by Karen Rose
She looked up at him, her skepticism clear. But she didn’t have much choice, did she? No, she did not. She must have figured the same thing because she reached into the backpack and began to assemble what she needed to fix his hand.
She unwrapped the bandage. “This already looks infected. You need an antibiotic.”
“I know,” he murmured, grateful that she was being gentle.
He almost wished she’d be a jerk. But she wasn’t. She cleaned out the wound and stitched it quickly and competently. Then rebandaged it.
She took a step back, not meeting his eyes. He scooped up the remaining suture supplies into the backpack, making sure he packed the bloody gauze pads in the front pouch. He wouldn’t leave them behind.
“Thank you,” he said again. “Let’s go.”
He gestured for her to get back behind the wheel and resumed his place behind her seat. After closing the doors, he directed her to go north, past Sacramento International Airport. “Continue on this road.”
She complied, turning when he told her to, her body shaking with terror as they got closer to the river. She brought the minivan to an abrupt stop on the two-lane access road.
“No,” she declared. “I’m not going to make this any easier for you. You’re going to kill me and dump me in the river. You can drag me the whole way. I’m not driving up to the water’s edge.”
He had to respect her guts. But it didn’t change what he had to do. “Okay,” he said. “Suit yourself.” Leaning forward, he released her seat belt and, sliding the forearm of his injured hand behind her head, quickly knocked her off balance and over the console.
He put his gun to her head and pulled the trigger, grateful for the silencer. A mild pop later, she fell over the console into the passenger seat.
He drove to the river’s edge and found a portion of road with nothing nearby. No one coming or going. No one to see what he was doing. He opened the front passenger door, pulled the nurse’s body out and to the ground, then kicked her into the river.
She’d end up on shore eventually, but hopefully not before morning.
Then he got back into the van and drove back toward the city.
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 7:45 P.M.
Daisy found her father and Karl in the waiting room. Talking. And smiling. Both men’s eyes were red and Daisy considered that a promising thing. Both stood when she entered. “Did you get kicked out?” Karl asked.
She hugged them both and took the empty chair between them. “I did,” she said when they’d sat down. “Irina told me to let someone else have a turn. Which meant her.” She held her father’s hand. “So did you guys kiss and make up?”
Karl chuckled. “We did.”
“Except Irina did the kissing,” Frederick added. “How is Agent Reynolds?”
“Annoyed that he can’t go back to work tomorrow,” she said with a shrug. Leaning her head on her father’s shoulder, she closed her eyes on a sigh. “I’m tired.”
“You have a right to be,” Frederick murmured, kissing her forehead. “You’ve had an eventful few days.”
Now that she knew Gideon was all right, her mind was awake and spinning even though her body was weary. “Indeed.”
“I’ll take you to Karl’s house,” Frederick said. “You should sleep.”
Daisy shook her head. “I’m staying.” She held her hand up to stop her father’s disapproval. “He asked me to stay. I promised him I’d be here when he woke up.”
Frederick sighed. “All right then. You should stay.”
Now that she knew Gideon was all right, all her mind could see was Trish’s body, covered in blood on her living room floor. “Trish has been dead for almost forty-eight hours. The morgue’s had her for twenty-four. How long before they release her body?”
Frederick wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“Rafe will know,” Karl said. “I’m so sorry, honey. She was a nice young woman.”
“Yes, she was,” Daisy agreed sadly, her chest suddenly heavy and tight. “I’m listed as her next of kin. She had no family. I have to plan her . . . what to do with her.”
Karl reached over and tilted her chin up until she looked up at him. “She had family, Daisy. She had us. We’ll help you with the arrangements. Don’t worry. If Rafe doesn’t know when her body will be released, I’ll call the morgue. Irina and I have friends in the funeral home business. We’ll find one who’ll take care of Trish, okay?”
Daisy’s eyes stung. “Thank you. I’ve never planned a funeral before.”
“Is that what you want?” Karl asked. “A traditional funeral?”
“I think she would,” Daisy murmured.
“Well,” Frederick said with a sigh, “she won’t know. You will. Funerals are for the living, honey. It’s the opportunity for her friends to get together and remember her life.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” she whispered. “Trish has a lot of friends.” She winced. “Had a lot of friends. She grew up around here, so she had a lot of friends outside of work and school and AA. People I’ve never even met. We’ll get the word out and have a party at the community center. That’s what she would have wanted. I’ll ask Rosemary for help in reserving a room. She’s my sponsor and manages the room reservations for AA. She’ll know who to ask to get a room big enough for Trish’s friends.”
Both men went still. “What?” she asked, looking from one to the other.
“We’ll need to get security,” Frederick said. “In case he tries to get you again.”
Because the bastard was still out there, walking around with a piece of his hand missing. “I agree that we need security, but not that he was after me. He shot at Gideon.”
“And if he’d killed him?” Frederick asked quietly. “He would have killed you next.”
Once again, the image of Trish’s mutilated body flashed through her brain. “You’re right,” she murmured. That could have been me. He would have done that to me. “We’ll ask the FBI and SacPD to provide surveillance, just in case he crashes Trish’s service.”
“How will we know him?” Karl asked. “Other than a basic physical description, nobody knows what he looks like. And if you make it an open invitation, you won’t know who’s supposed to be there versus who’s just there to either gawk, report on the story, or . . . hurt you.”
“He’ll have an injured hand, for starters.” Daisy thought of the bare skin below the hollow of Trish’s throat. “And he’ll probably be wearing her necklace.”
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 8:40 P.M.
He pulled the minivan into the parking lot of the hospital nearest to his house. It didn’t have a special unit for kids, but it had a general ER and that would have to do. His hand throbbed, his head ached, and he was utterly spent. He’d slept fitfully in his car the night before, waiting for Agent Reynolds and Daisy to emerge from their hotel, then that clusterfuck on the mountain, and then the drive home.
Throw in killing the nurse and he’d had a fucking busy day.
Almost done. Almost home. He got out of the car and looked around for anyone who’d see him. Finding no one, he turned off the ignition, leaving nothing but blissful silence. He popped the locks, got out, and opened the slider door.
The kid stared up at him, all blinking brown eyes. “See you around, kid. Sorry about all this.” Then he made sure his hat was on straight and the wig was covering his face.
He started walking toward his own house. All he wanted was a shower and his own bed. And after a good night’s sleep, he wanted Zandra. Fortunately, he still had her available, because he’d have a helluva lot of stress come morning.
He’d gone five blocks when he saw a pay phone. Snugging the cap down to cover his face, he lifted the receiver and dialed 911.
“W
hat is your emergency?”
“I saw a baby abandoned in a car in the parking lot of the hospital.”
“Which hospital, sir?”
“The one at J and Forty-first.” He hung up before the operator could ask any more questions. “Okay, kid,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s the best I got.”
He still had a mile to go before he got home. He’d done this route a hundred times on his morning jog, but he hadn’t been bone tired with a shot-up hand then.
He also hadn’t been one step away from life in prison before, either. The real danger of being caught gave him the extra burst of energy he needed to make it the rest of the way.
He let himself in, then let Mutt in from the backyard. “Sorry I left you outside. I bet you’re hungry.” He gave the dog some food, then staggered off to the shower.
He let out a sigh of relief. He’d done it. He’d gotten himself home, where the cops would never find him. He’d dealt with the baby. Tomorrow, he’d deal with the Fed and Daisy Dawson. For now . . . sleep. That was all he wanted.
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 2:10 A.M.
The throbbing pain in his arm pulled Gideon from a fitful sleep, but it was the sniffling that fully woke him. He turned to see Daisy sitting in the chair next to him, her head bowed, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.
Her shoulders shaking with sobs she was desperately trying to keep quiet.
His heart crumbled, watching her. She’d been through so much the past few days, yet she’d continually held herself together. “Hey,” he said, his voice coming out gravelly.
She looked up through her hair, one hand clamping over her mouth while the other wiped at her eyes. Turning her head so that he couldn’t see her face, she shuddered out a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“You didn’t. My arm did. Why are you asleep in the chair? You should be at Karl and Irina’s, in a real bed.”
“You asked me to stay.”
He frowned. “I did?”
She nodded. “You did.” She dashed away a few more tears. “You were on some good drugs, I think. You were falling asleep.”
“That was kind of selfish of me to ask,” he said. “But I’m finding it hard to feel regret for my actions.” He could get used to waking up to her pretty face. “Come here.” He patted the edge of the bed. “Put the railing down and come here.”
She looked over her shoulder. “I think the nurses will yell.” But she got up to lean over the rail to place a kiss on his forehead. “You should go back to sleep.”
“I can’t.” He patted the bed again. “I don’t want any more pain meds, so come here and take my mind off things.” He blinked what he hoped were pitiful puppy-dog eyes. “You’d be doing a humanitarian act of kindness.”
Her lips twitched. “Humanitarian, huh?”
He nodded soberly. “Come lie with me for a little while. If the nurses yell, we’ll apologize profusely. Please?”
She lowered the rail. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” he said firmly.
She looked doubtful but carefully climbed into the bed, snuggling down until her head was on his left shoulder. She cuddled close, resting her hand over his heart.
“This okay?” she asked softly.
He sighed, contented. “Perfect.” He kissed the top of her head. “Where’s Brutus?”
“Asleep on the floor. I think she needed a break from me. I’ve kind of petted her a lot today.”
Because it had been a pretty horrible day. Still, he held Daisy against him and it was so nice. “She’s got to be hungry by now.”
“Sasha brought some food for her. Don’t worry.” She patted his chest. “Go to sleep.”
He didn’t think he could. “Are you okay now?” he murmured, hoping he could give her the same comfort she was giving him.
“Of course.”
Stupid question, Gideon. Of course she’s not okay. She was just crying her eyes out. He hummed deep in his throat. “Okay, I’m going to try that again. Are you okay now?”
She lifted her head to glare at him. “If you didn’t want my answer, you shouldn’t have asked the question.”
“Fair enough,” he said. She rested her head on his shoulder and he nuzzled her hair, liking the feel of it getting caught in the stubble covering his jaw. “Why were you crying?”
She was quiet for a long moment. “Trish,” she finally said. “I only knew her for six months, but she and I . . . we fit. Sasha and I have been friends forever and I love her like my own sister, but Trish was the first friend I’d made on my own since we went into hiding.” Her voice dropped to a tortured whisper. “I can’t believe she’s gone. I don’t want to think about how she suffered, but it’s all I can think about.”
He wanted to tell her it would be all right, wanted to promise that they’d catch the man who’d killed her friend. He wanted to tell her not to think about the way Trish had died, but she’d seen the body herself. Telling her to simply “not think about it” was neither fair nor reasonable. But he could try to distract her. Unfortunately, not the way he’d distracted her the night before. Hopefully it would be as helpful, though.
“Tell me about her. How you met her. Tell me about the things you did together.”
“We met at AA,” she began, “and we just hit it off.” She kept talking, then she started crying, soaking his hospital gown with her tears. After a while, her words slowed, grew slurred. And then she was asleep on his chest, just as she’d been the night before.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the nurse came in to check on him, because he’d fallen asleep, too.
“Agent Reynolds,” the nurse said quietly, and he jerked awake.
He looked up at the nurse pleadingly. He’d learned the woman was something of a softy and had a son who was a cop. “Let her sleep,” he murmured. “Please.”
“I wish I could, but I have to check your vitals and she’s in the way.”
Daisy stiffened, sucking in a startled breath, and he knew she was awake. She lifted her head, narrowing her eyes before they flared almost comically wide. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Stay,” he said firmly, but she shook her head.
“It’s okay,” she said, softening her words with a smile. “I got what I needed, so thank you. The nurse needs to do her job and I need to walk Brutus.” She slid from the bed and picked up the furball who’d curled up on her big bag.
His pulse skyrocketed. Walking Brutus. Outside? No way in hell. “Daisy.” Her eyes snapped back to him, wide and alarmed.
“What?”
“Agent Reynolds,” the nurse cautioned. “Take it down a notch.”
He dragged in a harsh breath. “You can’t go outside, Daisy. Ask someone else to walk her. Please.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “Oh, right.” She laughed bitterly. “I almost forgot. How messed up is that?”
He forced his muscles to relax. “You had other things on your mind.”
She huffed her frustration. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” She pointed at the monitor, where his pulse was slowly decreasing. “I’ll be careful. I promise. I won’t go outside. I’ll be back soon.”
Sighing, the nurse did all the necessary checks. “That poor girl,” she clucked once Daisy had gone. “She’s been through the wringer these past few days. Hated to wake her up. Don’t worry. There’s plenty of extra security here tonight.”
“Because of us?”
She shook her head. “Well, not just because of you. That little girl that got kidnapped after you were shot? She was found at Mercy.”
Gideon sat up abruptly, sending new pain shooting down his arm. “Mercy? Where?”
The nurse took a half step back. “Mercy Hospital is only ten minutes from here.”
“Oh.” His lungs emptied on a rush. “I’m sorry. Mercy is my sister’s name and I—” He stopped himself from rambling. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He pulled his thoughts back under control. “Was she okay? The little girl?”
“She was fine. A little dehydrated, maybe. From what I heard through the grapevine. The police haven’t made any statements yet.”
“How did they find her?”
“A 911 call. Again, from what I heard.”
911 call? What the hell? “Does the grapevine know who made the call?”
She shook her head. “Not that I heard. If I pick up any new intel, I’ll let you know. Anyway, they’ve beefed up security around all the hospitals in the area, just in case he’s nearby. We can’t turn around for tripping over a cop. Your girlfriend will be fine.”
Yes, she would. Because he was getting out of this place. As soon as possible.
“You’re due for some pain meds,” the nurse said. “Let me know when you want them.”
That’ll be never. He couldn’t go nodding off again. “I’m okay without them.”
“I kind of figured you’d say that. You cops are all alike. You know how to get me if you need me.”
“I need to make a phone call,” he said.
She pointed at the remote that controlled the TV. “On the other side is the phone.”
When she was gone, he flipped the phone and dialed his boss’s number. “It’s Gideon,” he said when he got her voice mail. “My laptop was in my car up in Macdoel. I assume someone from your office retrieved it. Can you have it brought to me at the hospital?” He gave her the room number. “I’ll also need my phone back. Thanks.”
He had work to do.
TWENTY-TWO
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 6:15 A.M.
“Good morning, A—” His boss broke off her greeting when Gideon tapped his finger to his lips, then pointed to Daisy, who slept in the chair next to his bed. “Agent Reynolds,” Molina continued in a whisper.
Gideon pointed to the empty chair on the other side of the bed. “Good morning,” he murmured. He nodded to the laptop bag over Molina’s shoulder. “Mine?”