognize me? My God, those nearly colorless eyes, so disturbingly intense they barely look human. More like robot eyes. No . . . Terminator eyes.

  How in the hell am I supposed to save Riley from the Terminator? Calm down, Casey. Riley needs you. Deep breaths. Come on, just a couple more. She didn’t turn around, so maybe she didn’t see me. Good. Heart isn’t pounding quite as much. Think, Casey, think. Billy is going to be outside waiting for us. I just need to get to the first floor and head for the emergency room corridor. Think, Casey. Stay calm. You can do this.

  YELLOW CRIME-SCENE TAPE sectioned off the area surrounding Riley’s hospital room and the room where Officer McGuire’s body had been discovered. Uniformed police filled the corridor. Rolinska stood close to the nurses’ station, taking in all the activity.

  “What happened?” Rolinska asked.

  “Oh, it’s just horrible,” said the frightened nurse to the doctor. “We had an adorable little girl in here, rescued from a fire. The police must have thought it was arson or something because they posted a guard outside her room. One of our nurses found the guard’s body in the room next door, and the girl and the lovely lady who was visiting her are missing.”

  “You mean the girl’s mother?”

  “No. Evidently the poor little thing was an orphan. I don’t know who the woman was. I’m guessing she was someone from DCFS assigned to the case. We see that in here sometimes. It’s so hard to believe. They must have been kidnapped.”

  “What makes you think they were kidnapped? There are so many people on this floor, how could that have happened?”

  “What else could it have been? No other bodies were found, and the two of them are nowhere on the floor. I heard one of the policemen talking on the phone about coordinating a search of the entire hospital for the missing girl.”

  “Didn’t anyone see anything? Surely somebody saw something,” Rolinska prodded.

  “No, evidently not. The police talked to everyone on duty, but we’re all so busy,” the nurse didn’t finish her sentence, she merely shook her head as a final, dismal commentary on the situation.

  “What a sad and frightening story. Do they have any idea who did this?”

  “The police aren’t talking. We’re all guessing it’s the same people who started the fire. It’s hard to understand how anyone could want to harm a child.”

  Rolinska joined in the head-shaking with the nurse. Commiseration often resulted in the interviewee being more open and willing to talk.

  “It all must have happened so quickly,” the nurse continued.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the woman staying with the girl had just been out here at the nurses’ station. She went through the girl’s things, looking for a locket with a picture of the child’s mother in it. Evidently the child was frantic over losing it. So sad when you think about it. Fortunately, the woman retrieved the locket and headed back to the girl’s room. Next thing I knew, Sandy found the policeman’s body, and all hell broke loose.”

  Rolinska remembered the auburn-haired woman with pretty blue eyes she’d seen at the nurses’ station. This had to be the same woman the nurse was talking about. This woman must be Maeve Callahan.

  It dawned on her that she had just seen pretty blue eyes again a few minutes ago—the cleaning woman. Rolinska had noticed her struggling with the cart, but just assumed she was clumsy.

  Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! How could she let a detail like that slip by? The woman wasn’t clumsy. The cart was too heavy for her to handle because Riley hid in there. Smart. Very smart.

  The elevator pinged and Rolinska watched Detective Amato exit the car. He hurried past the nurses’ station and headed straight for the crime scene. She couldn’t risk the detective recognizing and questioning her. Rolinska had a cleaning woman to find.

  The nurse, distracted when the handsome policeman walked by, raised her eyebrows and said, “At least there’s one upside to the situation.”

  The nurse turned her attention back to their conversation only to find the doctor gone—as if she had vanished into thin air.

  40

  ROLINSKA WAS IN THE STAIRWELL when her phone vibrated.

  “Yes.”

  “Verification sequence?” the Voice requested.

  “Red Tide 3359X.”

  “Verification accepted.”

  “I have background information on Detec--”

  “Get on with it!” Rolinska snapped.

  “Detective Vincent James Amato is a lifelong resident of Washington, DC. He received his basic instructions in police work at the Maurice T. Turner Jr. Metropolitan Police Academy ten years ago and he has been with the Criminal Investigations Division ever since. He has an exemplary record and has been promoted regularly throughout his career. He is single, has never been married.”

  “Anything on Maeve Callahan yet?”

  “Maeve Elizabeth Callahan, called Casey, is a Legislative Director for US Senator Samuel Hennessey. She received a bachelor degree in history and political science from the University of Illinois, and obtained her law degree from the University of Illinois College of Law. During her final year of law school she worked as a volunteer on Senator Hennessey’s reelection campaign. After the election, the Senator hired Callahan to work in DC. She is well respected by her peers and is considered a close aide to the Senator. She is single, has never been married.”

  “Do you want the additional family details for either Amato or Callahan at this time?”

  The Voice lost her struggle to keep the hint of irritation out of her question. She had been doing legwork for this rude agent for years. Unfortunately, Agent Rolinska was very good at her work. However, this assignment appeared to be getting slightly out of hand. At the first sign of a slip up, the Voice would make sure to let her superiors know about the problem.

  “No. I know enough. Keep it available. What links Riley Sinclair to Casey Callahan?” demanded Rolinska.

  “No connection.”

  “Bullshit! There has to be a connection. Why would she be in the hospital room with Riley?”

  “We will continue our research.”


  “Are there any updates on the investigations into the other deaths?”

  “Nothing at this time.”

  Rolinska didn’t like getting attitude from this inferior who sat safe and sound, surrounded by her computers all day, like she was some sort of information queen. The real work was done in the field, out here in the trenches where your very survival was on the line every day.

  Moscow kept the field support staff identities a secret, but she thought it shouldn’t be too hard to find her. Perhaps when this was all over, Rolinska would teach her what it was like in the field, where bad things happened all the time.

  Rolinska reached the first-floor landing. She entered the lobby and searched for any sign of Casey and her cart. Rolinska crossed to the bank of elevators. The light above the elevator car Casey last occupied indicated it was on the second floor. Rolinska scanned the all-but-vacant main lobby. She peered down the hallway to the emergency room, bustling with Friday night activity. Rolinska changed course. If she were in Casey’s shoes, she would head for the busiest exit.

  Casey was intelligent. After all, she did get Riley out of the third-floor wing without anyone noticing. Based on the time their paths crossed in the elevator, Casey must have hidden somewhere in the hospital wing before attempting an escape. Surely Riley had spilled her guts about everything by now.

  How in the hell did this Casey Callahan person know to move Riley from her hospital room at that precise moment? What tipped her off? Of course she knew Riley was in danger, but what made her spring into action in those limited seconds?

  These questions intrigued Rolinska.

  She slipped into a ladies’ room located just past the double doors leading into the emergency room waiting area. She pulled off the surgical mask and cap, removed her scrubs, revealing simple gray pants, a cotton T-shirt, and a navy blazer. She tightly balled up the no-longer-needed disguise, and placed the bundle in the trash. She grabbed paper towels from the dispenser, wadded them up, and dropped them in the waste can on top of the scrubs to hide the discarded clothing. She ran her fingers through her blond bob, hair easily falling into the desired shape. A good hair cut was worth its weight in gold.