by Vella Day
“Trent?” Max’s voice caught.
His friend turned around, his face ashen. “The security guard didn’t stand a chance.”
The method of death would be important. “How?”
“A bullet to the head. Close range.”
“Fuck.” Jamie said the guard escorted the workers to and from their cars. “Where was he?”
“In the side alley, smoking a cigarette. Whoever did this must have snuck up on him.”
Totally senseless. “They could have just as easily hit him in the head and knocked him out. Why did they have to kill him?”
“Stop him from sounding the alarm I suspect. I doubt he had a key to the place.”
Max didn’t want to ask who the second victim was, but for Jamie’s sake, he needed to find out. He nodded to the woman sprawled on the floor in what once was a white lab coat. Her chest was covered in a dark red stain. “And her?”
Chapter Thirteen
“That’s Dr. Yolanda Withers,” Trent said. “Took two gunshots to the chest, but from the cut on her lip and the red marks on her neck, it appears as if they roughed her up first.”
“Jesus. What did they take?” Max was sick to his stomach. Apparently he’d gotten soft in his old age.
“That’s the thing. We don’t know. This is where I’m hoping you can help us. Come with me.”
Max followed Trent to a back room where the drugs were kept. The refrigerated section was still locked, and the glass untouched. Boxes on shelves had been tossed aside, but anything in a vial was left alone.
Nothing made sense. “What about the narcotics? Could they have been after only one type of drug?”
“Not that we could tell. We’ll need someone who has the inventory list to confirm that.”
“You thinking this was personal against Dr. Withers?”
“That was my first thought, until I went into the break room. Let me show you.” Once more he followed Trent who pointed to the destruction.
Max stopped in the doorway. Three officers were taking pictures and cataloging the mess.
“Holy shit. What do you think they were looking for?” The cushions were ripped, and everything in the cabinets was dumped on the floor. Max didn’t dare enter, not wanting to mess with the crime scene.
“Beats me. Did Jamie mention anything about storing something important at the clinic?”
So that was why Trent had called him. “Not that I recall. She mentioned their limited supplies, as well as their inadequate drug supply. I can’t imagine what would be so important that it would require five men to storm the place. I’m guessing you looked at the camera footage?”
“Yes.” Trent’s head lowered.
“What? They have baseball caps over their eyes?”
“Worse. They had infrared LEDs under their caps. All we could see was five people with big glowing heads.”
“Crap. You let Hartwick know?”
“He came by earlier. He’s speaking with the mayor now.”
“Sounds like a professional hit.”
Trent nodded. “That was my guess.”
“What can the mayor do other than find another doctor to take her place?”
Trent stepped out of the room, away from the crime scene. “This might sound crazy, but do you think there’s anything in here domestic terrorists might use to make a bomb or a deadly virus?”
A band tightened around Max’s chest at the thought that kind of destruction could cause. “I can tell you how to make a Molotov cocktail, but that’s it. You’ll need to ask a chemist for what goes into a bomb. My knowledge is rather limited, though I do know that bombs require a lot of chemicals, and none of the boxes in here are large enough for what they’d need. Unless there’s a cleaning supply cabinet with, say, a shit load of drain cleaner and rust remover, they won’t have enough for something substantial. They can buy what they need at a local store, so why come here? They’ll need to find a way to make nitroglycerine, but a few ten-ounce bottles of hydrogen peroxide won’t do it. For that, they’d be better off with a pool sanitizer. I think you’re barking up the wrong tree if you think this is chemical related.”
Trent dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’m having my men do a background search on Dr. Withers, but I doubt I’ll find anything.”
“I trust the clinic will be closed tomorrow?”
“For a few days at least. If the mayor suspects terrorists, he’ll want every inch of this place processed.”
Max dreaded having to tell Jamie. “What can I do?”
“Talk to Jamie. See what she knows.”
Max glanced over Trent’s shoulder at the dead woman. “The men couldn’t have mistaken Jamie for Yolanda Withers. Jamie is blonde and petite. This woman is much taller with dark hair. Besides, the men after Jamie didn’t have on infrared caps.”
“There has to be a connection.”
“Got any ideas?”
* * *
When Jamie’s cell rang, it took a second to figure out what the noise was. She cracked open her eyes, and spotted the glowing phone. The bedside clock read eleven. None of her friends would be bothering her at this hour. She sat up with a jerk. It must be Max. He might have finished with the crime scene, and perhaps wanted to continue where he left off. How he could see a dead body and then be in the mood to make love was anyone’s guess.
Jamie quickly picked up the phone, and when she saw who it was, her heart raced. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yes.”
She waited a beat for him to continue, but he didn’t say anything. Oh, shit. “Was Jonathan murdered?”
“No. No. May I come over? I need to speak with you.” His voice was measured, controlled, and tense. There was also a decided sense of urgency.
“Of course.” The last time he said they needed to talk, he told her about Jonathan being involved in his investigation.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Is that okay?”
Jamie swallowed hard. “Sure, but what happened?”
“I’d rather tell you in person.” Max disconnected the call, and Jamie sat there stunned.
It was a good minute before the blood returned to her limbs, and she could move again. He’d said there hadn’t been a fire, that someone had been murdered. Who was it?
Oh, no. Amber was still on her honeymoon. Had she, Cade, and Stone left the island early and their plane went down? Her ears pounded. No, that tragedy would have been blasted all over the news.
She prayed it wasn’t Becky. The person who’d been following her could have come back and attacked her. Acid burned Jamie’s throat.
“Stop it.” She’d fall apart if she kept up with what ifs.
She hurried to dress. If she had to leave for some reason, she wanted to be warm. Just as she yanked on her boots, the doorbell rang. At the sound, bile tinged her mouth. She wasn’t sure she could take another blow. Jamie rushed to the door, peaked out to make sure it was Max, and opened up.
He looked like shit. “Jamie.” His voice sounded like gravel.
She stepped to the side to let him enter. His hair was tousled, looking as if he’d plowed his fingers over his scalp a hundred times. Even his coloring was pale. “Come in.”
Max hugged her, and then kissed the top of her head. “Got some coffee?”
“I’ll make some.” The familiarity should have calmed her stomach, but it didn’t.
Max followed her into the kitchen. “Jamie, I’m afraid there was an incident at the clinic.”
Jamie’s hands shook so hard, she feared she might drop the cups if she reached for them. “Mugs are on the top shelf of the cabinet next to the sink.” Jamie nodded to the correct one. “Want to get down two?”
The door squeaked open and two cups scraped across the shelf.
She measured the coffee grounds and dumped them in the container, spilling a portion of them. Then she added the water. “Cream or sugar?” Shit. She knew better. “I forgot. You like it black.” Jamie wiped her palms down her pants. She didn�
�t want to know anything. If only she could wish everything away.
“Black’s good.”
She faced him. “You said someone was murdered.”
“Yes. The security guard.”
She slumped against the counter. “Oh, my God. Why? Were those same men trying to break into the clinic? Did they get mad when he didn’t have the key?”
“We can’t be sure, but it probably was to stop him before he stopped them.”
Her mind raced. “Do the cops think it was the same men who came after me?”
“Let’s get our drinks, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
“Why are you dragging this out? You can tell me.” Her words squeaked out.
“Jamie. Let me do this my way. Please?” His in-control tone softened, as if he knew she’d need to sit down.
She blew out a breath, knowing she couldn’t shake the news out of him, even though she wanted to try. The coffee finished dripping, and she filled their cups. “Shit.” She’d spilled almost half the contents. Jamie was about to get the paper towels to clean up the mess when he gently clasped her arm.
“Go sit. I’ll wipe up the counter and bring in the drinks.”
Jamie set down the carafe, stepped around him, and went into the living room, shaken to the core. Her stomach was churning, and her throat felt as if it was on fire. She dropped onto her usual place on the sofa and closed her eyes, needing to find some calm.
Max came out with two mugs and placed hers on the coffee table in front of her. He sat on the cushion next to her. Her mouth was too dry to ask him again what had happened.
“Around nine this evening, after one of the men killed the guard, five men stormed the clinic.”
Her mind spun. He’d said the crime occurred at nine. “Oh, no. Yolanda would still have been there.” Jamie clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the slight keening sound from leaking out.
“I’m sorry, Jamie. They killed her, too.”
Her whole body shook. Knowing the details wouldn’t make it any easier, but she had to ask. How?”
“Two bullets to the chest.”
Jamie dropped her head in her hands and wept. His cup smacked against the wooden coffee table a second before his arm wrapped around her shoulder. She leaned into him, but her mind refused to process anything but the tragedy. Jamie normally wasn’t a crier, but Yolanda’s death was too much to bear.
Be strong. She sat up, and a handkerchief appeared under her gaze.
“Here.”
She blew her nose and wadded the cool material in her hand. Thinking more logically would help. “What did they take?”
“That’s the thing. We can’t tell.”
Her heart lurched. “No drugs? Isn’t that what they were there for?”
“Nothing in the refrigerator was touched. Many of the boxes on the shelves were moved or tossed on the floor, but for the most part, they left the storage room alone.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Were they after Yolanda?” Her breath hitched. “Did they think I might be there?”
“I never said the crimes were related. The first attack might have nothing to do with the second.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do. Two attacks, one right after the other, suggests they might be.”
He studied her for a moment as if he wanted to wait until she’d calmed before asking her more questions. “Were you wearing a hat the night of your attack?”
That seemed so long ago. “No. I had on my thinner coat because I’d forgotten to check the weather forecast. I didn’t think to bring a hat. The day before had been much warmer.”
“I remember.”
His question registered. “Without a hat they would have spotted my blonde hair and known I wasn’t her.”
“Yes.”
The sadness and pain blocked out her thoughts. “I realize this is an ongoing investigation, but if my safety is a possible issue, I should be told what the police think.”
“We believe these men were looking for something besides drugs. Trent thought you might be able to help.”
“Me? I go to work, deal with patients all day, and then come home. I usually don’t have much time to socialize with anyone. I might have lunch with Sasha, and occasionally Layla, but that’s it.”
“Hmm.”
Jamie thought that when Benny had killed all those patients, nothing could be worse. Now, she realized she’d been wrong. The people he killed had little time left on earth. Yolanda wasn’t yet fifty. Jamie’s body shuddered. Max scooted closer and pulled her into a hug.
She choked back another sob and looked up at him. “What happens now?”
Chapter Fourteen
Max clasped Jamie’s hands, and the warmth of his touch shot straight to her heart.
“For starters, the clinic will most likely be closed for a few days. Trent and his men need to do some cleanup, as well as finish processing the scene.”
Jamie was having a hard time understanding why this tragedy had happened in the first place if no drugs had been taken. “Will the staff be notified?” she asked, her voice shaky at best. “I can’t imagine coming to work only to be met by police cars and unanswered questions.”
“Trent said he’d contact Dr. McDermott, who’s supposed to be back at work tomorrow. He’s hoping the doctor will help him make the calls. The terrible news might be better coming from someone they know.”
“It would.” She squeezed his hand and looked up at him. “I want to do something for Yolanda’s family.”
Pain crossed Max’s face. “That’s nice of you. Does she have children?”
“Not that I know of. She’s divorced.”
“I’m sure her family will appreciate anything you decide, but until we know who was responsible and what they want, I don’t want you to be alone with her family. I can’t guarantee you’ll be safe.”
“I don’t want to be alone either. I’ll invite Sasha over here, or else go to her house.”
Max let go of her hand, picked up his coffee, and brought the mug to his lips as if he needed a moment to figure out how to respond. “I was thinking more along the lines of you staying with me. You can come to the firehouse during the day. That way, I can make sure nothing will happen to you.”
“I appreciate the offer, but is that really necessary?” She huffed out a breath, sorting through her options. “I guess you can’t know what these killers will do next. What about Becky? Her man could be involved somehow.”
Max nodded. “I’ll see what Trent can do about offering her protection. If she’s at the hospital, and stays with a friend, she should be safe. Trent might suggest she leave town.”
How terrible. “Just so you know, Zoey was at her office in the hospital when one of her clients nearly killed her.”
Max looked off to the side. His thoughts were probably as jumbled as hers. “Christ. I wish I had the answers. It’s driving all of us crazy.” He told her about the men having LED lights under their visor caps, making identification impossible.
“Did one of the men limp? He couldn’t have hidden that.”
Max’s jaw hardened. “You saw someone who limped?”
She explained about one of the men who ran after her. “I told Trent.”
“I’ll follow up with him.” Max set down his coffee. “Look. I understand that you want to be with your friends tomorrow. Hell, I’ll invite them all to the station if you want, but I won’t let you out of my sight.”
She appreciated he cared about her. “What about Sasha, Layla, Nathan, Hannah, Donna? Could they be targets, too?”
He pulled out his phone. “I’ll suggest to Trent that he ask them to go someplace safe. I know that RHPD doesn’t have the resources to protect all of them.”
This was more depressing by the minute. “What is to prevent these from coming to my house tonight?”
“It won’t matter. You’ll be with me. Go pack a bag. While you’re doing that, I’ll call Trent and see what he can do about protectin
g the others.”
The independent side of her wanted to say she’d be fine, but her intelligent half said she was way out of her league. “Thank you. I would feel safer being with you.”
* * *
Jamie woke the next morning to an empty bed. She was in Max’s bedroom. Because she’d barely slept, her brain was still a bit groggy. Adding insult to injury, she had a headache. Sleep had been fleeting because she’d kept replaying that first night at the clinic when the men had chased her. As hard as she tried to jog her memory, no other details surfaced. She desperately wanted to put a reason behind everything.
Max was puttering around in either the living room or kitchen. It was Saturday morning, but she bet he’d go into work. Crimes needed to be solved. Poor Max. She bet he didn’t get much sleep either. Every time she rolled over, she bumped into him and woke him up. He’d been so sweet, never complaining. He’d kiss her, and then tell her to go back to sleep, that no one was going to get past him.
Frustrated and deeply sad by the two senseless murders, Jamie sat up. When the pain in her head lessened, she stood. Whoa. Her world spun. She sat back down and grabbed hold of the blanket. She inhaled deeply to get the blood flowing again.
She couldn’t stay in bed. If Max went into work, she’d have to go in with him. He said he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. That meant she needed to get dressed. Jamie eased out of bed and stood for moment to make sure she wouldn’t falter. When she was confident she was steady, she got readt. No telling how cold the men kept the fire station, which meant layering was her best option.
Once she washed up, she headed to the kitchen. The aroma of coffee filled the air. Max stood at the sink. His beard growth was substantial, and his eyes were bloodshot, proving she’d kept him up all night.
“Good morning,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
“Is it?” His normally even temper seemed to have vanished.
She rushed to his side. “I’m sorry I tossed and turned. I know you didn’t get much sleep.”
His face softened. “Oh, honey. My restlessness had nothing to do with you. I swear I kept hearing sounds outside.”