Nurse Blood (The Organ Harvester Series Book 1)

by Rebecca Besser

  Butch nudged the generator beside the bathroom door with the toe of his leather boot.

  “You always were a resourceful one,” he said. “Do I need to wait for the water to heat?”

  “No,” Lloyd said. “I knew you were coming so I left it on all night.”

  “You’re such a gentleman,” Butch teased, shrugging off the bag he had slung over his shoulder. “Gonna share your woman too?”

  “No.” Lloyd turned and walked back into his bedroom, where he proceeded to get dressed. He heard Butch’s booming laugh echo through the house for a few moments before a door slammed and the sound was muffled.

  After he was fully dressed, he texted Sonya.

  Lloyd: Butch is here. Gonna stay away from your place for a while.

  He didn’t like the man’s comments. Since they hadn’t worked together since before he and Sonya started seeing each other, he didn’t think the man knew about their relationship, but Butch did know Sonya from before. He knew she didn’t like the man, but he couldn’t figure out why, and while he pretended to, he didn’t believe it was because he was too violent. Butch had to have done something or said something to Sonya that she hadn’t liked—that was the only explanation that made sense. He wished she would confide in him and tell him what the issue was. There wasn’t anything he could do about it though, so he planned to wait and see how things went while they were all working the family job together.

  ***

  Sonya opened her eyes again when her phone chirped and vibrated under her hand. She smiled slightly when she realized she’d fallen back to sleep still holding her phone. A glance at her alarm clock told her she’d slept for three more hours. Yawning and stretching, she pulled up the text and read it, frowning at the message.

  With a sigh, she replied.

  Sonya: Will miss you. I’ll let you know if there’s any news about the FBI or our plans.

  Since she was already awake, she called Jan and left a message when the woman didn’t answer the phone, saying she wanted to see what time her meeting was. While she waited for Jan to call her back, she rolled over and closed her eyes again, but she didn’t fall asleep right away. Images of Butch the Butcher flashed through her brain. She heard pain-filled screams and saw blood spraying through the air, covering his body while he grinned and killed like a crazy man.

  ***

  Butch was refreshed from his shower and was looking forward to picking on Lloyd a little more. He’d never liked the little weasel. Lloyd always seemed to make more money on jobs when they worked together. If he hadn’t been hurting so badly for funds, he wouldn’t have agreed to do this job.

  He left the bathroom and turned down the hall, entering the other room that had a generator standing outside the door without knocking.

  “I see you’re dressed now,” he teased Lloyd, who was sitting fully dressed on a metal chair in front of a laptop. “What happened to the wild topless look?”

  Lloyd didn’t respond. He’d forgotten how annoying the big man could be. Glancing briefly over at Butch, he blinked blankly as if he was indifferent to the man who was almost seven feet tall and two hundred and fifty pounds. The man’s sheer size intimidated him, but he’d never let that show. He knew he had the brains and this man just had the brawn, and many times before he’d proven how that could benefit him and give him the advantage. But he was also aware Butch knew he’d been bested as well, so he was always careful around the larger man and tried not to provoke him unnecessarily.

  “Fancy,” Butch said, plopping down on Lloyd’s bed with a sigh, causing the metal springs and frame to squeal in protest. “It almost looks like a prison cell in here, except for the computer.” He smirked at Lloyd’s back, watching him type rapidly on the keyboard. “Tell me more about this job…I remember Jennings, but not too well. Doesn’t he work with a couple of other guys and a hot blonde woman? Oh, what was her name…?”

  “Sonya,” Lloyd said flatly, “and yes, that’s his team. One of the guys he used to work with retired, but the other is still working with them. They hired a new guy, but he pissed me off.” He paused and shrugged slightly. “I offered you as a replacement.”

  “Pissed you off?” Butch asked, and laughed. “I can’t see that being a threat to anyone’s health.”

  Lloyd didn’t answer, but shrugged again.

  “So…what will we be doing?” Butch asked, continuing to press for information. “You said something about a family and a lot of money.”

  “Yes, we’re harvesting a family,” Lloyd said, paused, and typed for a couple more seconds, then stopped and turned sideways in the chair so he could look at Butch. “The blood type of the father was AB-Negative, so we’re hoping the kids share it. We plan to cut them up and sell their organs to the highest bidder and reap one hell of a payday.”

  Butch whistled. “AB-Negative, huh? Sounds like it could be quite lucrative since it’s the rarest blood type in the world. What would I have to do?”

  “You’ll pose as a mover and help get the sedated family into a moving truck.”

  “That’s it?” Butch asked. “I don’t get to chop anyone up?”

  “No,” Lloyd said, shaking his head. “Jennings and Sonya will be doing all the cutting up. They’re truly professionals at what they do and I can get more money for their precision work than I can for your hacking.”

  Butch blinked at Lloyd for a moment, trying to decide if he should be insulted or not; he decided on not, because this was business and he wanted to make as much money as possible.

  “What’s my cut?” he asked, expecting Lloyd to give him a smaller figure than the rest of the group would get.

  “Even split,” Lloyd said, noting the slight look of shock on the other man’s face, smiling. “Did you expect less?”

  Butch shrugged and tried to hide his surprise.

  “Usually I get a flat fee for being the muscle,” he said.

  Lloyd nodded his understanding. “I know, but that’s not how this team works. They all have their specific tasks and depend on each other, so they feel everyone should get an equal share of the profits because no one can do the job without the roles of the other people.”

  “Sounds like a bunch of tree huggin’ freaks,” Butch said, and laughed. “But I don’t mind if they want to share their money—I’ll take it.”

  “We have a while before the meeting with Jennings,” Lloyd said, “so you can take a nap if you want.” He nodded toward the bed and turned back to the computer.

  “Sounds good,” Butch said, laying down, causing the metal of the bed to protest even more. “It was a long drive getting here, and it sounds like you’ll be keeping me busy for the foreseeable future.”

  Lloyd didn’t respond and relaxed a bit once he heard Butch’s snores behind him.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  David wasn’t ready to awake up when his double alarms went off, but he dragged himself out of bed anyway. He’d allowed himself enough time to take a shower and get dressed before heading to the police precinct where he would interview the wife of the missing man. If everything went as planned he would arrive early enough to sit down and go over the missing person report with the detective assigned to the case. He hoped the detective was competent and could help him with the investigation. If the detective couldn’t, he would pull rank and take the investigation from the police and work it as FBI jurisdiction. He could have done it right off if he had chosen to, but he was hoping to get help from the locals—it would cut down on the time it took to get the lay of the land. And, while he could get a lot from the local FBI, sometimes they didn’t know as much about what was happening everyday on the streets as the local police force. He was willing to take any help he could get to advance the investigation and find out what had happened to Daniel.

  He’d figured his timing correctly and arrived at the police station with time to spare. The place was as he’d expected—busy, chaotic, and loud. He had to wait his turn at the desk so he could be directed to the detective
he’d been told to contact by Agent Harmon.

  He moved through the busy station and took the stairs to the second floor, figuring it would be quicker than waiting on the elevator. Upstairs was a bullpen of more crazy action. There was a mixture of uniformed officers and plain clothes detectives hard at work. Some were bent over case files on their desks and others were working on computers.

  When a uniformed officer walked past him, David quickly asked him, “Where can I find Detective Jones?”

  The officer nodded toward a desk in the far corner where a woman with dark hair sat.

  “She’s at her desk,” the officer said and kept walking.

  “Thank you,” David called over his shoulder while heading in the direction indicated.

  Detective Jones was of average height and build and seemed really focused on what she was doing. She didn’t notice him at her desk until he cleared his throat to get her attention.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m Agent David McCoy from the Los Angeles FBI office. My boss—Agent Harmon—said I should contact you when I got into town so we could review the missing person case for Mr. William Housen.” He showed her his badge, then put it away and held out his hand.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said, standing and shaking his extended hand. “I’m Detective Emma Jones. I was expecting you and have everything set up in one of the interrogation rooms for the interview—that way you can record the interview if you’d like. I assume you’ll want to go over the case file before the wife arrives…”

  He nodded. “You assume correctly.”

  She smiled in return. “Right this way then.”

  She took off down the hallway he’d just traveled, but she turned the opposite direction and headed past the bullpen into another hall. She opened one of the doors to the left and entered.

  He followed her inside.

  “What we have is in that file,” Detective Jones said, pointing to the paperwork on the small table of the interrogation room. “I contacted our local FBI office as soon as the system alerted us. I hope what we’ve found can help with your investigation.”

  “I hope so too,” David said, walking around the table and opening the file.

  “Do you need anything else right now?” Detective Jones asked. “I have a couple things I need to get finished before the wife arrives…”

  “Nope, I should be good with this,” he said, and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “If you want coffee or anything, our tiny breakroom is across the hall.”

  David nodded and she left him alone to work.

  He shed his laptop bag into a spare empty chair, withdrew a small notebook and a pen, sat down, and started reading through the file in front of him. The man had been missing for a couple of days, which was a decent time frame to confirm he was indeed missing. Plus, the fact that his car had been towed from a local bar and impounded also pointed to foul play. Most people, if they’d left of their own accord, wouldn’t leave their car at a bar; it would be more likely that the vehicle would be found at a bus station, train station, or an airport. Random abandonments elsewhere indicated that it might not have been with the full consent of the owner.

  The bar was a pleasant indicator for David that he was on the right track. His brother had been taken from a similar establishment. He made notes of all the relevant information in his notebook, planning to search the area around the bar for any kind of street or security cameras he might be able to tap into later. He searched through the file until he found the statements from the bartender and patrons—there weren’t many. He scanned them quickly, just to see if they could tell him anything he didn’t already know. It appeared the woman seen at the bar had black hair, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the woman he was looking for. He suspected she often wore a disguise. Other than that, the description was the same, lending weight to his belief she was the same woman who had taken his brother. She was of the same height and build as the woman Hank had described the night Daniel had gone missing.

  After making the appropriate notes, he read the missing person report. It appeared the report was filed more than 24 hours after the man was suspected to be missing. He found this curious, since he was looking for cases reported in less time. He figured he’d gotten the flag on his search for the man because he’d gone missing from a bar and he wasn’t normally out of contact with his family.

  He’d just closed the file and was sitting back to think about what he’d read and process it when the door to the interrogation room opened and Detective Jones entered with another woman. She was an average pretty, with shoulder length hair. She had dark circles under her puffy red eyes.

  “Jan Housen, Bill Housen’s wife, FBI Agent David McCoy from Los Angeles,” Detective Jones said, introducing them.

  “Thank you for coming in,” David said, extending his hand as he stood. He felt the tremor in hers as their hands met briefly. “I know this is hard for you, but the more information we gather, the better chance we have of discovering what has happened to your husband. Please, have a seat.” He motioned to the empty chair across from him and sat again once she was seated.

  “Do you mind if we record the interview, ma’am?” Detective Jones asked.

  “No, no,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I don’t mind at all—anything you need to find my husband.”

  “Let’s get started then…” David said, opening the file in front of him once more after Detective Jones let him know they were recording. “Why did it take you so long to report your husband missing? It said in your report he wasn’t usually out of contact with your family and yet it took you over 24 hours to file the report…”

  Jan looked down at her hands, which she had knotted in her lap. “He traveled a lot for work, and I didn’t want to look silly reporting him missing if he’d been working…or if he’d decided to leave me.”

  David raised an eyebrow in question, looking up from the file.

  “Why would you think he left you? Were you having marital issues?”

  “No…” she said. “Not really. We’ve just been married a long time and don’t have much time for each other sometimes. I guess it’s just one of my personal insecurities.”

  “Ah, I see,” he said. “Was it common for him to be at the bar where his car was found?”

  “I don’t know…” Jan said, wringing her hands and looking around. “If he was having a business meeting there, maybe.”

  “Were any of his work colleagues there with him?” he asked, hoping so. He could possibly get a description of the woman if someone Jan knew had been there when she’d made contact.

  “Not that I know of,” Jan answered, frowning. “I hadn’t thought to ask. If he was having a meeting, it could have been with a potential client, but that doesn’t mean there would be a record anywhere.”

  “Has your husband ever cheated on you? Had an affair…could he have been meeting with a woman at the bar?” David asked, pushing her because he suspected she knew more than she was letting on.

  Tears filled Jan’s eyes and she answered in a whisper. “I suppose he could have been. I really don’t know.”

  David sighed and sat back in his chair. “Is there anything you can think of that might help us in the case that you haven’t shared already? Anything? The smallest of details could be useful.”

  Jan shook her head and tears rolled down her cheeks. She swiped them away.

  “Okay, then that’s all we need from you today,” he said, standing. “Thank you again for coming in.”

  “No problem,” Jan said, standing. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” he said, sliding his hands into his pants pockets and looking her in the eye, curious.

  “Why did my husband’s report get noticed by the FBI?”

  He sighed. “Unfortunately, I’m looking for a group of people I believe to be kidnapping people across the US. Aspects of your report match some of the other cases I’m working on.”

 
; Jan thought for a moment, glancing down at her hands before looking up at him again.

  “Have you found anyone from those other cases?” she asked in a shaky voice.

  David’s jaw clenched, knowing she wasn’t going to like the answer, but he wanted to be honest with her and not give her false hope.

  “No,” he said. “No one has yet been found.”

  “Oh,” she sighed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know it’s scary and it hurts, but I wanted to be straight with you.”

  Jan nodded.

  “Do you have any more questions?” he asked, hoping she didn’t.

  “Why do you think they’re doing it? Taking people, I mean,” she asked.

  “As far as I can tell right now it’s for some kind of profit—I haven’t quite figured out what kind yet, so I can’t give you a better answer. The victims seem random, with no real connections other than they are missing.”

  “Thank you for answering my questions,” she said.

  “No problem,” he said, glancing over at Detective Jones, who’d been silent during the exchange.

  “Let me show you out,” she said, stepping forward to take Jan’s arm.

  “Thank you,” Jan said, and sniffled, swiping at the tears now streaming down her face.

  David sat back down and thought about what he’d just gotten from Jan, which was precious little. But it was enough to make him suspicious of Bill’s motives for being in the bar. If he’d been there alone, and he wasn’t completely happy at home, he might have left the bar with another woman. Even if he’d just stopped there to meet a client, he wondered if a man who’d been married for some time would still be an easy pick up for an attractive woman.

  It was plausible this case was connected to the other cases he was looking into.

  “I think you could have handled that better,” Detective Jones scolded from the door as she re-entered. “She was bawling all over herself. Did you have to tell her you haven’t found any of the people? You could have been vague and given her some hope. Damn!”