She took a seat across from him. “Thanks. I—”
From somewhere in the cabin came the sound of her cell phone. “I’m sorry. I should probably get that.”
She returned a minute later, her face pale. “This is awful. I hate to do this—but I think I need to make a quick run into town.”
“Trouble?”
She tipped her head in acknowledgment. “You probably read in the paper about the semi accident, and the old fellow who was hurt. His daughter just called.”
“The paper said he was in a coma.”
“There are also some…other issues, so the hospital has been on alert to watch for any unexpected visitors. Someone snuck into his room earlier tonight, then disappeared before security arrived. They notified the daughter and now she’s in a panic because she’s out of town for a few days and can’t check on him.”
“She can’t talk to the nurses?”
“She already did.” Megan’s mouth tipped in a wry smile. “But she’s really worried anyway.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to. If you want to stay and eat your salad and just relax, I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
He stood, taking in the concern in her eyes, and gave her a quick hug. “You went to a lot of work, so we should enjoy this meal together. We can take my truck, if you want to.”
“We’d better take my patrol car. Though after twelve hours in it today, I’d hoped it could stay parked awhile. Here, we can leave the dogs inside while we’re gone.”
He helped her put the salad and beverages back in the refrigerator, then followed her out to the car.
A deluge of memories hit him when he slid into the front passenger side door. “Whoa.”
She gave him a knowing glance as she turned on the ignition. “Miss this?”
He sat silently for a minute. “I didn’t think I ever would. But just climbing in gave me that old surge of excitement. The longing for a hot call. A big case. Something really challenging. Exciting. Dangerous, even.”
“I know. It hits me every single day. The hardest days are when I have to end up at a desk.”
They drove in companionable silence, the empty, black velvet ribbon of highway melting beneath the tires. She pulled up at the E.R. and frowned as several staff hurried past her front bumper. “This is the night entrance. It’s usually quiet out here this time of night unless a patient comes in, but—”
Several others came out of the hospital and hurried in another direction. She stared after them as she got out of the car. “You can come in or wait. Your call.”
An older nurse appeared at the glass doors. She squinted out into the darkness, then came running out to Megan’s door. “He’s gone. Oh, my—I don’t know how it happened—but Carl Wilson is gone.”
Megan stepped out of the car to face her. “He passed away?”
“No—no—he’s gone. And it’s as if he vanished into thin air.”
THIRTEEN
Scott followed as Megan hurried down the hall of the E.R., past the four exam rooms to the handful of rooms allocated to the hospital.
She was firing questions at the nurse as she strode through the E.R. “Have you checked every room, Bonnie? Under beds? The storerooms and closets? Maybe he awoke and became confused.”
“We’ve gone through the entire hospital, yes,” the nurse said breathlessly as she trotted to keep up with Megan’s long strides. “And now we’re searching the grounds. We called the sheriff’s department just a few minutes ago. You sure got here fast.”
“I was already on my way. Carl’s daughter called me and said she was worried about her father.” She pulled to a stop at the open doorway of Carl’s room, then looked over her shoulder at the nurse and nodded toward Scott. “This is Scott Anders. He lives outside of town now, though he’s on leave from a police department in the Chicago area.”
Bonnie looked at him with new respect, sparing him a quick, strained smile before turning back to Megan. “It’s unbelievable that Mr. Wilson could be gone. He wasn’t even conscious, far as we knew. He hadn’t spoken a word, nor opened his eyes. We’d checked in on him ten…maybe fifteen minutes earlier to changes his IV line.”
“How many people are on duty right now?”
“No one’s been brought into the E.R. tonight, so the E.R. nurse and I both cover the hospital side, plus the skilled and long-term beds. We call in more help if things get busy. We also have two nurse’s aides, plus a housekeeper.”
“No receptionist?”
“She leaves at eight-thirty, when visiting hours are over. The calls just route to the nurse’s station after that.”
Megan glanced at her watch. “Then she left about a half hour ago. Before Carl disappeared?”
Bonnie nodded, her face pale and tight with worry. “We usually have a security guy who doubles up as an orderly when need be, because the place is so small. But he went home with the stomach flu early in the evening.”
“So where were all the staff members during that time frame?”
“Paula—the other nurse—and I were changing a catheter on one of the skilled patients down the other hall. Ed can be combative, so it takes two and it’s still quite a battle sometimes. The aides were on the long-term unit helping everyone get ready for bed. The housekeeper was on break.”
“What about the doors?”
“Everything is locked at eight-thirty. You can exit but not enter—except the E.R. entrance.”
“Alarms?”
“Always on down the long-term hallway. Automatically set everywhere else at eight-thirty, though on all of those, you can touch a button set high on the door frame that will let you out. And if someone goes through the E.R. entrance, we hear a bell and they are caught on the security camera—like the one at the front door. We’ve got TV monitors at both nurse’s stations.”
“So a weak, confused man technically couldn’t leave the building without setting off an alarm.” Bonnie nodded.
“Carl’s daughter called me to say that a stranger was spotted in the vicinity of his room earlier.”
“That’s right. He isn’t allowed visitors, period. Paula saw someone at his doorway. When she hurried down the hallway to stop him from going in, the man just took off.” Bonnie shook her head in disgust. “We’ve had that happen before, though…someone coming in as a visitor, then scouting rooms for needles and meds as if we’d be careless to leave any of that stuff lying around. One day, someone even stole some purses.”
At a commotion behind them, Scott turned and saw three deputies at the E.R. entrance talking to an agitated woman in a nurse’s uniform.
“Wait here,” Megan said to him as she went to join them.
He watched her speak to them, feeling an unexpected sense of pride in her professional demeanor as she clearly took command of the situation. Then two of the deputies went back outside and the taller, older of the three followed her up to Carl’s room.
She quickly introduced Scott to the deputy, Jim Rigby. “Wes and Ewan are organizing a search outside and are alerting the dispatcher. Jim and I want to search the hospital. Scott can come with me. Okay?”
The nurse nodded. “I just hope we can find Carl soon. He must be very weak—he hasn’t been on his feet since the accident.”
“Can we play back those security tapes?” Jim asked.
“I…I think so. They feed into both nurse’s stations, but the main unit is in the security office.” She pulled a heavy key ring from her pocket and fumbled through it. “I’ll go let you in.”
“And I’m going to search Carl’s room.”
Scott watched from the doorway as Megan meticulously searched the room Carl had been in. “You’d be a good homicide investigator,” he said quietly.
“With the limited size of our sheriff’s department, we have to do everything. You just never know what the next day will bring.” She smiled briefly. “I’m sure this is the complete opposite of the extensive staffing and specialization you’re
used to.”
He thought of the turmoil back in that Chicago suburb. His traitorous former partner, and the two fellow cops who had resisted his determination to uncover the truth. Proving they’d all been involved in a complex drug scheme had been the death knell of his ability to work in that precinct. “It wasn’t…what you might expect.”
She gave the room a last glance. “I don’t see anything here. No signs of struggle. Nothing out of place. It’s as if he simply got up and checked out after a nice nap…or someone kidnapped him. But how easy would it be to get past the staff and cameras, lugging a grown man?”
“Not very.”
“I’m going to search the hospital wing. Want to help?”
“Absolutely.”
“Sorry about your dinner. By the time we get done here, the salad will be limp, and the entrée will be petrified.”
“I know it would’ve been wonderful. The next time around it’ll be my turn. Maybe I can take you out to dinner? I’ve heard the Cove is right on the water, and it’s supposed to be excellent.”
Her green eyes sparkled. “I’d like that.”
He felt an inordinate amount of pleasure at her response. “Good. So, lead the way, Officer. Let’s get this guy found and back to bed where he belongs.”
An hour later, every room, every closet and the hospital grounds had been thoroughly searched.
Four patrol cars slowly, methodically cruised through town for hours after that.
But there wasn’t a single sign that Carl Wilson had ever existed.
Sunday dawned with lightning spearing through the roiling clouds overhead, and heavy thunder that shook the earth. Rain slashed at the windows, rattling the panes. After being out late last night, leaving the delicious warmth of her down comforter had taken a concerted effort.
But now, walking up the wide steps of the Community Church amidst a sea of brightly colored umbrellas, she was thankful she’d made it. With her varying twelve-hour shifts, it wasn’t always possible to attend.
As always, a sense of deep peace drifted through her as she stepped inside the old church with its towering white steeple and beautiful, burnished woodwork.
Pastor Fields stood just inside the door, greeting everyone with a hug or a handshake and a beaming smile, helping with raincoats and umbrellas as his flock came in one by one and stamped the rain from their feet.
“Megan.” He smiled warmly, his white hair in cheerful contrast to his rosy cheeks. “Wonderful to see you on this beautiful day.”
“It is a beautiful day. I love the rain.”
He leaned closer and winked. “There’s a young man here this morning…he arrived just a few minutes ago. I believe I’ve seen you with him in town.”
To Pastor Fields, anyone under the age of sixty was a young man, and he was forever playing genial match-maker for his flock. Happily married for over fifty years, he was certain he was going to find the perfect young man for her. She smiled back. “I’ll be sure to look for him.”
She made her way through the people she’d known since she’d moved here, exchanging handshakes and hugs, and all of the usual pleasantries over sweet babies and engagement rings and news of children coming home from college, that marked the fabric of the community.
Someone brushed against her arm from behind as he passed. “Good morning.” The voice was low, raspy, without any note of welcome.
She jerked to a stop and turned, but behind her she saw only a cluster of children and a couple of young moms framed by their umbrellas. But over there—at the edge of the parking lot, she caught a man giving her a quick glance before his black umbrella dropped back into place.
There was something vaguely familiar about his voice and profile…but who was he?
She watched him saunter away.
You’ve got to stop imagining things, she muttered to herself. The poor man probably just has laryngitis, and you know half the people in this town at any rate. Of course you think you know him.
And the last thing she wanted to think about right now was her job.
She slipped through the heavy oak inner doors into the hushed silence of the sanctuary and felt a sense of peace enfold her like welcoming arms.
It was a simple country church with a single center aisle and old-fashioned oak pews that marched up to the communion railing in front of the altar.
The walls at either side were white, set with twelve tall, old-fashioned and intricate stained glass windows depicting the events of Jesus’s life. On sunny days, bejeweled light streamed through them in glorious colors. On this rainy morning they were dark and dreary, but with even greater meaning for all that Jesus had suffered in His time on earth.
She moved forward and settled in her favorite pew, three rows from the back, nodding to the others who had already come in.
The entire front of the church, including the altar, pulpit and lectern were oak, darkened to a deep, rich glow by the past hundred years, and generations of women armed with soft cloth and lemon oil polish.
She loved the honey and amber glow of the wood. The simple cross that hung above the altar with such deep meaning for her eternal life and the God who had been with her through good times and bad, her rock no matter what. Lord, thank You for this beautiful day, and for all of the people here. Please, help me in the coming week to do my best for them. And please, please be with Carl and his daughter as we continue to search for him.
Someone touched her shoulder and she automatically gathered her purse and jacket, then slid down the pew to make room. Her heart did that funny little dance again when she realized it was Scott.
“Good morning,” she whispered. “You’re up early.”
“Attila thinks he’s a rooster,” he whispered back in a low tone. “He announces dawn with the most unbelievable racket.”
“I’ll bet he’s just the cutest thing, braying like that.”
Scott slid his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, I don’t suppose I could interest you in a donkey.”
A warm sensation shimmered up her arm at the touch of his hand, and it took a moment for her to collect her thoughts. “Um…a donkey. That sounds like a great idea. My nights are pretty short as it is, but thanks, anyway.”
The organist began to play a soft, slow version of “How Great Thou Art,” and Megan settled back in the pew, savoring the warmth of Scott’s hand on hers. Missing it, when he shifted and pulled a hymnal from the pew rack in front of them.
He’d talked about no longer having trust that God would take the time to answer his prayers or watch out for him, but here he was anyhow, joining in a community of believers. She hadn’t been so faithful back when Laura died.
At a time when she’d needed to be surrounded by a congregation of people who cared and who were shell-shocked and grieving, too, she’d pulled away, refusing to go to church or even talk to God in prayer for years afterward.
She shook herself out of her thoughts, startled when she realized that Pastor Fields was already at the pulpit.
“Send forth your light and your truth, let them guide me,” he intoned, his voice deep and powerful. “‘Let me bring peace to your holy mountains, to the place where you dwell.’” That’s from Psalms 43:3, and I think it’s the perfect verse for today.
“Many of us are fearful these days, knowing that evil is among us. Someone who has taken lives, and who has still eluded capture. Some question why bad things can happen to good people. Where is God in all of this? Why doesn’t He intervene—and send a bolt of lightning to stop the one who can so callously take lives? Isn’t He powerful enough to do that?”
A nervous titter spread through the congregation, and several people shifted in their pews.
“God gave us all free will, to do good or evil. We’re not puppets on a string. Evil does happen. I believe God sorrows deeply when His children go astray. He wants us to have full, happy, abundant lives in Him. And He is with us, wanting to give us strength and wisdom, and guidance. He is only a prayer a
way…”
Megan closed her eyes, the image of Carl Wilson taking over her thoughts. Where was he? How could such an ill man just disappear? Unless…
Her eyes flew open. He’d said he could identify the driver of the pickup truck…and Arnold Lane was missing. Had Lane snuck back into town, to hide in the hospital until visiting hours were over?
She’d watched the security camera tapes over and over, and there hadn’t been even a hint of activity or the sounding of an alarm at the doors closest to Carl’s room—the most logical route for a weak, confused man to wander away without being seen in the corridors of the hospital. There’d been no shred of evidence that anyone else had helped him leave. Hal and Jim had discounted the idea already, based on the tapes.
But it was possible.
Arnold was a burly man. Could he have hidden somewhere to wait until the staff was preoccupied, then dragged Wilson to a nearby side door? Disabled the alarm, and timed his exit to miss the sweep of that surveillance camera and avoid being seen? If so, he’d been able to disappear into the night with the one witness who could identify him.
And with the note left on the Fairlands’ door, it seemed logical that Lane had not only caused the semi accident, but was also the Full Moon Killer.
She started to rise in her seat.
Scott gently took her hand and tugged her back down with a look of concern. “Are you all right?” he whispered.
“Yes—no—” She looked up and saw Pastor Fields was still giving his sermon, though his eyes were on her. The faintest of smiles touched his mouth, along with a slight cant of his head toward the door. “Pastor will understand. I need to leave.”
She slipped past Scott and quietly left the sanctuary of the church, then she raced for her car.
They’d all been looking in the wrong place.
Carl Wilson wasn’t in town. He probably wasn’t even alive. But the search needed to widen or there’d be no chance at all of finding the one person who had seen the Full Moon Killer’s face.
BIG SKY SECRETS 03: End Game Page 12