"I never had violent nightmares," April insisted. "If I’m already asleep, Tia doesn’t wake me up to take the pills."
April went on to explain how Peter discovered the missing patients and how together they started to investigate.
Jen jumped to her feet and rubbed her temples as she paced. "This is a lot of information to process all at once."
"Wait, there’s more," Rachel said. "You know Ben, the security guard?"
"Sure."
"He’s an undercover agent."
"FBI?"
She nodded, not bothering to include the information about him resigning. Time was wasting and they needed to get out there and help. "He discovered a hidden tunnel downstairs and that led to three doors, including a freezer where the organs are being kept. Another led to a secret entrance to the shelter down the street."
"My shelter?" Jen asked incredulously.
"Yeah, didn’t you see all the police cars outside?"
Jen shook her head.
"The authorities are here now to arrest the Bexleys and shut down their operation. We need to…ow." Something sharp poked Rachel in the side. "Jen…what are you doing?"
"You had to go and screw everything up, didn’t you?" Jen hissed. "Get over there."
She shoved Rachel and she stumbled. Quickly regaining her footing, she rushed over to April and they huddled together on the bed.
She stared at Jen in dawning horror. Could she have possibly been in on the operation all along? Her instincts were usually good, so how could she have misjudged her so badly? Jen looked possessed, demented, nothing like the sweet, caring case worker who breezed in the door five minutes ago. Nothing like the woman she had come to trust and respect. Now she was glad she hadn't confided in her earlier.
"Jen, you don’t want to do this," she insisted. "The place is surrounded. You will never get away with killing us."
Jen ignored her, keeping the gun trained on them as she arranged her briefcase on the nightstand and clicked it open. She withdrew a roll of silver duct tape and tossed it to Rachel.
"Seal April’s mouth shut and then April, you do the same to Kellie or whatever the hell her name is. And don’t even think of yelling or I’ll shoot you both right now."
Rachel hesitated.
"Now," Jen commanded tersely.
Rachel’s hands shook as she slowly ripped a strip of adhesive.
"Move it," Jen ordered.
Facing April, she carefully affixed the tape to her mouth. "Don’t worry, everything will be okay," she whispered, not believing her own words. She didn’t know how they would get out of this, she just knew they had to…their lives depended on it.
April nodded, tears glistening like crystals on her dark lashes.
"Now your turn, April."
April reluctantly accepted the roll, tore a section off and smoothed it across Rachel’s mouth. One lone drop slipped down her smooth cheek and Rachel fought her own tears, struggling to be brave for April’s sake.
Jen reached back in her case and pulled out a shiny cylindrical object. Concentrating on her task, she attached it to the end of the revolver and twisted it in place.
Rachel swallowed a lump of dread. A silencer.
"Lie down, April." Jen tossed a length of rope that landed at Rachel’s feet. "Tie her to the bed and if you don’t make it tight, I will put a bullet through her brain."
If Jen wanted her to tie April up, she surely wasn’t planning on killing her, Rachel rationalized. She wound the cord around April’s wrists and then through the headboard, trying to leave as much slack as possible.
Jen stuck her hand back inside the briefcase and withdrew a hypodermic. She pitched it to Rachel. "Give this to her," she ordered.
Rachel reflexively caught the syringe, her mind racing. She had no doubt the clear liquid inside the cylinder was a lethal dosage. She turned her back to Jen, and froze, unable to move her legs.
Jen huffed, "It’s just Tubarine."
When Rachel didn’t budge, Jen muttered a sharp curse. "It’s a neuromuscular blocking agent," she explained as if Rachel were a two year old. "It will simply relax her muscles and knock her out while we leave. It’s a form of anesthesia." She paused. "Think of it as," she waved her hand carelessly, "preparing her for a root canal."
Just an anesthesia? Could she trust Jen? Again, why would she order her to tie April up if she planned on killing her?
"Turn so I can watch," she commanded. "And get on with it, dammit."
April whimpered.
Rachel glanced at Jen and then sunk the needle in her friend’s arm, wincing when April flinched. She dispensed the plunger and withdrew the shot. Disgusted, she flung the used implement aside.
April’s eyes rounded with surprise, disappointment and finally acceptance. Her lashes fluttered and then closed. Peace settled over her features as her muscles relaxed, her head lolling to the side.
"Good job, Rachel." A pause. "Was that your first kill?"
She spun wildly to face Jen, her chest heaving. It was a fatal dosage…Jen meant for her to kill her roommate.
Dropping to her knees, she clutched her stomach, spasms racking her body. The only thing stopping her from throwing up was the strip of adhesive across her mouth.
Jen’s brows lifted with feigned innocence. "Did I forget to mention that Tubarine, scientific name Tubocurarine chloride, causes respiratory failure…and that there was enough in that shot to take down an entire wing of the hospital? I did?" She shrugged carelessly. "Ah, well, sorry," she said, not sounding so in the least.
Rachel made a distressed sound behind the gag.
"Oh shut up." Keeping the gun aimed at her, Jen backed to the door. "Make one move and I will kill you."
She didn’t doubt her a bit.
Jen stuck her head outside. "Tia, could you come here a minute." She moved behind the door and waited.
Rachel’s mind raced. Forcing April’s lifeless image from her mind, she ran through several options. Agents were combing the hospital. She needed to alert them, get the gun away from Jen. The door swung open before she could formulate a plan. Tia sashayed in, the zipper on her tight uniform displaying more cleavage than usual, probably for the benefit of the swarming cops. Her shift should have ended but she no doubt stayed around to watch the action.
"What’s up…Kellie? Why do you have tape across your mouth? April?" Her brows drew together in concern when she spotted the girl’s unmoving form anchored to the bed. She whirled around as Jen emerged from behind the door and slammed it closed. A hand flew up to cover her ample chest. "You scared me, Jennifer."
"You had specific instructions to make sure April took her sedatives each night. You disobeyed orders," she accused calmly.
Confused, Tia backed up. "She didn’t need the medication," the nurse insisted. She shot a questioning glance at Rachel before addressing Jen. "Why wake her up to give her a drug to make her sleep when she was already?"
"She faked it, Tia, played you like a fiddle."
At Tia’s concerned look, Jen said, "Don’t worry, I’m not firing you." Lifting her arm, she leveled the gun at Tia’s head. Tia gasped. "I’m firing at you."
The gun made a nearly soundless tinny ping. The bullet blasted into Tia’s skull, slamming her against the wall. The nurse slid to the ground in a boneless heap leaving a red trail on the wall in her wake. Her sightless gaze reached across the room.
Rachel collapsed, the tape muffling her screams. This absolutely could not be happening. Jen just killed Tia. In cold blood. She couldn’t seem to get enough air in through her nose. Her vision clouded.
Jen barely spared the dead nurse a glance. She grabbed a handful of Rachel’s hair and yanked her upright. Tears prickled and she clutched her scalp to ease the pain.
Using scissors, Jen sliced the band off Rachel’s wrist, looking mildly surprised when it slipped effortlessly to the floor.
"Had that off already, did you?" she asked rhetorically.
Tossing the shears back i
nside what Rachel now considered a briefcase of death, she plucked out a manila envelope and shut the lid.
Rachel managed a quick peek before it closed. Jen packed enough equipment to launch a mini-war. Apparently she planned for every contingency.
Jen stuck her head outside, glanced around and then closed the door. "This place is teeming with cops" she huffed. "Here’s what we are going to do. We walk down the hall and exit the building. I have papers stating I have signed you out if anyone asks.
"I’m going to remove the tape and you are going to assume your fake mental patient act. Keep your head down, make eye contact with no one." Her voice hardened menacingly. "If you utter so much as a tiny peep, one false movement, or if you try to alert anyone, I will shoot them. You already have April and Tia’s deaths on your hands," she said cruelly, "do you really want to be responsible for the deaths of other innocent people as well?"
Rachel couldn’t mask the revulsion in her eyes. Jen was truly evil.
"I didn’t think so," Jen chuckled wickedly. Almost an afterthought, she added, "By the way, after I killed those people, I would shoot you, too."
Jen pinched a corner of the tape covering Rachel’s mouth and ripped mercilessly. Her sharp inhale brought a satisfied smile to Jen’s face. She automatically rubbed the sting.
"It’s show time," Jen announced, slipping the gun in a pocket, her finger firmly wrapped around the trigger. "Move." She prodded Rachel forward.
Casting one last fleeting look at April, a tear sliding down her cheek, she allowed Jen to guide her down the hall to the stairwell, her gaze focused on the floor. An active buzz hovered throughout the hospital, but no one spared them a glance. She stopped abruptly when Jen’s nails bit into her arm. She lifted her gaze to a man with arms crossed, dressed in a dove gray suit and maroon tie blocking the door.
"I’m sorry ma’am. No one leaves the premises until further notice."
"I understand," Jen said easily. "Actually, we weren’t leaving. I just need to get the equipment from the storage closet under the stairs for her treatment."
The agent’s stony gaze raked over Rachel, dismissing her for the mental patient she pretended to be, before landing on Jen again. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Jen smile cheerfully, reassuringly.
The man’s granite face softened but still he hesitated, "I’m not sure…"
"You can come with us," Jen coaxed. "It’s just on the other side of the door."
Rachel willed the man to look at her again. She knew with certainty what would happen if he let them pass. The flash of pain in her forearm told her that Jen read her mind.
Giving in, the man said, "I’ll accompany you."
"No, don’t—"
Jen cut her warning short by stabbing the gun in her side.
The man ignored her outburst, brushing it aside as the ramblings of a crazy person. He ushered them through the opening and bent down to peer underneath the steps.
"I don’t see anything—"
"She has a gun!" Rachel yelled simultaneously, not caring if Jen shot her, too. She couldn’t stand by and do nothing while another person died.
The man reached for his weapon a fraction too late. The two shots Jen fired pierced his brain. He thudded to the ground, arms wide, eyes forever frozen in shock.
Rachel doubled over and lost the contents of her stomach, her body trembling uncontrollably.
"Oh, good God," Jen muttered. "That’s disgusting."
Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, her legs barely held her upright. She didn’t have time to brace herself when Jen flung her against the wall. Her forehead slammed into the concrete and colors exploded behind her eyes. She staggered and then cried out when Jen grabbed her hair and wrenched her head back brutally.
"Nice job," she growled. "I told you not to make a sound and what did you do? You went and got the man killed. I was just going to knock him out but you forced me to pull the trigger."
Tears of pain, fear and overwhelming sadness spilled over. She was in major trouble.
Jen released her with a shove and tsked. "I’m going to have to get you a calculator to keep track of the dead bodies piling up at your feet."
Rachel’s soul ached. Logically she knew she wasn’t responsible for the man’s death—Jen fired the gun—but emotionally she wondered what she could have done differently. If she kept quiet, would he still be alive? A sob escaped.
"Shut the hell up and get moving."
Stumbling, Rachel went down to her knees. Her legs were too weak to hold her and her head throbbed. Jen yanked her up and prodded her down the stairs. Only sheer determination to live kept her moving.
Jen pushed a button on her cell phone and cursed, muttering, "He forgot to charge the damn battery again," under her breath. She disconnected and punched in another number. "Voice mail," she groused, waiting for the beep. "It’s me. The operation is shot to hell. Meet me at your house as soon as possible and bring your passport. Plan B. We leave the country."
Flashes of red and white lights split the early morning. Police cars flanked the Institute and the women’s shelter down the street. In the distance, yellow crime scene tape surrounded the incinerator.
As they crossed the employee parking lot, Dr. Kathleen Butler zipped by in a sleek sports car and screeched to a stop. Stepping out, she demanded, "What the hell is going on? I was ordered to get down here immediately. What’s with the police cars…Jen, what are you doing with that—"
Kathleen’s question ended on a gasp as Jen swung the gun around and fired. The bullet smashed into her shoulder, spinning her around to pitch face first to the pavement.
"Look what you made me do," Jen accused.
Rachel’s stomach dry heaved but nothing came out.
"I hope I brought enough ammunition," Jen grumbled. Shrugging, she goaded Rachel to her car and forced her inside. "Don’t forget our deal. You don’t make a sound, I don’t kill anyone."
"But I didn’t say a word to Dr. Butler," she argued.
"Yeah, but you wanted to," Jen insisted.
This had to be a dream. No one could be this cold or malicious. Jen took lives without batting an eyelash. Either her heart was pure black or she was dead inside.
The car lurched, whipping Rachel forward. Her arms shot out barely in time to steady herself on the dash when Jen slammed on the brakes.
"Oh, for God’s sake, put on your seat belt," she admonished.
"Why, I’ll be dead soon anyway, right?"
#
"Well yes, you have a point," Jen agreed cheerfully, "But I forbid your stupidity to steal the job I am so looking forward to finishing myself." She backhanded Rachel with the gun.
Rachel’s head snapped sideways and she stilled.
"Put the belt on, now," she barked.
Slowly Rachel fumbled with the strap, her eyes glazed, hands shaking so violently she couldn’t lock it in place.
After a quick glance at the roof in annoyance, Jen impatiently jerked the buckle from Rachel’s hand, shoving it into the lock. She could practically see the wheels turning in the woman’s dazed head, trying to figure out how to overpower her. Well, she wouldn’t have time to formulate a plan. Reaching into the glove box, she pulled out a needle and jammed it into Rachel’s thigh, leaving it imbedded in her flesh.
Rachel gasped in shock and tugged the used syringe out of her leg.
Jen laughed wickedly. Too late. The drug would already be coursing through her veins, carrying her off to a deep dreamless sleep.
Screeching to a stop at the closed guard gate, she nudged the gun out of sight.
"I’m sorry…oh hi, Ms. Palmer," the guard said. "We’ve been ordered not to let anyone leave the facility until further notice."
"This is a matter of life or death," she said in her most urgent voice. "My patient is deathly ill, hemorrhaging internally, and if I don’t get her to the hospital immediately, she will die."
The boy’s eyebrows shot up. "But, we have orders—"
"Look at her," she insisted sharply.
The guard ducked to peer into the passenger seat. Jen glanced at Rachel slumped over, eyes fluttering, her lips trying to move as a trickle of blood dripped down her chin.
Nice work with the gun, if she did say so herself. Rachel truly looked ill. But she had to give her credit. She valiantly fought off the impending darkness.
"She looks real bad off," the boy agreed.
"Help me," Rachel moaned.
Jen shot her a warning look and turned back to the guard. "See, she needs help. It will be on your shoulders if she dies before I can get her treatment."
"Oh, ah, sure. I know you so I can vouch for you." He pushed the button to raise the gate. "Hope she makes it," he called after them.
"Don’t worry, she won’t."
Jen laughed and punched the accelerator, squealing the tires as she swung into traffic.
#
Peter fought the urge to weep. Ben trusted him with a very important task and he failed. He had let Ben down. He would never make it as a detective. Hell, Ben would probably rescind the offer anyway.
Frustrated, he paced the parking lot, his hands on his hips. How could he get back inside?
Ben sent him upstairs to guard April and Rachel after the authorities raided the underground rooms and found files of the patients murdered for their organs. Stuck to the back of one of the folders was a forgotten wire transfer receipt for a significant amount of money.
The name on the receipt belonged to Jennifer Palmer.
Both women trusted her implicitly and would be upset when they found out she helped orchestrate the grisly crimes. Peter jogged up the spiral staircase and exited through the shelter. He raced around the gardens eager to reach April, but the authorities wouldn’t let him inside. He tried every door, including the loading dock. They had specific orders not to let anyone in or out unless accompanied by a fellow agent. Not a one he encountered believed he worked with Ben. They wouldn’t even call and ask.
Peter knew the looks they gave him. They thought because he looked like a freak, he couldn’t possibly be one of the good guys. One agent even threatened to lock him up for no reason.
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