by Mark Stone
I narrowed my eyes at her. “You think I want to kiss you because you saved Father Jameson?” I balked. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time now, Rebecca.”
“I think that I’m not the type of person who gets into relationships easily or frequently. It’s just not something I do, and I also think that—if you have wanted to kiss me for a long time—maybe you’ll still want to when all the dust settles on this.” She shook her head. “When I’m not surrounded by this glow of a successful surgery.”
I looked at her for a long moment. Her eyes were pained, but intent. “I can respect that,” I said honestly, pulling away. “So long as you can respect the fact that, to me, the glow around you has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not your successful at your job.”
She smiled just a little. “Smooth,” she said.
“I aim to please,” I answered. “I’m going to go now, okay? But I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay,” she answered. As I turned back toward the locked door of the intensive care unit, Rebecca called out to me. “And, Dillon,” she started. I spun. “I have too, you know. Wanted to kiss you for a long time.” She laughed. “I just thought you might like to know that.”
“Correction,” I said, smiling wide. “I’ll be seeing you real soon.”
“Go get ‘em,” she said, winking at me.
I did a tip of the hat thing even though I wasn’t wearing one, hoping it would make me look like John Wayne and not some idiot. She laughed and turned back to me, asking another nurse if they had seen Carter.
I watched her walk away and then turned back toward the door, waiting for the lady behind the nurse’s desk to unlock it for me.
As soon as I stepped out, I saw a man arguing with an orderly right outside the door.
“You see,” the man said, pointing to the door. “It’s open now. Just stand back and let me through. The angry man looked to be in his mid fifties, with salt and pepper hair, the sort of tanned skin you can only get from the beach and a scuff mark in his right eyebrow sitting above brown eyes.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that,” the orderly said. “This is a restricted area.”
“A restricted area for whom?” the man asked. “He doesn’t look like a doctor.” The man pointed to me.
The orderly looked back at me and sighed. “Special circumstances, sir.”
“Circumstances,” the man scoffed. “My brother was run over last night. I need to see him!”
My heart jumped. “You’re Father Jameson’s brother?” I asked, walking toward the man with my hand extended.
While I had known the priest for much of my life, it was fair to say that I didn’t know much about his personal life. In fact, you probably couldn’t find anyone in Naples who could tell you anything about what Father Jameson’s life had been like before he moved to the city. It was something of a mystery, though not one I’d thought much about. He was a private man, the priest. Who was I to dig into that without provocation?
“You know my brother?” The man asked, taking my hand and shaking it. “Is he okay? Is he alive?”
“He is,” I answered. “he’s still unconscious, but he should be up soon.” I looked around, thinking about the hardships the priest might have to face when he woke. “Maybe you should talk to a doctor about what to expect in terms of recovery.”
“I’ll do that,” the man said. “I just wanted to check in on him first. I wanted to give him this photograph.” He held out a framed picture of a middle-aged woman and three teenage girls. “That’s my wife and daughters, Edward’s nieces,” he said, using Father Jameson’s given name. “We took it right there on the water, in St. James City up on Pine Island Sound. Edward always loved that place. He’d spend hours out on that sound every time he came for a visit. I just wanted him to have the picture. Hopefully it would remind him of better times.” He handed the photo over to me. “Would you put this in his room? I’m not sure how long I can stay here, work and all. I just want him to know he’s on my mind. So, when he wakes, will you make sure he knows that? Tell him I was here, that I brought him that picture, and make sure to tell him where it was taken.”
My brow furrowed. This was a strange request. I wasn’t close to my brother by any means but, if he was clinging to life, I’d want to make sure I saw him, regardless of how much work I missed.
“I’m sure you can take a few days off,” I said, offering him the picture back. “I’m sure it would do Father Jameson a world of good to see your face.”
“Something tells me that isn’t true,” the man answered. “We’ve had our issues in the past and, come to think of it, maybe it’s for the best that I don’t actually see him. Just please tell him I was here, tell him I’m thinking about him, and make sure he knows the entire family is as well.” He refused to take the photograph. “Everyone in that picture.” He tilted his head at me. “Though I am curious to know what the special circumstances are? Why were you allowed into my brother’s room when I wasn’t?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Detective Dillon Storm. I grew up in your brother’s parish, but I’m also working on his case, and not only that, but our chief of police is the closest of friends with your brother as well. I want you to know that we’ll find out exactly what happened to him. You have my word on that.”
He fidgeted. “How lucky that my brother has such connections. It makes everything so much easier,” he said. He blinked at me. “And how much longer before he’s expected to wake up?”
“I’m not a doctor, but I imagine it could be anytime. Here’s hoping for soon,” I said.
“Here’s hoping,” he repeated. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a phone call. Thank you for your time, Detective Storm.”
The man nodded at me and turned away. I stared at him for just a moment, wondering if I had been as weird and off putting when my mother was dying as he was right now. It was true, this sort of stress could cause people to react strangely.
Heading out toward the exit, I stopped off at the restroom to splash water on my face and then at the coffee dispenser where three quarters got me the most generic cup of black coffee this side of the Mississippi. It was better than nothing though, and I needed to be awake and alert. So I gulped it as quickly as the taste and temperature would allow and continued toward the parking lot.
I reached for my phone again, thinking to call my grandfather and check up on him. Instead, I almost dropped the phone in shock when a loud siren sound started wailing through the hallway.
“What the hell?” I asked, grabbing ahold of a young man in scrubs as he rushed by.
“Sir, I—”
“I’m a police officer. Tell me what’s going on,” I said. “What’s this alarm about?”
“It’s a Code Orange, sir,” he said, his voice cracking at the end.
“Code Orange?” I asked. ‘What’s that?”
“It’s for violent intruders, sir,” he said. “It means there’s someone in the hospital who shouldn’t be, and they mean to do harm.”
Chapter 13
I let go of the orderly, rushing back to the intensive care unit doors as my cop instincts kicked in. Back in training, they teach you a lot about what to do in an emergency situation. You’re told to keep yourself calm. It’s easier to keep your wits about you that way. And, with your wits about you, you’re less likely to go rushing headlong into a dangerous situation unprepared.
In truth, of course there’s no way to ever be really prepared for the sort of stuff we see out on the streets. The human condition is a weird one and you’re likely to find that people can surprise you by how awful they can be more often than not. Still, staying calm is an important part of police work. I’d had teachers who told me it was a good seventy percent of the job, and these were men I trusted, men who had lived long enough to prove they knew what they were talking about.
So, as I rushed back up to the doors, I did my best to stay calm.
“No can do,” she answered, her face scrunched up as she pointed upward, as though that was where the noise was coming from. “In case you couldn’t tell, we’ve got a situation.”
“I know, Code Orange,” I answered, producing my badge and showing it to her. “I still need to get in there!”
The alarm shut off all of once, leaving me screaming the word ‘”there” into the poor woman’s face, my hands clenched tightly against the ends of her desk.
“You’re not understanding me, sir,” she said, adjusting her own voice to suit the new silence. “Code orange puts us in lockdown. I couldn’t get through those doors with anything less than a blow torch at this point. They lock up and they don’t unlock until the head of security says so.” She shook her head. “I wish I could help you, but—”
“Where is he?” I asked, swallowing hard and working overtime to keep myself calm. There was something going on in the hospital, a violent intruder if the orderly I had just questioned could be believed. That could only mean one thing. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Father Jameson had just been admitted to the hospital and now there was an alarm-worthy emergency. What I feared would happen had no doubt come to pass. Someone who had something to do with the sour side of this investigation had gotten into the hospital, and I’d bet all the money in my meager bank account that he wasn’t here just to talk. He wanted to hurt the priest, to finish the job that had been started when the old man was run over last night.
Luckily, Father Jameson had an ace up his unconscious sleeve in Boomer. My best friend was still in there, still guarding the man. That didn’t mean I didn’t need to get to them though. What if there was more than one intruder? What if they were armed? I couldn’t just stand out here and allow my friend to take the brunt of this fight, not if I could help it.
“There has to be a back way,” I said sternly.
‘What?” the woman asked. “This isn’t a mirror maze. There’s no back way.”
“There has to be,” I answered. “This is a hospital. I can’t imagine this would go into lockdown with no way of anyone getting to and from patients in case of an emergency.”
The woman sighed. “Even if there was—”
“He’s right,” a shorter woman said as she stood, walking toward us in clapping high heels. “My name is Claire Winslow. I’m on the board of this hospital.”
I reached my hand out for her to shake, which she did not do.
“I’m sorry. I also have the flu, which is why I’m here today.” She looked from the nurse to me. “You’re right, officer.”
“Detective Storm,” I said, nodding. “What do you mean I’m right.”
“While there’s emergency equipment and personnel stationed at every locked section, you’re right to assume that not everything can be everywhere. Let’s say there’s a cardiovascular emergency, the sort only the deftest of surgeons could deal with. There’s a passageway in the basement for just such an occasion, but you do need a passcode to unlock the connection doors.”
As she finished her sentence, I heard shots fire from the other side of the door. My body tensed and the women jerked, hearing it. I took a deep breath, looking from the source of the noise back to Claire.
“Please tell me you have the code,” I said, my eyes trained on her.
Claire’s eyes were wide and filled with fear as she answered. “1567B,” she said.
“Thank you,” I said. “These doors are bulletproof?”
“They should be,” Claire said.
“Good,” I answered. “Get everyone in this room into a straight line and get them out of here in a calm fashion.” I looked around at the people in the waiting room. “Hopefully all of them can walk. I’m sure the alarm has alerted emergency services, but I’m going to give the station a call.” I looked from the nurse to Claire and back again. Shots fired again from the other side of the door. I needed to move now. “Can one of you direct me to the stairwell leading to the basement?”
“The elevator is quicker,” the nurse said, pointing to the far side of the room, her voice shaking.
“But unreliable in emergencies,” Claire said. “You’re only three floors up from the basement. Enter the code three times in a row within thirty seconds and every door will open. You won’t have to reenter at any door for the next five minutes.”
“Thank you,” I said, and darted off toward the stairwell.
My mind raced as I tore through the stairwell door, bursting through it like a wrecking ball with just as much accuracy. I nearly fell down the steps as the door flung open, and that would have been fine by me so long as I could pop up at the end of it and keep moving.
This was bad. If those shots had come from Boomer, then it was because he had no choice but to do it. He wasn’t the type of officer to discharge a weapon unless absolutely necessary. And, if it wasn’t him, then that made it even worse.
My heart pounded and my chest tightened as I rounded the three flights as quickly as I had ever done anything in my life.
I pulled up my phone, dialing the number to the station and alerting them of what was going on.
Then, tapping the end key, I scrolled down to Boomer’s name while still moving.
My fingers failed me though, as I dropped the phone.
“Dammit!” I yelled, watching the phone slam against the concrete step underfoot and break. I pulled to a stop, bending down and picking it up. The damned thing was broken, wouldn’t turn on.
I tossed it angrily at the wall, letting it smash into pieces of plastic and glass.
I wanted some confirmation that Boomer was okay, that Father Jameson was okay. I guess that would have to wait.
I nearly crashed into the door at the end of the stairwell, fast as I was still moving.
My fingers fumbling, I entered the passcode Claire had given me. The silver number pad glowed green, and the first door opened. I saw the empty hallway stretch to another door with another keypad.
Thinking about the shots I had just heard, I put the code in again, and then again.
Taking a deep and hopefully calming breath, I watched the second door open.
I thought I would see a third door, like the first and the second, swinging open behind it, and I did. That was far from all I saw though.
The breath caught in my chest as I took at the horrible sight. There, swinging slightly from the rafters right behind the second opened door, hung the body of a man. His hair was blond. His eyes were open. He was dead.
What was happening here?
Chapter 14
My jackhammer of a heart sunk low in my chest as I stared down the open corridor at the hanging body in the distance. A thousand thoughts collided in my head as my body sprang into action.
Legs pumping, I rushed through the first door toward the second. Taking the man in, I noticed cuts on the man’s bare chest and shoulders. It took all of a second for me to realize what they probably meant. Like Emma said about the man we found in the house last night, this man probably didn’t hang himself because of depression or some suicidal thought. He was likely forcibly hanged, murdered. And, by the looks of him, he put up a hell of a fight.
“Hey!” I said loudly as I settled over him, checking his vitals. I knew better than to think there was any chance he was alive. His body swung back and forth slightly, but none of his muscles were moving. His face was without expression. Besides, if someone had killed him in this manner, it would only make sense that they’d stick around to make sure he was dead.
Still, it was my job to protect people all the way up to the point of their deaths and, if there was even the shadow of the smallest chance this man could be saved, I had to look into it.
Unfortunately, my suspicions were confirmed. My fingers found no pulse. My calls went unanswered.
The man still hung over me and, looking up
at his neck, I saw a second marking, just like with the guy from last night. That was all the confirmation I needed. This man was murdered and it was almost certainly by the same person who killed the person last night.
He was in his boxers with no other clothes anywhere I could see. So there was no identification on him. What was more, I didn’t have a lot of time to look around. What had happened to this man was a tragedy, and I’d make sure that justice was given to him, but I couldn’t afford to put the shots I’d heard on the back burner, not with Boomer up there and Father Jameson still unconscious in that hospital bed.
I took a deep breath, glancing up at the man and hating what I was about to do. Under normal circumstances, I would never leave a newly discovered body on its own, but these circumstances were about as far from normal as they came. The living got my loyalty right now. That was just the way it worked.
I crossed myself, saying a quick prayer in reverence as I moved away from the body, leaving it to hang as to not disturb any evidence I might be able to find once we can back later to retrieve him.
I ran through two more open doors, panting as I thought about all that was going on.
Taking a hard left after the fourth door, I found an open stairwell leading up to what I knew to be the intensive care unit. The door to it had swung open too, and my nerves kicked up a notch. What if entering that code had opened the door leading into the intensive care unit itself? If I’d done that, then there was a very good chance the shooter had taken that opening and I’d be meeting him head on very shortly.