by Jennie Marts
Terror and confusion seized her. Where could she hide? She had to get away. Why was Mac talking to her assailant? She stood frozen in place, listening to them talk.
She heard Mac chuckle, and her stomach churned at the reasons that he would be laughing with the guy who tried to kill her.
“The main thing is that now we’re here and in charge of watching her. Now we can take care of her ourselves.”
Bile rose in her throat, and she covered her mouth to keep from getting sick. What the hell was going on? What did he mean by ‘take care of her’? Was Mac in on the plan to get rid of her?
That didn’t make sense. He was alone with her at the cabin. If he wanted to harm her, he could have. Instead, he’d spent two days in bed with her. She wanted to gag. Had she been having sex with a guy who wanted her dead? Sharing her most intimate thoughts? And telling him she loved him?
It had seemed so real. Could he really be that good of an actor? Had that all been an act? A ploy to keep her off-balance? To make her feel safe until the masked guys could get there and actually kill her?
No. That couldn’t be. He’d told her that he loved her. She’d bared her soul to him.
An icy realization hit her. He’d told her he loved her, then broke it off with her as soon as they left the cabin.
Questions tumbled through her mind as she tried to make sense of this. Is that why he was still alive and hadn’t actually shot either of the assailants? Had that all been a charade to make it seem like he was on her side? Maybe he hadn’t even been knocked out. Maybe he hadn’t come to her rescue because he wasn’t planning to rescue her at all.
She’d thought he’d been the one to call 9-1-1, but it could have easily been a tourist or someone driving by that heard the shots, then he just took credit for it.
None of this made sense to her. Her head pounded from a sudden headache, and she held onto the side of the bed to keep her knees from buckling.
She’d trusted him.
“Geez, you’re in a pisser of a mood tonight.” The assailant talked to Mac with a familiarity, like he knew him well.
“Give it a rest, Pat. This isn’t easy for me. I don’t want to hurt her, but I have no choice.”
Pat? That was his name—the man who had shot her. Why did that sound familiar? Someone had just been talking about a guy named Pat or Patrick.
It was Mac. He’d told her Pat was a guy he knew from high school, another cop that was helping him on the case. And that Pat had been up to the fishing cabin with him.
She thought he was taking her somewhere safe—to a deserted cabin that no one knew about. Except him and the guy who was trying to kill her. Had that been the plan? To take care of her at a place that they both knew? A place that was secluded and surrounded by woods.
But they were cops—sworn to protect people. This didn’t make sense. Her mouth went dry as she thought of the other possibility. They were police officers, so they would know how to hide a body and not leave any evidence.
“Don’t be such a puss about it,” she heard Pat say. “Just do it quick—it’s easier that way.”
Fear shot through her. She had to act. Now.
She couldn’t stand here, frozen in place, and wait for them to take care of her.
She peeled back the tape and yanked the IV needle from her hand.
Son of a bitch!! That hurt! They always made it look so easy in the movies.
Blood seeped from the spot where the needle had been and she wiped it on the sheets.
Her gaze darted around the room, looking for a place to hide. Not the bathroom, that was too easy. Could she squeeze into one of the closet cabinets? No—too tight. A large recliner sat in the corner of the room. Edna had slept in it the night before.
Zoey tiptoed across the room, trying not to make a sound. She crouched behind the recliner, using the curtain from the window as extra camouflage.
Just in time. She held her breath as she heard the door to her room open.
“What the hell? Where is she?” Pat’s voice sounded angry.
She heard Mac enter the room. “What do you mean? Did you check the bathroom?” She heard him open the bathroom door then slam it shut. “She’s not in there.”
“Maybe that cop’s already been taking some smoke breaks, and she took off when he was on one.”
“Let’s check the nurse’s station.”
She heard both men leave the room, their shoes thumping on the linoleum as they hurried down the hall.
Squeezing out from behind the recliner, she grabbed the sneakers Edna had left on the counter as she raced to the door and peered out. She could see them at the end of the hall talking to a nurse. At the other end of the hall was a steel door, leading to the stairwell.
This would be her only chance.
Taking a deep breath, she slipped through the door and sprinted for the stairwell.
“There she is.”
She heard Mac’s voice then the pounding of their footsteps as she raced for the door. Pulling it open, she fled into the darkened hallway.
Stumbling down the steps, she’d gained a full floor before she heard the stairwell door fly open. But she was barefoot, and they wore shoes. It wouldn’t take long for them to catch her.
She pulled open the door to the next level and ran into the hall, calling out for help. Who was going to help her? They were the police. Why would anyone believe they were trying to harm her?
The lights were dim in the hallway corridor, and she fought the terror that built in her chest. The nurse’s station was at the other end of the hall, but she didn’t see anyone at the desk. Small town hospitals didn’t have the staff that large cities did, but still—where was everyone?
The elevator across from her dinged, and she whipped her head toward it. The doors opened, but it was empty. She took it as a sign and raced for the open doors.
Once inside, she hit the button to close the doors, repeatedly smashing it as she prayed for the doors to close before they found her.
The stairwell door opened, and Mac appeared. He saw her and ran for the elevator. “Zoey. Wait.”
“No, please. Just let me go.” A sob tore through her as the doors slid together.
He reached an arm out to stop the doors, but his expression changed as he must have seen the terror in her eyes.
The doors shut, and she fell to her knees. The numbers of each button lit up as she pressed all of them in hopes it would buy her some time if they didn’t know what floor she got out on.
She rode two floors, two incredibly long fear-filled floors. Pulling on the sneakers, she held her breath as she waited. The second time the doors opened, she got out. This floor was also quiet. She raced across the hall and ducked into the first patient room she came to.
Thankfully the bed was empty.
Leaving the lights off, she ran around the bed, grabbed the phone and sank to the floor. The linoleum was cold against her practically bare bottom—stupid thong underwear—and she pulled the hospital gown around her as she started to shiver.
Shivering was a sign of shock. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. She just needed to get out of here. Needed to call someone she could trust. Lifting the phone, she dialed her grandmother’s number.
“Hello? Is this the hospital? Is my granddaughter all right?” The caller ID must have shown the hospital’s number.
“Grandma, it’s me, Zoey.”
“Speak up, honey. I can hardly hear you.”
“Gram, they’re here. They’re trying to kill me.” Her voice broke. “I think Mac’s in on it.”
“What? Where are you?”
“I’m hiding in a patient room. It’s on the sixth floor. Hold on.” She checked the number on the phone she was holding. “It’s room 632.”
“Listen, honey, I’m right outside the hospital. I couldn’t sleep because I just kept feeling something was wrong so I was coming back anyway. You stay where you are—room 632—and I’ll come find you. Leave it to me. You just stay
put.”
The line went dead, and Zoey clutched the phone to her chest. Edna was coming. Great. Her salvation was coming in the form of an eighty-something year old woman with arthritis and a bunion on her right foot.
She tugged the blanket from the hospital bed and wrapped it around her. As silly as it might sound to some, she had faith in her grandma. Edna had gotten herself and others out of tighter fixes than this before.
She just had to wait.
What seemed like an hour later, but was probably only about ten or fifteen minutes, the door to Room 632 gently pushed open and a soft voice whispered, “Zoey? Are you still in here?”
Recognizing Edna’s voice, she scrambled from behind the bed and threw her arms around the elderly woman’s shoulders. She wanted to cry, to release the tension of the last half hour that she’d been running and hiding from the man she’d thought she loved.
But she knew she couldn’t lose it now. She had to keep it together a little longer. At least long enough to get out of the hospital. “Grandma, I’ve never been so glad to see you in all of my life.”
Edna patted her shoulder. “I’m glad to see you too, honey. And I’m awful glad you’re okay. I found us some disguises and it’s a good thing, because with that gown, the rest of the hospital is able to see you, too.”
“Disguises? Why would we need disguises?”
“I was listening when I walked into the hospital. They’re talking about a missing patient and organizing a room-by-room search. You need to put these on, and we’ve got to get you out of here.” Edna handed her a pile of blue scrubs. “I borrowed these from the surgical supply closet.”
“Good thinking. How’d you get into the closet?” She quickly pulled the scrubs on.
Edna was putting on a pair of scrubs over her clothes. “I’ve found that if you walk with purpose and act like you know what you’re doing, most people don’t even question you.” Edna shook out a white lab coat and put it on over the scrubs. She handed Zoey a surgical mask and cap. “Here put these on over your face and hair. Then we’re just going to walk right out of here.”
“What if they see us? What if Mac recognizes me?” Her voice caught. “Grandma, I’ve been such a fool. I thought I loved him, but it turns out he isn’t who he said he was. He was talking to the guy that’s been trying to kill me. I heard them talking and recognized his voice and not only is he a cop, he’s a friend of Mac’s. They’ve been friends since they were kids.”
“You’re right, that doesn’t sound good. But it doesn’t mean that Mac was in on the plan to hurt you.” Edna turned Zoey and secured the surgical cap and mask around her head. “I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I have a hard time believing Mac would want to hurt you.”
“I wouldn’t have believed it either. Except I heard him say it himself. He said he was there to ‘take care of me’ and that he ‘didn’t want to hurt me.’ And his friend told him just to do it quick and that it would hurt less. Does that sound like the conversation of a man not in on the plan?” She spoke through the mask, her breath condensing against the fabric.
Edna drew her lips together in a tight line. “I don’t like it, but I’m still trying to keep an open mind until I can talk to him myself.”
“Well, I don’t care if I ever talk to him again.” That was a lie. She did care. She cared too much.
Edna pushed her discarded hospital gown under the bed. “Right now, we need to focus on getting you out of here.” She pulled her own cap and mask on, using the cap to hide her curly gray hair. She turned to have Zoey tie the strings of the mask. “We’ll have to take the elevator down, at least to the second floor. Then we can get off and take the stairs the rest of the way. We can slip out one of the side doors on the main level.”
Zoey opened the door a crack and peered into the hallway. It was empty. She could see the elevator doors from where she stood. “You go push the elevator button. If you get one and it’s empty, then hold the door and I’ll come get in.”
“Got it.” Her grandmother slipped from the room and pushed the elevator button.
She closed the door behind her, except for a small crack that she could see through.
The elevator binged, and Zoey held her breath. The doors slid open, and two women stood inside. They held white vending machine coffee cups and both looked tired and worn out.
“I forgot my stethoscope,” she heard her grandmother say as she waved the elevator on. “I’ll catch the next one.”
Forgot her stethoscope? Seriously?
The elevator dinged again, and this time it was empty. Edna held the door open with her foot and waved Zoey forward.
She crept from the room, her heart pounding as she waited for Mac or Pat to come charging through the stairwell door. But they didn’t. She made it safely into the elevator and scooted to the back corner as Edna pushed the button for the second floor.
Only four floors to go. Fifth. Fourth. Third. The doors slid open on the third floor and a middle-aged couple stepped on. They nodded at Edna, who stepped in front of Zoey.
Geez. Where were all of these people when she was looking for help a half an hour ago?
The doors quietly slid together. Just as Zoey was releasing her breath, a male arm reached into the elevator, holding the doors from closing. They slid apart and the other cop, Mac’s friend, Pat stepped on.
Zoey froze. She clasped the back of Edna’s coat, clutching the fabric between her fingers as she ducked her head and tried to shrink behind the smaller woman. She felt Edna tense and knew that she’d figured out who he was.
Trying to relax, she dropped her hands to her side. Grabbing Edna must have reinjured her IV wound and to her horror, a single drop of red blood hit the elevator floor.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. What if someone saw it and asked if she was okay? The last thing she needed was any attention drawn to her. Moving her foot the slightest bit, she covered the drop of blood with her shoe.
Pat hadn’t noticed. Sneaking a glance at him, his attention was still on the elevator door. Funny, he didn’t look like a killer.
He was dressed in plain clothes, jeans and a black zip-up sweatshirt. He could have looked like a regular guy, if it weren’t for the badge hooked to his belt and the gun he wore at his hip. He faced forward, his body bouncing with nervous energy as he waited for the elevator to open on the next floor.
She looked up at him again, tried to study him, to memorize what he looked like. To learn the features of the man who had tried twice now to kill her.
He’d failed twice, but she sure as hell didn’t want to give him another chance tonight.
The door opened on the second floor, and Pat got out.
Standing still, Edna made no movement to follow him, and Zoey followed her lead. The elevator doors slid shut, and she let out her breath. “That was him,” she whispered.
“Yeah, I gathered that,” Edna whispered back. “It took everything I had not to grab his gun and shoot him myself.”
She wasn’t as brave as her grandmother. She just wanted to get out of there.
One more floor and they’d be on the main level. They’d wanted to avoid that floor just because they knew it would be more populated. But when the doors slid open and they stepped off along with the other couple, they saw the lobby was fairly deserted.
“I still don’t think we should just walk out the front door.” Keeping her voice low, Zoey directed her grandmother down the nearest hallway. “Our best bet is to sneak out a side door.”
“Agreed. There should be one at the end of this hall.”
They made it safely to the door and peered through. The exit led into the parking lot, and Zoey could see her grandmother’s car. They were almost there.
She looked down at the words written on the red bar across the door. “Emergency Exit. Alarm will sound.”
Just great. That’s perfect.
“Sometimes they just have the warning and nothing happens when you actually open it,” Edna sa
id.
“What happens if this isn’t one of those times and the alarm does go off?”
Edna shrugged. “Then we run like hell.”
It was as good a plan as any.
They pushed through the door, wincing as the alarm shrieked a piercing warning.
Then they ran like hell.
Chapter Sixteen
Mac shook his head as he stood in Zoey’s deserted hospital room.
What the hell was going on with her? Why had she run?
And why the hell had she looked so terrified of him when he tried to catch her in the elevator?
He called the number of the trac-phone she’d given him earlier that day. A ring tone trilled, and he spotted the phone tangled in the sheets on the hospital bed.
She doesn’t even have her phone with her.
Peering closer at the bed, he saw a smear of blood and the end of her IV tube dangling from the bag, the clear tape still on it as if she had ripped it from her arm.
What had made her leave this room in such a damned hurry that she tore the IV needle from her arm and left her phone behind? She wasn’t even wearing shoes.
Something had to have happened to scare the hell out of her. Had she gotten a call or a threat of some sort? He checked the recent calls on the phone, but the list was empty.
What was going on? And why would she be scared of him?
Why didn’t she just come out of her room and talk to him?
Unless something or someone was keeping her silent.
Or too terrified to come forward.
He thought back over his conversation with Pat as they stood outside of her room. He’d been an idiot and admitted to Pat that he’d had a thing for Zoey but that he was breaking it off with her.
He remembered telling Pat that he didn’t want to hurt her and Pat advising him to do it quickly. Could that be it? Did she think he really wanted to hurt her? There had to be more to it than that.
He’d expected to get some type of reaction from her after he’d broken things off and told her to not call him again. But he was expecting sadness or for her to be pissed off at him. There was no reason for her to be afraid of him.